“Yessir—­three hundred dollars.”  He handed the Major a roll of bills.  “When I lef’ old mars’ says:  ’Take dem mule colts, Mose, and, if it be so you gits able, pay fur ’em.’  Yessir—­dem was his words.  De war had done lef’ old mars’ po’ hisself.  Old mars’ bein’ long ago dead, de debt descends to Mars’ Pendleton.  Three hundred dollars.  Uncle Mose is plenty able to pay now.  When dat railroad buy my lan’ I laid off to pay fur dem mules.  Count de money, Mars’ Pendleton.  Dat’s what I sold dem mules fur.  Yessir.”

Tears were in Major Talbot’s eyes.  He took Uncle Mose’s hand and laid his other upon his shoulder.

“Dear, faithful, old servitor,” he said in an unsteady voice, “I don’t mind saying to you that ‘Mars’ Pendleton spent his last dollar in the world a week ago.  We will accept this money, Uncle Mose, since, in a way, it is a sort of payment, as well as a token of the loyalty and devotion of the old regime.  Lydia, my dear, take the money.  You are better fitted than I to manage its expenditure.”

“Take it, honey,” said Uncle Mose.  “Hit belongs to you.  Hit’s Talbot money.”

After Uncle Mose had gone, Miss Lydia had a good cry—–­for joy; and the Major turned his face to a corner, and smoked his clay pipe volcanically.

The succeeding days saw the Talbots restored to peace and ease.  Miss Lydia’s face lost its worried look.  The major appeared in a new frock coat, in which he looked like a wax figure personifying the memory of his golden age.  Another publisher who read the manuscript of the Anecdotes and Reminiscences thought that, with a little retouching and toning down of the high lights, he could make a really bright and salable volume of it.  Altogether, the situation was comfortable, and not without the touch of hope that is often sweeter than arrived blessings.

One day, about a week after their piece of good luck, a maid brought a letter for Miss Lydia to her room.  The postmark showed that it was from New York.  Not knowing any one there, Miss Lydia, in a mild flutter of wonder, sat down by her table and opened the letter with her scissors.  This was what she read: 

DEAR MISS TALBOT: 

I thought you might be glad to learn of my good fortune.  I have received and accepted an offer of two hundred dollars per week by a New York stock company to play Colonel Calhoun in A Magnolia Flower.

There is something else I wanted you to know.  I guess you’d better not tell Major Talbot.  I was anxious to make him some amends for the great help he was to me in studying the part, and for the bad humor he was in about it.  He refused to let me, so I did it anyhow.  I could easily spare the three hundred.

Sincerely yours,
H. HOPKINS HARGRAVES.

P.S.  How did I play Uncle Mose?

Major Talbot, passing through the hall, saw Miss Lydia’s door open and stopped.

“Any mail for us this morning, Lydia, dear?” he asked.