He was
waiting to see his master "lay 'em all in the shade bimeby." Of course
he would open the ball. He wasn't fond of dancing but it was the
custom of the day, and he and Miss Rachel "knew their manners."

But for once the custom of the day was changed. Caesar was destined to
disappointment. Mrs. Jackson's rustling silk announced her approach
before she appeared, leaning, not upon the arm of the general, but in
company with a florid, rather fleshy gentleman, no stranger, however,
to the Hermitage hospitality. Much to the negro's chagrin he led her
to the very head of the long lines of bright dresses and gay gallants,
and stepped himself, as Caesar declared, "like a young cock," into the
general's own place opposite. The master stood at the very foot, the
escort of a lady Caesar had never set eyes upon before, and who for the
life of him he could not forgive for being the general's partner.

He was grievously disappointed, so that when the florid fat gentleman
at the head danced down between the gay columns, and made his manners
to the lady at the foot, as gallantly as anyone could have done, Caesar
expressed his opinion loud enough to be heard by the very gentleman
himself.

"Mr. Grundy tryin' step mighty high to-night," he said.

But it was when "Miss Rachel" danced down in her silken skirts and met
the master midway the line, and dropped a low courtesy, her full
skirts settling about her like a great white umbrella, and the stately
general bowed over his silver buckles like some royal knight of old,
that Caesar's enthusiasm got the better of his indignation.

"Beat _dat_, Mr. Grundy!" he said, in a low, if enthusiastic, whisper,
"beat dat, sar." And Mr. Grundy pranced down again to "beat" the
master in the "swing with the right" movement of the old-fashioned
dance.

Promptly the general followed, meeting "Miss Rachel" half way with a
second courtesy over the tips of her fingers, just visible under the
lace ruffles at her wrists.

"Try _dat_, now, Mr. Grundy!" And this time Caesar forgot his whisper
so that a burst of applause followed the challenge, to Mr. Grundy's
extreme chagrin; for he, alas! had forgotten his bow before swinging
the lady.

It was then the dancing assumed something of the appearance of real
rivalry.

Down the line galloped Mr. Grundy again, stopped, bowed, "swung with
the left," and _bowed again_.

The general had been outdone, even Caesar had to admit it, and the
dancers laughed al