he door."

Vesta took her father in her arms, and kissed him once assuringly.

"Papa, go send a servant to open the door. Have Mr. Milburn shown into
this room to await me. Do you go and engage my mother affectionately,
and both of you remain in your chamber till I am ready to call you."

The proximity of the dreadful creditor had almost paralyzed Judge
Custis, and he glided out like a ghost.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE HAT FINDS A RACK.

Meshach Milburn had locked the store after writing some letters, and had
taken the broad street for Judge Custis's gate. The news of his
disappearance towards the Furnace, with an extravagant livery team, had
spread among all the circle around the principal tavern, and they were
discussing the motive and probabilities of the act, with that deep inner
ignorance so characteristic of an instinctive society. Old Jimmy
Phoebus, a huge man, with a broad face and small forehead, was called
upon for his view.

"It's nothin' but a splurge," said Jimmy; "sooner or later everybody
splurges--shows off! Meshach's jest spilin' with money and he must have
a splurge--two hosses and a nigger. If it ain't a splurge I can't tell
what ails him to save my life."

A general chorus went up of "Dogged if I kin tell to save my life!"

Levin Dennis, the terrapin-buyer, made a wild guess, as follows:

"Meshach, I reckon, is a goin' into the hoss business. He's a ben in
everything else, and has tuk to hosses. If it tain't hosses, I can't
tell to save my life!"

All the lesser intellects of the party executed a low chuckle, spun
around half-way on their boot-heels and back again, and muttered: "Not
to save my life!"

Jack Wonnell, wearing one of the new bell-crowns, and barefooted, and
looking like a vagrant who had tried on a militia grenadier's imposing
bearskin hat, let off this irrelevant _addendum_:

"Ole Milbun's gwyn to see a gal. Fust time a man changes his regler
course wilently, it's a gal. I went into my bell-crowns to git a gal.
Milbun's gwyn get a gal out yonda in forest. If that ain't it, can't
tell to save m' life!"

The smaller fry, not being trained to suggestion, grinned, held their
mouths agape, executed the revolution upon; one heel, and echoed:
"Dogged ef a kin tell t' _save_ m' life!".

"He's a comin', boys, whooep!" exclaimed Jimmy Phoebus. "Now we'll
all take off our hats an' do it polite, for, by smoke! thar's goin' to
be hokey-pokey of some kind or nuther in Prencess An