ket, and I think I could make something out of it. A fellow ought
to settle down and be his own master," he answered tentatively, "eh?"

"But how will Miss Dows be able to spare you?" asked Courtland, uneasily
conscious that he was assuming an indifference.

"Oh, I'm not much use to her, don't you know--at least not HERE. But
I might, if I had my own land and if we were neighbors. I told you SHE
runs the place, no matter who's here, or whose money is invested."

"I presume you are speaking now of young Miss Dows?" said Courtland
dryly.

"Miss Sally--of course--always," said Champney simply. "She runs the
shop."

"Were there not some French investors--relations of Miss Dows? Does
anybody represent THEM?" asked Courtland pointedly.

Yet he was not quite prepared for the naive change in his companion's
face. "No. There was a sort of French cousin who used to be a good deal
to the fore, don't you know? But I rather fancy he didn't come here to
look after the PROPERTY," returned Champney with a quick laugh. "I think
the aunt must have written to his friends, for they 'called him off,'
and I don't think Miss Sally broke her heart about him. She's not that
sort of girl--eh? She could have her pick of the State if she went in
for that sort of thing--eh?"

Although this was exactly what Courtland was thinking, it pleased him
to answer in a distrait sort of fashion, "Certainly, I should think so,"
and to relapse into an apparently business abstraction.

"I think I won't go in," continued Champney as they neared the house
again. "I suppose you'll have something more to say to Miss Dows. If
there's anything else you want of ME, come to the office. But SHE'LL
know. And--er--er--if you're--er--staying long in this part of the
country, ride over and look me up, don't you know? and have a smoke
and a julep; I have a boy who knows how to mix them, and I've some old
brandy sent me from the other side. Good-by."

More awkward in his kindliness than in his simple business confidences,
but apparently equally honest in both, he shook Courtland's hand and
walked away. Courtland turned towards the house. He had seen the farm
and its improvements; he had found some of his own ideas practically
discounted; clearly there was nothing left for him to do but to thank
his hostess and take his leave. But he felt far more uneasy than when
he had arrived; and there was a singular sense of incompleteness in
his visit that he could not entirely