Never did mother hold to her heart a child dearer to her, than Phillis, when she pressed Alice to her bosom.  Alice had almost lived with her, when she, and Walter, and Arthur were children.  Mrs. Weston knew that she could not be in better hands than under the care of so faithful and respectable a servant.  Phillis had a large, old clothes’ basket, where she kept the toys, all the little plates and cups with which they played dinner-party, the dolls without noses, and the trumpets that would not blow.  Her children were not allowed to touch them when the owners were not there, but they took a conspicuous part in the play, being the waiters and ladies’ maids and coach-drivers of the little gentlemen and Alice.  After Walter and Arthur went away, Alice was still a great deal with Phillis, and she, regarding her as Arthur’s future wife, loved her for him as well as for herself.  Alice loved Phillis, too, and all her children, and they considered her as a little above mortality.  Bacchus used to insist, when she was a child, that she never would live, she was too good.  When, during her severe illness, Phillis would go to her cabin to look around, Bacchus would greet her with a very long face, and say, “I told you so.  I know’d Miss Alice would be took from us all.”  Since her recovery, he had stopped prophesying about her.

“Aunt Phillis,” said Alice, “you don’t look very sick.  I reckon you will work when you ought not.  Now I intend to watch you, and make you mind, so that you will soon be well.”

“I am a great deal better than I was, Miss Alice, but there’s no knowing; howsomever, I thank the Lord that he has spared me to see you once more.  I want to give Master time to talk to Miss Janet a little while, then I am going in to see him and Miss Anna.”

“Oh! come now,” said Alice, “or he will be over here.”

Phillis got up, and walked slowly to the house, Alice at her side, and Bacchus stumping after her.  As they went in, Alice tripped on first, and opened the drawing-room door, making way for Phillis, who looked with a happy expression of face towards her master.

“Is this you, Phillis?” said Mr. Weston, coming forward, and taking her hand most kindly.  Mrs. Weston and Ellen got up to shake hands with her, too.  “I am very glad to find you so much better than I expected,” continued Mr. Weston; “you are thin, but your countenance is good.  I hope you will get perfectly well, now that we are going to have summer weather.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Phillis.  “I am a great deal better.  Thank God, you all look so well, Miss Anna and all.  Miss Janet began to be mighty lonesome.  I’ve been a great trouble to her.”

“No, you have not,” said Miss Janet; “you never were a trouble to any one.”

“Master,” said Bacchus, “I think the old ooman looks right well.  She aint nigh so bad as we all thought.  I reckon she couldn’t stand my bein away so long; she hadn’t nobody to trouble her.”