f you sell it cheap."

"She's a bully old house."

There was a long silence. By and by old Charlies commenced--

"Old Injin Charlie is a low-down dog."

"_C'est vrai, oui!_" retorted the Colonel in an undertone.

"He's got Injin blood in him."

"But he's got some blame good blood, too, ain't it?"

The Colonel nodded impatiently.

"_Bien!_ Old Charlie's Injin blood says, 'sell de house, Charlie, you
blame old fool!' _Mais_, old Charlie's good blood says, 'Charlie! if you
sell dat old house, Charlie, you low-down old dog, Charlie, what de
Compte De Charleu make for you grace-gran'muzzer, de dev' can eat you,
Charlie, I don't care.'"

"No!" And the _no_ rumbled off in muttered oaths like thunder out on the
Gulf. The incensed old Colonel wheeled and started off.

"Curl!" (Colonel) said Charlie, standing up unsteadily.

The planter turned with an inquiring frown.

"I'll trade with you!" said Charlie.

The Colonel was tempted. "'Ow'l you trade?" he asked.

"My house for yours!"

The old Colonel turned pale with anger. He walked very quickly back, and
came close up to his kinsman.

"Charlie!" he said.

"Injin Charlie,"--with a tipsy nod.

But by this time self-control was returning. "Sell Belles Demoiselles to
you?" he said in a high key, and then laughed "Ho, ho, ho!" and rode
away.

A cloud, but not a dark one, overshadowed the spirits of Belles
Demoiselles' plantation. The old master, whose beaming presence had
always made him a shining Saturn, spinning and sparkling within the
bright circle of his daughters, fell into musing fits, started out of
frowning reveries, walked often by himself, and heard business from his
overseer fretfully.

No wonder. The daughters knew his closeness in trade, and attributed to
it his failure to negotiate for the Old Charlie buildings,--so to call
them. They began to depreciate Belles Demoiselles. If a north wind blew,
it was too cold to ride. If a shower had fallen, it was too muddy to
drive. In the morning the garden was wet. In the evening the grasshopper
was a burden. _Ennui_ was turned into capital; every headache was
interpreted a premonition of ague; and when the native exuberance of a
flock of ladies without a want or a care burst out in laughter in the
father's face, they spread their French eyes, rolled up their little
hands, and with rigid wrists and mock vehmence vowed and vowed again
that they only laughed at their misery, and should pine to death unless