men's servants, and so forth?"

The "and so forth," thrown in as a rhetorical climax, turned into
reality and arrived bodily upon the scene--a climax indeed. One
afternoon, returning late to the cottage, he found a girl sitting by the
pallet--a girl young and dimpled and dewy; one of the creamy roses of
the South that, even in the bud, are richer in color and luxuriance than
any Northern flower. He saw her through the door, and paused; distressed
old Pomp met him and beckoned him cautiously outside. "Miss Bettina," he
whispered gutturally; "she's come back from somewhuz, an' she's awful
mad 'cause Mars' Ward's here. I tole her all 'bout 'em--de leaks an' de
rheumatiz an' de hard corn-cake, but she done gone scole me; and Mars'
Ward, he know now whar he is, an' he mad too."

"Is the girl a fool?" said Rodman. He was just beginning to rally a
little. He stalked into the room and confronted her. "I have the honor
of addressing--"

"Miss Ward."

"And I am John Rodman, keeper of the national cemetery."

This she ignored entirely; it was as though he had said, "I am John
Jones, the coachman." Coachmen were useful in their way; but their names
were unimportant.

The keeper sat down and looked at his new visitor. The little creature
fairly radiated scorn; her pretty head was thrown back, her eyes, dark
brown fringed with long dark lashes, hardly deigned a glance; she spoke
to him as though he was something to be paid and dismissed like any
other mechanic.

"We are indebted to you for some days' board, I believe,
keeper--medicines, I presume, and general attendance. My cousin will be
removed to-day to our own residence; I wish to pay now what he owes."

The keeper saw that her dress was old and faded; the small black shawl
had evidently been washed and many times mended; the old-fashioned
knitted purse she held in her hand was lank with long famine.

"Very well," he said; "if you choose to treat a kindness in that way, I
consider five dollars a day none too much for the annoyance, expense,
and trouble I have suffered. Let me see: five days--or is it six? Yes.
Thirty dollars, Miss Ward."

He looked at her steadily; she flushed. "The money will be sent to you,"
she began haughtily; then, hesitatingly, "I must ask a little time--"

"O Betty, Betty, you know you can not pay it. Why try to disguise--But
that does not excuse _you_ for bringing me here," said the sick man,
turning toward his host with an attempt to speak