tale of my appetite.

"Gwine to crawl ober de fence, was ye?" I heard him say with a chuckle
as he bore away the debris. "What I tell ye? Whar am ye now?"

"Did Miss Nancy send those terrapin?" I asked, watching the old darky
drawing the cork of the new Madeira referred to in the colonel's note.

"Ob co'se, Major; Miss Nancy gibs de colonel eberytin'. Didn't ye know
dat? She's de on'y one what's got anythin' to gib, an' she wouldn't
hab dat on'y frough de war her money was in de bank in Baltimo'. I
know, 'cause I went dar once to git some for her. De Yankee soldiers
searched me; but some possums got two holes."

"And did she send him the Madeira too?"

"No, sah; Mister Grocerman gib him dat."

As he pronounced this name his voice fell, and for some time thereafter
he kept silent, brushing the crumbs away, replacing a plate or two,
or filling my wine-glass, until at last he took his place behind my
chair as was his custom with his master. It was easy to see that Chad
had something on his mind.

Every now and then a sigh escaped him, which he tried to conceal by
some irrelevant remark, as if his sorrow were his own and not to be
shared with a stranger. Finally he gave an uneasy glance around, and,
looking into my face with an expression of positive pain, said:--

"Don't tell de colonel I axed, but when is dis yer railroad gwineter