XXIV

IN DEVIL-JOHN'S DAY

He was still sitting motionless when there came a knock at the door and
it opened to admit the gruff voice of Doctor Southall. A big form was
close behind him.

"Hello. Up, I see. I took the liberty of bringing Major Bristow."

The master of Damory Court came forward--limping the least trifle--and
shook hands.

"Glad to know you, sah," said the major. "Allow me to congratulate you;
it's not every one who gets bitten by one of those infernal moccasins
that lives to talk about it. You must be a pet of Providence, or else
you have a cast-iron constitution, sah."

Valiant waved his hand toward the man of medicine, who said, "I reckon
Miss Shirley was the Providence in the case. She had sense enough to
send for me quick and speed did it."

"Well, sah," the major said, "I reckon under the circumstances, your
first impressions of the section aren't anything for us to brag about."

"I'm delighted; it's hard for me to tell how much."

"Wait till you know the fool place," growled the doctor testily. "You'll
change your tune."

The major smiled genially. "Don't be taken in by the doctor's pessimism.
You'd have to get a yoke of three-year oxen to drag him out of this
state."

"It would take as many for me." Valiant laughed a little. "You who have
always lived here, can scarcely understand what I am feeling, I imagine.
You see, I never knew till quite recently--my childhood was largely
spent abroad, and I have no near relatives--that my father was a
Virginian and that my ancestors always lived here. To discover this all
at once and to come to this house, with their portraits on the walls and
their names on the title-pages of these books!" He made a gesture toward
the glass shelves. "Why, there's a room up-stairs with the very toys
they played with when they were children! To learn that I belong to it
all; that I myself am the last link in such a chain!"

"The ancestral instinct," said the doctor. "I'm glad to see that it
means something still, in these rotten days."

"Of course," John Valiant continued, "every one knows that he has
ancestors. But I'm beginning to see that what you call the ancestral
instinct needs a locality and a place. In a way it seems to me that an
old estate like this has a soul too--a sort of clan or family soul that
reacts on the descendant."

"Rather a Japanesy idea, isn't it?" observed the major. "But I know what
you mean. Maybe that's why old Virginian familie