ventured. "I have never heard any
particulars."

"He and my father didn't agree. I don't remember very much about it
myself; I was only thirteen when it happened. But I know there was the
devil of a row."

"Do you know where he is?" I asked.

Radnor shook his head.

"I sent him some money once or twice, but my father found it out and
shut down on my bank account. I've lost track of him lately--he isn't in
need of money though. The last I heard he was running a gambling place
in Seattle."

"It's a great pity!" I sighed. "He was a fine chap when I knew him."

Radnor echoed my sigh but he did not choose to follow up the subject,
and we passed the rest of the way in silence until we turned into the
lane that led to Four-Pools. After the manner of many Southern places
the house was situated well toward the middle of the large plantation,
and entirely out of sight from the road. The private lane which led to
it was bordered by a hawthorn hedge, and wound for half a mile or so
between pastures and flowering peach orchards. I delightedly breathed in
the fresh spring odors, wondering meanwhile how it was that I had let
that happy Virginia summer of my boyhood slip so entirely from my mind.

As we rounded a clump of willow trees we came in sight of the house, set
on a little rise of ground and approached by a rolling sweep of lawn. It
was a good example of colonial--white with green blinds, the broad brick
floored veranda, which extended the length of the front, supported by
lofty Doric columns. On the south side a huge curved portico bulged out
to meet the driveway. Stretching away behind the house was a sleepy
box-bordered garden, and behind this, screened by a row of evergreens,
were clustered the barns and out-buildings. Some little distance to the
left, in a slight hollow and half hidden by an overgrowth of laurels,
stood a row of one-story weather-beaten buildings--the old negro cabins,
left over from the slave days.

"It's just as I remember it!" I exclaimed delightedly as I noted one
familiar object after another. "Nothing has changed."

"Nothing does change in the South," said Radnor, "except the people, and
I suppose they change everywhere."

"And those are the deserted negro cabins?" I added, my eye resting on
the cluster of gray roofs showing above the shrubbery.

"Just at present they are not so deserted as we should like," he
returned with a suggestive undertone in his voice. "You visit the
plantation