Mr. Middleton cleared his throat a little, refilled his cob pipe, and proceeded. "The Lord gin me two gals, and then he sent me as n.o.ble a boy as ever was, I don't care where t'other comes from. He wasn't mine, but I loved him all the same. You, Mr. Miller, knew him, but you don't know-no, nor begin to know, how old Josh loved him, and what a tremendous wrench it gin my old heart when I come home and found he was dead. But, Lord, hain't he got a fine gravestun, though! You go to the cimetery at Frankford, and you'll see it right along side of Leftenant Carrington's, whose widow's a flirtin' with everybody in creation anyway, and Frankford sartin."

"I've now told you of all that's dead," continued he, striking the ashes out of his pipe and wiping it on his bagging trousers, "but I hain't told you yit what troubles me more than all. Thar's something haunts old Josh, and makes his heart stand still with mortal fear. Thar's Sunshine, dearer to her old pap than his own life. You've all seen her, and I reckon she's made some of your hearts ache; but something's come over her. She seems delicate like, and is fadin' away."

Here two big tears, that couldn't be mistaken, rolled down Mr. Middleton's cheeks, as he added emphatically, "and by Jehu, if Sunshine goes, old Josh'll bust up and go, too!"

The winding up of Uncle Joshua's story was so odd and unexpected that all the gentlemen, Mr. Stafford included, laughed loudly.

"'Tain't no laughin' matter, boys," said Mr. Middleton, "and so you'll all think if you ever have a gal as sweet and lovin' like as Sunshine."

Here Mr. Stafford said, "Your sister's name was f.a.n.n.y, I believe."

"Yes, 'twas; who told you?" asked Mr. Middleton.

"No one. I knew it myself," answered Mr. Stafford, looking his brother earnestly in the face.

Mr. Middleton seemed puzzled, and after closely scrutinizing Mr.

Stafford's features, he said, "Confound it, am I in a nightmare? I thought for a minute-but no, it can't be neither, for you've got too thunderin'

black a hide to be Bill."

Before Mr. Stafford replies to this remark we will take the reader to the kitchen, where a group of negroes are a.s.sembled round old Aunt Katy, and are listening with breathless interest to what she is saying. Aunt Katy was so infirm that she kept her bed for the greater part of the time, but on this day she was sitting-up, and from her low cabin window she caught a view of the visitors as they alighted from the carriage. When Mr. Stafford appeared, she half started from her chair and said aloud, "Who upon airth can that be, and whar have I seen him? Somewhar, sartin."

It then occurred to her that she would go to the kitchen and inquire who "that tall, darkish-looking gentleman was." Accordingly she hobbled out to make the inquiry. She was much disappointed when she heard the name. "No,"

said she, "'tain't n.o.body I ever knowed, and yet how like he is to somebody I've seen."

Not long after the old negress again muttered to herself, "Go way now; what makes me keep a thinkin' so of Marster William this mornin'? 'Pears like he keeps hauntin' me." Then rising she went to an old cupboard, and took from it a cracked earthen teapot. From this teapot she drew a piece of brown paper, and opening it gazed fondly on a little lock of soft brown hair.

"Bless the boy," said she, "I mind jest how he looked when I cut this har from his head, the very day his mother was buried. Poor Marster William,"

continued she, "most likely he's gone to 'tarnity 'fore this time."

As she said this tears, which were none the less sincere because she who wept them belonged to Africa's sable race, fell upon the once bright but now faded lock of hair, which the faithful creature had for more than forty years preserved as a memento of him whom she had long since looked upon as dead, although she had never ceased to pray for him, and always ended her accustomed prayer, "Now I lay me-" with the pet.i.tion that "G.o.d would take keer of Marster William and bring him home again." Who shall say that the prayer was not answered?

Going back to her seat, she took up her knitting and was soon living over the past, when she was young and dwelt with "the old folks at home."

Suddenly there came from the house the sound of merry laughter. High above all the rest was a voice, whose clear, ringing tones made Katy start up so quickly that, as she afterward described it, "a sudden misery cotched her in the back, and pulled her down quicker." There was something in the sound of that laugh, which seemed to Katy like an echo of the past. "But,"

thought she, "I'm deaf like and mebby didn't hear straight. I'll go to the kitchen agin and hark."

In a few minutes she was in the kitchen and dropping down on the meal chest as the first seat handy, she said, "Ho, Judy, is you noticed the strange gentleman's laugh?"

"I hain't noticed nothing" answered Judy, who chanced to be out of sorts, because, as she said, "the white folks had done et up every atom of egg; they didn't even leave her the yaller of one!"

"Well, suthin in his laugh kerried me back to the old plantation in Carlina, and I b'lieve, between you and me, Judy, that Marster William's here," said Katy.

"Marster William, Marster William; what on airth do you mean?" asked Judy, forgetting the eggs in her surprise.

At the mention of "Marster William," who was looked upon as a great man, but a dead one, the little negroes gathered around, and one of them, our old friend, Bobaway, said, "Oh, Laddy, I hope 'tis Marster William, for Marster Josh'll be so tickled that he won't keer if we don't do nothin'

for a week; and I needn't milk the little heifer, nuther! Oh, good, good!"

"You go long, you Bob," said Aunt Judy, seizing a lock of his wool between her thumb and finger, "let me catch you not milking the heifer, and I'll crack you."

Again there was the sound of laughter, and this time Judy dropped her dishcloth, while Katy sprang up, saying, "'Tis, I know 'tis; any way, I'll walk round thar as if for a little airin', and can see for myself."

Accordingly, old Katy appeared around the corner of the house just as Mr.

Middleton had spoken to his brother of his color. The moment Mr.

Stafford's eye rested on his old nurse, he knew her. Twenty years had not changed her as much as it had him. Starting up he exclaimed, "Katy, dear old mammy Katy," while she uttered a wild, exultant cry of joy, and springing forward threw her thin, shriveled arms around his neck, exclaiming, "My darling boy, my sweet Marster William. I knowed 'twas you.

I knowed your voice. You are alive, I've seen you, and now old Katy's ready to die."

White as ashes grew the face of Uncle Joshua. The truth had flashed upon him, and almost rendered him powerless. Pale and motionless he sat, until William, freeing himself from Aunt Katy, came forward and said, "Joshua, I am William, your brother; don't you know me?"

Then the floodgates of Uncle Joshua's heart seemed unlocked, and the long, fervent embrace which followed between the rough old man and his newly-found brother made more than one of the lookers on turn away his face lest his companion should detect the moisture in his eyes, which seriously threatened to a.s.sume the form of tears.

When the first joy and surprise of this unexpected meeting was over, Mr.

Joshua Middleton said, as if apologizing for his emotion, "I'm dumbly afeard, Bill, that I acted mighty baby-like, but hang me if I could help it. Such a day as this I never expected to see, and yet I have lain awake o' nights thinkin' mebby you'd come back. But such ideas didn't last long, and I'd soon give you up as a goner."

"That's jest what I never did," said Aunt Katy, who still stood near.

In the excitement of the moment she had forgotten that she had long thought of "Marster William" as dead; she continued, "A heap of prars I said for him, and it's chiefly owin' to them prars, I reckon, that he's done fished up out of the sea."

"I've never been in the sea yet, Aunt Katy," said Mr. Middleton, desirous of removing from her mind the fancy that any special miracle had been wrought in his behalf.

"Whar in fury have you been, and what's the reason you hain't writ these dozen years? Come, give us the history of your carryin's on," said Mr.

Joshua Middleton.

"Not now," answered his brother. "Let us wait until evening, and then you shall hear my adventures; now let me pay my respects to your wife."

While he was introducing himself to Mrs. Middleton, Katy went back to the kitchen, whither the news had preceded her, causing Bob in his joy to turn several somersaults. In the last of these he was very unfortunate, for his heels, in their descent, chanced to hit and overturn a churn full of b.u.t.termilk! When Aunt Katy entered she found Bob bemoaning the backache, which his mother had unsparingly given him! Aunt Judy herself, having cleared away the b.u.t.termilk, by sweeping it out of doors, was waiting eagerly to know "if Marster William done axed arter her."

"Why, no, Judy," said Katy, somewhat elated because she had been first to recognize and welcome the stranger. "Why, no, I can't say he did, and 'tain't nateral like that he should set so much store by you, as by me.

Ain't I got twenty years the start on you; and didn't I nuss him, and arter his mother died didn't I larn him all his manners?"

Aunt Judy was on the point of crying, when who should walk in but "Marster William" himself. "I am told," said he, "that Judy is here, Judy, that I used to play with."

"Lor' bless you, Marster William," exclaimed Judy, at the same time covering his hand with tears and kisses, "It's Judy, I is, I know'd you hadn't done forgot me."

"Oh, no, Judy," said he, "I have not forgotten one of you, but I did not know whether you were living or not, so I did not bring you presents, but I'll get you something, in a few days. Meantime take this," said he, slipping a silver dollar into the hands of Aunt Katy and Aunt Judy, each of whom showered upon him so many blessings and "thankes" that he was glad to leave the kitchen and return to his companions, who were talking to Uncle Joshua without getting any definite answer.

His brother's sudden return had operated strangely upon him, and for a time he seemed to be in a kind of trance. He would draw his chair up closely to William, and, after gazing intently at him for a time, would pa.s.s his large rough hand over his hair, muttering to himself, "Yes, it is Bill, and no mistake, but who'd a thought it?"

At last rousing himself he turned to his other guests, and said, "You mustn't think hard on me, if I ain't as peart and talkin' like for a spell; Bill's comin' home has kinder oversot the old man, and I'm thinkin'

of the past when we's little boys and lived at home on pap's old plantation afore any of us was dead."

The young gentlemen readily excused the old man's silence, and when the slanting beams of the setting sun betokened the approach of night, they all, with the exception of Ashton, began to speak of returning home. Mr.

Middleton urged them to stay, saying, "What's the use of goin'? Nancy's got beds enough, I reckon, and will be right glad of a chance to show her new calico kiverlids, and besides we are goin' to have some briled hen in the morning, so stay."

But as the next day was the Sabbath, the gentlemen declined the invitation, and bidding the host "good-bye," they were soon on their way homeward, each declaring that he had seldom spent a pleasanter day. As they can undoubtedly find their way to Frankfort without our a.s.sistance, we will remain at Uncle Joshua's together with Mr. William Middleton and Ashton. The latter felt as if he had suddenly found an old friend, and as nothing of importance required his presence at home, he decided to remain where he was until Monday.

That evening, after everything was "put to rights" and Mr. Middleton had yelled out his usual amount of orders, he returned to the porch, where his brother and Ashton were still seated. Lighting his old cob pipe he said, "Come, Bill, Nancy'll fetch out her rockin' cheer and knittin' work, and we'll hear the story of your doin's in that heathenish land, but be kinder short, for pears like I'd lived a year today, and I feel mighty like goin'

to sleep."

After a moment's silence Mr. Middleton commenced: "I shall not attempt to justify myself for running away as I did, and yet I cannot say that I have ever seriously regretted visiting those countries, which I probably shall never look upon again. I think I wrote to you, Joshua, that I took pa.s.sage on the ship Santiago, which was bound for the East Indies. Never shall I forget the feeling of loneliness which crept over me, on the night when I first entered the city of Calcutta, and felt that I was indeed alone in a foreign land, and that more than an ocean's breadth rolled between me and my childhood's home. But it was worse than useless to dwell upon the past.