"I do not believe, major," he said, "that Olivia relishes the topic. I
merely wish to say that Sandy is an exception to any rule which you may
formulate in derogation of the negro. Sandy is a gentleman in ebony!"

Tom could scarcely preserve his gravity at this characterization of old
Sandy, with his ridiculous air of importance, his long blue coat, and
his loud plaid trousers. That suit would make a great costume for a
masquerade. He would borrow it some time,--there was nothing in the
world like it.

"Well, Mr. Delamere," returned the major good-humoredly, "no doubt Sandy
is an exceptionally good negro,--he might well be, for he has had the
benefit of your example all his life,--and we know that he is a faithful
servant. But nevertheless, if I were Mrs. Ochiltree, I should put my
money in the bank. Not all negroes are as honest as Sandy, and an
elderly lady might not prove a match for a burly black burglar."

"Thank you, major," retorted Mrs. Ochiltree, with spirit, "I'm not yet
too old to take care of myself. That cedar chest has been my bank for
forty years, and I shall not change my habits at my age."

At this moment Sandy reëntered the room. Carteret made a warning
gesture, which Mrs. Ochiltree chose not to notice.

"I've proved a match for two husbands, and am not afraid of any man
that walks the earth, black or white, by day or night. I have a
revolver, and know how to use it. Whoever attempts to rob me will do so
at his peril."

After dinner Clara played the piano and sang duets with Tom Delamere. At