Uncle Noahs Christmas Inspiration | Page 9

to-day. I think I shall have some

cornbread and coffee, and so will Mrs. Fairfax."
"I doan think you quite understand me, sah," averred Uncle Noah, "an'
sah, I 'spects yoh dyspepsia ain't so bad dis mornin'. We has foh
breakfast, sah, grapefruit, cereal wif cream, quail on toast, fried
oysters--er--_oatmeal, fried chicken, hot muffins, co'nbread an'
coffee_!"
There was no mistaking the emphasis this time. Colonel Fairfax darted
a lightning glance at the negro and amended his selection with a
question in his voice. "Well, now I come to think of it, Uncle Noah," he
said, "my dyspepsia isn't nearly so bad. I'll have, let me see,
oatmeal--that was in the list, I believe--er--fried chicken--am I
right?--muffins, cornbread and coffee."
There was a conviction in the Colonel's deep voice that something
extraordinary was afoot, and Uncle Noah, flurried by its ominous ring,
hurried from the room. Dimly he had pictured his master's gracious
astonishment and pleasure. Any queries relative to the financial source
of the Christmas delicacies, however, had been lost entirely in the
darky's jubilant excitement. Now he groaned in dismay.
"Yoh is in a mess for sure, Uncle Noah," he apostrophized himself.
"Whut'll yoh do when it come time foh dinnah? Yere yoh has a
Christmas dinnah fit foh a King, an' de Colonel he know right well dat
we has only a little 1ef from de money whut we done get when we sold
de silver teapot."
It was Christmas, however, and Uncle Noah felt convinced that the
Providence that had watched so well over his Christmas Eve would
order a special dispensation for his new dilemma. While awaiting its
manifestation he would studiously avoid the Colonel, and would slip
across to Fernlands, once the pseudo Job was safe in the oven, and beg
the gray-eyed lady to accept a dollar a week of the grocer's money in
his inspired scheme of self-redemption.
With this in mind Uncle Noah served the breakfast, hurried his
preparations for the midday feast, and at five minutes of eleven, the
turkey safely roasting, set out across the fields for Major Verney's.
At Fernlands the eleven strokes of the grandfather's clock in the great
hall found the gray-eyed lady in the arms of a young fellow who had
but that instant bounded lightly up the walk from the sleigh Major
Verney had dispatched to Cotesville to meet the Northern Express. The

Major, smilingly awaiting his opportunity to greet the newcomer, ran
his eye approvingly over the lines of the well-knit figure and handsome
face of the young man.
"Well, Dick," said the Major, advancing with outstretched hand as the
girl flushed prettily and smoothed back the dark mist of hair from her
forehead, "how are you, my boy? Busy, of course. We read fine things
of you in the papers at times." Then, as the young man took off his
overcoat, "What, sir," the Major inquired, "do you mean by falling in
love with my only niece? Here my brother writes me that his daughter
is engaged to a man who knows me, and will I pack off a carload of
testimonials by special messenger indorsing the little rascal who used
to steal my apples. What, sir, do you mean?"
"Well, Major," Dick answered as he was ushered into the big
living-room, his laughing eyes alight with happiness, "she had the
Verney eyes, and you remember I always liked them." He sank into a
chair by Ruth with a smiling glance at the Major. "It is unusually cold
for down here. There's a real bracing Northern sting in the air. And
what a snow! It's packed down so that the runners fairly flew. Major,
do sit down!"
The Major was still bustling about, urging Ruth into another chair by
the fire that he himself might sit by Dick, poking energetically at the
blazing logs, and firing a volley of directions at black Sam.
"There!" he exclaimed, finally seating himself. "Now, sir, relative to
this infatuated young person on my left, who has condescended to visit
her uncle for the first time since she arrived on the planet. I met her last
night according to telegraphed instructions, and she kept me
waiting--let me see--"
"Uncle!" protested Ruth, "you've added fifteen minutes to that wait
every time you've mentioned it."
"My dear child, politeness alone has kept me from naming the full
extent of my wait. If you please, sir," he turned to Dick, "she was in the
clutches of a beggar who obtained twenty-five dollars by a most
extraordinary yarn."
"Twenty-five dollars!" Dick whistled, smiling at the flush that crept up
to the gray eyes. "Was it an aged father this time or a hungry brood of
motherless waifs, Ruthie?"
"Dick, listen!" cried the girl. "Uncle misjudges him. It was a dear old

colored man