ho had wedged herself in
tightly between her master and Jefferson, wriggled and licked his hand.
He looked down at her, tried to say something, broke a little on it,
and ended abruptly, "It's Heaven."

"And you weren't hurt?"

"Not a scratch, worse luck."

She turned to Major Prime and did the wise thing and the thing he
liked. "You were," she said, simply, "but I am not going to be sorry
for you, shall I?"

"No," he said, "I am not sorry for--myself----"

For a moment there was silence, then Becky carried the conversation
into lighter currents. "Everybody is here for the Horse Show next
week. Your mother's house is full, and those awful Waterman people
have guests."

"One of them came down with us."

"The good-looking man who offered us a ride?"

"Oh, of course if you like that kind of looks, he's the kind of man
you'd like," said Randy, "but coming down he seemed rather out of tune
with the universe."

"How out of tune?"

"Well, it was hot and he was hot----"

"It is hot, Randy, and perhaps he isn't used to it."

"Are you making excuses for him?"

"I don't even know him."

Major Prime interposed. "His man was a corking little chap, never
turned a hair, as cool as a cucumber, with everybody else sizzling."

They were ascending a hill, and the horse went slowly. Ahead of them
was a buggy without a top. In the buggy were a man and a woman. The
woman had an umbrella over her, and a child in her arms.

"It's Mary Flippin and her father. See if you can't overtake them,
Jefferson. I want you to see Fiddle Flippin, Randy."

"Who is Fiddle Flippin?"

"Mary's little girl. Mary is a war bride. She was in Petersburg
teaching school when the war broke out, and she married a man named
Branch. Then she came home--and she called the baby Fidelity."

"I hope he was a good husband."

"Nobody has seen him, he was ordered away at once. But she is very
proud of him. And the baby is a darling. Just beginning to walk and
talk."

"Stop a minute, Jefferson, while I speak to them."

Mr. Flippin pulled up his fat horse. He was black-haired, ruddy, and
wide of girth. "Well, well," he said, with a big laugh, "it is cer'n'y
good to see you."

Mary Flippin was slender and delicate and her eyes were blue. Her hair
was thick and dark. There was Scotch-Irish blood in the Flippins, and
Mary's charm was in that of duskiness of hair and blueness of eye.
"Oh, Randy Paine," she said, with her cheeks flamin