The boat rounded to at the little pier. Close by, in the shade of a great oak, stood an elderly colored woman with a child in her arms—a little girl of fairy-like form, and face perfect in outline and feature, a complexion of dazzling brilliance, a countenance radiant with delight—as she watched the travelers stepping ashore.
"This is she, I presume," Mr. Dinsmore said coolly, halting in front of the two. "What's your name, child?"
"Elsie Dinsmore," she answered, her lip quivering, the large soft eyes filling with tears. "I fought it was my grandpa comin'."
"And so it is," he said, slightly touched by her evident disappointment. "Have you a kiss for me?"
For answer she threw both arms about his neck, as he bent toward her, and pressed her red lips to his.
He disengaged himself rather hastily, stepping back to give place to Mildred, who, gazing with delight upon the beautiful little creature was eagerly awaiting her turn.
"You darling!" she cried, clasping the child in a warm embrace. "This is Cousin Milly; and she is going to love you dearly, dearly!"
"Tank you, Miss," said Aunt Chloe, with tears in her eyes. "And welcome to Viamede, Miss; welcome, Massa," dropping a courtesy to each.
Mrs. Murray and several servants now came hurrying toward them; there were more courtesies and welcomes; the baggage was seized and quickly transported to the house; the travelers, Mrs. Murray, and Aunt Chloe with her little charge, following it leisurely.