used to spend a heap
on the Barony and we all know he never got a cent back, so I reckon the
money's there yet.

"Bladen's got an answer from them South Carolina Quintards, and they
don't know nothing about the boy," said Crenshaw, changing the subject.
"So you can rest easy, Bob; they ain't going to want him."

"Well, sir, that surely is a passel of comfort to me. I find I got all
the instincts of a father without having had none of the instincts of a
husband."

A richer, deeper realization of his joy came to Yancy when he had
turned his back on Balaam's Cross Roads and set out for home through the
fragrant silence of the pine woods. His probable part in the young life
chance had placed in his keeping was a glorious thing to the man. He had
not cared to speculate on the future; he had believed that friends or
kindred must sooner or later claim Hannibal, but now he felt wonderfully
secure in Crenshaw's opinion that this was not to be.

Just beyond the Barony, which was midway between Balaam's and the Hill,
down the long stretch of sandy road he saw two mounted figures, then as
they drew nearer he caught the flutter of skirts and recognized one of
the horsewomen. It was Mrs. Ferris, wife of the Barony's new owner. She
reined in her horse abreast of his cart.

"Aren't you Mr. Yancy?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am, that's me--Bob Yancy." He regarded her with large gray eyes
that were frankly approving in their expression, for she was more than
commonly agreeable to look upon.

"I am Mrs. Ferris, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

"The same here," murmured Yancy with winning civility.

Mrs. Ferris' companion leaned forward, her face averted, and stroked her
horse's neck with gloved hand.

"This is my friend, Miss Betty Malroy."

"Glad to know you, ma'am," said Yancy.

Miss Malroy faced him, smiling. She, too, was very good to look upon,
indeed she was quite radiant with youth and beauty.

"We are just returning from Scratch Hill--I think that is what you call
it?" said Mrs. Ferris.

"So we do," agreed Yancy.

"And the dear little boy we met is your nephew, is he not, Mr. Yancy?"
It was Betty Malroy who spoke.

"In a manner he is and in a manner he ain't," explained Yancy, somewhat
enigmatically.

"There are quite a number of children at Scratch Hill?" suggested Mrs.
Ferris.

"Yes, ma'am, so there are; a body would naturally notice that."

"And no school--not a church even!" continued Mrs.