was among
the first to arrive. Miss Laura's costume, which belonged to an
earlier date, was in keeping with her quiet dignity. Ben wore a suit
of his uncle's, which the care of old Aunt Viney had preserved
wonderfully well from moth and dust through the years. The men wore
stocks and neckcloths, bell-bottomed trousers with straps under their
shoes, and frock coats very full at the top and buttoned tightly at
the waist. Old Peter, in a long blue coat with brass buttons, acted as
butler, helped by a young Negro who did the heavy work. Miss Laura's
servant Catherine had rallied from her usual gloom and begged the
privilege of acting as lady's maid. 'Poleon Campbell, an old-time
Negro fiddler, whom Peter had resurrected from some obscure cabin,
oiled his rheumatic joints, tuned his fiddle and rosined his bow, and
under the inspiration of good food and drink and liberal wage, played
through his whole repertory, which included such ancient favourites
as, "Fishers' Hornpipe," "Soldiers' Joy," "Chicken in the Bread-tray,"
and the "Campbells are Coming." Miss Laura played a minuet, which the
young people danced. Major McLean danced the highland fling, and some
of the ladies sang old-time songs, and war lyrics, which stirred the
heart and moistened the eyes.

Little Phil, in a child's costume of 1840, copied from _The Ladies'
Book_, was petted and made much of for several hours, until he became
sleepy and was put to bed.

"Graciella," said the colonel to his young friend, during the evening,
"our party is a great success. It was your idea. When it is all over,
I want to make you a present in token of my gratitude. You shall
select it yourself; it shall be whatever you say."

Graciella was very much elated at this mark of the colonel's
friendship. She did not dream of declining the proffered token, and
during the next dance her mind was busily occupied with the question
of what it should be--a ring, a bracelet, a bicycle, a set of books?
She needed a dozen things, and would have liked to possess a dozen
others.

She had not yet decided, when Ben came up to claim her for a dance. On
his appearance, she was struck by a sudden idea. Colonel French was a
man of affairs. In New York he must have a wide circle of influential
acquaintances. Old Mr. Dudley was in failing health; he might die at
any time, and Ben would then be free to seek employment away from
Clarendon. What better place for him than New York? With a position
there,