one family--that was something to be proud of even in Virginia.

It was at this romantic point that Champe shattered his visions by shooting
a jest at him about the "love sick swain."

"Oh, be off, and let a fellow think, won't you?" he retorted angrily.

"Do you hear him call it thinking?" jeered Diggs, from the other side.

"He doesn't call it mooning, oh, no," scoffed Champe.

"Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life," sang Morson, striking an
attitude that almost threw him off his horse.

"Shut up, Morson," commanded Diggs, "you ought to be thankful if you had
enough sense left to moon with."

"Sense, who wants sense?" inquired Morson, on the point of tears. "I have
heart, sir."

"Then keep it bottled up," rejoined Champe, coolly, as they turned into the
drive at Chericoke.

In Dan's room they found Big Abel stretched before the fire asleep; and as
the young men came in, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Hi! young Marsters, hit's ter-morrow!" he exclaimed.

"To-morrow! I wish it were to-morrow," responded Dan, cheerfully. "The fire
makes my head spin like a top. Here, come and pull off my coat, Big Abel,
or I'll have to go to bed with my clothes on."

Big Abel pulled off the coat and brushed it carefully; then he held out his
hand for Champe's.

"I hope dis yer coat ain' gwine lose hit's set 'fo' hit gits ter me," he
muttered as he hung them up. "Seems like you don' teck no cyar yo' clothes,
nohow, Marse Dan. I'se de wuss dress somebody dis yer side er de po' w'ite
trash. Wat's de use er bein' de quality ef'n you ain' got de close?"

"Stop grumbling, you fool you," returned Dan, with his lordly air. "If it's
my second best evening suit you're after, you may take it; but I tell you
now, it's the last thing you're going to get out of me till summer."

Big Abel took down the second best suit of clothes and examined them with
an interest they had never inspired before. "I d'clar you sutney does set
hard," he remarked after a moment, and added, tentatively, "I dunno whar de
shuts gwine come f'om."

"Not from me," replied Dan, airily; "and now get out of here, for I'm going
to sleep."

But when he threw himself upon his bed it was to toss with feverish
rose-coloured dreams until the daybreak.

His blood was still warm when he came down to breakfast; but he met his
grandfather's genial jests with a boyish attempt at counter-buff.

"Oh, you needn't twit me, sir," he said with an embarrassed laugh; "to