By the time that Clem’s ancient treasures were all unpacked, Little Arcady felt a genuine if patronizing sympathy for his mistress.  If that were the boasted elegance of the ante-bellum South, then Tradition had reported falsely.  No plush rockers of the newest patent; no chenille curtains; no art chromos; no hat-racks, not even an imitation bronze mantle clock guarded by its mailed warrior.  Such clocks as there were left only honest distress in the mind of the beholder,—­tall, outlandish old things in wooden cases.

It was believed that Clem had wasted money in paying freight on this stuff.  Certainly no one in Little Arcady would have paid those bills to possess the furniture.  As to the folly of those who had originally purchased it, the town was likewise a unit.

If Clem was made aware of this public sentiment, he still did not waver in his loyalty to the old pieces.  Day after day he unpacked and dusted and polished them with loving devotion.  They spoke to him of other days, and when he was quite sure that the last freight bill had been paid, he seemed really to enjoy them.  The unexpected drain had reduced his savings to a pittance, but were not the pullets which he could raise absolutely without number?

It was true that Miss Caroline would have to come alone now, leaving Little Miss still to teach in the school at Baltimore until a day of renewed surplus.  This much Clem confided to me in sorrow.  I sympathized with him, truly, but I felt it was a fortunate circumstance.  I thought that one of the ladies at a time would be as much as Little Arcady could assimilate.

Slowly the house grew into a home awaiting its mistress, a home whose furnished rooms overflowed into others not furnished but merely crowded.

I foresaw, not without a certain wicked cheerfulness, that, even after the coming of Miss Caroline, Clem would be forced to pander to my breakfast appetites for the slight betterment it made in his fortunes, even must this be done surreptitiously.  And at least one dinner was secured to me beyond the coming of this mistress; for Clem had conveyed to me, with appropriate ceremony, an invitation, which I promptly accepted, to dine with Mrs. Caroline Lansdale at six-thirty on the evening of her arrival, she having gleaned from his letters, it appeared, that I had been a rather friendly adviser of her servant.

In the days that followed I saw that Clem was regarding me with an embarrassed, troubled look.  Something of weight lay upon his mind.  Nor was it easy, to make him speak, but I achieved this at last.

“Well, seh, Mahstah Majah, yo’-all see, Ah ain’t eveh told Miss Cahline that yo’s a Majah in th’ Nawthun ahmy.”

“No?” I said.

“No, seh; Ah ain’t even said yo’s been a common soljah.”

“Well?”

“’Cause Miss Cahline’s tehible heahtfelt ‘bout some mattehs.  Th’ Lansdales sho’ly kin ca’y a grudge powful long.  An’ so—­seh—­Ah ain’t neveh tole on yo’.”