-looking fellow," she mused. "Is he married?"

"There you go again," replied her husband, shaking his forefinger at
her in mock reproach. "To a woman with marriageable daughters all roads
lead to matrimony, the centre of a woman's universe. All men must be
sized up by their matrimonial availability. No, he isn't married."

"That's nice," she rejoined reflectively. "I think we ought to ask him
to stay with us while he is in town, don't you?"

"He's not married," rejoined the doctor slyly, "but the next best
thing--he's engaged."

"Come to think of it," said the lady, "I'm afraid we wouldn't have the
room to spare, and the girls would hardly have time to entertain him.
But we'll have him up several times. I like his looks. I wish you had
sent me word he was coming; I'd have had a better luncheon."

"Make him a salad," rejoined the doctor, "and get out a bottle of the
best claret. Thank God, the Yankees didn't get into my wine cellar!
The young man must be treated with genuine Southern hospitality,--even
if he were a Mormon and married ten times over."

"Indeed, he would not, Ed,--the idea! I'm ashamed of you. Hurry back
to the parlor and talk to him. The girls may want to primp a little
before luncheon; we don't have a young man every day."

"Beauty unadorned," replied the doctor, "is adorned the most. My
profession qualifies me to speak upon the subject. They are the two
handsomest young women in Patesville, and the daughters of the most
beautiful"--

"Don't you dare to say the word," interrupted Mrs. Green, with placid
good nature. "I shall never grow old while I am living with a big boy
like you. But I must go and make the salad."

At dinner the conversation ran on the family connections and their
varying fortunes in the late war. Some had died upon the battlefield,
and slept in unknown graves; some had been financially ruined by their
faith in the "lost cause," having invested their all in the securities
of the Confederate Government. Few had anything left but land, and
land without slaves to work it was a drug in the market.

"I was offered a thousand acres, the other day, at twenty-five cents an
acre," remarked the doctor. "The owner is so land-poor that he can't
pay the taxes. They have taken our negroes and our liberties. It may
be better for our grandchildren that the negroes are free, but it's
confoundedly hard on us to take them without paying for them. They may
exalt our slaves ov