that she would be
somewhat fatigued by her journey from Carter Hall northward, ever kept
me away from her that long. Then, again, I knew that she wanted at
least one entire day in which to straighten out the various domestic
accounts of the little house in Bedford Place, including that
complicated and highly-prized pass-book of the "Grocerman."

And then Chad's delight when he opened the door with a sweep, his face
a sunburst of smiles and announced Miss Carter's presence in the
house! And the new note in the Colonel's voice--a note of triumph and
love and pride! And the touches here and there inside the cosy rooms;
touches that only a woman can give--a new curtain here, a pot of
flowers there: all joyous happenings that made a visit to Aunt Nancy,
as we loved to call her, one of the events to be looked forward to.

But it was not Chad who opened the door on this particular morning.
That worthy darky was otherwise occupied; in the kitchen, really,
plucking the feathers from the canvas-back ducks. They had been part
of the dear lady's impedimenta, not to mention a huge turkey, a box of
terrapin, and a barrel of Pongateague oysters, besides unlimited
celery, Tolman sweet potatoes, and a particular brand of hominy, for
which Fairfax County was famous.

I say it was not Chad at all who opened the door and took my card, but
a scrap of a pickaninny about three feet high, with closely-cropped
wool, two strings of glistening white teeth--_two_, for his mouth was
always open; a pair of flaring ears like those of a mouse, and two
little restless, wicked eyes that shone like black diamonds: the whole
of him, with the exception of his cocoanut of a head, squeezed into a
gray cloth suit bristling with brass buttons and worsted braid, a
double row over his chest, and a stripe down each seam of his
trousers.

Aunt Nancy's new servant!

The scrap held out a silver tray; received my card with a dip of his
head, threw back the door of the dining-room, scraped his foot with
the flourish of a clog dancer, and disappeared in search of his
mistress.

Chad stepped from behind the door, his face in a broad grin. He had
crept up the kitchen stairs, and had been watching the boy's
performance from the rear room. His sleeves were rolled up and some of
the breast feathers of the duck still stuck to his fingers.

"Don't dat beat de lan'! Major," he said to me. "Did ye see dem
buttons on him? Ain't he a wonder? Clar to goodness looks like h