In view of these possibilities, therefore, Billy sat down to the task of examining the papers, which were pretty numerous, such as they were. After awhile he became interested in the very miscellaneousness of the assortment. Little memoranda were there--of the date on which a horse had been shod; of the amount paid for a new pair of boots; of the times at which the boy had written letters to his friends, and of a hundred other unimportant things. There were bits of poor verse, too, such as may be found in the desk of almost every boy. Old letters, full of nothing, were there in abundance, but nothing which could possibly be of any value to anybody. On all the letters, except one, was marked, in Ewing's handwriting, "To be burned without reading, in case of my death." The one exception attracted Billy's attention, and opening it, he was surprised to find Robert Pagebrook's name appended to it. It was, in fact, the letter which Cousin Sarah Ann had opened during her son's last illness. After reading it Mr. Billy sat down to think. Presently, looking at his watch, he went to the door and called a servant. "Go and ask your Miss Sudie to put two or three shirts, and some socks and handkerchiefs into my satchel for me, and then you go and tell Polidore to saddle Graybeard and the bay, and get ready to go with me to the Court House directly. Do you hear?" The servant made no answer to the question with which Mr. Billy closed his speech. Indeed that gentleman expected none. Virginians always ask "do you hear?" when they give instructions to servants, and they never get or expect an answer. Without the question, however, they would never secure attention to the instruction. To say, "do so and so," without adding, "do you hear?" would be the idlest possible waste of words on the part of any one giving an order to the average Virginian house servant. Mr. Billy was in the habit of making sudden journeys on business, without giving the slightest warning to the family except that contained in a request that his satchel or saddle-bags be packed, so that Miss Sudie was not in the least surprised when his present message came to her. She was surprised, however, when, instead of riding away without a word of farewell, as he usually did, he came into the house, and, kissing her tenderly, said: "Keep your spirits up, Sudie, and don't let things worry you too much. I'm going to Richmond on the two o'clock train, and don't know how long I'll be gone. Good-by, little girl," and he kissed her again. All this was quite out of character, Miss Sudie felt. Billy was affectionate enough, at all times, but he detested leave-takings, and always avoided them when he could. To seek one was quite unlike him, and Miss Sudie was puzzled to know what prompted him to do it on this particular occasion. He rode away, however, without offering any explanation whatever.