CHAPTER V.
THE NEW SALLY
When Sally went to the attic, having it in her mind to fix herself up a little, she had a feeling of anxiety she did not understand. But you see, it was the new Sally, beginning, just beginning, to spring into life.
And the first thing she was learning was her own ignorance, her own needs, and her own wants.
"My head is like a scarecrow!" she said; "where can I find a comb?"
She crept down to Mistress Cory Ann's room and found a coarse, half-broken comb. Alas! she could do nothing with it. Her ruddy hair curled around it, across it, along it, but through it the matted mass would not go.
It had taken a few moments to make the attempt, and time was precious. So the tangled mop was smoothed over, the old dress pressed down, and off ran Sally for her secret, rocky seat by the wall.
Not long had she waited when a merry company came trooping over to the arbor and young voices filled the air. Sally knew the voice of the Fairy Prince, of his sister Lucretia, and his cousin Rosamond. And when the names of "Reginald" and "Irene" reached her, she knew that young Reginald Bromfeld and Mistress Irene Westwood, besides two or three others, had rustled over to the airy summer-house.
Much it pleased her for awhile to hear the bright and witty speeches that were bandied to and fro; then Sam Spruce, a colored boy of about twenty years, in white short sack, black cotton trousers, and white apron, came gliding over the side lawn, tray in hand, and on it were small glasses, a crystal pitcher, a silver cake dish, delicate plates, and very small, snowy napkins.
"Well, Sam," exclaimed Lionel, in the free and easy speech often used toward the blacks, "what have you brought for our refreshment?"