Mr. Hopper’s answer revealed a keenness which, in the course of a few days, engendered in Mr. Cluyme as lusty a respect as he was capable of.

“I don’t know,” said Eliphalet; “but I cal’late she’s got stouter.”

“What do you mean by that?” Miss Belle demanded.

“That Union principles must be healthy,” said he, and laughed.

Miss Cluyme was prevented from following up this enigma.  The appearance of two people on Davis Avenue drove the veiled lady from her mind.  Eliphalet, too, had seen them.  One was the tall young Captain of Dragoons, in cavalry boots, and the other a young lady with dark brown hair, in a lawn dress.

“Just look at them!” cried Miss Belle.  “They think they are alone in the garden of Eden.  Virginia didn’t use to care for him.  But since he’s a captain, and has got a uniform, she’s come round pretty quick.  I’m thankful I never had any silly notions about uniforms.”

She glanced at Eliphalet, to find that his eyes were fixed on the approaching couple.

“Clarence is handsome, but worthless,” she continued in her sprightly way.  “I believe Jinny will be fool enough to marry him.  Do you think she’s so very pretty, Mr. Hopper?”

Mr. Hopper lied.

“Neither do I,” Miss Belle assented.  And upon that, greatly to the astonishment of Eliphalet, she left him and ran towards them.  “Virginia!” she cried; “Jinny, I have something so interesting to tell you!”

Virginia turned impatiently.  The look she bestowed upon Miss Cluyme was not one of welcome, but Belle was not sensitive.  Putting her arm through Virginia’s, she sauntered off with the pair toward the parade grounds, Clarence maintaining now a distance of three feet, and not caring to hide his annoyance.

Eliphalet’s eyes smouldered, following the three until they were lost in the crowd.  That expression of Virginia’s had reminded him of a time, years gone, when she had come into the store on her return from Kentucky, and had ordered him to tell her father of her arrival.  He had smarted then.  And Eliphalet was not the sort to get over smarts.

“A beautiful young lady,” remarked Mr. Cluyme.  “And a deserving one, Mr. Hopper.  Now, she is my notion of quality.  She has wealth, and manners, and looks.  And her father is a good man.  Too bad he holds such views on secession.  I have always thought, sir, that you were singularly fortunate in your connection with him.”

There was a point of light now in each of Mr. Hopper’s green eyes.  But Mr. Cluyme continued: 

“What a pity, I say, that he should run the risk of crippling himself by his opinions.  Times are getting hard.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Hopper.

“And southwestern notes are not worth the paper they are written on—­”

But Mr. Cluyme has misjudged his man.  If he had come to Eliphalet for information of Colonel Carvel’s affairs, or of any one else’s affairs, he was not likely to get it.  It is not meet to repeat here the long business conversation which followed.  Suffice it to say that Mr. Cluyme, who was in dry goods himself, was as ignorant when he left Eliphalet as when he met him.  But he had a greater respect than ever for the shrewdness of the business manager of Carvel & Company.