"Tell her."
Jeff, after insisting that he had been telling her for years, lapsed
into a declaration of helpless perplexity. "How can I tell her more
than I have been telling her all along?" he groaned. Rose said she
would show him. She seated herself on the sofa, spread out her dress
and placed him behind her.
"Now, do as I tell you--no, not so,--_so_;--now lean over,--put
your arm--no, it is not necessary to touch me," as Jeff, with prompt
apprehension, fell into the scheme, and declared that he was all right
in a rehearsal, and that it was only in the real drama he failed. "Now
say 'I love you.'" Jeff said it. They were in this attitude when the
door opened suddenly and Margaret stood facing them, her large eyes
opened wider than ever. She backed out and shut the door.
Jeff sprang up, his face very red.
Lawyers know that the actions of a man on being charged with a crime
are by no means infallible evidence of his guilt,--but it is hard to
satisfy juries of this fact. If the juries were composed of women
perhaps it would be impossible.
The ocular demonstration of a man's arm around a girl's waist is
difficult to explain on more than one hypothesis.
After this Margaret treated Jeff with a rigor which came near
destroying the friendship of a lifetime; and Jeff became so desperate
that inside of a week he had had his first quarrel with Lawrence, who
had begun to pay very devoted attention to Margaret, and as that young
man was in no mood to lay balm on a bruised wound, mischief might have
been done had not the Major arrived opportunely on the scene just as
the quarrel came to a white-heat. It was in the hall one morning. There
had been a quarrel. Jeff had just demanded satisfaction; Lawrence had
just promised to afford him this peculiar happiness, and they were both
glaring at each other, when the Major sailed in at the door, ruddy and
smiling, and laying his hat on the table and his riding-whip across it,
declared that before he would stand such a gloomy atmosphere as that
created by a man's glowering looks, when there was so much sunshine
just lying around to be basked in, he would agree to be "eternally
fried in his own fat."
"Why, I had expected at least two affairs before this," he said
jovially, as he pulled off his gloves, "and I'll be hanged if I shan't
have to court somebody myself to save the honor of the family."
Jeff with dignity informed him that an affair was then brewing, and
Lawrence intimated that they were both interested, when the Major
declared that he would "advise the young lady to discard both and
accept a soberer and a wiser man." They announced that it was a more
serious affair than he had in mind, and let fall a hint of what had
occurred. The Major for a moment looked gravely from one to the other,
and suggested mutual explanations and retractions; but when both young
men insisted that they were quite determined, and proposed to have a
meeting at once, he changed. He walked over to the window and looked
out for a moment. Then turned and suddenly offered to represent both
parties. Jeff averred that such a proceeding was outside of the Code;
this the Major gravely admitted; but declared that the affair even to
this point appeared not to have been conducted in entire conformity
with that incomparable system of rules, and urged that as Mr. Lawrence
was a stranger and as it was desirable to have the affair conducted
with as much secrecy and dispatch as possible, it might be well for
them to meet as soon as convenient, and he would attend rather as a
witness than as a second. The young men assented to this, and the
Major, now thoroughly in earnest, with much solemnity, offered the use
of his pistols, which was accepted.
In the discussion which followed, the Major took the lead, and
suggested sunset that afternoon as a suitable time, and the grass-plat
between the garden and the graveyard as a convenient and secluded
spot. This also was agreed to, though Lawrence's face wore a soberer
expression than had before appeared upon it.
The Major's entire manner had changed; his levity had suddenly given
place to a gravity most unusual to him, and instead of his wonted
jollity his face wore an expression of the greatest seriousness. He,
after a casual glance at Lawrence, suddenly insisted that it was
necessary to exchange a cartel, and opening his secretary, with much
pomp proceeded to write. "You see--if things were not regular it would
be butchery," he explained, considerately, to Lawrence, who winced
slightly at the word. "I don't want to see you murder each other,"
he went on in a slow comment as he wrote, "I wish you, since you are
determined to shoot--each other--to do it like--gentlemen." He took a
new sheet. Suddenly he began to shout,--
"George--George Washington." There was no answer, so as he wrote on he
continued to shout at intervals, "George Washington!"
After a sufficient period had elapsed for a servant crossing the yard
to call to another, who sent a third to summon George, and for that
functionary to take a hasty potation from a decanter as he passed
through the dining-room at his usual stately pace, he appeared at the
door.
"Did you call, suh?" he inquired, with that additional dignity which
bespoke his recourse to the sideboard as intelligibly as if he had
brought the decanters in his hand.
"Did I call!" cried the Major, without looking up. "Why don't you come
when you hear me?"
George Washington steadied himself on his feet, and assumed an
aggrieved expression.
"Do you suppose I can wait for you to drink all the whiskey in my
sideboard? Are you getting deaf-drunk as well as blind-drunk?" he
asked, still writing industriously.
George Washington gazed up at his old master in the picture on the
wall, and shook his head sadly.
"Nor, suh, Marse Nat. You know I ain' drink none to git drunk. I is a
member o' de church. I is full of de sperit."
The Major, as he blotted his paper, assured him that he knew he was
much fuller of it than were his decanters, and George Washington was
protesting further, when his master rose, and addressing Jeff as the
challenger, began to read. He had prepared a formal cartel, and all
the subsequent and consequential documents which appear necessary
to a well-conducted and duly bloodthirsty meeting under the duello,
and he read them with an impressiveness which was only equalled by
the portentious dignity of George Washington. As he stood balancing
himself, and took in the solemn significance of the matter, his whole
air changed; he raised his head, struck a new attitude, and immediately
assumed the position of one whose approval of the affair was of the
utmost moment.
The Major stated that he was glad that they had decided to use the
regular duelling pistols, not only as they were more convenient--he
having a very fine, accurate pair--but as they were smooth bore and
carried a good, large ball, which made a clean, pretty hole, without
tearing. "Now," he explained kindly to Lawrence, "the ball from one
of these infernal rifled concerns goes gyrating and tearing its way
through you, and makes an orifice like a _posthole_." He illustrated
his meaning with a sweeping spiral motion of his clenched fist.
Lawrence grew a shade whiter, and wondered how Jeff felt and looked,
whilst Jeff set his teeth more firmly as the Major added blandly that
"no gentleman wanted to blow another to pieces like a Sepoy mutineer."
George Washington's bow of exaggerated acquiescence drew the Major's
attention to him.
"George Washington, are my pistols clean?" he asked.
"Yes, suh, clean as yo' shut-front," replied George Washington, grandly.
"Well, clean them again."
"Yes, suh," and George was disappearing with ponderous dignity, when
the Major called him, "George Washington."
"Yes, suh."
"Tell carpenter William to come to the porch. His services may be
needed," he explained to Lawrence, "in case there should be a casualty,
you know."
"Yes, suh." George Washington disappeared. A moment later he re-opened
the door.
"Marse Nat."
"Sir."
"Shall I send de overseer to dig de graves, suh?"
Lawrence could not help exclaiming, "Good----!" and then checked
himself; and Jeff gave a perceptible start.
"I will attend to that," said the Major, and George Washington went out
with an order from Jeff to take the box to the office.
The Major laid the notes on his desk and devoted himself to a brief
eulogy on the beautiful symmetry of "the Code," illustrating his views
by apt references to a number of instances in which its absolute
impartiality had been established by the instant death of both parties.
He had just suggested that perhaps the two young men might desire
to make some final arrangements, when George Washington reappeared,
drunker and more imposing than before. In place of his ordinary apparel
he had substituted a yellowish velvet waistcoat and a blue coat with
brass buttons, both of which were several sizes too large for him,
as they had for several years been stretched over the Major's ample
person. He carried a well-worn beaver hat in his hand, which he never
donned except on extraordinary occasions.
"De pistils is ready, suh," he said, in a fine voice, which he
always employed when he proposed to be peculiarly effective. His
self-satisfaction was monumental.
"Where did you get that coat and waistcoat from, sir?" thundered the
Major. "Who told you you might have them?"
George Washington was quite taken aback at the unexpectedness of the
assault, and he shuffled one foot uneasily.
"Well, you see, suh," he began, vaguely, "I know you warn' never gwine
to wear 'em no mo', and seein' dat dis was a very serious recasion,
an' I wuz rip-ripresentin' Marse Jeff in a jewel, I thought I ought to
repear like a gent'man on dis recasion."
"You infernal rascal, didn't I tell you that the next time you took my
clothes without asking my permission, I was going to shoot you?"
The Major faced his chair around with a jerk, but George Washington had
in the interim recovered himself.
"Yes, suh, I remembers dat," he said, complacently, "but dat didn't
have no recose to dese solemn recasions when I rip-ripresents a
gent'man in de Code."
"Yes, sir, it did, I had this especially in mind," declared the Major,
unblushingly--"I gave you fair notice, and damn me! if I don't do it
too before I'm done with you--I'd sell you to-morrow morning if it
would not be a cheat on the man who was fool enough to buy you. My best
coat and waistcoat!"--he looked affectionately at the garments.
George Washington evidently knew the way to soothe him--"Who ever heah
de beat of dat!" he said in a tone of mild complaint, partly to the
young men and partly to his old master in the ruffles and velvet over
the piano, "Marse Nat, you reckon I ain' got no better manners 'n to
teck you _bes'_ coat and weskit! Dis heah coat and weskit nuver did
you no favor anyways--I hear Miss Marg'ret talkin' 'bout it de fust
time you ever put 'em on. Dat's de reason I tuck 'em." Having found an
excuse he was as voluble as a river--"I say to myself, I ain' gwine let
my young marster wyar dem things no mo' roun' heah wid strange ladies
an' gent'man stayin' in de house too,--an' I so consarned about it, I
say, 'George Wash'n'n, you got to git dem things and wyar 'em yo'self
to keep him f'om doin' it, dat's what you got to do,' I say, and dat's
de reason I tuk 'em." He looked the picture of self-sacrifice.
But the Major burst forth on him: "Why, you lying rascal, that's
three different reasons you have given in one breath for taking
them." At which George Washington shook his woolly head with doleful
self-abnegation.
"Just look at them!" cried the Major--"My favorite waistcoat! There is
not a crack or a brack in them--They look as nice as they did the day
they were bought!"
This was too much for George Washington. "Dat's the favor, suh, of de
pussen what has 'em on," he said, bowing grandly; at which the Major,
finding his ire giving way to amusement, drove him from the room,
swearing that if he did not shoot him that evening he would set him
free to-morrow morning.