eration and I always intend to be."

The old eyes flashed and the faded cheeks flushed. She gave the pile
of debris a vicious little kick. The blow dislodged from the mass a
small, old-fashioned daguerreotype. There was something about the
little picture that was familiar. She stooped and picked it up. It was
her own likeness, taken at seventeen, a slender, charming girl whose
expression gave one to understand that she could not be still much
longer. She would have been a better subject for a motion-picture
camera than the invention of Daguerre. Youth looked into the eyes of
age and Miss Ann put her hands over her own poor face as though to
hide from youth the ravages of time. It seemed to her that the young
Ann looked out on the old Ann and said, "What have you done with me?
Where am I? You needn't tell me that you and I are one and the same."

Slowly she walked to the bureau and slowly she raised her eyes to the
mirror and then gazed long and sadly at her face.

"Ann Peyton, you are a fool. You have always been a fool. It is too
late to be anything else now and you will go on being a fool until the
end of time. This child had more sense than you have."

Reverently she placed the little daguerreotype in her handkerchief
box. It was the picture she had given Bob Bucknor, the father of the
present owner of Buck Hill and the grandfather of Jeff. He had prized
it once but now it was thrown aside and forgotten by all. She then
stooped over and gathered up the articles on the floor and carefully
put them back in drawers and wardrobe. She washed her face and hands,
straightened her auburn wig, changed her traveling dress to a more
suitable one and then sailed majestically down the stairs.

CHAPTER VI

A Question of Kinship

Jefferson Bucknor had been away from home, except for flying visits,
for five years. Like most of the young men of his age, the World War
had broken in on his college course. He had gone into training at the
first suggestion of his country's need. He was then in his junior year
at the University of Virginia. Law had been his goal and at the close
of the war he hastened back to finish what he had begun. Determined to
hang out his shingle as soon as possible, he had studied summer and
winter until he got his degree. He was now at home, taking a
much-needed rest and getting acquainted again with his family. The
sisters had grown up while he was away, and his father and mother were
turning gray