The Colonel, carefully crushing the mint between his stubby fingers,
stirred it with the sugar at the bottom of his tall glass; then,
resting the concoction on the broad arm of the rocker, and without
turning his head, lifted his voice in stentorian command:

"Jimpson!"

No answer. He turned his head slightly to the left, in the general
direction of the negro cabins whose roofs could be seen through the
trees, and sent another summons hurtling through the bushes:

"Jimpson!"

Again he waited, and again there was no response. The Colonel sighed
resignedly, and spreading a large bordered handkerchief over his
obliterated features, clasped his fat hands with some difficulty about
his ample girth, and slept. When he awoke he began exactly where he
had left off, only this time turning his head slightly to the right,
and sending his command toward the kitchen wing.

A door slammed somewhere in the distance, and presently a shuffling of
feet was heard in the hall, and a small, alert old negro presented
himself to his master with an air of cheerful conciliation.

The Colonel did not turn his head; he gazed with an air of great
injury at the tops of the locust trees, clasping his tumbler as it
rested on the arm of the rocker.

"Jimpson," he began, after the culprit had suffered his silence some