esent, Winthrop's speech had seemed to him the
most unusual thing he had ever heard. He walked up and down several
times, as if he did not quite know what to do. Then he tried to present
a better appearance in the presence of all these friends, and stood
still, rubbing his hands and saying every now and then, in a
conciliating tone (apparently as much to himself as to any one else),
"Why yes, of course. Why yes."

These little flurries of words, movement, and embraces had gone on
simultaneously; and Winthrop had all the time been trying to lead the
way towards the stairs. Dr. Kirby had not spoken a syllable, either in
answer to Winthrop's first speech, or Betty's tearful "_Isn't_ it
beautiful?" or Mr. Moore's "Why yes." But now he found his voice, and
drawing Garda--who had kept on laughing to herself softly--away from the
women who were surrounding her, "Come up-stairs, Garda," he said; "this
open hall is no place for a serious conversation."

It occurred to Winthrop that he might have thought of this before.

Meanwhile the large heavy Looth had gone on a thunderous run through the
whole length of the upper hall, on her way to a back staircase, in order
to get down first and tell the news to Telano, Aunt Dinah, and the
others. For Pablo and Raquel held themselves aloof from the new servants
(though kindly allowing them to do the work of the household), and it
gave Looth joy to forestall them. Pablo and Raquel were of the old
_regime_, they held their heads high because they were not receiving
wages, but "b'longed to de place;" they had small opinion of "free
niggahs" still, and were distinctly of the belief that "man's payshin"
was an invention of the Yankees, which would soon come to an end. "_Den_
we'll see squirmin'--ki!"

When the friends were re-assembled in the drawing-room up-stairs, Dr.
Kirby said, with gravity, "Let some one inform Mrs. Harold."

Winthrop repressed a movement of impatience; the little Doctor with his
magisterial air, the tall, lank clergyman trying to conciliate his own
surprise, Mrs. Carew with her ejaculations and handkerchief, the two
Spanish ladies, who, as it was a sentimental occasion, stood
romantically holding each other's hands, even poor tired little Mrs.
Kirby, folded up quiet and small as a mouse in her chair--they all
seemed to him tedious, unnecessary. Then his glance reached Garda, who
was looking at him over the low bulwark of the Doctor's shoulder. His
face softened, and