And when she paused for the reply of the colonel, the look of expectation on her face was as keen and as eager as it could have been on the day and the occasion when she was pleading for Mary Ellen. The spell was broken by the lady of the house, who leaned forward eagerly as if expecting the colonel himself to reply. Perhaps Aunt Minervy Ann misunderstood the movement. She paused a moment as if dazed, and then sank by the sofa with a foolish laugh. “I know you all put me down ter be a fool,” she said, “an’ I ’speck I is.” “Nonsense!” cried the lady of the house, sharply. “What did the colonel reply?” Aunt Minervy remained silent a little while, picking at one of the fringes of the sofa. She was evidently trying to reassemble in her mind the incidents and surroundings of her narrative. Presently she began again, in a tone subdued and confidential: “Marse Bolivar look at me right hard, den he look at Mary Ellen, an’ den he pull at de tip-een’ er his year. Wellum, I fair helt my breff; I say ter myse’f, ‘Man, whyn’t you look at poor Miss Sally’s pictur’? I wuz feared a fly might light on ’im an’ change his min’. But, look at de pictur’ he did, an’ dat settled it. “He ’low, ‘Set down, Mary Ellen; you look tired. Minervy Ann, fetch ’er a drink er water.’ Wellum, you may well b’lieve dat I flied up an’ flew’d ’roun’ an’ fotch dat water. Den he ’low, ‘Minervy Ann, go in dar an’ straighten out dat parlor; fling open de blinds an’ do ’bout in dar!’” Again Aunt Minervy Ann arose from her reclining position by the sofa and stood in the floor; again, by a wave of her hand, she brought the scene before our eyes. “I stood dar, I did, an’ look at dat man. I ’low, ‘Marse Bolivar, less’n it’s Marse Tumlin, youer de bes’ man dat God A’mighty ever breathe de breath er life inter!’ He rub his han’ over his face an’ say, ‘Dang yo’ ol’ hide! go on an’ hush up! Fum de time I fust know’d you, you been gittin’ me an’ Tumlin in hot water.’ “I flung back at ’im, ‘_’Tain’t never scald you! ’Tain’t never been too deep fer you!_’ He straighten hisse’f up an’ helt his head back an’ laugh. He ’low, ‘Dang it all, Minervy Ann! Dey er times when I want it bofe hot an’ deep. You go an’ scuffle ’roun’ in dat parlor, an’ don’t you let yo’ Mis’ Em’ly do a han’s-turn in dar.’