translating for us and I don't trust her. Your letter was handed to me
in the Governor's private office and both he and I saw what a help it
would be to have you here when this Frenchie--who is a Count Something
or Other--and his servants and secretaries, what he calls his suite,
arrive. By George, sir, we need your advice in eating and drinking
them! Do you suppose they'll have intelligence enough to eat the manna
of the gods, which is corn pone, and drink the nectar, which is plain
whiskey, or will we be expected to furnish them with snails and
absinthe?"

At that I laughed a very large laugh and made this answer to the
perturbation of my Uncle, the General Robert:

"I will tell you after luncheon, my Uncle Robert, because I have not
as yet eaten in this Harpeth country of America."

"All right, we'll talk about it after you've had one of old Kizzie's
fried chicken dinners. Here we are at the Mansion. Remember, you know
the _whole_ situation and are only supposed to know the part that
Governor Bill _thinks_ is the whole. Look at me, boy!" And as the
big car drove up to the curb before a great stone house with tall
pillars on guard of its front, he laid both his hands upon my
shoulders and turned me towards him with force and no gentleness and
then with his keen eyes did he look down into the very soul of me.

"Yes, I see I can trust you, sir. God bless you, boy!" he said after a
very long moment of time.

"Yes, my Uncle Robert," I answered him without turning my eyes from
his.