"Yes-s, yes-s," they whispered in the soft lisping language of the leaves, "_we_ know! She's like Amanthis,--sweet-souled and starry-eyed; we were here when you brought her home, a bride.

She's like Amanthis! Like Amanthis!" Under the blossoms rode the Little Colonel, all in white herself this May morning, except the little Napoleon hat of black velvet, set jauntily over her short light hair.

Into the cockade she had stuck a spray of locust blossoms, and as she rode slowly along she fastened a bunch of them behind each ear of her pony, whose coat was as soft and black as the velvet of her hat.

"Tarbaby" she called him, partly because he was so black, and partly because that was the name of her favourite Uncle Remus story.
"There!" she exclaimed, when the flowers were fastened to her satisfaction.

"Yo' lookin' mighty fine this mawnin', Tarbaby! Maybe I'll take you visitin' aftah I've been to the post-office and mailed these lettahs.