Here Dr. Lacey thought proper to say that possibly Mr. Middleton did not understand his daughter.

“Not understand her?” repeated Mr. Middleton.  “What’s to hinder?  She’s my own gal, and I like her well enough; but don’t I know she’s as fiery as a baker’s oven?”

“She is greatly changed,” continued Dr. Lacey.  “Don’t you give her credit for that?”

“Changed?” replied Mr. Middleton.  “So’s lightnin’ changed!  It’s one of her tricks.  Depend on it, you’ll find it so.”  And Mr. Middleton walked off in search of his promising daughter.

Strange as it may seem, the old man’s remarks had no other effect on Dr. Lacey than to cause him to pity Julia, who he fancied was misunderstood and misused.  He believed her reformation to be sincere, and could not help feeling that Mr. Middleton was mistaken in his opinion of both his daughters.

After tramping all over the house, banging doors and shouting at least a dozen times, “Ho, Tempest, whar for gracious sakes are you?” Mr. Middleton at length found his daughter in Mrs. Miller’s room consulting with Kate about her bridal dress.  Kate, too, was wholly deceived by Julia’s gentleness and apparent frankness of manner, and readily complied with her request that she should be with her the two days preceding the marriage, for the purpose of assisting in the arrangement of affairs.  This being settled, Mr. Middleton and his daughter started for home, which they reached about sunset.

Julia leaped gayly from the carriage, and running into the house, embraced her mother, and received the blacks as affectionately as Fanny herself could have done; then missing her sister, she asked, “Where is Fan?  Why does she not come to meet me?”

Mrs. Middleton looked inquiringly at her husband, who replied, “No, I hain’t told her, jest because she didn’t ask me.  Sunshine is sick—­sick in bed, and has had the potecary three times.”

“Fanny sick,” said Julia.  “Where is she?  In her room?  I will go to her immediately.”

But in going to Fanny, it was necessary to pass the parlor, and Julia could not resist the temptation to look in and see “if the old man had fixed up any.”

“Oh, how neat, how pleasant!” was her first exclamation, and truly the cheerless old room had undergone a great renovation.  It had been thoroughly cleaned and repainted.  The walls were hung with bright, cheerful-looking paper.  A handsome carpet covered the floor, while curtains of corresponding beauty shaded the windows.  The furniture, tastefully arranged, was nearly all new, and in the waxen flowers, which filled the vases on the mantelpiece, Julia recognized the handiwork of her sister.

Yes, Fanny’s love had wrought this change.  At first her father had refused to do anything.  “No, I won’t,” said he.  “It’s good enough, and if it don’t suit Lady Tempest, she can go to the hoss barn; that’s just fit for ’em.”

“Then, father,” said Fanny, “do it for my sake.  It would please me to have a pleasanter parlor.”