is sarved, Marse John," he
added, with his usual formality.

"By Jove, Colonel," Brent laughed, "they might have caught us nicely!"

"It's God's truth, sir," the old gentleman chuckled, taking his arm and
starting toward the house.

CHAPTER XXVI

"WHAT EYES HAVE YOU?"

The late azure twilights and early salmon dawns of June merged into July
with no more ado than a changed date line on the Colonel's morning
paper. Days were of little concern at Arden, other than being days--as
the library calendar now gave accusing evidence by pointing at the
previous May. Miss Liz, to be sure, was invariably aware when Sundays
came; being told by that unnamable pressure of peace which to most women
would proclaim the Sabbath even in places of utter solitude. Otherwise,
the weeks might be composed of Mondays or Fridays, since school had been
out.

Jane, this particular morning playing with Bip and Mac somewhat apart
from the Colonel and Brent who were engrossed in a game of chess, had
been critically alive to the Sunday habits of these two families which
had come to mean so much to her; especially in relation to the little
boy. Miss Liz not only supported her, but freely expressed her
indignation at the child's parental indifference, and that good lady's
tone was one of deepest injury whenever the subject was mentioned. For
she had indeed tried to awaken Bip's spiritual mind two days after he
was born, by sending him an embroidered bib with a baby blue motto: "I
thank the Lord for what I eat--Soup and mush and bread and meat!" If he
grew into an ungrateful man, she, at least, had done her duty! Bob paid
small attention to matters of church, and Ann had easily acquired the
negative enthusiasm of her father who frankly admitted he could not keep
from going to sleep, even during the best of sermons. Yet, although he
lived by this benighted declaration, he was known as a Christian
gentleman--of the kind whose hands were never so tightly clasped in
prayer that they could not reach his pocket.

Jane now looked up as, with a delighted laugh, the Colonel leaned back;
while Brent, in pretended irritation, mussed the chess men in disorder
over the board.

"Fifteen moves, sir!" the old gentleman cried. "That's a beat you'll not
forget!"

"It's the worst I ever had," Brent admitted. "You can't do it again!"

"I'll bet you I can, sir," the old gentleman declared, then whispering,
"after a julep!"

"Whew!" Brent gave a long, cle