“That was mighty generous,” said Bagby, “for I suppose he had to pay for it.  Even a major-general, I take it, can’t draw no such a quantity gratis.”

“I writ him, asking that I might know the cost, but he answered that ’t was nothing.  ’T is impossible to say what we owe to him.  ’T was he, so Doctor Craik told me, who asked him to bring Mrs. Meredith off the pest-ship, and ’t was he who furnished us with the army-van in which we’ve journeyed from Virginia.  Had we been kinsmen, he could not have been kinder.”

“Now that only shows how a man tries to take credit for what he has n’t had a finger in.  Brereton, who, since he was made a general and got so thick with the governor, has put on airs enough to kill a cat, told your Sukey, as now is cook here, that ’t was he went aboard the pest-ship with the doctor, and brought her off.”

“’T is the first I’ve heard of it,” averred Mr. Meredith, incredulously yet thoughtfully.

“I tell you that Brereton is a sly, sneaky fellow, as needs watching in more than one matter.  Nigh ten months ago I showed him how he could nab old Hennion, so that like as not he’d have gone to the gallows, but he did n’t stir a finger, durn him!  Oh, here ’s Si, now.  Say, I want you to treat Mr. Meredith and Miss Janice real handsome, and don’t trouble them with no bills, but leave me to square it,” he said to the landlord, who had come bustling in.

“Lor, Joe, yer duz n’t think I wuz goin’ tew make no charge fer this?  Why, the squire lent me the money ez started me, an’ I calkerlate he kin stay on here jus’ about ez long ez he elects tew.”  Then the publican laughed.  “Like ez not there won’t be no supper tew-night, squire.  That ’ere Sukey hez got yer gal tucked in my best tester bed, an’ is croonin’ her tew sleep jes’ like she wuz a baby ag’in.  She most bit my head off when I went in tew tell her supper-time wuz comin’.  ‘Stonishin’ haow like white folks niggers kin feel sometimes, ain’t it?”

“I bought her when our first baby was coming, and she saw four born and buried, and nigh broke her heart over each one in turn,” said the squire, huskily; “so when Janice came, ’t was as if she was her own child.”  He rose, his letter completed, and with a word to explain his movements, walked across the green to the parsonage, where his knock brought Peg to the door, and resulted in a series of wild greetings and exclamations.  At last, however, the old-time master was permitted to make known the object of his call, and was ushered into a room where Brereton was sitting writing.

“Mr. Meredith!” exclaimed Jack, starting to his feet.  “How are you all—­that—­how is Miss Meredith?”

“She’s stood the grief and—­I know not if ye have heard of Mrs. Meredith’s death?”

“Yes; a friend in Virginia wrote me.”

“She’s borne up under that and under the hard journey wonderfully, and has been braver and more cheerful, I fear, than I myself.  I’ve come to ye, General Brereton, to ask if ye could send a letter for me, under flag, to New York?”