"You needn't trouble yourself," said Nan, with considerable dignity. "I have no interest in the matter at all."
"Well, I thought maybe you'd be glad to git Gabriel's beard an' make it in a sofy pillow."
"Why, whoever heard of such a thing?" cried Nan. In common with many others, she was not always sure when Mr. Sanders was to be taken seriously.
"I knowed a man once," replied Mr. Sanders, by way of making a practical application of his suggestion, "that vowed he'd never shave his beard off till Henry Clay was elected President. Well, it growed an' growed, an' bimeby it got so long that he had to wrop it around his body a time or two for to keep it from draggin' the ground. It went on that away for a considerbul spell, till one day, whilst he was takin' a nap, his wife took her scissors an' whacked it off. The reason she give was that she wanted to make four or five sofy pillows; but I heard afterwards that she changed her mind, an' made a good big mattress."
Nan looked hard at the solemn countenance of Mr. Sanders, trying to discover whether he was in earnest, but older and wiser eyes than hers had often failed to penetrate behind the veil of child-like serenity that sometimes clothed his features.
One day while Gabriel was deep in a law-book, Colonel Tom Vardeman came in smiling. He had a telegram in his hand, which he tossed to Gabriel. It was from Major Tomlin Perdue, and contained an urgent request for Gabriel to take the next train for Halcyondale, where he would meet the prisoners who had been released pending their trial by the State courts, an event that never came off. Gabriel had seen in the morning paper that the prisoners were to be released in a day or two; but undoubtedly Major Perdue had the latest information, for he was in communication with Meriwether Clopton and other friends of the prisoners who were in Atlanta watching the progress of the case.
Gabriel lost no time in making his arrangements to leave, and he was in Halcyondale some hours before the Atlanta train was due. When all had arrived, they were for going home at once; but the citizens of Halcyondale, led by Major Perdue and Colonel Blasengame, would not hear of such a thing.
"No, sirs!" exclaimed Major Perdue. "You young ones have been away from home long enough to be weaned, and a day or two won't make any difference to anybody's feelings. We have long been wanting a red-letter day in this section, and now that we've got the excuse for making one, we're not going to let it go by. Everything is fixed, or will be by day after to-morrow. We're going to have a barbecue half-way between this town and Shady Dale. The time was ripe for it anyhow, and you fellows make it more binding. The people of the two counties haven't had a jollification since the war, and they couldn't have one while it was going on. They haven't had an excuse for it; and now that we have the excuse we're not going to turn it loose until the jollification is over."
And so it was arranged. Notice was given to the people in the old-fashioned way, and nearly everybody in the two counties not only contributed something to the barbecue, but came to enjoy it, and when they were assembled they made up the largest crowd that had been seen together in that section since the day when Alexander Stephens and Judge Cone had their famous debate—a debate which finally ended in a personal encounter between the two.
The details of the barbecue were in the hands of Mr. Sanders, who was famous in those days for his skill in such matters. The fires had been lighted the night before, and when the sun rose, long lines of carcasses were slowly roasting over the red coals, contributing to the breezes an aroma so persistent and penetrating that it could be recognised miles away, and so delicious that, as Mr. Sanders remarked, "it would make a sick man's mouth water."