She sent Lucy off with an order that Uncle Jastrow should harness up the carriage and drive them himself to go calling in state. Then they went down stairs to await their chariot. But when it came, Simeon was handling the reins. He was quite embarrassed and very apologetic for his lack of magnificence. “Where is Uncle Jastrow?” demanded Harriot, bristling. “Please, Miss Harry,” Simeon answered, “I knows I ain’t got no style, but Uncle Jastrow done say I was ’bliged to drive.” “But why?” Harriot insisted. “Is Uncle Jastrow sick?” “No’m, he ain’t sick ezackly,” Simeon replied, “but he say, please, Miss Harry, won’t you kindly be so good as not to blame him; but what with the horses quality company has rid off with to-day, and the horses Ol’ Miss done sent on errants, not to speak of the horses General Wheeler’s men pressed, they ain’t nothin’ lef’ in the stables ’ceptin ’tis ole Mose; An’ Uncle Jastrow he say he done kep’ his moanin’s to hisself when he come down f’om the granjure of four horses to drivin’ only two, knowin’ the war was makin’ us all sort of equinomical; but he can’t no way bemean hisself to one. He say yoh pa hisself wouldn’t ask him to hol’ the reins over only ole Mose, an’ he ain’t gwine’ disgrace the fambly that a-way.” “Of course,” said Harriot, turning to Dorothea, “it does seem sort of humiliating for Uncle Jastrow, seeing what he’s used to driving. And I reckon he’s right about father. But he’s too proud of himself for all that. You would think that if we’re not too grand to ride behind old Mose he might be able to drive him. But come along. We’ll never get there if we don’t start pretty soon. I haven’t time to argue with Uncle Jastrow till we get back.” The girls entered the carriage and Simeon, summoning all the style of which he was possessed, whipped up old Mose and they drove off. “Is Uncle Jastrow a slave?” asked Dorothea, considerably puzzled by what she had seen and heard. “I wish you wouldn’t say ‘slave’ as if you expected our people to walk about loaded with chains,” Harriot remarked judicially. “That’s what comes of reading ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin.’ Mother says the horrid Yankees call their servants ‘help’ just to be different from us. Of course Uncle Jastrow is one of our servants, but he’s so spoiled that he does just exactly what he wants. He bosses me and he bosses mother, and father just laughs at him. April’s the only one can manage him. You know it’s difficult to be dignified with an old man who knew you when you were a baby and can tell you just how fat you were.” As they rolled along through the sunshine a more peaceful scene could hardly be imagined. No one seeing these two pretty girls in fashionable attire, driven along the quiet road by a neat black coachman, even though it was behind the despised ‘Ole Mose,’ would ever have thought they were living in a country engaged in a deadly war.