The Colonel sat in the middle of the room, watching Uncle Jimpson and
Aunt Caroline collect his scattered wardrobe, keeping a vigilant eye
meanwhile upon Miss Lady. He simply did not intend to have her
unhappy! It was preposterous! Altogether out of the question! His
little girl crying around in corners where he couldn't see her? The
idea of such a thing! If she must cry, what was the matter with his
shoulder?

"You ain't got but four hankchiefs in de wash, Cunnel," announced Aunt
Caroline from her knees beside a large wicker basket. "Don't look lak
dat's enough fer a white gem-man to start off on a trip wif."

"Jimpson," the Colonel looked up reproachfully, "did you hear that?
You have actually let me get down to four handkerchiefs."

"And socks," continued Caroline, enjoying the opportunity of
emphasizing the shortcomings of her lesser half, "'bout sebenteen, all
singles. No two scarcely de same color."

"Miss Lady, she been 'cumulatin' 'em to darn 'em," explained Jimpson,
glad to shift responsibility. "She 'low she gwine to tak a day off
some o' dese days, an' mend up ever'thing in de house."

The Colonel glanced around: "Where is Miss Lady?"

"Out in de hall, readin' de evenin' paper. Nebber did see dat chile
tek so much notice ob de newspaper. Yas, sir, I'll call her."

"Any later news of the shooting?" asked the Colonel casually, when she