"What's that?" says Captain Bob Shorty.
"O, nothing," says the female Confederacy, taking another bite of hoe-cake, "I've only told one of the servants to throw some hot water on your reptile hirelings."
As Captain Bob Shorty turned to thank her for her explanation, and while his plate was extended, to be helped, the aged Chivalry fired a pistol at him across the table, the ball just grazing his head and entering the wall behind him.
"By all that's blue," says Captain Bob Shorty, excitedly, "now I'll be—"
"Be calm—now, be calm," says the conservative Kentucky chap, hastily, "don't I tell you that it's only natural for the good old soul to be a little provoked? If you go to irritate him, we can never live together as brethren again."
Matters being thus rendered pleasant, my boy, we quickly finished the simple meal; and as Captain Bob Shorty warded off the carving-knife just thrown at him by the Chivalry's little son, he turned to the female Confederacy, and says he:
"Many thanks for your kind hospitality; and now about that straw bed?"
The Virginia matron threw the vinegar-cruet at him, and says she:
"My servants have already given one to your scorpions, you nasty Yankee."
"Of course," says the venerable Chivalry, just missing a blow at me with a bowie-knife, "of course, your despicable Government will pay me for my property!"