like all possessed. Hood don't like him any more than
you do, but he allows Hopper is a natural-born business man. Last month
Samuels got tight, and Wright & Company were going to place the largest
order in years. I called in Hood. 'Go yourself, Colonel,' says he. I I'm
too old to solicit business, Hood,' said I. 'Then there's only one man
to send,' says he, 'young Hopper. He'll get the order, or I'll give up
this place I've had for twenty years.' Hopper 'callated' to get it, and
another small one pitched in. And you'd die laughing, Lige, to hear how
he did it."

"Some slickness, I'll gamble," grunted Captain Lige.

"Well, I reckon 'twas slick," said the Colonel, thoughtfully. "You know
old man Wright hates a solicitor like poison. He has his notions. And
maybe you've noticed signs stuck up all over his store, 'No Solicitors
nor Travelling Men Allowed Here'."

The Captain nodded.

"But Hopper--Hopper walks in, sir, bold as you please, right past the
signs till he comes to the old man's cage. 'I want to see Mr. Wright,'
says he to the clerk. And the clerk begins to grin. 'Name, please,' says
he. Mr. Hopper whips out his business card. 'What!' shouts old Wright,
flying 'round in his chair, 'what the devil does this mean? Can't you
read, sir?' 'callate to,' says Mr. Hopper. 'And you dare to come in
here?

"'Business is business,' says Hopper. 'You "callate"!' bellowed the
old man; 'I reckon you're a damned Yankee. I reckon I'll upset your
"callations" for once. And if I catch you in here again, I'll wring your
neck like a roostah's. Git!'"

"Who told you this?" asked Captain Brent.

"Wright himself,--afterward," replied Mr. Carvel, laughing. "But listen,
Lige. The old man lives at the Planters' House, you know. What does Mr.
Hopper do but go 'round there that very night and give a nigger two bits
to put him at the old man's table. When Wright comes and sees him, he
nearly has one of his apoplectic fits. But in marches Hopper the next
morning with twice the order. The good Lord knows how he did it."

There was a silence. Then the door-bell rang.

"He's dangerous," said the Captain, emphatically. "That's what I call
him."

"The Yankees are changing business in this town," was the Colonel's
answer. "We've got to keep the pace, Lige."

CHAPTER XIII. THE PARTY

To gentle Miss Anne Brinsmade, to Puss Russell of the mischievous eyes,
and even to timid Eugenie Renault, the question that burned was: Would
he