The old man rolled his bolus of bread and chuckled softly. "I don't know," he said, his eyes blinking, "that anyone has tried to make you out a heathen. In fact, I think you give strong evidences of an advanced state of civilization. The heathen mother would be caught by feathers and paint but it takes a sugar plantation to sweeten your smile."
Young master roared and was still laughing when Miss May passed the door on her way to the parlor. Old Miss was so furious that she would not trust herself to say anything; her face changed from one hue to another, and her eyes looked young with fire, but she held her peace, with her teeth set upon her thin lip. It was now time for the doctor to say something, and with the sympathetic smile of the scoundrel he turned to her. "Nothing is too sacred to escape a man's joke," said he. "Of course, the General meant nothing, but it gives me the opportunity to say that of all mothers I have known, I think you are the noblest."
Young Master looked at him. "My mother needs no one to defend her against a pleasantry uttered at her own board," said he.
"Tut, tut," Old Master cried, slapping his hand upon the table. "It was all nonsense and should have been taken as such. Dan, tell Sam to get my leggings and bring my horse round. I'm going to ride."
During the forenoon, though the air was sharp, I saw Mr. Marston and Miss May walking about the place, along the banks of the smoking creek, in the woods, where the cold birds fluttered; I heard them laugh, and I saw him leading her by the hand as they strolled down the lane. Only twice during the day did I catch sight of the doctor, once as he stood leaning moodily against a tree in the yard, and later as he walked to and fro near the stable, lashing his leg with a riding whip. Old Master rode abroad and remained long away, and when he returned just before the dinner hour, I heard negro Sam tell him that the doctor wished to speak to him in the library. I know not what passed at the interview, but I remember that as I went through the hall I heard Old Master say, "It is a matter, sir, that should concern you very little. You may regard yourself as a member of the family, but I am at the head of the household, sir." I imagined that the doctor was advising against Marston and that Old Master had thus shut him up.
That night Bob and I were in our room, studying an immortal oration, when there came a tap at the door. The young man frowned at the interruption and putting aside his book, went himself to the door. "Come in," he said, stepping back stiffly. And the doctor entered. It was the first time for years that I had seen him in that room and all three of us felt the embarrassment of the visit. "Sit down," my master invited, placing a chair for him. He took the seat, leaned for a moment toward the cheerful blaze, then straightening up, remarked upon the coldness of the night. Master said something in reply and I knew that they were skirmishing; that something must soon follow—through their politeness I saw a deadly hatred.
"How long does that man expect to stay?" the doctor asked.
"What man?" master spoke up, with an air of surprise.
"Marston, of course."