dis!"

I tried to divert his attention into other channels and to calm his
fears, assuring him that the colonel would come out all right; that
these enterprises were slow, etc.; but the old man only shook his head.

"You know, Major, same as me, dat de colonel ain't nuffin' but a chile,
an' about his bills he's _wuss_. But I'm yer, an' I'm 'sponsible.
'Chad,' he says, 'go out an' git six mo' bottles of dat old Madary;'
an' 'Chad, don't forgit de sweet ile;' an' 'Chad, is we got claret
enough to last ober Sunday?'--an' not a cent in de house. I ain't slep'
none for two nights, worritin' ober dis business, an' I'm mos' crazy."
I laid down my knife and fork and looked up. The old man's lip was
quivering, and something very like a tear stood in each eye.

"I can't hab nuffin' happen to de fambly, Major. You know our folks
is quality, an' always was, an' I dassent look my mistress in de face
if anythin' teches Marsa George." Then bending down he said in a hoarse
whisper: "See dat old clock out dar wid his eye wide open? Know what's
down below dat in de cellar? De jail!" And two tears rolled down his
cheeks.

* * * * *

It was some time before I could quiet the old man's anxieties and coax
him back into his usual good humor, and then only when I began to ask
him of the old plantation days.

Then he fell to talking about the colonel's father, General John Carter,
and the high days at Carter Hall when Miss Nancy was a young lady and