A few nights after that, the Colonel sat in the library looking at the hickory fire that danced up the chimney and shone on the polished floor, and turned little Letty's yellow hair into burnished gold. Suddenly a terrific knocking resounded at the door.
In those strange times people's hearts sometimes stood still when there was a clamor for entrance; but the Colonel's brave old heart went on beating placidly. Not so Dad Davy's, who, with a negro's propensity to get up an excitement about everything, exclaimed solemnly:
"D'yar dee come to bu'n de house over we all's hades. I done dream lars night 'bout a ole h'yar cotch hade fo'mos' in er trap, an' dat 's a sho' sign o' trouble and distrus'fulness."
"David," remarked the Colonel, according to custom, "you are a fool. Go and open the hall door."
Dad Davy hobbled toward the door and opened it. It was about dusk on an autumn night, and there was a weird half-light upon the weedy lawn, and the clumps of gnarled acacias, and the overgrown carriage drive of pounded oyster-shells. Nor was there any
