"Uncle Noah," said the Colonel brokenly, "I--" but his voice failed
him, and he wrung the old man's hand in silence.

The Major bent and whispered a few swift words to the startled darky
and a great light illumined the brown face. "Doan yoh go foh to thank
me, Massa Dick," he crooned, patting the Colonel's hand with reverent
devotion; "I ain't wuth it. All I needs, sah, is jus' a good kick for
disobeyin' orders. 'Spects I doan understan' it all, but I does know,
sah, dat de lady wid de gray eyes whut's at Major Verney's is--is a
good fairy, sah. An', Colonel, de Christmas supper am ready."

Joyously they filed out, Dick lingering in the firelight for a word
with Ruth. Grandmother Verney, in high good humor, went out on the
Colonel's arm, the grievance of the morning's belated sleigh quite
forgotten in the genial warmth of the Fairfax hospitality.

"And what, Uncle Noah," asked the Colonel of the old darky as usual,
"have we to-night for supper?"

"Well, sah," beamed Uncle Noah, "we has ham an' turkey, an' cranberry
sauce an' celery, an' baked apples an' mince pie an' fruitcake
an'--an'--laws-a-massy, Massa, I'se too kerflusterated to ricomember
any mo'."

"We'll have them all!" cried the Colonel.

A terrific gobbling arose beneath the dining-room window, and the Major
rose and stared out in astonishment.

"Merciful goodness, Dick," he demanded, "what is that horrible racket?'