“It’s perfectly wonderful!” said Lucy, with entire truthfulness.

“Ain’t it?” said Mrs. Wiggs, with the awed tone one uses in the presence of genius.  “Sometimes I jes’ can’t believe my eyes, when I see what my childern kin do!  They inherit their education after Mr. Wiggs; he was so smart, an’ b’longed to such a fine fambly.  Why, Mr. Wiggs had real Injun blood in his veins; his grandpa was a squaw—­ a full-blood Injun squaw!”

Lucy made a heroic effort to keep a solemn face, as she asked if Asia looked like him.

“Oh, my, no!” continued Mrs. Wiggs.  “He was a blunette, real dark complected.  I remember when he fus’ come a-courtin’ me folks thought he was a Dago.  Pa wasn’t to say well off in those days.”  Mrs. Wiggs never applied superlatives to misfortunes.  “He had a good many of us to take keer of, an’ after Mr. Wiggs had been keepin’ company with me fer ‘bout two weeks he drove up one night with a load of coal an’ kindlin’, an’ called pa out to the fence.  ‘Mr. Smoot,’ sez he, ’as long as I am courtin’ your daughter, I think I orter furnish the fire to do it by.  Ef you don’t mind,’ sez he, ‘I’ll jes’ put this wagon-load of fuel in the coal-house.  I ’spect by the time it’s used up Nance’ll be of my way of think-in’.’  An’ I was!” added Mrs. Wiggs, laughing.

Ordinarily Lucy found endless diversion in listening to the family reminiscences, but to-day another subject was on her mind.

“How is Billy getting along?” she asked.

“Jes’ fine!” said Mrs. Wiggs; “only he comes home at night ’most dead.  I give him money to ride, but ever’ day last week he et up his nickel.”

“Who—­who has charge of him now?” Lucy blushed at her subterfuge.

“Mr. Bob,” said Mrs. Wiggs; “he’s the gentleman that took us to supper.  He’s got money.  Asia said he give the nigger waiter a quarter.  Billy is jes’ crazy ‘bout Mr. Bob; says he’s goin’ to be jes’ like him when he grows up.  He will, too, if he sets his head to it!  Only he never kin have them big brown eyes an’ white teeth Mr. Bob’s got.  Why, when Mr. Bob smiles it jes’ sort of breaks up his whole face.”

Lucy’s eyes were fixed on the mammoth butterfly upon whose iridescent wings Asia was putting the finishing touches, but her thoughts were far away.

“I jes’ wish you could see him!” went on Mrs. Wiggs, enthusiastically.

“I wish I could!” said Lucy, with such fervor that Mrs. Wiggs paused on her way to answer a knock at the outside door.

There was a scraping of feet in the passage.

“I have been driving all over the country looking for you,” said a man’s voice.  “I have some Christmas traps for the kids.”

Lucy rose hastily, and turned just as Redding entered.

“Mr. Bob, this is Miss Lucy,” announced Mrs. Wiggs, triumphantly; “she was jes’ ‘lowin’ she’d like to see you.”

If a blue-eyed angel straight from the peaks of paradise had been presented to him, Redding could not have been more astounded nor more enraptured.