"Order me out! Hugh! think I'se skeered o' him, honey? Reckon I'd frail 'em good ef he cotched hole of me with his black hands. Jes' let him try to come upstairs once, honey, an' see what I say to 'm." Nevertheless Ben had, on one never-to-be-forgotten occasion, ordered Mammy Easter out, and she had gone. And now, as she was working the beat biscuits to be baked that evening, Uncle Ben's eye rested on her with suspicion. What mere man may write with any confidence of the delicacies which were prepared in Uncle's kitchen that morning? No need in those days of cooking schools. What Southern lady, to the manner born, is not a cook from the cradle? Even Ben noted with approval Miss Virginia's scorn for pecks and pints, and grunted with satisfaction over the accurate pinches of spices and flavors which she used. And he did Miss Eugenie the honor to eat one of her praleens. That night came Captain Lige Brent, the figure of an eager and determined man swinging up the street, and pulling out his watch under every lamp-post. And in his haste, in the darkness of a midblock, he ran into another solid body clad in high boots and an old army overcoat, beside a wood wagon. "Howdy, Captain," said he of the high boots. "Well, I just thought as much," was the energetic reply; "minute I seen the rig I knew Captain Grant was behind it." He held out a big hand, which Captain Grant clasped, just looking at his own with a smile. The stranger was Captain Elijah Brent of the 'Louisiana'. "Now," said Brent, "I'll just bet a full cargo that you're off to the Planters' House, and smoke an El Sol with the boys." Mr. Grant nodded. "You're keen, Captain," said he. "I've got something here that'll outlast an El Sol a whole day," continued Captain Breast, tugging at his pocket and pulling out a six-inch cigar as black as the night. "Just you try that." The Captain instantly struck a match on his boot and was puffing in a silent enjoyment which delighted his friend. "Reckon he don't bring out cigars when you make him a call," said the steamboat captain, jerking his thumb up at the house. It was Mr. Jacob Cluyme's. Captain Grant did not reply to that, nor did Captain Lige expect him to, as it was the custom of this strange and silent man to speak ill of no one. He turned rather to put the stakes back into his wagon. "Where are you off to, Lige?" he asked. "Lord bless my soul," said Captain Lige, "to think that I could forget!" He tucked a bundle tighter under his arm. "Grant, did you ever see my little sweetheart, Jinny Carvel?" The Captain sighed. "She ain't little any more, and she eighteen to-day." Captain Grant clapped his hand to his forehead. "Say, Lige," said he, "that reminds me. A month or so ago I pulled a fellow out of Renault's area across from there. First I thought he was a thief. After he got away I saw the Colonel and his daughter in the window." Instantly Captain Lige became excited, and seized Captain Grant by the cape of his overcoat.