pair of plaid trousers of strikingly modern cut and pattern. With his
whiskers, his spectacles, and his solemn air of responsibility, he would
have presented, to one unfamiliar with the negro type, an amusingly
impressive appearance. But there was nothing incongruous about Sandy to
this company, except perhaps to Tom Delamere, who possessed a keen eye
for contrasts and always regarded Sandy, in that particular rig, as a
very comical darkey.

"Is it quite prudent, Mrs. Ochiltree," suggested the major at a moment
when Sandy, having set down the tray, had left the room for a little
while, "to mention, in the presence of the servants, that you keep money
in the house?"

"I beg your pardon, major," observed old Mr. Delamere, with a touch of
stiffness. "The only servant in hearing of the conversation has been my
own; and Sandy is as honest as any man in Wellington."

"You mean, sir," replied Carteret, with a smile, "as honest as any negro
in Wellington."

"I make no exceptions, major," returned the old gentleman, with
emphasis. "I would trust Sandy with my life,--he saved it once at the
risk of his own."

"No doubt," mused the major, "the negro is capable of a certain doglike
fidelity,--I make the comparison in a kindly sense,--a certain personal
devotion which is admirable in itself, and fits him eminently for a
servile career. I should imagine, however, that one could more safely
trust his life with a negro than his portable property."