thoroughfare that escaped the oldsters on the porch. If anything was
going on all they had to do was move their chairs from the side porch
to the front, whether it was a circus parade or a funeral, or just
Miss Ann Peyton's rickety coach bearing her to Buck Hill, which was
the first large farm the other side of the creek, the dividing line
between Ryeville and the country. There were several small places but
Buck Hill the only one of importance.

On a morning in June the old men sat on the porch as usual, with feet
on railing and chairs tilted to the right angle for aged backbones.
Nothing much had happened all morning. The sun was about the only
thing that was moving in Ryeville and that had finally got around to
the side porch and was shining full on Colonel Crutcher's outstretched
legs.

"I reckon we'd better move," he said wearily. "Th'ain't much peace and
quiet these days, what with the sun."

"Heat's something awful," agreed Pete Barnes, "but it ain't a patchin'
on what it was at Cowpens."

"Cowpens!" exclaimed a necktie drummer who was stopping at the Rye
House for a day or so, "I thought Cowpens was a battle fought between
the United States and the English back in 1781."

"Sure, sure!" agreed Pete, "I was a mere lad, but I was there."

"It was in January, too," persisted the drummer.

"Of course, but we made it so hot for the--for the other side that
this June weather is nothin' to it."

There was a general laugh and moving of chairs out of the rays of the
inconsiderate sun.

"By golly, we're just in time," said Colonel Crutcher. "There comes
Miss Ann Peyton's rockaway. Where do you reckon she's bound for?"

"Lord knows, but I hope she's not in a hurry," said Judge
Middleton--judge from courtesy only, having sat on no bench but the
anxious bench at the races and being a judge solely of horses and
whiskey. "Did you ever see such snails as that old team? Good Golddust
breed too! Miss Ann always buys good horses when she does buy but to
my certain knowledge that pair is eighteen years old. Pretty nigh
played out by now but I reckon they'll outlast old Billy and Miss
Ann."

"I reckon the old lady has to do some scrimpin' to buy a new pair,"
said Major Fitch. "By golly, I remember when she was the best-looking
gal in the county--or any other county for that matter. She was
engaged to a fellow in my regiment--killed at Appomattox. She had
more beaux than you could shake a stick at, but I reckon she coul