caricature.  Having made himself thus generally useful, he now proceeded to make himself generally agreeable; went with all necessary gravity through a series of complicate dancing-steps with Miss Heath; begged Miss Purcell, who was longing to cry over her novel, to allow him to read for her, since he saw that she was trying her eyes, and therewith made fiasco of a page of delicious dolor; and being challenged to chess by a third, declared that was child’s play, and dominoes was the game for science,—­whereon, having seated a circle at that absorbing sport, he deserted for a meerschaum and the gentlemen, and in company with Captain Purcell, Mr. McLean, and the rest, rolled up from the hall below wreaths of smoke, bursts of laughter, and finally chimes of those concordant voices with which gentlemen talk politics, and, even when agreeing infamously, become vociferant and high-colored.

It was after lunch that Mrs. Laudersdale, having grown weary of the needle-women’s thread of discourse, left the sewing-room and proceeded toward her own apartment.  Just as she crossed the head of the staircase, the hall-door was flung open, admitting a gleeful blast of the boisterous gale, and an object that, puffing and blowing like a sad-hued dolphin, and shaking like a Newfoundland, appeared at first to be the famous South-West Wind, Esq., in proper person,—­whose once sumptuous array clung to his form, and whose face and hands, shining as coal, rolled off the rain like a bronze.

“Bless my heart, Capua!” cried Mr. Raleigh, removing the stem from his lips; “how came you here?”

“Lors, Massa, it’s only me,” said Capua.

“So I see,” replied his master, restoring the pipe to its former position.  “How did you come?”

“’Bout swimmed, I ’spect,” answered Capua, grounding a chuckle on a reef of ivory. “’Ta’n’t no fish-story, dat!”

“Well, what brings you?”

“Naughty Nan,—­she hadn’t been out”—­

“Do you mean to say, you rascal! that you’ve taken Nan out on such a day? and round the lake, too, I’ll warrant?” asked Mr. Raleigh, with some excitement.

“Jes’ dat; an’ round de lake, ob course; we couldn’ come acrost.”

“You’ve ruined her, then”------

“Bress you, Massa, she won’t ketch no cold,—­she!  Smokes like a beaver now; came like streak o’ lightnin’.”

“You may as well swim her back,—­and where we can all see the sport, too.”

“But”

“No buts about it, Capua,” insisted his master, with mock gravity, the stem between his teeth.

“‘Spect I’d better rub her down, now I’se here, an’ wait’ll it holds up a bit, Mass’ Roger?” urged Capua, coaxingly.

“Do as you’re bid!” ejaculated his master; which, evidently, from long habit, meant, Do as you please.

Mrs. Laudersdale and Helen Heath had crept down the stairs during this dialogue, and now stood interested spectators of the scene.  Mrs. McLean came running down behind them.