s laughing."

Ricky made a face. "Horrid old thing. I don't see why we couldn't have
had a swan or something nice to swank about."

"But then the Lords of Lorne were hardly a nice lot in their prime," Val
reminded her. "Well, Rupert, let's see the rest."

The car followed a graveled drive between tall bushes which would have
been the better for a pruning. Then the road made a sudden curve and
they came out upon a crescent of lawn bordering upon a stone-paved
terrace three steps above. And on the terrace stood the home a Ralestone
had not set foot in for over fifty years--Pirate's Haven.

"It looks--" Ricky stared up, "why, it looks just like the picture Mr.
Harrison painted!"

"Which proves why he is now in Italy," Val returned. "But he did capture
it on canvas."

"Gray stone--and those diamond-paned windows--and that squatty tower.
But it isn't like a Southern home at all! It's some old, old place out
of England."

"Because it was built by an exile," said Rupert softly. "An exile who
loved his home so well that he labored five years in the wilderness to
build its duplicate. Those little diamond-paned windows were once
protected with shutters an inch thick, and the place was a fort in
Indian times. But it is strange to this country. That's why it's one of
the show places. LeFleur asked me if we would be willing to keep up the
custom of throwing the state rooms open to the public one day a month."

"And shall we?" asked Ricky.

"We'll see. Well, don't you want to see the inside as well as the out?"

"Of course! Val, you lazy thing, get out!"

"Certainly, m'lady." He swung open the door and climbed out stiffly.
Although he wouldn't have confessed it for any reason, his leg had been
aching dully for hours.

"Do you know," Ricky hesitated on the first terrace step, bending down
to put aside a trail of morning-glory vine which clutched at her ankle,
"I've just remembered!"

"What?" Rupert looked up from the grid where he was unstrapping their
luggage.

"That we are the very first Ralestones to--to come home since
Grandfather Miles rode away in 1867."

"And why the sudden dip into ancient history?" Val inquired as he limped
around to help Rupert.

"I don't know," her eyes were fast upon moss-greened wall and ponderous
door hewn of a single slab of oak, "except--well, we are coming home at
last. I wonder if--if they know. All those others. Rick and Miles, the
first Rupert and Richard and--"

"That spitfi