oud and clapped their hands at the pretty little
gallantry.

But the master was equal to the emergency. Again the stately figure
met "Miss Rachel," the couple bowed, swung with the left, bowed again,
hands still clasped, and then the powdered head of the master dropped
for an instant over the lady's hand, that was lifted to his lips, and
the dancers parted.

Amid the spirited confusion of "chasing the fox," passing under the
gates held "high as the sky," and passing back again into line,
Caesar's voice could be heard still sounding the challenge:--

"Beat it, _if_ you kin, Mr. Grundy. _Chas_say _to_ yer best, Mr.
Grundy! Back yerse'f _to_ de lead, Mr. Grundy!"

Clearly, Mr. Grundy was not the favorite. Caesar's "backing" had
inspired confidence in the general.

However, if Mr. Grundy was, as he said, "a cock," he was nevertheless
a game one. Down the centre he tripped again, flushed and determined,
courtesied exceeding low, swung "with both" hands, then dropped for an
instant upon one knee while the lady tripped back into line. There was
a murmur of quick appreciation and all eyes were turned on Jackson.
Would he, _could_ he, think of anything so delightfully graceful?

Caesar's mouth stood wide open. His confidence in his beloved and
stately master never once faltered. He knew he would never suffer
Felix Grundy to outdo him in the simple matter of a bow; but how?
What?

Straight on came the general; bowed, extended his arms, when, as ill
luck would have it, he set the toe of his shoe upon the front hem of
"Miss Rachel's" silken gown, and, rising from her courtesy, there was
nothing to do but drop forward into the arms extended, amid the shouts
of the assembled guests, emphasized by Caesar's emphatic--

"Dar!"

He had done a very awkward thing. One of those _happily_ awkward
things which crown a man conqueror more surely than all the tricks of
art can do.

Nobody attempted to surpass that feat, and when the couples had each
in turn passed their parade, for such is the old Virginia reel, and
the dancers filed into the supper room, General Jackson was still, in
the judgment of his servant at all events, the master of grace and
chivalry.

A sumptuous supper and worthy the mistress who planned it. At the head
of the table sat Jackson; at the foot, the young statesman and guest,
Mr. Grundy.

When the company had all been seated, the master rose, his right hand
resting upon a tiny tumbler of red wine, such as