Much had been heard of Miss Callena before she had been selected as the guiding genius of the new venture. She had even visited Fox Run, which prided itself greatly on the event. Flattering rumours were afloat in regard to her beauty and brilliancy. She was from Lexington. What further recommendation as to her personal charms did she need? She was to come in on Saturday evening, and as the railroad had not deigned to come nearer to Miltonville than Fox Run station,—another thorn in the side of the Miltonvillians,—Mr. Dunkin, as the important official in the affair, was delegated to go and bring the fair one into her kingdom.

Now, Mr. Dunkin was a man of deliberation. He prided himself upon that. He did nothing in a hurry. Nothing came from him without due forethought. So, in this case, before going for Miss Callena, he visited Mr. Alonzo Taft. Who was Mr. Taft? Of course you have never been to Miltonville or you would never have asked that question. Mr. Alonzo Taft was valet to Major Richardson, who lived in the great house on the hill overlooking the town. He not only held this distinguished position in that aristocratic household, but he was the black beau ideal and social mentor for all the town.

Him, then, did Mr. Dunkin seek, and delivered himself as follows: “Mistah Tat’, you reco’nise de dooty dat is laid upon me by bein’ a membah of de school-boa’d. I has got to go to de depot aftah Miss Callena Johnson to-morrow aftahnoon. Now, Mistah Taf’, I is a delibut man myse’f. I is mighty keerful what I does an’ how I does it. As you know, I ain’t no man fu’ society, an’ conserkently I is not convusant wid some of de manipulations of comp’ny. So I t’ought I’d come an’ ax yo’ advice about sev’al t’ings,—what to waih, an’ which side o’ de wagon to have Miss Callena on, an’ how to he’p huh in, an’ so fofe.”

“Why, of co’se, Mr. Dunkin,” said the elegant Alonzo, “I shell be happy to administah any instructions to you dat lies within my powah.”

Mr. Taft was a perfect second edition of Major Richardson bound in black hide.

“But,” he went on in a tone of dignified banter, “we shell have to keep a eye on you prosp’ous bachelors. You may be castin’ sheep-eyes at Miss Callena.”

“Dat ’u’d be mo’ nachul an’ fittener in a young man lak you,” said Mr. Dunkin, deliberately.

“Oh, I has been located in my affections too long to lif’ anchor now.”

“You don’ say,” said the “prosp’ous bachelor,” casting a quick glance at the speaker.