she indicated Champney with her hammer, "when he isn't talking English,
seeing English, thinking English, dressing English, and wondering why
God didn't make everything English, is trying to do the same for
HIS folks. Mr. Champney, Co'nnle Courtland. Co'nnle Courtland, Mr.
Champney!" The two men bowed formally. "And now, Co'nnle, if yo'll
come down, Mr. Champney will show yo' round the fahm. When yo' 've got
through yo'll find me here at work."

Courtland would have preferred, and half looked for her company
and commentary on this round of inspection, but he concealed his
disappointment and descended. It did not exactly please him that
Champney seemed relieved, and appeared to accept him as a bona fide
stranger who could not possibly interfere with any confidential
relations that he might have with Miss Sally. Nevertheless, he met the
Englishman's offer to accompany him with polite gratitude, and they left
the house together.

In less than an hour they returned. It had not even taken that time for
Courtland to discover that the real improvements and the new methods
had originated with Miss Sally; that she was virtually the controlling
influence there, and that she was probably retarded rather than assisted
by the old-fashioned and traditional conservatism of the company of
which Champney was steward. It was equally plain, however, that the
young fellow was dimly conscious of this, and was frankly communicative
about it.

"You see, over there they work things in a different way, and, by Jove!
they can't understand that there is any other, don't you know? They're
always wigging me as if I could help it, although I've tried to explain
the nigger business, and all that, don't you know? They want Miss Dows