FOLKS FROM DIXIE
the second cellar, and when I say some I mean plenty. It ain't seen the light for years, but it shall gurgle into the glasses to-morrow in honour of my sons' home-coming. Good wine makes good blood, and who should drink good wine if not an Estridge of Virginia, sir, eh, Ike?"
The wine had gone to make good cheer when a Federal regiment had lighted its campfires on the Estridge lawn, but old Ike had heard it too often before and knew his business too well to give any sign.
"I want you to take some things up to Miss Clarinda Randolph to-morrow, too, and I've got a silver snuffbox for Thomas Daniels. I can't make many presents this year. I've got to devote my money to the interest of your young masters."
There was a catch in the Negro's voice as he replied, "Yes, Mas' Estridge, dey needs it mos', dey needs it mos."
The old colonel's spell of talking seldom lasted long, and now he fell to eating in silence; but his face was the face of one in a dream. Ike waited on him until he had done, and then, clearing the things away, slipped out, leaving him to sit and muse in his chair by the window.
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