was small, and she was not to be taken back by any compliment
a man should pay her. She simply fanned herself, a little flurriedly
perhaps, with her feather fan, as she said: "You sho' must be jokin',
Mr. Pier. You cert'n'y must." But Mr. Pierre was not joking. He was
never more in earnest in his life, and he told her so, and there is no
telling what else he would have told her but for the fact that Mr. Pete
Peters happened to come out to the shed to cool off about this time, and
as he almost brushed her shoulder, it was as little as Lily could do to
address a remark to him, and then, of course, he stopped and chatted
awhile; and, after what appeared a reasonable interval, long enough for
it not to seem that she was too much elated over it, she remarked, "An',
by-de-way, Mr. Peters, I must tell you what a lovely Christmas gif' I
have just received by de hand of Mr. Pier. He has jest presented me
with his yaller-wheeled buggy, an' I sho' is proud of it." Then,
turning to Pierre, she added, "You sho' is a mighty generous gen'leman,
Mr. Pier--you cert'n'y is."

Peters give Lily one startled look, but he instantly realized, from
her ingenuous manner, that there was nothing back of the gift of the
buggy--that is, it had been, so far as she was concerned, simply a
Christmas present. Pierre had not offered himself with the gift. And
if this were so, well--he reckoned he could match him.

He reached forward and took Lily's fan from her hand. He hastened to do
this to keep Pierre from taking it. Then, while he fanned her, he said,
"Is dat so, Miss Lily, dat Mr. Pier is give you a buggy? Dat sholy is a
fine Christmas gif'--it sho' is. An' sense you fin' yo'se'f possessed of
a buggy, I trust you will allow me de pleasure of presentin' you wid a
horse to drive in de buggy." He made a graceful bow as he spoke, a bow
that would have done credit to the man from New Orleans. It was so well
done, indeed, that Lily unconsciously bowed in return, as she said, with
a look that savored a little of roguishness: "Oh, hursh, Mr. Peters! You
des a-guyin' me--dat what you doin'."

"Guyin' nothin'," said Peters, grinning broadly as he noted the
expression of Pierre's face. "Ef you'll jes do me de honor to accep' of
my horse, Miss Lily, I'll be de proudest gen'leman on dis plantation."

At this she chuckled, and took her fan in her own hand. And then she
turned to Pierre.

"You sho' has set de style o' mighty expensive Christmas gif's on dis