"Why, bless my soul, you've walked two hundred miles," he cried,
stopping on his way from the pantry, with the ham held out. "And no money!
Why, bless my soul!"
"I had fifty cents," said the boy, "that was left from my steamboat fare,
you know."
The Major put the ham on the table and attacked it grimly with the
carving-knife.
"Fifty cents," he whistled, and then, "you begged, I reckon?"
The boy flushed. "I asked for bread," he replied, stung to the defensive.
"They always gave me bread and sometimes meat, and they let me sleep in the
barns where the straw was, and once a woman took me into her house and
offered me money, but I would not take it. I--I think I'd like to send her
a present, if you please, sir."
"She shall have a dozen bottles of my best Madeira," cried the Major. The
word recalled him to himself, and he got up and raised the lid of the
cellaret, lovingly running his hand over the rows of bottles.
"A pig would be better, I think," said the boy, doubtfully, "or a cow, if
you could afford it. She is a poor woman, you know."
"Afford it!" chuckled the Major. "Why, I'll sell your grandmother's silver,
but I'll afford it, sir."
He took out a bottle, held it against the light, and filled a wine glass.
"This is the finest port in Virginia," he declared; "there is life in every
drop of it. Drink it down," and, when the boy had taken it, he filled his
own glass and tossed it off, not lingering, as usual, for the priceless
flavour.
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