The Storm Centre by Mary Noailles Murfree — Read

Joy came in the morning when the raven alighted. The "two-faced Janus" was wreathed in smiles, bent double with chuckles, and tears of delight sparkled in his eyes.

"How dee is growed! " he whispered cautiously. "Mannish now, fur true. Gawd! de han'somest one ob de fam'ly! " For, with the refreshment of sleep and the substance, not merely the similitude, of fried chicken, waffles, and coffee, Julius, in the gray uniform of a first lieutenant, made a very gallant show despite the incongruities of the piled-up lumber of the old garret. He had a keen, high, alert profile, his nose a trifle aquiline; his complexion was fair and florid; his eyes were a fiery brown, his hair, of the same rich tint, was now and again tossed impatiently backward, the style of the day being an inconvenient length, for it was worn to hang about the collar. He had a breezy, offhand, impetuous manner, evidently only bridled in by rigorous training to decorous forms, and he stood six feet one inch in his stockings, taller now by one inch more in his boots, which the old servant had helped him to draw on. "Lawd-a-massy! dis de baby? " cried the old negro, admiringly, still on his knees, contemplating the young officer as he took a turn through the apartment with his straight-brimmed cap on his head and his hand on his sword. "Fore Gawd, whut sorter baby is dis yere -- over six feet high?"