Phœbus accepted the invitation immediately, and cautioning Mrs. Custis to speak with less freedom in that part of the country, he bade her adieu, and took the vacant seat in the stranger's buggy.
When Mrs. Custis came to Vienna ferry, and the horses and carriage went on board the scow to be rowed to the little, old, shipping settlement of that name, the negro Dave, standing at the horses' heads, exchanged a few sentences with the ferry-keeper.
"Dave," called Mrs. Custis, a little later on, "you have no love, I see, for old Samson."
"He made a boxer outen me an' a bad man, missis."
"Do you know the man he works for—Meshach Milburn?"
"No, missis. I never see him."
"He wears a peculiar hat—nothing like gentlemen's hats nowadays: it is a hat out of a thousand."
"I never did see it, missis."
"You cannot mistake it for any other hat in the world. Now, Samson is the only servant and watchman at Mr. Milburn's store, and he attends to that disgraceful hat. If you can ever get it from him, Dave, and destroy it, you will be doing a useful act, and I will reward you well."
The moody negro looked up from his remorseful, brutalized orbs, and said: