his personality. In
spite of his lack of education, in spite of his shabby clothes, in spite
of the smell of liquor he was a personality. His clean, high forehead,
his aquiline nose, his straight eyebrows, his fair skin, his tall figure
spoke the heritage of the great Nordic race of men. The race whose
leaders achieved the civilization of Rome, conquered Europe and finally
dominated civilization.

The difference between this man and the leader who wore the uniform of
a Colonel was not in racial stock. It was purely an accident of the
conditions of birth and training. Behind Lee lay two hundred years of
wealth and culture. The poorer man was his kinsman of the centuries. The
world had not been kind to him. He had lost the way of material success.
Perhaps some kink in his mind, a sense of comedy, a touch of the old
wanderlust of the ages.

Lee wondered what had kept him poor as he looked at the figure
approaching. It was straight and fine in spite of the liquor.

Doyle's brain was just clear enough to realize that he had been highly
honored in a call from the foremost citizen of Virginia. His politeness
was extreme. And it was true. It was instinctive. It leaped from
centuries of racial inheritance.

"We're proud of the honor you've done us, Colonel Lee," he announced.

He grasped the extended hand with a cordial, dignified greeting.

"I only hope I can be of some service to you and your family, Mr.
Doyle."

"I'm sure you can, sir. Won't you come in, Colonel?"

"Thank you, it's so pleasant outside, we'll just sit down by the well,
if you don't mind."

"Yessir. All right, sir."

Lee moved slowly toward the platform of the well with its old oaken
bucket and tall sweep.

His wife threw a warning at her husband under her breath.

"Don't you say nothin' foolish now--"

"I won't."

"Your tongue's too long when it gets to waggin'."

"I'll mind, Ma," he smiled.

The woman called softly to her distinguished guest:

"You'll excuse me, Colonel, while I look after the supper. I'll be back
in a minute."

"Certainly, Madame."

He could not have bowed with graver courtesy to the wife of Stephen A.
Douglas.

"Have a seat here on the well, Colonel," Doyle invited.

Lee took his seat on the weather-beaten oak boards.

Doyle turned his foot on a rounded stone and set down a little
ungracefully in spite of his effort to be fully himself. He saw at once
his misstep and hastened to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Colon