a Virginia boy could not perform. Now that he was in
Richmond, the Stoke-Newington boys themselves loomed up as the
wonder-workers, and his playmates listened with admiration and with such
expression as, "Caesar's ghost!"--"Jiminy!"--"Cracky!" and the like, as
he narrated his tales of "Freckles," "Goggles," "the Beau," and the
rest.

One of his first visits after reaching home was to his old black
"Mammy," in the tiny cottage, with its prolific garden-spot, on the
outskirts of the town, in which Mr. Allan had installed her and her
husband, "Uncle Billy," before leaving Virginia.

"Mammy" was expecting him. With one half of her attention upon the white
cotton socks she was knitting for her spouse and the other half on the
gate of her small garden through which her "chile" would come, she sat
in her doorway awaiting him. She was splendidly arrayed in her new
purple calico and a big white apron, just from under the iron. Her
gayest bandanna "hankercher" covered her tightly "wropped" locks from
view and the snowiest of "neckerchers" was crossed over her ample bosom.
Her kind, black countenance was soft with thoughts of love.

"Uncle Billy," too, was spruced for the occasion. Indeed, he was quite
magnificent in a "biled shut," with ruffles, and an old dresscoat of
"Marster's." His top-boots were elaborately blacked, and a somewhat
battered stove-pipe hat crowned his bushy grey wool. Each of the old
folks comfortably smoked a corn-cob pipe.

"Mammy" saw her boy coming first. She could hardly believe it was
he--he was so tall--but she was up and away, down the path, in a flash.
Half-way to the gate that opened on the little back street, she met him
and enveloped him at once in her loving arms.

"Bless de Lord, O my soul!" she repeated over and over again in a sort
of chant, as she held him against her bosom and rocked back and forth on
her broad feet, tears of joy rolling down her face.

"De probable am returned," announced Uncle Billy, solemnly.

"G'long, Billy," she said, contemptuously. "He ain' no _probable_. He
jes' Mammy's own li'l' chile, if he _is_ growed so tall!"

"I'se only 'peatin' what de Good Book say," replied Uncle Billy, with
dignity.

Edgar was crying too, and laughing at the same time.

"Howdy, Uncle Billy," said he, stretching a hand to the old man as soon
as he could extricate himself from Mammy's embrace. "My, my, you do look
scrumptious! How's the rheumatiz?"

"Now jes' heah dat! Rememberin