up. "Mr.
Willits senior is a fine, open-hearted man, and does a great deal of
good in the county with his money--quite a politician, and they do say
has a fair chance of some time being governor of the State. But very few
of us about here would want to marry into the family, all the same. Oh
no, my dear Kate, of course there was nothing against his grandmother.
She was a very nice woman, I believe, and I've often heard my own mother
speak of her. Her father came from Albemarle Sound, if I am right, and
was old John Willits's overseer. The girl was his daughter."

Kate had made no answer. Who Langdon Willits's grandmother was, or
whether he had any grandmother at all, did not concern her in the least.
She rather admired the young Albemarle Sound girl for walking boldly
into the Willits family--low born as she was--and making them respect
her.

But none of Peggy's outspoken warnings nor any of St. George's
silent acceptances of the several situations--always a mark of his
disapproval--checked the game of love-making which was going on--the
give-and-take stage of it, with the odds varying with each new shifting
of the cards, both Peggy and St. George growing the more nervous.

"She's going to accept him, St. George," Peggy had said to him one
morning as he stood behind her chair while she was shelling the peas for
dinner. "I didn't think so when he first came, but I believe it now. I
have said all I could to her. She has cuddled up in my arms and cried
herself sick over it, but she won't hold out much longer. Young Rutter
left her heart all torn and bleeding and this man has bound up the sore
places. She will never love anybody that way again--and may be it is
just as well. He'd have kept her guessing all her life as to what he'd
do next. I wish Willits's blood was better, for she's a dear, sweet
child and proud as she can be, only she's proud over different things
from what I would be. But you can make up your mind to it--she'll keep
him dangling for a while yet, as she did last summer at the Red Sulphur,
but she'll be his wife in a year or less--you mark my words. You haven't
yet heard from the first one, have you?--as to when he's coming home?"

St. George hadn't heard--he sighed in return--a habit of his lately: No,
not for two months or more--not since the letter in which Harry said
he had left the ship and had gone up into the interior. He had, he told
her, mentioned the boy's silence to Kate in a casual way, wat