"Robert arrived five minutes after I did and ten minutes before you came into the building, General," said that Gouverneur Faulkner, with a twinkle of great enjoyment in his eyes. "He's done a day's work before we have begun. Will you have your luncheon sent up from the restaurant with ours, Robert? Just order the usual things for us and any kind of frills you care for. Shall I say snails?" "I thank Your Excellency deeply but I am engaged that I luncheon and dance with Mr. Buzz Clendenning in his club in the country if I may be given permission to go," I answered as I laid my fingers with affection on the arm of my Uncle, the General Robert, as I stood beside him. "Nonsense, sir! You'll not join those jackanapes in their gambols during business hours. Order yourself up a slice of pie and a glass of buttermilk along with mine and sit down here to listen to matters of business by which you can profit. Luncheon and dancing! No, pie and business, I say, pie and business!" And the fierceness of my Uncle, the General Robert, made me retire several feet away from him in astonishment and in the direction of the Gouverneur Faulkner. "Now, General, don't tie the boy down to pie and the company of two musty old gentlemen like ourselves. He's earned a dance. You may go, Robert, and I wish--I wish my heels were light enough to go with yours," that kind Gouverneur said in my behalf. "Light heels, light head! And I say he shall--" And another explosion of fierceness was about to arrive from my Uncle, the General Robert, when I said with great and real humility: "It will be my great pleasure to sit at the feet of you and His Excellency, which are not light for dancing, my Uncle Robert, and eat a large piece of pie and also milk." I spoke with a sincerity, for suddenly I knew that there would be nothing at that dance of girls in the club of my Buzz that I would so desire as to sit near to that Gouverneur Faulkner, in whose eyes came that sadness when he spoke of the dance for which he had not the light feet, and eat with him and my Uncle, the General Robert, a piece of that American pie of which I had heard my father speak many times. "Why, he means it, General," said the Gouverneur Faulkner with a great softness in his eyes that answered the affection that was in mine that pleaded for the pie and a place at his side. "Run, youngster, run, before the General says another word. You are dismissed. Go!" And with a great laugh the Gouverneur Faulkner rose, put his arm around my shoulder and put me out of that room before my Uncle, the General Robert, could begin any more words of remonstrance. And I ran away from that door to my Buzz in the waiting car with both light and reluctant feet.