While this went on, in the dining-room just outside, under the moon and the maples, near the kitchen door, was another scene as joyous, if not so fair. At the head of the musician’s banquetting board sat Uncle Josh, hospitably helping each to the good things Aunt Chloe had heaped before them in accordance with the orders of “her white folks.” She was considered one of the most important members of the Carr household, having been in the service of the family for thirty years, being a blend of nurse, cook and lady’s maid. As Uncle Josh’s brown, eager hands greedily grasped the mint julep, and held it sparkling between him and the light, with a broad smile on his beaming face, he exultantly exclaimed: “De Lawd love her soul, Miss Dor’thy, nebber is ter fergit we all. Talk erbout de stars! She’s ’way ’bove dem.” While he and his companions drank mint julep in token that his grateful sentiment was recognized as a toast to the fine hostess, the dining-room was ringing with laughter and congratulations over Elliott Harding’s victory, he having found one of the four-leaved trophies. “Where is its mate?” was the eager question as nimble fingers and sharp eyes searched over the little bunches right and left again, anxious to find this potent charm against evil. The search, however, was vain. Some one asked if its loss meant that Mr. Harding should live unwedded for the rest of his days. The evening closed with jokes of his bachelorhood. By midnight the dining-room was still, the table cleared, the only sign of what had been was the floor with its scattered leaves. All tired out with the long hours of gayety, Dorothy had hurried off to bed. There was a little crushed four-leaved clover fastened upon her nightgown as she lay down to her sweet, mysterious, girlish dreams. CHAPTER IX. Dorothy’s father, Napoleon Carr, was a man well known and greatly respected throughout the south country where he had always lived. His existence had been a laborious one, for he had entered the lists heavily handicapped in the matter of education. Intellectual enjoyment, dimly realized, had never been his; but he struggled that his family might have a fairer chance. Much of his comfortable income of late years had been generously devoted to the education of his daughter. He had been happily wedded, though long childless. At length, when Dorothy was born it was at the price of her mother’s life. This was a terrific blow to the husband and father. He was inconsolable with grief. The child was sent to a kinsman for a few months, after which time Mr. Carr felt that he must have her ever with him. To him there was nothing so absorbing as the tender care of Dorothy. He was very prideful of her. He watched her daily growth and then, all at once, while he scarcely realized that the twilight of childhood was passing, the dawn came, and, like the rose vine by his doorway, she burst into bloom.