e, sharply.

"To make myself known to a friend of my father's."

"So, so! I've heard that story before. Young people nowadays make a
show of Mrs. C----, and ferret her out with some story of old times and
their fathers. Your name's Humphreys? Pike told me of you. I keep a
sharp eye on all the country round. I think I did know a Humphreys in
Colonel Shepler's time. Get you before me into the house."

During this harangue, she had been composedly putting on her stockings,
and fastening a pair of low shoes with the old-fashioned buckles of
brilliants on the instep. I preceded her into the house, entering the
low-raftered kitchen, as she directed.

"There's a fire there. It's chilly."

She perched herself on a high chair, her toes on the rung, while she
subjected me to a rigid cross-examination about my father. I observed
her as closely. A small, withered old woman, as if Nature had at first
begrudged her the sap and genial juices of life, and dried them out of
her as speedily as might be; only her eyes blazed, fresh, keen,
vindictive. She sat bolt upright in her chair, her skinny hands crossed
over her coarse blue dress, the fingers loaded with rings, many of them
jewels of great value. Her white hair was drawn back in a thick puff
under a cap of cheap lace, and fastened there with a diamond pin. A
great turnip-shaped gold watch was fastened on her left shoulder, her
hollow chest garlanded with massive chains, a bunch of steel keys ending
them, among which those of the pantry and cellar were conspicuous.

She pronounced my verdict at last.

"I believe you are not lying. Come Marquise into my house. I am glad to
see Philip Humphreys's son. A shiftless dog, but good blood, good
blood,"--leading me into a spacious dining-room, uncarpeted and dreary,
the plaster falling from the walls, but a magnificent buffet filling up
one entire side and laden with massive plate, among which I noticed
several cups, prizes at Southern race-courses.

Her keen eye caught my passing glance at them.

"Yes, yes! I had a good eye for the the turf once! Keep clear of it,
young Humphreys! It has gone down into a money-making jobbery. Gentlemen
cannot keep even their vices intact--in--the--Republic," with a
delicate, fine smile of satire.

Once within this inner court of hospitality, her manner had changed
instantly. The change was so unnatural as to be almost appalling: it was
like a corpse putting on a gracious, gay life again. Evening f