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 *cess was attributed almost wholly to his ancestry, and he himself was considered to have had a merely nominal share in it.

It was the long session of Congress, and there was no talk of Pembroke's returning to the county. Whenever he did come, though, it was determined to give him a public dinner.

One afternoon in May, about the same time of year that Pembroke and Olivia had had their pointed conversation in the garden, Olivia was trimming her rose-bushes. She was a famous gardener, and a part of every morning and afternoon she might have been found looking after her shrubs and flowers. Sometimes, with a small garden hoe, she might have been seen hoeing vigorously, much to Petrarch's disgust, who remonstrated vainly.

"Miss 'Livy, yo' mar never did no sech a thing. When she want hoein' done, she sen' fur Susan's Torm, an' Simon Peter an' Unc' Silas' Jake. She didn't never demean herself wid no hoe in her han'."

"But I haven't got Susan's Tom, nor Simon Peter nor Uncle Silas' Jake. And besides, I am doing it because I like it."

"Fur Gord A'mighty's sake, Miss 'Livy, doan' lemme hear dat none o' de Berkeleys likes fur ter wuk. De Berkeleys allus wuz de gentlefolks o' de county. Didn't none on 'em like ter wuk. Ketch ole marse wukkin! Gord warn't conjurin' 'bout de fust families when He say, 'By de sweat o' de brow dey shall scuffle fer de vittals.' He mos' p'intedly warn't