“I believe Jacob was the challenger,” said Colonel Royall. “He couldn’t stand being insulted by such trash!” said the indignant mother. The colonel smiled broadly. “Come, Jinny, why did he go there?” “How should I know?” she retorted hotly; “some political reason, of course, and Trench took advantage of it, as a common man would.” The colonel began to whittle a stick, man’s resource from time immemorial. “Jinny,” he said, “you’re the greatest partisan on earth; if you could lead a political party you’d cover your antagonist with confusion. When I see Jacob beating his head against a wall I always remember he’s your son.” Mrs. Eaton’s face relaxed a little. “Jacob takes after my family,” she admitted, smiling; “he’s like them in looks and he has all their charm.” “Why don’t you say yours, Jinny?” asked the colonel, twinkling. “I don’t think you half appreciate that,” she replied, with a touch of coquetry; “if you did, you wouldn’t quarrel with me about Caleb Trench.” “Do I?” said the colonel. She let her crochet work drop in her lap and looked at him attentively. “Do you mean to say you agree with me?” she demanded. The colonel laughed. “I’m not a violent man, Jinny; since the war I’ve been a man of peace. I’m not sure that I’ve got all the faith I ought to have in these young iconoclasts.” “Faith in that man!” Mrs. Eaton threw up her hands. “If you had, David, I wouldn’t have any in you!” “Your conversation has rather led me to assume that you had lost faith in my opinions,” he retorted, amused. “Well, sometimes, Cousin David, I think you’re too willing to have the wool combed over your eyes!” she said severely; “you’re so broad-minded, I suppose, that you don’t think enough of the natural prejudices of our own class.” “Well, Jinny,” said the colonel dryly, “I’m a little tired of our class.” Mrs. Eaton raised her head to reply with indignation, but utterance was suspended by Diana’s approach. Her appearance always had the effect of breaking off a conversation in the middle. She was still a vision in pink muslin, with a wide straw hat trimmed with roses. She swept out, fresh and sweet and buoyant. “What are you two quarreling about?” she asked. “I can’t leave you alone together any more; you fight like game cocks. Of course it’s politics or social customs; you haven’t got to religion yet, thank heaven! When you do I shall have to send for the bishop.” “It’s about that wretched man,” said Mrs. Eaton fretfully. “I told David that he ought not to be received here!” “Well,” said the colonel thoughtfully, “I’m not sure he could be after this fight with Jacob; blood’s thicker than water. But do you know, Jinny, I don’t believe he’ll come?” “Come!” cried Mrs. Eaton; “dear me, do you imagine that a poor creature like that would lose the chance?” Colonel Royall smiled whimsically. “Jinny,” said he, “your grandfather made his money selling molasses in New Orleans.”