his delicate ghostly beard, while delivering to Alfred one of his interminable talks of the old life in the South. At times he forgot the war and the horrors which followed and reënacted the scenes of the past until his former slave, too full to bear more, would stop him tenderly, and get him to change the subject.
"Leave us awhile, Alfred," John said, on entering.
"Yassah," the old butler answered, bowing himself out with stately dignity.
John closed the door and drew his chair close to the Major's.
"Father, I want to ask you something very particular," be began.
The old man smiled indulgently.
"Well, out with it, you young rascal! You've been flying round her long enough. I knew it would come at last. So, she's got you, has she! Well, well, Jennie's a fine girl, my boy; I danced at her father's and mother's wedding. I wish I had more to give you. You'll have to be content with the lower plantation, and a dozen slaves to start with."
"Listen, father," John urged, stopping him with a gentle pressure on his arm. "And try to remember. Have you encountered Butler lately?"
"Change our butler!—what better butler do
