"Yes!" said Parkington, and laughed. "That is why I never do, unless they inflict themselves upon me. In plain words, Herford, get in a good humor or get away. You intrude on my privacy--and the least you can do is to be pleasant.--Your face, at present, does not harmonize with the landscape--it spoils the picture. Pray, withdraw it!" The other looked at him, sourly, uncertain for the moment how to take him--then a surly smile overspread his face. "The picture brightens!" exclaimed Parkington. "Let it grow, let it grow!" "Damn these black servants!" the Captain broke out.--"Laid out my gray suit instead of the dark blue, as I ordered, and was not around when I got up." "You have got on the blue, I observe." "Yes--got it out myself; and he got my riding whip. They are all worthless, sir, damn worthless!" "I dare say they are--but think of the satisfaction in being able to beat them. You work off your surplus feelings, and at no loss to yourself. A slave dare not leave you." Herford stared at him. "He is not _my_ slave," he said; "he is one of old Marbury's." "Oh! and yet you beat him?" "Certainly--you beat any slave who disobeys orders." "Is that the general practice?" Parkington inquired. "The general practice is to do as you wish with them," the other answered, sharply. "But suppose Marbury should not care to have his slaves beaten--what then?" "Then he has no business to assign one to me for a servant. Oh, it is all understood--and, what is more, he will get another trouncing, if I mention it to the Marburys." Parkington nodded. "I see," he said; "you have a way, here, we, of the old country, do not understand." "You would understand it quick enough, if you lived here." "And do you not ever try to manage them with kindness--do you whip them for every offense?" Herford shrugged his shoulders. "Thank God! I do not own any--but, if I did----" Parkington smiled. "I take it, that the disposition to beat them is in the inverse ratio to the number owned." "What?" "I mean, that the more slaves one owns the less disposed he is to have them whipped. You, who confess to possessing none, are very ready to beat them all." "Are you trying to pick a quarrel with me?" the Captain, demanded angrily. "There you go, spoiling the picture again!" Sir Edward laughed. "I shall have to ask you to take your face--ah! here comes one who, assuredly, will not spoil the picture. _Bon jour, mademoiselle!_" he called, springing up and going forward. "What are you two men doing?" said Miss Stirling.--"Why, Captain Herford, what ails you? your face is as glum as the Lord Chancellor's." "It will be so no longer," Herford answered. "Even the Lord Chancellor's would reflect the presence of such a luminary." She knitted her brows, as though perplexed. "By which, I infer, you mean, I am a luminary. Is that complimentary?" "It is--at least, it was, so intended."