pieces to the adjoining rooms. They laughed at Sam's new-found note of
dignity and authority.

He was acting butler to-night in Uncle Ben's place. No servant was
allowed to work when ill--no matter how light the tasks to which he was
assigned. Sam was but twenty years old and he had been given the honor
of superintending the arrangements for the dance. And, climax of all,
he had been made leader of the music with the sole right to call the
dances, although he played only the triangle in the orchestra. He was in
high fettle.

When the first carriage entered the grounds his keen ear caught the
crunch of wheels on the gravel. He hurried to call the mistress and
young misses to their places at the door. He also summoned the boys from
their rooms upstairs. He had seen the flash of spotless white in the
carriage. It meant beauty calling to youth on the hill. Sam knew.

Phil came downstairs with Custis. The spacious sweep of the hall, its
waxed floor clear of furniture, with hundreds of blinking candles
flashing on its polished surface, caught his imagination. It _was_ a
fairy world--this generous Southern home. In spite of its wide spaces,
and its dignity, it was friendly. It caught his boy's heart.

Mrs. Lee was just entering. Custis' eyes danced at the sight of his
mother in full dress. He grasped Phil's arm and whispered:

"Isn't my mother the most beautiful woman you ever saw?"

He spoke the words half to himself. It was the instinctive worship of
the true Southern boy, breathed in genuine reverence, with an awe that