"Heavens, no!" The Major's deep voice was full of assurance. "Last week," he added thoughtfully, "the coffee was pretty weak, but it never occurred to me that--" he stopped abruptly, rose from his chair with sudden energy, violently blew his nose, and tramped down to the end of the hall and back. "Damn the Fairfax pride!" he exclaimed fiercely. "Here Uncle Noah has been coming into the library Wednesday nights and telling the Colonel that the stock had all been bedded down for the night when all the time there's been nothing left but this confounded old turkey gobbler we've been hearing about. He swore last week that somebody had stolen the silver teapot. Abominable old liar! He must have sold it." The Major threw out his arms with a wrathful gesture. "All this comedy, if you please, for my benefit. Here I've been there every week, and never suspected, thanks to the infernal stratagems of that black fiend of an Uncle Noah. Damn the Fairfax pride!" The Major sat down as suddenly as he had risen, and, bending over, attacked the fire with vicious energy. "Tell me, Major," Dick presently asked, "have you ever mentioned me to the Colonel since I went North?" "Once." The Major made a wry face. "I never tried again." Dick colored. "Does he know about Ruth?" "No, I dared not mention it." The Major looked at the other intently. "Dick," he said, "what was this quarrel all about, anyway?" "In the beginning, Major," admitted the young man, flushing, "it was so childish--I'm ashamed to speak of it." "Out with it!" commanded the Major. "I won't be hoodwinked by a Fairfax any longer." "Well, sir, if you must know, it was about--the War." "The War!" exploded the Major. "By gad, sir, what about the War?" "Dad and I were talking it over, and--well, to be frank, Major, I said I thought the North had been right, and that, if I had been in the world at the time, I would have fought with them despite my kinsmen." "Go on! Did you fight in any other post-mortem wars? The Revolution, or the fall of Rome?" Dick ignored the sarcasm. "My sympathy for the North made him furious," he went on. "We quarreled terribly and both of us said things that I know we didn't mean. It was the Fairfax temper, sir; I--" "Damn the Fairfax temper!" roared the Major. "Thank Heavens, the Verneys are mild!" Dick laughed, in spite of himself. "I apologized," he continued soberly, "but he wouldn't listen; told me to get out; said if I chose to change my opinions about the North, we'd talk it over, and I, of course, refused." "Of course!" interpolated the Major trimly. "I've written since, suggesting that we forget it all and start anew, but he won't listen, sir."