ood up and begged him to stay to supper.
"Mr. Lightfoot, can't you persuade him to sit down with us?" she asked.

"Where you have failed, Molly, it is useless for me to try," gallantly
responded the Major, picking up her ball of yarn.

"But I must bear your pardon to my little girl, I really must," insisted
the Governor. "By the way, Major," he added, turning at the door, "what do
you think of the scheme to let the Government buy the slaves and ship them
back to Africa? I was talking to a Congressman about it last week."

"Sell the servants to the Government!" cried the Major, hotly. "Nonsense!
nonsense! Why, you are striking at the very foundation of our society!
Without slavery, where is our aristocracy, sir?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon," said the Governor lightly. "Well, we shall keep
them a while longer, I expect. Good night, madam, good night, gentlemen,"
and he went out to where his horse was standing.

The Major looked after him with a sigh. "When I hear a man talking about
the abolition of slavery," he remarked gloomily, "I always expect him to
want to do away with marriage next--" he checked himself and coloured, as
if an improper speech had slipped out in the presence of Mrs. Lightfoot.
The old lady rose primly and, taking the rector's arm, led the way to
supper.

Dan was not noticed at the table,--it was a part of his grandmother's
social training to ignore children before visitors,--but when he went
upstairs that night, the Major came to the boy's room and took him in his
arms.

"I am proud of you, my child," he said. "You are my grandson, every inch of
you, and you shall have the finest riding horse in the stables on your
birthday."

"I'd rather have Big Abel, if you please, sir," returned Dan. "I think Big
Abel would like to belong to me, grandpa."

"Bless my soul!" cried the Major. "Why, you shall have Big Abel and his
whole family, if you like. I'll give you every darky on the place, if you
want them--and the horses to boot," for the old gentleman was as unwise in
his generosity as in his wrath.

"Big Abel will do, thank you," responded the boy; "and I'd like to shake
hands now, grandpa," he added gravely; but before the Major left that night
he had won not only the child's hand, but his heart. It was the beginning
of the great love between them.

For from that day Dan was as the light of his grandfather's eyes. As the
boy strode manfully across the farm, his head thrown back, his hands
clasped