CHAPTER VIII.
A week later, when Gerald had gone to Savannah and Rosa was taking her daily siesta, Floracita filled Thistle's panniers with several little pasteboard boxes, and, without saying anything to Tulee, mounted and rode off in a direction she had never taken, except in the barouche.
She was in search of the Welby plantation.
Mrs.Delano, who was busy with her crochet-needle near the open window, was surprised to see a light little figure seated on a donkey riding up the avenue.

As soon as Floracita dismounted, she recognized her, and descended the steps of the piazza to welcome her.
"So you have found the Welby plantation," said she.

"I thought you wouldn't have much difficulty, for there are only two plantations on the island, this and Mr.Fitzgerald's.

I don't know that there are any other _dwellings_ except the huts of the negroes." She spoke the last rather in a tone of inquiry; but Flora merely answered that she had once passed the Welby plantation in a barouche.
As the lady led the way into the parlor, she said, "What is that you have in your hand, my dear ?" "You used to admire Madame Conquilla's shell-work," replied Flora," and I have brought you some of mine, to see whether you think I succeed tolerably in my imitations." As she spoke, she took out a small basket and poised it on her finger.
"Why, that is perfectly beautiful!" said Mrs.Delano.

"I don't know how you could contrive to give it such an air of lightness and grace.
I used to think shell-work heavy, and rather vulgar, till I saw those beautiful productions at Nassau.