Why shouldn't Nicholas go into partnership
with him? Why shouldn't Nicholas share everything the open-hearted,
open-handed doctor had?

Mr. Jelnik smiled, thanked him, and put the offer by. And I knew he
was right.

* * * * *

It had been a rainy day and was now one of those afternoons that
have the rawness of autumn, though summer is still present. It was
so chilly that a fire burned in the library fireplace, before which
I was sitting. The wind was from the northeast, and the trees and
bushes slanted before it. Potty Black and I had the library all to
our alone-selves, for Alicia was spending the day with Mary Meade,
one of her bridesmaids.

The wedding was less than six weeks off, and preparations were under
way. It was to be a home wedding, the first to take place in Hynds
House since Richard's day, and somehow that lent the occasion the
rose color of romance. It was thus a part of Hynds House history,
something Hyndsville couldn't take lightly. Alicia's wedding was a
town affair, in which everybody was delightfully interested.

Besides, the bridegroom himself was a Hynds on his mother's side, as
Hyndsville ladies remembered, when they sat on our front porch
working on wonderful bits of embroidered things for the bride. It
was then I learned in fullest detail the whole history of
Hyndsville, of the Hyndses, and of Great-Aunt Sophronisba in
particular. I fancy that the Witch of Endor's neighbors must have
had just such an opinion of her as these Hyndsville folk had of
Great-Aunt Sophronisba.

South Carolina people always talk in terms of three generations.
When they say something about you, they remember something about
your mother or your grandfather at the same time, and they tell
that, too. There is a fearsome frankness about the conversation of
the born South Carolinian that The Author says is only to be matched
in an English country house when the county families are gathered
together. Like this, for instance:

"No, my dear, I can't say I'm surprised at Sally's running away and
getting married. Let's see: her grandfather was a Dampier, wasn't
he? Didn't one of the Dampiers murder somebody, or something like
that? It seems to me I have heard dear Mama relate some such
circumstance."

"Oh, _no_, Mary! It wasn't _murder_! He shot one of the Abercrombies
in a duel, that's all. He was really a very fine man! They had a
dispute about a horse, and Mr. Abercrombie struck Mr. Da