er white nor colored, so when I got
a good chance I went out to service with a senator as body-servant." He
stopped abruptly as though that were all of his tale.

Haney said: "Well, if you can put up with an ignorant old hill-climber
like meself, I'll be grateful, and I'll try not rub your fur the wrong
way."

Lucius became very earnest for the first time. "There, sir, is one point
upon which I must insist. If I go with you, you are to treat me just as
you have been doing--as a trusted servant. I'm sorry I told you anything
about myself. My service thus far has been very pleasant, very
satisfactory, and unless we can go on in the same way, I must leave."

"Very well," replied Haney. "It's all settled--you're adjutant-general
of the Haneys' forces."

After Lucius went away Bertha said, thoughtfully: "I wish he hadn't told
us that; I can't order him around the way I've been doing."

Haney smiled. "Did ye order him around? I niver chanced to hear ye do
anything but ask him questions. 'Lucius, will ye do this?' 'Lucius,
won't ye do that?'"

Bertha was troubled, and found herself embarrassed by the mulatto's
services. She now perceived sadness beneath the quiet lines of his face
and hard-won culture in the tones of his voice. The essential tragedy of
his defeat grew more poignant to her as she watched him getting the
trunks strapped, surrounded by maids and porters. How could she have
misread his manner? He was performing his duties, not with quiet gusto,
but in the spirit of the trained nurse.

This mountain girl had always regarded Illinois as "the East," but after
a few weeks in New York City she now looked away to Chicago as a Western
town. She was glad to face the sunset sky again, and yet as she wheeled
away to the train she acknowledged a regret. Under the skilful guidance
of Lucius she had seen a great deal of the splendid and furious
Manhattan. She had gazed with unenvious admiration on the palaces of
upper Fifth Avenue and the Park. Together with Haney she had spun up
Riverside Drive, past Grant's Tomb, and on through Washington Heights,
with joy of the far-spreading panorama. She had visited the Battery and
sailed the shining way to Staten Island in silent awe of the ship-filled
bay. She had heard the sunset-guns thunder at Fort Hamilton, and had
threaded the mazes of the Brooklyn Navy-Yard, and each day the
mast-hemmed island widened in grandeur and thickened with threads of
human purpose, making the Amer