uld have caused old man
Jucklin's change of manner at the time he had spoken of sending his
daughter away to be educated. Surely, he could not deplore the grace and
refinement which this schooling had given her. Would it be well to ask
Alf? No; he could but regard such a question as a direct impertinence.

The mare trotted briskly and the rush of cool air was delicious. The
road was crooked, holding in its elbows bits of scenery unsuspected
until we were upon them, moss growing under great rocks, weeping in
eternal shade, a bit of water blazing in the sun, a hickory bottom,
where squirrels were barking; and from everywhere came the thrilling
incense of spring.

Alf, though a farmer, had not the stoop of overwork, nor that sullenness
that often comes from a life-long and close association with the soil;
he was chatty, talked to his mare, talked to me and whistled to himself.
He pointed out a cave wherein British soldiers had been forced to take
refuge to save themselves from the pursuit of victorious patriots, but
what they had supposed was a refuge was, indeed, a trap, for the
patriots smoked them out and took them to General Green's camp. We drove
upon a hill top, and, looking across a valley, I saw a large brick house
on a hill not far beyond. And I recognized it as a place that I had seen
earlier in the day. "It's where General Lundsford lives," said Alf,
following my eyes with his own. "We go by there. He used to own a good
many negroes and some of them still hang about him. Most of his land is
poor, but enough of it is rich to make him well off. And proud! He's
proud as a blooded horse. Most of the very few old-timers that are left
in this part of the country. We are getting somewhat Yankeefied,
especially away over to the east where so many northern people come of a
winter. But he doesn't take much to it--still cuts his wheat with a
cradle."

We drove down into the valley, crossed a rude stone bridge, and slowly
went up the other side. The mare, brisk from having been pent up, showed
a disposition to quicken her pace, but Alf held her back, searching with
his strong eyes the yard, the summer house in the garden hard by and the
orchard off to the left. I looked at him and his face was eager and hard
set, but his eyes, though strained, were soft and glowing. I spoke to
him, but he heeded me not, but just at that moment he drew himself
straighter and gazed toward the house. And I saw a woman crossing the
yard. The