Theo slumped back against the pillows; she was very weak and tears pricked her eyelids. It wasn't so much that the girl had got around Joseph by a clever flank attack, or even that he should be so willfully blind to Venus's hostility, but that he couldn't realize that the dress and the necklace were not any chance part of her large wardrobe. They were her most cherished possessions. Venus had known it, that was why she had chosen them. And now they were desecrated. It was a part of herself that had been rubbed against that oily brown skin, had covered a heart that seethed with hatred and the passion to hurt.

There was no use explaining. Joseph would never understand. She had not the strength to argue with him. Yet there was one point she must make clear.

'I suppose you will do as you like about the disposition of Venus, except that she will never be a house servant again in any house that I occupy—never'. She paused a moment. 'Joseph—I've been thinking. Father might get me a French maid. I would like someone to speak French with—a French chef too, perhaps. You know Governor Drayton has one, and several of your father's friends in Charleston,' she added quickly.

'What's the matter with the victuals Phoebe provides?' he snapped, ruffling.

What indeed? thought Theo, except that she can apparently cook nothing but rice, fried pork, and kitchen greens swimming in grease.

'Phoebe cooks well enough, Joseph, but sometimes something a little more elaborate—when we entertain, I mean. I believe that Father could procure us a chef,' said Theo, who had already discussed it with Aaron.

Joseph was silent. He deplored her manifest inability to manage the blacks, and thought it foolish to import expensive white servants from the North, but on the other hand one must not cross women in her condition, they were always unreasonable, and his vanity was tickled at the thought of French servants. They would undoubtedly lend a certain luster to his plantation.

He lit a fat black cigar, leaned back on his chair, and changed the subject. 'When is your father coming South? Have you heard?'

She smiled suddenly, her strained eyes softened. 'Of course I've heard'. Unconsciously she touched her bosom, and Joseph saw a comer of a letter through the opening of her nightshift.

His mouth tightened. Anger seized him. He tapped his foot impatiently. 'When, then?'

'The first of May. That should be plenty of time. The baby isn't—shouldn't come until the middle of the month anyway'. She turned away, adding very low, half to herself, 'I know I wouldn't come through it if—he weren't here'. Joseph expelled a great mouthful of smoke with the effect of an explosion. 'That's nonsense, Theo! Ridiculous! What has he got to do with it? It's unseemly to have men around at such a time anyway——'