Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-07-03
Will Admit Visitors.

ness he began having some changes made
in the house: changes which occupied much
of his time and with which he never SEEM
ed satisfied. Men working one day were
dismissed the next and others called in
until this work and everything else was in
terrupted by the return of his late unwel-
come guest, who kept his appointment to a
day.
AT this point in her narrative Mistress
CalllSta s voice fell and the flame which
had thrown a partial light on her counte-
nance died down until l could but family
discern the secretly inquiring look with
which she watched me as she went on to
say:
Reuben and I'-Reuben was her broth
er-'were posted in the dark corner under
the stairs When my father met the general
at the door We had expected to hear high
words, or some explosion of bitter feeling
between them, and hardly knew whether
10 be glad or sorry when our father well
coined his guest with the same elaborate
bow we once saw him make to the Presi-
dent in the grounds of the White House.
Nor could we understand what followed.
We We're summoned in to supper Our
mother was there-a great event in those
dayS-and tOasts We're drunk and our ia Their
proposed one to the generals health This
Reuben thought was an open signal of
peace. and turned upon me his great round
eyes in surprise; but I, who was old enough
to notice that this toast was not responded
10 and that the general did not even touch
compliment to our mother, who had
nited hers felt that there was some
thing terrifying rather than reassuring
IN TINS attempt at good fellowship.
though unable to reason over it at the
time, have often done so since, and my
fathers attitude and look as he faced this
strange guest has dwelt so persstently in
my memory that scarcely a year passes
without the scene coming up in my dreams
with its accompanying emotions of fear
ana pefpleXity. For-perhaps you know the
story-that hour was the generals last. He
died before leaving the house; died in that
same dark library concerning which you
have asked SO many questions.
IF l remember the circumstances we'll,
how we'll. down to each and every detail.
Our mother had gone back to her room.
and the general and my father, who DIM
not linger over their wine-why should
they, when the general would not drink p
had withdrawn to the library at the sug-
geStion of the general, whose last words
are yet lingering in my ears
:" The time has come for our little talk
said he. Your reception augurs-'
You do not look we'll my father here
broke In, in what seemed an unnaturai!y
loud voice. Come and sit down
" Here the door closed.
I'VE had hung about this door, curious
children that we We're. In hopes of catching
glimpse of the queer new settle which
had been put into place that day. But we
scampered away at this, and were playing
in and out of the halls when the library
door again opened and my father came
out.
where's Sambo@ he cried Tell him
to carry glass of wine in to the general.
do not like his looks. I am going upstairs
for some medicine This he whispered in
choked tones as he set foot on the stairs.
Why I remember 1t I do not know. for
Reuben. who was standing where he could
look into the library when our father came
out and saw the settle and the general sit
ting at one end of 1T, was chattering about
1t in my ears at the very moment our
father was giving his orders.
Reuben is man now, and I have
asked him more than once since then how
the general looked at that critical instant
1t is important to me. very, very impor-
tant, and to him, too, now that he has
come to know a mans passions and temp