ay hair. Have I, Dudley?"

Delphy returned the bottle with a sigh, and applied herself to a
vigorous brushing of Eugenia's hair.

"You sho is filled out sence I see you, Marse Dudley," she observed at
last.

"Yes, I'm getting fat, Delphy," returned Dudley with a laugh. "It's old
age, you know. It's a long time since the days when you spanked me with
a heavy hand."

"Go 'way f'om yer, Marse Dudley; you know I ain' never spank you none
ter hu't. En you ain' er bit too fat ter fit yo' skin, nohow."

Dudley regarded her with a kindly, patriarchal eye as he straightened
himself against the mantel. "Any news from down your way, Delphy?" he
inquired with interest. "What's become of Moses? Moses was always a
friend of mine. He used to bring me a pocketful of peanuts from every
picking he went to."

Delphy shook her head, her huge lips tightening. "He's down wid de
purple headache," she replied gloomily, "twel he can't smell de
diff'ence between er 'possum en er polecat. Yes, suh, Mose he's moughty
low down, en' ter dis yer day he ain' never got over Marse Nick Burr's
ous'in' you en Miss Euginny outer de cheer you all oughter had down
yonder at de cap'tol. I ain' got much use fer Marse Nick myse'f. He's
monst'ous hard on po' folks. I ain' been able to rent out mo'n oner my
rooms sence he's been down dar. Dat's right, Miss Euginny, yo' hyar's
des es dry es I kin git it."

When Delphy had gone, Dudley leaned down and put his arm about Eugenia
as he kissed her. "All right, Eugie?" he asked cheerfully. Eugenia
returned his caress with a startled pleasure, looking up at him
affectionately, fascinated by the glow which hung about him.

"Oh, I really don't think I could do without you, Dudley," she said
quickly.

"Well, it's a good thing you don't have to," responded Dudley as he
kissed her again.

It was several days after this that Eugenia came to him one evening as
he stood before the fire and laid her cool cheek against his arm.

"Oh, Dudley," she said breathlessly, "I am so happy--so absurdly happy."

She raised her head and Dudley, looking at her in the firelight, found
her more beautiful than she had been even in the radiant days of her
girlhood. He had seen that high resolve in her face but once before, and
he grasped the meaning now as then--it was the dawn of motherhood that
enveloped her. She had heard the call of the generations in the end--the
appeal of the race that moved her nature more profoundly than did