! Here, let me
fold it up. My mother and father taught me to be very particular about
such things and goodness knows I've tried to teach you. I don't know
where we'd be if I didn't save and if my folks before me hadn't done
so."

It was a well-known fact that Judith's maternal grandparents, Mr. and
Mrs. Ezra Knight, had been forced to abandon their ancestral farm in
Connecticut and had started to California on a hazard of new fortunes
but had fallen by the wayside, landing in Kentucky where their habits
of saving string and paper certainly had not enriched them. Such
being the case a whimsical smile from the granddaughter was
pardonable.

"There is no telling," she laughed, "but you go on saving, Mother
dear, and I'll try to do some making and between us we'll be as rich
as our cousins at Buck Hill."

"There you are again! I'd feel ashamed to go claiming relations with
folks that didn't even know I existed. I can't see what makes you do
it."

"Oh, just for fun! You see we really and truly are kin. We are just as
close kin as some of the people Cousin Ann Peyton visits, because you
see she takes in anybody and everybody from the third and fourth
generation of them that hate to see her coming. Yesterday in
Louisville I looked up the family in some old books on the early
history of Kentucky at the Carnegie Library and I found out a lot of
things. In the first place the Bucks weren't named for Buck Hill."

The land owned by Mrs. Buck had at one time been as rich as any in
Kentucky, but it had been overworked until it was almost as poor as
the deserted farm in Connecticut. As Judge Middleton had said, the
price of the right-of-way through the place sought by the trolley
company had enabled her to lift the long-standing mortgage. She had
inherited the farm, mortgage and all, from her father, who had bought
it from old Dick Buck. The house was a pleasant cottage of New England
architecture, built closer to the road than is usual on Kentucky
farms. Old Mr. Knight had also followed the traditions of his native
state by building his barn with doors opening on the road. The barn
was larger than the house, but at the present time Judith's little
blue car and an old red cow were its sole inhabitants. The hay loft,
which was designed to hold many tons of hay, was empty. Sometimes an
errant hen would find her way up there and start a nest in vain hopes
of being allowed to lay her quota and begin the business of hatching
her ow