of burnished grain.

"Ah never saw such a frowsley-looking thing in mah life," said Betty
Page, in her soft South Carolinian drawl that was all vowels and
liquids, "as that wild hill beside those fields. For all the world like
a disgraceful tramp leering across the wall at a dandy."

Shirley applauded the simile, and the judge said, "This is a boundary.
That hobo-landscape is part of the deserted Valiant estate. The hill
hides the house."

She nodded. "Damory Court. It's still vacant, Ah suppose."

"Yes, and likely to be. Valiant is dead long ago, but apparently there's
never been any attempt to let it. I suppose his son is so rich that one
estate more or less doesn't figure much to him."

"I got a letter this morning from Dorothy Randolph," said Shirley. "The
Valiant Corporation is being investigated, you know, and her uncle had
taken her to one of the hearings, when John Valiant was in the chair.
From her description, they are making it sufficiently hot for that
silver-spooned young man."

"I don't reckon _he_ cares," said Lusk satirically. "Nothing matters
with his set if you have enough money."

The judge pointed with his crop. "That narrow wagon-track," he said,
"goes to Hell's-Half-Acre."

"Oh, yes," said Betty. "That's that weird settlement on the Dome where
Shirley's little protegee Rickey Snyder came from." It was all she said,
but her glance at the girl beside her was one of open admiration. For,
as all in the party knew, the lonely road had been connected with an act
of sheer impulsive daring in Shirley's girlhood that she would never
hear spoken of.

Judge Chalmers flicked his horse's ears gently with his rein and they
moved slowly on, presently coming in sight of a humble patch of ground,
enclosed in a worm-fence and holding a whitewashed cabin with a
well shaded by varicolored hollyhocks. Under the eaves clambered a
gourd-vine, beneath which dangled strings of onions and bright red
peppers. "Do let us get a drink!" said Chilly Lusk. "I'm as thirsty as
a cotton-batting camel."

"All right, we'll stop," agreed the judge, "and you'll have a chance to
see another local lion, Betty. This is where Mad Anthony lives. You must
have heard of him when you were here before. He's almost as celebrated
as the Reverend John Jasper of Richmond."

Betty tapped her temple. "Where have Ah heard of John Jasper?"

"He was the author of the famous sermon on _The Sun do Move_. He used to
prove it by a bucket of wa