d no words, yet if words could have come from the mist of ideas in
which his mind groped vaguely he would have said that for themselves the
deeds of the Quintards had been given the touch of finality, and that
whether for good or for evil, the consequences, like the ripple which
rises from the surface of placid waters when a stone is dropped, still
survived somewhere in the world.

The curious and the idle drifted back to the great house; then the
memory of their own affairs, not urgent, generally speaking, but still
of some casual interest, took them down the disused carriage-way to the
red gate and so off into the heat of the summer day. Crenshaw's wagon,
driven by Crenshaw's man, vanished in a cloud of gray dust with the
two old slaves, Aunt Alsidia and Uncle Ben, who were being taken to the
Crenshaw place to be cared for pending the settlement of the Quintard
estate. Bladen parted from Crenshaw with expressions of pleasure at
having had the opportunity of making his acquaintance, and further
delivered himself of the civil wish that they might soon meet again.
Then Crenshaw, assisted by Bob Yancy, proceeded to secure the great
house against intrusion.

"I make it a p'int to always stay and see the plumb finish of a thing,"
explained Yancy. "Otherwise you're frequently put out by hearing of what
happened after you left; I can stand anything but disapp'intment of that
kind."

They passed from room to room securing doors and windows, and at last
stepped out upon the back porch.

"Hullo!" said Yancy, pointing.

There on a bench by the kitchen door was a small figure. It was Hannibal
Wayne Hazard asleep, with his old spo'tin' rifle across his knees. His
very existence had been forgotten.

"Well, I declare to goodness!" said Crenshaw.

"What are you going to do with him, Mr. John?"

This question nettled Crenshaw.

"I don't know as that is any particular affair of mine," he said. Now,
Mr. Crenshaw, though an excellent man of business, with an unblinking
eye on number one, was kindly, on the whole, but there was a Mrs.
Crenshaw, to whom he rendered a strict account of all his deeds, and
that sacred institution, the home, was only a tolerable haven when
these deeds were nicely calculated to fit with the lady's exactions.
Especially was he aware that Mrs. Crenshaw was averse to children as
being inimical to cleanliness and order, oppressive virtues that drove
Crenshaw himself in his hours of leisure to the woodshed