"
"And how do _you_ do, Capua?"
"Pretty well, Miss Kate; leastways, I'se well enough,--a'n't so pretty."
"_What_ is his name?" whispered Helen.
"'Annible, Missis," said the attentive Capua, whose eyes had been for
some time oscillating with indecision between Helen Heath and Mrs.
Laudersdale. "Hannibal Raleigh's my name; though Massa alwes call me
Cap," he added, insinuatingly,--which, by the way, "Massa" never had
been known to do.
"And are you always going to stay and take care of Master Roger?"
"'Spect I shall. Lors, Miss Kate, he's more bother to me 'n all my
work,--dat boy!"
"That will do, Capua," said his master; "you may go." And therewith
Capua scuffled away.
"Well, Roger, what does this mean?" asked Mrs. McLean, as the door
closed.
"It means that Capua, having been dying of curiosity, has resolved to
die game, and therefore takes matters into his own hands, and arrives to
inspect my conduct and my company."
"Ah, I see. He trembles for his sceptre."
"Miss Heath," said Mr. McLean, rallyingly, "you received a great many of
the sable shafts."
"A Saint Sebastiana," said his wife.
"Did Saint Sebastian die of his wounds?" asked Helen.
"Let me tell you, Miss Helen," said Mr. Raleigh, "that Capua is a
connoisseur, and his _dictum_ is worth all flatteries. If he had only
been with us this morning!"
"You have teased me so much about that, Mr.
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