As the Governor hung up his hat, he begun at once with his daily news of the farm. “I hope they'll get that wheat field done to-day,” he said: “but it doesn't look much like it—they've been dawdling over it for the last three days. I am afraid Wilson isn't much of a manager, after all; if I take my eyes off him, he seems to lose his head.”
“I think everything is that way,” returned his wife, looking up from one of the elaborately tucked and hemstitched shirt fronts which served to gratify the Governor's single vanity. “I'm sure Aunt Pussy says she can't trust Judy for three days in the dairy without finding that the cream has stood too long for butter—and Judy has been churning for twenty years.” She cut off her thread and held the linen out for the Governor's inspection. “I really believe that is the prettiest one I've made. How do you like this new stitch?”
“Exquisite!” exclaimed her husband, as he took the shirt front in his hand. “Simply exquisite, my love. There isn't a woman in Virginia who can do such needlework; but it should go upon a younger and handsomer man, Julia.”
His wife blushed and looked up at him, the colour rising to her beautiful brow and giving a youthful radiance to her nunlike face. “It could certainly go upon a younger man, Mr. Ambler,” she rejoined, with a touch of the coquetry for which she had once been noted; “but I should like to know where I'd find a handsomer one.”
A pleased smile broadened the Governor's face, and he settled his waistcoat with an approving pat. “Ah, you're a partial witness, my dear,” he said; “but I've an error to confess, so I mustn't forego your favour—I—I bought several of Mr. Willis's servants, my love.”
“Why, Mr. Ambler!” remonstrated his wife, reproach softening her voice until it fell like a caress. “Why, Mr. Ambler, you bought six of Colonel Blake's last year, you know and one of the house servants has been nursing them ever since. The quarters are filled with infirm darkies.”
“But I couldn't help it, Julia, I really couldn't,” pleaded the Governor. “You'd have done it yourself, my dear. They were sold to a dealer going south, and one of them wants to marry that Mandy of yours.”
“Oh, if it's Mandy's lover,” broke in Mrs. Ambler, with rising interest, “of course you had to buy him, and you did right about the others—you always do right.” She put out her delicate blue-veined hand and touched his arm. “I shall see them to-day,” she added, “and Mandy may as well be making her wedding dress.”
“What an eye to things you have,” said the Governor, proudly. “You might have been President, had you been a man, my dear.”
His wife rose and took up her work-box with a laugh of protest. “I am quite content with the mission of my sex, sir,” she returned, half in jest, half in wifely humility. “I'm sure I'd much rather make shirt fronts for you than wear them myself.” Then she nodded to him and went, with her stately step, up the broad staircase, her white hand flitting over the mahogany balustrade.