to go
on horseback, so Becky rode forth by his side correctly and smartly
attired in a gray habit, with a straight black sailor and a high stock
and boots that made her look like a charming boy.

They came to Pavilion Hill to find the boarders like the chorus in light
opera very picturesque in summer dresses and summer flannels, and with
Mrs. Paine in a broad hat playing the part of leading lady. Mr. Flippin,
who was high-priest at all of the county barbecues, was superintending
the roasting of a whole pig, and Mrs. Flippin had her mind on hot
biscuits. The young mulatto, Daisy, and Mandy's John, with the negroes
from the Paine household, were setting the long tables under the trees.
There was the good smell of coffee, much laughter, and a generally
festive atmosphere.

The Judge, enthroned presently in the Pavilion, was the pivotal center
of the crowd. Everybody wanted to hear his stories, and with this fresh
audience to stimulate him, he dominated the scene. He wore a sack suit
and a Panama hat and his thin, fine face, the puff of curled white hair
at the back of his neck, the gayety of his glance gave an almost
theatric touch to his appearance, so that one felt he might at any
moment come down stage and sing a topical song in the best Gilbertian
manner.

It was an old scene with a new setting. It was not the first time that
Pavilion Hill had been the backgrounds of a barbecue. But it was the
first time that a Paine of King's Crest had accepted hospitality on its
own land. It was the first time that it had echoed to the voices of an
alien group. It was the first time that it had seen a fighting black man
home from France. The old order had changed indeed. No more would there
be feudal lords of Albemarle acres.

Yet old loyalties die hard. It was the Judge and Mrs. Paine and Becky
and Randy who stood first in the hearts of the dusky folk who served at
the long tables. The boarders were not in any sense "quality." Whatever
they might be, North, East and West, their names were not known on
Virginia records. And what was any family tree worth if it was not
rooted in Virginia soil?

"Effen the Jedge was a king and wo' a crown," said Mandy's John to
Daisy, "he couldn't look mo' bawn to a th'one."

Daisy nodded. "Settin' at the head o' that table minds me o' whut my old
Mammy used to say, 'han'some is as han'some does.' The Bannisters _done_
han'some and they _is_ han'some."

"They sure is," John agreed; "that-all'