on," said Cyrus, with a chuckle.

"Well, of course, it's more of mine," agreed Susan, and her delicious
laugh drowned his chuckle.

She had won her point, and strange to say, she had pleased him rather
than otherwise. He had suddenly a comfortable feeling in his digestive
organs as well as a sense of virtue in his soul. It was impossible not
to feel proud of her as she towered there above him with her superb
body, as fine and as supple as the body of a race horse, and her
splendid courage that made him wish while he looked at her that she,
instead of James, had been born a male. She was not pretty--she had
never been pretty--but he realized for the first time that there might
be something better even for a woman than beauty.

"Thank you, father," she said as she turned away, and he was glad again
to feel that she had conquered him. To be conquered by one's own blood
was different from being conquered by a business acquaintance.

"You mustn't disturb the household, you know," he said, but his voice
did not sound as dry as he had endeavoured to make it.

"I shan't disturb anybody," responded Susan, with the amiability of a
woman who, having gained her point, can afford to be pleasant. Then,
wheeling about suddenly on the threshold, she added, "By the way, I
forgot to tell you that Mandy was here three times this morning asking
to see you. She is in trouble about her son. He was arrested for
shooting a policeman over at Cross's Corner, you know, and the people
down there are so enraged, she's afraid of a lynching. You read about it
in the paper, didn't you?"

Yes, he had read about the shooting--Cross's Corner was only three miles
away--but, if he had ever known the name of Mandy's son, he had
forgotten it so completely that seeing it in print had suggested nothing
to his mind.

"Well, she doesn't expect me to interfere, does she?" he asked shortly.

"I believe she thought you might go over and do something--I don't know
what--help her engage a lawyer probably. She was very pitiable, but
after all, what can one do for a negro that shoots a policeman? There's
Miss Willy calling me!"

She ran indoors, and taking his pipe, which was still smoking, from his
mouth, Cyrus leaned back in his chair and stared intently at the small
fleecy clouds in the west. The cat, having cleaned herself to her
satisfaction, jumped down from the railing, and after rubbing against
his thin legs, leaped gently into his lap.

"Tut-tut!"