The Crisis (Historical Novel). Winston Churchill
you do him wrong, honey,” the Colonel put in.
“I hear he took Hester to Miss Crane's,” the Captain continued, filling the room with his hearty laughter. “That boy has sand enough, Jinny; I'd like to know him.”
“You'll have that priceless opportunity to-night,” retorted Miss Virginia, as she flung herself out of the room. “Pa has made me invite him to my party.”
“Here, Jinny! Hold on!” cried the Captain, running after her. “I've got something for you.”
She stopped on the stairs, hesitating. Whereupon the Captain hastily ripped open the bundle under his arm and produced a very handsome India shawl. With a cry of delight Virginia threw it over her shoulders and ran to the long glass between the high windows.
“Who spoils her, Lige?” asked the Colonel, fondly.
“Her father, I reckon,” was the prompt reply.
“Who spoils you, Jinny?”
“Captain Lige,” said she, turning to him. “If you had only kept the presents you have brought me from New Orleans, you might sell out your steamboat and be a rich man.”
“He is a rich man,” said the Colonel, promptly. “Did you ever miss bringing her a present, Lige?” he asked.
“When the Cora Anderson burnt,” answered the Captain.
“Why,” cried Virginia, “you brought me a piece of her wheel, with the char on it. You swam ashore with it.”
“So I did,” said Captain Brent. “I had forgotten that. It was when the French dress, with the furbelows, which Madame Pitou had gotten me from Paris for you, was lost.”
“And I think I liked the piece of wheel better,” says Virginia. “It was brought me by a brave man, the last to leave his boat.”
“And who should be the last to leave, but the captain? I saw the thing in the water; and I just thought we ought to have a relic.”
“Lige,” said the Colonel, putting up his feet, “do you remember the French toys you used to bring up here from New Orleans?”
“Colonel,” replied Brent, “do you recall the rough and uncouth young citizen who came over here from Cincinnati, as clerk on the Vicksburg?”
“I remember, sir, that he was so promising that they made him provisional captain the next trip, and he was not yet twenty-four years of age.”
“And do you remember buying the Vicksburg at the sheriff's sale for twenty thousand dollars, and handing her over to young Brent, and saying, 'There, my son, she's your boat, and you can pay for her when you like'?”
“Shucks, Brent!” said Mr. Carvel, sternly, “your memory's too good. But I proved myself a good business man, Jinny; he paid for her in a year.”
“You don't mean that you made him pay you for the boat?” cried Jinny. “Why, Pa, I didn't think you were that mean!”
The two men laughed heartily.
“I was a heap meaner,” said her father. “I made him pay interest.”
Virginia drew in her breath, and looked at the Colonel in amazement.
“He's the meanest man I know,” said Captain Lige. “He made me pay interest, and a mint julep.”
“Upon my word, Pa,” said Miss Virginia, soberly, “I shouldn't have believed it of you.”
Just then Jackson, in his white jacket; came to announce that supper was ready, and they met Ned at the dining-room door, fairly staggering under a load of roses.
“Marse Clarence done send 'em in, des picked out'n de hothouse dis afternoon, Miss Jinny. Jackson, fotch a bowl!”
“No,” said Virginia. She took the flowers from Ned, one by one, and to the wonderment of Captain Lige and her—father strewed them hither and thither upon the table until the white cloth was hid by the red flowers. The Colonel stroked his goatee and nudged Captain Lige.
“Look-a-there, now,” said he. “Any other woman would have spent two mortal hours stickin' 'em in china.”
Virginia, having critically surveyed her work, amid exclamations from Ned and Jackson, had gone around to her place. And there upon her plate lay a pearl necklace. For an instant she clapped her palms together, staring at it in bewilderment. And once more the little childish cry of delight, long sweet to the Colonel's ears, escaped her.
“Pa,” she said, “is it—?” And there she stopped, for fear that it might not be. But he nodded encouragingly.
“Dorothy Carvel's necklace! No, it can't be.”
“Yes, honey,” said the Colonel. “Your Uncle Daniel sent it, as he promised. And when you go upstairs, if Easter has done as I told her, you will see a primrose dress with blue coin-flowers on your bed. Daniel thought you might like that, too, for a keepsake. Dorothy Manners wore it in London, when she was a girl.”
And so Virginia ran and threw her arms about her father's neck, and kissed him again and again. And lest the Captain feel badly, she laid his India shawl beside her; and the necklace upon it.
What a joyful supper they had,—just the three of them! And as the fresh roses filled the room with fragrance, Virginia filled it with youth and spirits, and Mr. Carvel and the Captain with honest, manly merriment. And Jackson plied Captain Brent (who was a prime favorite in that house) with broiled chicken and hot beat biscuits and with waffles, until at length he lay back in his chair and heaved a sigh of content, lighting a cigar. And then Virginia, with a little curtsey to both of them, ran off to dress for the party.
“Well,” said Captain Brent, “I reckon there'll be gay goings-on here to-night. I wouldn't miss the sight of 'em, Colonel, for all the cargoes on the Mississippi. Ain't there anything I can do?”
“No, thank you, Lige,” Mr. Carvel answered. “Do you remember, one morning some five years ago, when I took in at the store a Yankee named Hopper? You didn't like him, I believe.”
Captain Brent jumped, and the ashes of his cigar fell on his coat. He had forgotten his conversation with Captain Grant.
“I reckon I do,” he said dryly.
For a moment he was on the point of telling the affair. Then he desisted. He could not be sure of Eliphalet from Grant's description. So he decided to await a better time. Captain Brent was one to make sure of his channel before going ahead.
“Well,” continued the Colonel, “I have been rather pushed the last week, and Hopper managed things for this dance. He got the music, and saw the confectioner. But he made such a close bargain with both of 'em that they came around to me afterward,” he added, laughing.
“Is he coming here to-night?” demanded the Captain, looking disgusted.
“Lige,” replied the Colonel, “you never do get over a prejudice. Yes, he's coming, just to oversee things. He seems to have mighty little pleasure, and he's got the best business head I ever did see. A Yankee,” said Mr. Carvel, meditatively, as he put on his hat, “a Yankee, when he will work, works like all possessed. Hood don't like him any more than you do, but he allows Hopper is a natural-born business man. Last month Samuels got tight, and Wright & Company were going to place the largest order in years. I called in Hood. 'Go yourself, Colonel,' says he. I I'm too old to solicit business, Hood,' said I. 'Then there's only one man to send,' says he, 'young Hopper. He'll get the order, or I'll give up this place I've had for twenty years.' Hopper 'callated' to get it, and another small one pitched in. And you'd die laughing, Lige, to hear how he did it.”
“Some slickness, I'll gamble,” grunted Captain Lige.
“Well, I reckon 'twas slick,” said the Colonel, thoughtfully. “You know old man Wright hates a solicitor like poison. He has his notions. And maybe you've noticed signs stuck up all over his store,