day before in tears over the impropriety of her sister's conduct.

"She begged me to remonstrate with Miss Matoaca," he pursued, "and by
George, I promised her that I would. There's one thing, Ben, I've never
been able to stand, and that's the sight of a woman in tears. Of course
when you've made 'em cry yourself, it is different; but to have a lady
coming to you weeping over somebody else--and a lady like Miss
Mitty--well, I honestly believe if she'd requested me to give her my
skin, I'd have tried to get out of it just to oblige her."

"Did you go to Miss Matoaca?" I asked, for the picture of the General
lecturing his old love on the subject of the proprieties had caught my
attention even in the midst of a large Democratic procession that was
marching along the street. While he rambled on in his breaking voice,
which had begun to grow weak and old, I gazed over his head at the
political banners with their familiar, jesting inscriptions.

"I declare, Ben, I'd rather have swallowed a dose of medicine," he went
on; "you see I used to know Miss Matoaca very well forty years ago--I
reckon you've heard of it. We were engaged to be married, and it was
broken off because of some woman's rights nonsense she'd got in her
head."

"Well, it's hard to imagine your interview of yesterday."

"There wasn't any interview. I went to her and put it as mildly as I
could. 'Miss Matoaca,' I said, 'I'm sorry to hear you've gone cracked.'"

"And how did she take it?"

"'Do you mean my heart or my head, General?' she asked--she had always
plenty of spirit, had Matoaca, for all her soft looks. 'It's your head,'
I answered. 'Lord knows I'm not casting any reflections on the rest of
you.' 'Then it has fared better than my heart, General,' she replied,
'for that was broken.' She looked kind of wild, Ben, as she said it. I
don't know what she was talking about, I declare on my honour I don't!"

A cheer went up from the procession, and an expression of eager
curiosity came into his face.

"Can you read that inscription, Ben? My eyes ain't so good as they used
to be."

"It's some campaign joke. So your lecture wasn't quite a success?"

"It would have been if she'd listened to reason."

"But she did not, I presume?"

"She never listened to it in her life. If she had, she wouldn't be a
poor miserable old maid at this moment. What's that coming they're
making such a noise about? My God, Ben, if it ain't Matoaca herself!"

It was Matoac