V

At the supper-table on the following evening I became convinced of
something which I had felt coming for two or three days, wondering the
while whether Sidney did not feel the same thing. When we rose aunt
drew me aside and with caressing touches on my brow and temples said
she was sorry to be so slow in bringing me into social contact with the
young people of the neighboring plantations, but that uncle, on his
arrival at home, had found a letter whose information had kept him, and
her as well, busy every waking hour since. "And this evening," she
continued, "we can't even sit down with you around the parlor lamp.
Can you amuse yourself alone, dear, or with Sidney, while your uncle
and I go over some pressing matters together?"

Surely I could. "Auntie, was the information--bad news?"

"It wasn't good, my dear; I may tell you about it to-morrow."

"Hadn't I better go back to father at once?"

"Oh, my child, not for our sake; if you're not too lonesome we'd rather
keep you. Let me see; has Mingo ever danced for you? Why, tell Sidney
to make Mingo come dance for you."

Mingo came; his leaps, turns, postures, steps, and outcries were a most
laughable wonder, and I should have begged for more than I did, but I
saw that it was a part of Sidney's religion to disapprove the dance.

"Sidney," I said, "did you ever hear of the great clock in the sky?
Yes, there's one there; it's made all of stars." We were at the foot