“Never mind, Miss Peg,” I could hear Jim say, in a way of patronizing reassurance, and evidently in combat of some suggestion of Peg's that she would defer her appearance among us, “never mind about d'Marse Major an' d'Marse Gen'ral an' that red-head Jew gentleman argufyin'. That don't count for nothin'; they're allers at it, night an' day, argufyin' away like they aint got a minute to live, and nothin' to never come of it. Never mind 'em, Miss Peg; you-all jes' trapse right along in an' declar' your urrent.” With Peg's coming, Noah made polite expedition to retire; nothing one might do or say would serve to keep him. He who could look a man in the eye and stand knee to knee with him for life or death, feared a woman as though she were a ghost and fled from the mere sight of her. “I am somewhat abashed,” said Peg, “to think of the disturbance I have caused, and that I drive away your visitor.” This to the General. “Why did you not make him stay? I shall never forget my debt to him; and I'm glad, too, he is so much your favorite.” “Noah puts us all in his debt,” said the General. “To me he is the man remarkable; fine, high, yet bold and quick, there will be no one to take his place when he is gone.” Peg's purpose was to tell the General--for he had asked the question in a little note that morning--how she should like the dinner and that East Room dance he offered, on the next evening but one. “Is not the time too short?” asked the General. “Forty-eight hours would seem no mighty space for folk to make themselves prepared. They may own other engagements.” “There will be no engagements,” said Peg. “The season is quite at an end; the Redsticks, as you christened them, closed their defeated doors six weeks ago, and for our own side, we only continued our receptions two weeks longer to show how we remained masters of the field. There will stand nothing in the way; and as for space to be ready in, why, then, folk don't need hours, but only minutes, when the invitation is from the White House.” “Let us say the day following to-morrow, then,” said the General. “It shall be for your victory, child, and to celebrate it. Also, since the losers as well as the victors have proper place in a triumph, and, again, because it will look like the olive branch and an expression of peace, we will bid both friend and foe to this merrymaking, and mark it with as wide a good feeling as our opponents will accept.”