After a moment’s pause, he again called out, “I say, Bobaway, did it snow last night?”

“No, sar, it didn’t snow; it done frosted,” said Bob.

“Done frosted, hey?” said Raymond.  “You’re a smart boy, Bob.  What’ll you sell yourself for?”

“Dun know; hain’t nothing to sell ’cept my t’other hat and a bushel of hickory-nuts,” answered Bob; “but I reckon how marster ax about five hundred, ’case I’s right spry when I hain’t got the rheumatiz.”

“Got the rheumatiz, have you, Bob?  Where?”

“In my belly, sar,” answered Bob.  Here the young men burst into a loud laugh, and Raymond said, “Five hundred is cheap, Bob; I’ll give more than that.”

Bob opened his large white eyes to their utmost extent, and looking keenly at Raymond slowly quitted the room.  On reaching the kitchen he told Aunt Judy, who was his mother, “that ef marster ever acted like he was goin’ for to sell him to that ar chap, what poked fun at him, he’d run away, sartin.”

“And be cotched and git shet up,” said Aunt Judy.

“I’d a heap rather be shet up ’tarnally than to ’long to anybody ’sides Marster Josh,” said Bob.

During breakfast Mr. Middleton suddenly exclaimed, while looking at Stanton, “I’ve been tryin’ ever since you’ve been here to think who you look like, and I’ve jest thought.  It’s Dr. Lacey.”

“Who, sir?” said Stanton in some surprise.

“Dr. Lacey.  D’ye know him?” asked Mr. Middleton.

“Dr. Lacey of New Orleans?” asked Stanton.

“The same,” returned Mr. Middleton.  “You look as much like him as two peas, only you wear goggles.  Connection of your’n I reckon?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Stanton, “he is my cousin.  I have been told that we resemble each other.”

“By Jupiter!” said Mr. Middleton, “that’s just the checker.  No wonder I like you so well.  And Dr. Lacey goin’ to marry Sunshine, too.  Your sweetheart ought to look like Fanny.  Got her picter, hey?”

Stanton handed him Nellie’s daguerreotype, and he pretended to discover a close resemblance between her and Fanny; but neither Mrs. Middleton, nor Mr. Ashton could trace any, for which Mr. Middleton called them both blockheads.

“I think,” said Mrs. Middleton, “that she looks more like Mr. Ashton than she does like Fanny.”

“It is similarity of name which makes her resemble him,” said Raymond.

“Why, is her name Ashton?” asked Middleton.

“Yes, sir,” said Stanton.

“Mebbe she’s your sister, Ashton.  But Lord knows she don’t look no more like you than she does like old Josh.”

“She cannot be my sister,” said Ashton, “for I had but one, and she is dead.”

After breakfast Mr. Middleton ordered out his carriage and bade Ike drive the gentlemen to Frankfort.

“I’d go myself,” said he, “but I’ve got a fetched headache.  Give my love to my gals and tell them I’m comin’ to see ’em shortly.  You’d better go to the Whizzakor House, till you find out whether or not Miss Crane ’ll board you.”