ain the
recording angel is in requisition, and has to be off on one of his
endless errands to the register office.) "Come directly, mas'r," says
Sady, and resumes his conversation with his woolly brethren. He grins.
He takes the pistols out of the holster. He snaps the locks. He points
them at a grunter, which plunges through the farmyard. He points down
the road, over which he has just galloped, and towards which the woolly
heads again turn. He says again, "Comin', mas'r. Everybody a-comin'."
And now, the gallop of other horses is heard. And who is yonder? Little
Mr. Dempster, spurring and digging into his pony; and that lady in a
riding-habit on Madam Esmond's little horse, can it be Madam Esmond? No.
It is too stout. As I live it is Mrs. Mountain on Madam's grey!

"O Lor! O Golly! Hoop! Here dey come! Hurray!" A chorus of negroes rises
up. "Here dey are!" Dr. Dempster and Mrs. Mountain have clattered
into the yard, have jumped from their horses, have elbowed through the
negroes, have rushed into the house, have run through it and across the
porch, where the British officers are sitting in muzzy astonishment;
have run down the stairs to the garden where George and Harry are
walking, their tall enemy stalking opposite to them; and almost ere
George Warrington has had time sternly to say, "What do you do here,
madam?" Mrs. Mountain has flung her arms round his neck and cries:
"Oh, George, my darling! It's a mistake! It's a mistake, and is all my
fault!"

"What's a mistake?" asks George, majestically separating himself from
the embrace.

"What is it, Mounty?" cries Harry, all of a tremble.

"That paper I took out of his portfolio, that paper I picked up,
children; where the Colonel says he is going to marry a widow with two
children. Who should it be but you, children, and who should it be but
your mother?"

"Well?"

"Well, it's--it's not your mother. It's that little widow Custis whom
the Colonel is going to marry. He'd always take a rich one; I knew he
would. It's not Mrs. Rachel Warrington. He told Madam so to-day, just
before he was going away, and that the marriage was to come off after
the campaign. And--and your mother is furious, boys. And when Sady came
for the pistols, and told the whole house how you were going to fight,
I told him to fire the pistols off; and I galloped after him, and I've
nearly broken my poor old bones in coming to you."

"I have a mind to break Mr. Sady's," growled George. "I spec