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pers and magazines； his big…eyed reading…glasses within reach of his hand。 The paper would be unfolded； aired at the snapping blaze； and hung over the arm of the chair。 These duties attended to； the old servant； with a last satisfied glance about the room； would betake himself to the foot of the stair… case； there to await his master's coming； glancing overhead at every sound； and ready to conduct him to his chair by the fire。
When Richard； his toilet completed； appeared at the top of the stairs； Malachi would stand until his master had reached the bottom step； wheel about； and； with head up； gravely and noiselessly precede him into the drawing…roomthe only time he ever dared to walk before himand with a wave of the hand and the air of a prince presenting one of his palaces； would say〃Yo' char's all ready； Marse Richard； bright fire burnin'。〃 Adding； with a low； sweeping bow； now that the ceremony was over 〃Hope yo're feelin' fine dis evenin'； sah。〃
He had said it hundreds of times in the course of the year； but always with a salutation that was a special tribute； and always with the same low bow； as he gravely pulled out the chair； puffing up the back cushion； his wrinkled hands resting on it until Richard had taken his seat。 Then； with equal gravity； he would hand his master the evening paper and the big…bowed spectacles； and would stand gravely by until Richard had dismissed him with a gentle 〃Thank you； Malachi； that will do。〃 And Malachi； with the serene； uplifted face as of one who had served in a temple； would tiptoe out to his pantry。
It had gone on for yearsthis waiting for Richard at the foot of the staircase。 Malachi had never missed a night when his master was at home。 It was not his dutynot a part of the established regime of the old house。 No other family servant about Kennedy Square performed a like service for master or mistress。 It was not even a custom of the times。
It was only one of 〃Malachi's ways；〃 Richard would say； with a gentle smile quivering about his lips。
〃I do dat 'cause it's Marse Richarddat's all；〃 Malachi would answer； drawing himself up with the dignity of a chamberlain serving a king； when someone had the audacity to question hima liberty he always resented。
They had been boys togetherthese two。 They had fished and hunted and robbed birds' nests and gone swimming with each other。 They had fought for each other； and been whipped for each other many and many a time in the old plantation…days。 Night after night in the years that followed they had sat by each other when one or the other was ill。
And now that each was an old man the mutual service was still continued。
〃How are you getting on now； Malachibetter？ Ah； that's good〃 and the master's thin white hand would be laid on the black wrinkled head with a soothing touch。
〃Allus feels better； Marse Richard； when I kin git hold ob yo' han'； sah〃 Malachi would answer。
Not his slave； remember。 Not so many pounds of human flesh and bone and brains condemned to his service for life； for Malachi was free to come and go and had been so privileged since the day the old Horn estate had been settled twenty years before； when Richard had given him his freedom with the other slaves that fell to his lot； not that kind of a servitor at all； but his comrade； his chum； his friend； the one man； black as he was； in all the world who in laying down his life for him would but have counted it as gain。
Just before tea Mrs。 Horn； with a thin gossamer shawl about her shoulders； would come down from her bedroom above and join her husband。 Then young Oliver himself would come bounding in； always a little late； but always with his face aglow and always bubbling over with laughter； until Malachi； now that the last member of the family was at home； would throw open the mahogany doors； and high tea would be served in the dining…room on the well… rubbed； unclothed mahogany table； the plates； forks； and saucers under Malachi's manipulations touching the polished wood as noiselessly as soap…bubbles。
Tea served and over； Malachi would light the candies in the big； cut…glass chandelier in the front parlor the especial pride of the hostess； it having hung in her father's house in Virginia。
After this he would retire once more to his pantry； this time to make ready for some special function to follow； for every evening at the Horn mansion had its separate festivity。 On Mondays small whist…tables that unfolded or let down or evolved from half…moons into circles； their tops covered with green cloth； were pulled out or moved around so as to form the centres of cosey groups。 Some extra sticks of hickory would be brought in and piled on the andirons； and the huge library…table； always covered with the magazines of the dayLittell's； Westminster； Blackwood's； and the Scientific Review； would be pushed back against the wall to make room。
On Wednesdays there would be a dinner at six o'clock； served without pretence or culinary assistance from the pastry…cook outsideeven the ices were prepared at home。 To these dinners any distinguished strangers who were passing through the city were sure to be invited。 Malachi in his time had served many famous menCharles Dickens； Ole Bull； Macready； and once the great Mr。 Thackeray himself with a second glass of 〃that pale sherry； if you please；〃 and at the great man's request； too。 An appreciation which； in the case of Mr。 Thackeray； had helped to mollify Malachi's righteous wrath over the immortal novelist's ignorance of Southern dishes：
〃Dat fat gemman wid de gold specs dat dey do say is so mighty great； ain't eat nuffin yet but soup an' a li'l mite o' 'tater；〃 he said to Aunt Hannah on one of his trips to the kitchen as dinner went on。 〃He let dat tar'pin an' dem ducks go by him same as dey was pizen。 But I lay he knows 'bout dat ole yaller sherry；〃 and Malachi chuckled。 〃He keeps a' retchin' fur dat decanter as if he was 'feared somebody'd git it fust。〃
On Fridays there would invariably be a musicale generally a quartette； with a few connoisseurs to listen and to criticise。 Then the piano would be drawn out from its corner and the lid propped up； so that Max Unger of the 〃Harmonie〃 could find a place for his 'cello behind it； and there still be room for the inventor with his violina violin with a tradition； for Ole Bull had once played on it and in that same room； too； and had said it had the soul of a Cremona which was quite true when Richard Horn touched its strings。
On all the other nights of the week Mrs。 Horn was at home to all who came。 Some gentle old lady from across the Square； perhaps； in lace caps and ribbons； with a work…basket filled with fancy crewels； and whose big son came at nine o'clock to take her home； or Oliver's young friends； boys and girls； or old Doctor Wallace； full of the day's gossip； or Miss Lavinia Clendenning； with news of the latest Assembly； or Nathan Gill with his flute。
But then it was Nathan always； whatever the occasion。 From the time Malachi unlocked the front doors in the morning until he bolted them for the night； Nathan came and went。 The brick pavements were worn smooth； the neighbors said； between the flute…player's humble lodgings in a side street and the Horn house； so many trips a day did the old man make。 People smiled at him as he hurried along； his head bent forward； his long pen…wiper cloak reaching to his heels； a wide…brimmed Quaker hat crowning his head。
And always； whenever the night or whatever the function or whoever the guests； a particular side…table was sure to be moved in from Malachi's pantry and covered with a snow…white cloth which played an important part in the evening's entertainment。 This cloth was never empty。 Upon its damask surface were laid a pile of India…blue plates and a silver basket of cake； besides a collection of low glass tumblers with little handles； designed to hold various brews of Malachi's own concoctions； which he alone of all the denizens of Kennedy Square could compound； and the secret of which unhappily has perished with him。
And what wondrous aromas； too！
You may not believe it； but I assure you； on the honor of a Virginian； that for every one of these different nights in the old house on Kennedy Square there were special savory odors emanating from these brews； which settled at once and beyond question the precise function of the evening； and all before you could hand your hat to Malachi。 If； for instance； as the front door was opened the aroma was one of hot coffee and the dry smell of fresh wafer…biscuit mingled with those of a certain brand of sherry； then it was always to be plain whist in the parlor； with perhaps only Colonel Clayton and Miss Clendenning or some one of the old ladies of the neighborhood； to hold hands in a rubber。 If the fumes of apple…toddy mingled with the fragrance of toasted apples were wafted your way； you might be sure that Max Unger； and perhaps Bobbinette； second violin； and Nathanwhatever the function it was always Nathan； it must be rememberedand a few kindred spirits who loved good music were expected； and at the appointed hour Malachi； his hands encased in white cotton gloves； would enter with a flourish； and would graciously beg leave to pass； the huge b