r 'em.' Yessir--dem was his words. De war had
done lef' old mars' po' hisself. Old mars' bein' long ago dead, de
debt descends to Mars' Pendleton. Three hundred dollars. Uncle Mose is
plenty able to pay now. When dat railroad buy my lan' I laid off to
pay fur dem mules. Count de money, Mars' Pendleton. Dat's what I sold
dem mules fur. Yessir."

Tears were in Major Talbot's eyes. He took Uncle Mose's hand and laid
his other upon his shoulder.

"Dear, faithful, old servitor," he said in an unsteady voice, "I don't
mind saying to you that 'Mars' Pendleton spent his last dollar in the
world a week ago. We will accept this money, Uncle Mose, since, in a
way, it is a sort of payment, as well as a token of the loyalty and
devotion of the old regime. Lydia, my dear, take the money. You are
better fitted than I to manage its expenditure."

"Take it, honey," said Uncle Mose. "Hit belongs to you. Hit's Talbot
money."

After Uncle Mose had gone, Miss Lydia had a good cry---for joy; and
the Major turned his face to a corner, and smoked his clay pipe
volcanically.

The succeeding days saw the Talbots restored to peace and ease. Miss
Lydia's face lost its worried look. The major appeared in a new frock
coat, in which he looked like a wax figure personifying the memory of
his golden age. Another publisher who read the manuscript of the
_Anecdotes and Reminiscences_ thought that, with a little retouching
and toning down of the high lights, he could make a really bright and
salable volume of it. Altogether, the situation was comfortable, and
not without the touch of hope that is often sweeter than arrived
blessings.

One day, about a week after their piece of good luck, a maid brought a
letter for Miss Lydia to her room. The postmark showed that it was
from New York. Not knowing any one there, Miss Lydia, in a mild
flutter of wonder, sat down by her table and opened the letter with
her scissors. This was what she read:

DEAR MISS TALBOT:

I thought you might be glad to learn of my good fortune. I have
received and accepted an offer of two hundred dollars per week by a
New York stock company to play Colonel Calhoun in _A Magnolia Flower_.

There is something else I wanted you to know. I guess you'd better not
tell Major Talbot. I was anxious to make him some amends for the great
help he was to me in studying the part, and for the bad humor he was
in about it. He refused to let me, so I did it anyhow. I could easily
spare the