has--has--has Mr. Champney anything to do with your decision?"

She smiled brightly. "Yo' asked just now if yo' could have the same
chance he and Chet Brooks had. Well, poor Chet is dead, and Mr.
Champney--well!--wait and see." She lifted her voice and called, "Mr.
Champney!" The young fellow came briskly towards them; his face betrayed
a slight surprise, but no discomfiture, as he recognized her companion.

"Oh, Mr. Champney," said Miss Sally plaintively, "I've lost my glove
somewhere near pooah Brooks's tomb in the hollow. Won't you go and fetch
it, and come back here to take me home? The co'nnle has got to go and
see his sick niggers in the hospital." Champney lifted his hat, nodded
genially to Courtland, and disappeared below the cypresses on the slope.
"Yo' mustn't be mad," she said, turning in explanation to her companion,
"but we have been here too long already, and it's better that I should
be seen coming home with him than yo'."

"Then this sectional interference does not touch him?" said Courtland
bitterly.

"No. He's an Englishman; his father was a known friend of the
Confederacy, and bought their cotton bonds."

She stopped, gazing into Courtland's face with a pretty vague impatience
and a slight pouting of her lip.

"Co'nnle!"

"Miss Sally."