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When the old woman returned she was interested, but critical. “I’se been used to chutch all my life,” she declared, “but I never saw no fixin’s like dat. Br’er George Wash’n’ton Thomas of Mount Zion was de fancies’ one I ever seen; but he could n’t tetch dat man. Why, dey outdoes white folks!”

“Were n’t they nice to you!” asked her mistress.

“Nor ‘m’, none too nice. Dat one what you spoke to for me wuz gwine to give me a seat; but a uppish young yaller one stopped him an’ made him teck me back and stick me in a corner behind a pillar. But he did n’t stick me so fur back ‘t dey did n’t fine me when dey tecked up de money. When I put in dat fif’-cent you gi’ me, he jumped like a pin had stick him. I dropped ‘t in so ‘t would soun’, I tell you!”

This gave Mrs. Graeme an idea, and she encouraged her to go again the following Sunday, and this time gave her a dollar to put in the plate.

“Be sure and drop it in so it will sound,” she said to her.

“I ‘m gwine to.”

“Well, how did you come out to-dayf” she asked her on her return.

“Right well. Dey did n’t stick me quite so fur back, and when I drap de dollar in dey wuz several on ’em lookin’, and when de chutch was over dey come runnin’ arter me, an’, tell me ef I come next time dey ‘ll have a good seat for me. I ‘m gwine agin, but fust thing dey know I ‘m gwine to fool ’em. I ain’t gwine put a dollar in agin, I know.”

Mrs. Graeme laughed. “Oh! you must pay for being in society. We all do.”

“I know I ain’t,” declared the old woman, “and I don’t reckon you gwine to gi’ me a dollar ev ‘y Sunday.”

“I certainly am not. I am only getting you launched.”

The following week Mrs. Graeme said to her husband, “I think Mammy is launched. The preacher came to the front door to-day and asked to see Mrs. Quivers. At first I did not know whom he meant. Then he said it was ‘a colored lady.’ You never saw any one so gotten up–silk hat, kid gloves, and ebony cane. And Mammy was quite set up by it. She says the preacher is from home and knew Caesar. She was really airy afterward.”

Mr. Graeme uttered an objurgation. “You will ruin that old woman, and with her the best old negro that ever was.”

“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Graeme, “there is no danger of that. You could n’t spoil her.”

A few weeks later she said: “Yes, Mammy is launched. She told me to-day she wanted to join the club, and when I asked, what club, she said, ‘the Colored Ladies Siciety Club.'” “I should say she was launched,” sniffed Mr. Graeme. “She told me she wanted her money to invest it herself. The old fool! They will rob her of it.”

III

The weeks that followed, and Mam’ Lyddy’s immersion in “Siciety” began apparently to justify Mr. Graeme’s prophecy. A marked change had taken place in the old woman’s dress, and no less a change had taken place in herself. She began to go out a good deal, and her manner was quite new. She was what a few weeks before she would have derided as “citified and airified.” At length Mrs. Graeme could not conceal it from herself any longer.

One evening as her husband on his return from his office threw himself on his chair with the evening paper, she brought up the subject.

“Cabell, it is true; you have noticed the change!”

“What? I have no doubt I have.” He glanced at his wife to see if she had on a new dress or had changed the mode of wearing her hair, then gazed about him rather uneasily to see if the furniture had been shifted about, or if the pictures had been changed; points on which his wife was inclined to be particular.