More than one set of ivories shone at door and windows where the slaves gathered to "see the whi' folks dance." But prominent and conspicuous, in a suit as nearly resembling his master's as might be, and in a position at the immediate right hand of the slave who played the bass viol, stood Caesar, the general's favorite man-servant. He bore himself with the same courtly dignity, the same dignified courtesy, and had stationed himself beside the viol in order to have a more thorough view of the dancers, and above all of his beloved master. He had faithfully ushered in the last guest, and had hurried to his place in order to see General Jackson step down the long line of dancers and bow to his partner. Not for worlds would he have missed that bow, to him the perfection of grace and dignity. Two by two the couples entered, crossed to the centre of the room and bowed each other to their places opposite in the long, wall-like line which characterizes the stately reel. The ladies dropped like drooping lilies for one brief moment in the midst of their silken stiffness, skirts that "stood alone," and made their courtesies to their swains with proper maiden modesty. Caesar saw it all from his post of vantage near the big viol, but he was not interested in the visitors, he knew what they could do. He was waiting to see his master "lay 'em all in the shade bimeby." Of course he would open the ball. He wasn't fond of dancing but it was the custom of the day, and he and Miss Rachel "knew their manners." But for once the custom of the day was changed. Caesar was destined to disappointment. Mrs. Jackson's rustling silk announced her approach before she appeared, leaning, not upon the arm of the general, but in company with a florid, rather fleshy gentleman, no stranger, however, to the Hermitage hospitality. Much to the negro's chagrin he led her to the very head of the long lines of bright dresses and gay gallants, and stepped himself, as Caesar declared, "like a young cock," into the general's own place opposite. The master stood at the very foot, the escort of a lady Caesar had never set eyes upon before, and who for the life of him he could not forgive for being the general's partner. He was grievously disappointed, so that when the florid fat gentleman at the head danced down between the gay columns, and made his manners to the lady at the foot, as gallantly as anyone could have done, Caesar expressed his opinion loud enough to be heard by the very gentleman himself. "Mr. Grundy tryin' step mighty high to-night," he said. But it was when "Miss Rachel" danced down in her silken skirts and met the master midway the line, and dropped a low courtesy, her full skirts settling about her like a great white umbrella, and the stately general bowed over his silver buckles like some royal knight of old, that Caesar's enthusiasm got the better of his indignation.