tood empty fo' a few years, most of the slaves
were sold off, and the fields began to grow up. No one rightly knew, but
the general was supposed to be traveling up yonder in the No'th, sir.
As I say, things ran along this way quite a while, and then one morning
when I went to my store my clerk says, 'There's an old white-headed
nigger been waiting round here fo' a word with you, Mr. Crenshaw.' It
was Joe, the general's body servant, and when I'd shook hands with him I
said, 'When's the master expected back?' You see, I thought Joe had been
sent on ahead to open the house, but he says, 'General Quintard's at the
Barony now,' and then he says, 'The general's compliments, sir, and will
you see that this order is filled?' Well, Mr. Bladen, I and my father
had factored the Barony fo' fifteen years and upward, but that was the
first time the supplies fo' the general's table had ever been toted here
in a meal sack!

"I rode out that very afternoon, but Joe, who was one of your mannerly
niggers, met me at the door and says, 'Mr. Crenshaw, the general
appreciates this courtesy, but regrets that he is unable to see you,
sir.' After that it wa'n't long in getting about that the general was a
changed man. Other folks came here to welcome him back and he refused to
see them, but the reason of it we never learned. Joe, who probably knew,
was one of your close niggers; there was, no getting anything out of
him; you could talk with that darky by the hour, sir, and he left you
feeling emptier than if he'd kept his mouth shut."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," said Crenshaw, a trifle impatiently, and in response to his
bidding the door opened and a small boy entered the room dragging after
him a long rifle. Suddenly overcome by a speechless shyness, he paused
on the threshold to stare with round, wondering eyes at the two men.
"Well, sonny, what do you want?" asked Mr. Crenshaw indulgently.

The boy opened his mouth, but his courage failed him, and with his
courage went the words he would have spoken.

"Who is this?" asked Bladen.

"I'll tell, you presently," said Crenshaw. "Come, speak up, sonny, what
do you want?"

"Please, sir, I want this here old spo'tin' rifle," said: the child.
"Please, sir, I want to keep it," he added.

"Well, you run along on out of here with your old spo'tin' rifle!" said
Crenshaw good-naturedly.

"Please, sir, am I to keep it?"

"Yes, I reckon you may keep it--least I've