use darting under.

"Mamma, it is Milburn himself, in a hack and span. See there; the
steeple-top hat, copper buckle and all! Isn't he too funny for anything!
But, dear me! he is staring right up at this window. Let us duck!"

Vesta's long, ivory-grained arms, divided from her beautiful shoulders
only by a spray of lace, pulled her mother down.

"Don't be afraid, dear! he can see nothing but the blinds. Perhaps he is
looking for the Judge."

Vesta rose again in her white morning-gown, like a stag rising from a
snow-drift. A long, trembling movement, the result of tittering, passed
down the graceful column of her back.

"He sits there like an Indian riding past in a show, mamma! Did you ever
see such a hat?"

"I think it must be buggy by this time," said the mother; and both of
them shook with laughter again. "Unless," added Mrs. Custis, "the bugs
are starved out."

"Poor, lonely creature," said Vesta, "he can only wear such a hat from
want of understanding."

"His _understanding_ is good enough, dear. He has the green gaiters on."

They laughed again, and Vesta's hair, shaken down by her merriment, fell
nearly to her slipper, like the skin of some coal-black beast, that had
sprung down a poplar's trunk.

"Ah! well," exclaimed Vesta, as her maid entered and proceeded to wind
up this satin cordage on her crown, "what men are in their minds, can
woman know? Old ladies, not unfrequently, wear their old coal-scuttle
bonnets long past the fashion, but it is from want. This man is his own
master and not poor. His companion is a negro, and his taste a mouldy
hat, old as America. How happy are we that it is not necessary to pry
into such minds! A little refinement is the next blessing to religion."

"Your father's mind is a puzzle, too, Vesta. He has everything which
these foresters lack,--education, society, standing, and comforts. But
he returns to the forest, like an opossum, the moment your eye is off
him. He can't be traced up like this man, by his hat. I think it's a
shame on you, particularly. If he don't come home this day, I shall send
for my brother and force an account of my property from Judge Custis!"

The wife sat down and began to cry.

"I'll take the carriage after breakfast, mamma, and seek him at the
Furnace or wherever he may be. Those bog ores have given him a great
deal of trouble."

"I wish I had never heard of bog ore," exclaimed Mrs. Custis. "When the
money was in bank, there was no ore a