say the wrong thing, Young Isham,--"

"Don', marster! Fer de Lawd's sake, don' look at me lak dat! I ain'
gwine fergit, sah,--de Lawd Jesus know I ain'!"

Rand lifted the whip handle from his shoulder. "Mount, then, and come
on. There's no good in idling here."

A few moments later they overtook and passed Mr. Pincornet, now briskly
walking, kit under arm, toward his dancing class. They bowed in passing,
and Rand, turning in his saddle, looked back at the figure in faded
finery. "There's danger there," he thought. "Where isn't it now?" As he
faced again toward Charlottesville, his glance fell upon Young Isham,
and he saw that the boy was looking fixedly at his sleeve.

The master made no movement of avoidance. "The mare's going well
enough," he said quietly. "We'll draw rein at Red Fields, and then
hurry home. Use your whip and bring her on."

They paused at Red Fields, then went on to the edge of town. The forked
lightnings were playing and the trees beginning to sway. "We'll stop a
moment," Rand said over his shoulder, "at Mr. Mocket's."

Door and window of the small house where Tom and Vinie lived were shut
against the storm. Tom was yet in Richmond, and Vinie was afraid of
lightning. In the darkened atmosphere the zinnias and marigolds up and
down the path struck a brave note of red and yellow. The grapevine on
the porch was laden with purple bunches that the rising wind bade fair
to break and scatter. Rand dismounted, with a gesture bidding the boy to
await him, entered the broken gate, and, walking up the path between the
marigolds, knocked upon the closed door.

There was a sound within as of some one rising hastily, an exclamation,
and Vinie opened the door. "I knew 'twas you! I just said to myself,
'That ith Mr. Rand's knock,' and it was! Wait, thir, and I'll make the
room light."

She threw open the closed shutters. "I'm jutht afraid of lightning when
I'm by myself. How are you, thir?"

"Very well. Vinie, I want a basin of warm water and soap."

"Yeth, thir. The kettle's on. I'll fix it in Tom's room."

In the bare little chamber Rand washed the blood from his coat-sleeve.
It was not easy to do, but at last the cloth was clean. He came out of
the room with the basin in his hands. Vinie, waiting in the little hall,
started forward. "Open the back door," he said, "and let me throw this
out." Vinie tried to take the basin. "I'll empty it, thir." Her eyes
fell upon the water. "You've hurt yourself!"