"Who said you did, you black thing, you?" said Julia, who in her grief for
her favorite, and her anger at Aunt Judy, forgot the stranger, and her
bashfulness, too. "You were careless, I know you were," she continued, "or
you never could have tipped the coffee over in this manner."
"Never mind, sister," said Fanny, "never mind; of course, Aunt Judy didn't
mean to do it, for she likes Dido as well as we do."
"Lor' bless Miss Fanny's sweet face, that I do like Dido," said Aunt Judy.
"Yes, that you do," repeated Julia mockingly, "just as though you could
like anything."
Here Mrs. Middleton interposed and ordered Julia and Fanny to take their
seats at the table, while Judy cleared away all traces of the disaster.
Julia complied with an ill-grace, muttering something about "the hateful
negroes," while Fanny obeyed readily, and laughingly made some remark to
Mr. Wilmot about their making so much ado over a dog, "but," said she, "we
are silly girls, and of course do silly things. Probably we shall do
better when we get old like you--no, like mother, I mean."
Here she stopped, blushing deeply at having called Mr. Wilmot old, when in
fact she thought him quite young, and very handsome--in short, "just the
thing." She thought to herself, "There, I've done it now! Julia and I have
both introduced ourselves to him in a pretty light, but it's just like
me--however, I'll not say another word tonight!"
The little incident of the coffee pot gave Mr. Wilmot something of an
insight into the character and disposition of the two girls. And surely
nothing could have been more unlike than their personal appearance, as
they sat side by side at the supper table. Julia was about seventeen years
of age and was called very handsome, for there was something peculiarly
fascinating in the ever-varying expression of her large black eyes. She
was a brunette, but there was on her cheek so rich and changeable a color
that one forgot in looking at her, whether she were dark or light. Her
disposition was something like her complexion--dark and variable. Her
father was a native of South Carolina, and from him she inherited a quick,
passionate temper. At times she was as gentle as a lamb, but when anything
occurred to trouble her, all her Southern blood boiled up, and she was as
Fanny said, "always ready to fire up at a moment's warning." Mr. Middleton
called her "Tempest," while to Fanny he gave the pet name of "Sunshine,"
and truly, compared with her sister, Fanny's presence in the house was
like a ray of sunshine.