hs, are apt to grow dim with age, and Nichols's were of much
more recent date--the barber's display of sentiment only jarred the
colonel's sensibilities and strengthened his desire.

"I should advise you to speak up, Nichols," said the colonel. "I had
no notion of buying the place when I came in, and I may not be of the
same mind to-morrow. Name your own price, but now's your time."

The barber caught his breath. Such dispatch was unheard-of in
Clarendon. But Nichols, a keen-eyed mulatto, was a man of thrift and
good sense. He would have liked to consult his wife and children about
the sale, but to lose an opportunity to make a good profit was to fly
in the face of Providence. The house was very old. It needed shingling
and painting. The floors creaked; the plaster on the walls was loose;
the chimneys needed pointing and the insurance was soon renewable. He
owned a smaller house in which he could live. He had been told to name
his price; it was as much better to make it too high than too low, as
it was easier to come down than to go up. The would-be purchaser was a
rich man; the diamond on the third finger of his left hand alone would
buy a small house.

"I think, suh," he said, at a bold venture, "that fo' thousand dollars
would be 'bout right."

"I'll take it," returned the colonel, taking out his pocket-book.
"Here's fifty dollars to bind the bargain. I'll write a receipt for
you to sign."

The barber brought pen, ink and paper, and restrained his excitement
sufficiently to keep silent, while the colonel wrote a receipt
embodying the terms of the contract, and signed it with a steady hand.

"Have the deed drawn up as soon as you like," said the colonel, as he
left the shop, "and when it is done I'll give you a draft for the
money."

"Yes, suh; thank you, suh, thank you, colonel."

The barber had bought the house at a tax sale at a time of great
financial distress, twenty years before, for five hundred dollars. He
had made a very good sale, and he lost no time in having the deed
drawn up.

When the colonel reached the hotel, he found Phil seated on the
doorstep with a little bow-legged black boy and a little white dog.
Phil, who had a large heart, had fraternised with the boy and fallen
in love with the dog.

"Papa," he said, "I want to buy this dog. His name is Rover; he can
shake hands, and I like him very much. This little boy wants ten cents
for him, and I did not have the money. I asked him to wait u