"I suppose not. Church history doesn't dwell upon it." He turned toward the door, faced about and said: "The woman will bring your dinner. I am going out among my people and shall not be here again until to-morrow." "You needn't come then, Washington." "Yes, to pull your chair into the parlor." "That's so. Thank you." He stood for a moment in silence, and, without speaking, he stepped back, and, with a grave nod and a slow wink, he softly shut the door. CHAPTER VII. THE NOTORIOUS BUGG PETERS. I mended so rapidly that within a week I was able to walk about. Washington had every day drawn my chair into the parlor; but when I no longer was in need of this physical service, he continued his visits to give me the benefit of his spiritual strength. And once, when he came into my room, like a dark reproach, I chopped off his moral droning with the command to "get out!" He obeyed in silence, and I thought that I had given our relationship a mortal wound. But in the garden the next day he came up with unusual cheeriness and invited me to his church to hear him preach upon the strength of the Spirit and the weakness of the human family. One day the Senator took me out in his buggy. He drove me through the town, and what a delight it was once more to look upon the affairs of man. The buildings were for the most part old, and many of them were dingy from neglect, but the air was restful and romantic. At every turn, after leaving the business center, we came upon magnolia trees, now in full bloom. Here was a garden whose low brick walls were green and gray with time, a patch of moss and a cluster of snails; and away over yonder was a blush on the landscape--a jungle of roses. There were flowers everywhere, and far from the mansions of the lordly was many a log hut, beautiful in a tangle of vines. We drove down the river, toward a densely timbered flat, but did not penetrate its malarious shade, the Senator choosing to turn to the left to drive me to a distant hill whereon stood the school for girls, the one of which he might have taken charge, had not his fight with Lige Patton proved him fitted for a more manly charge--the male academy. As we were driving along, a tall, gaunt man climbed over a fence, stepped out into the road and signaled us to stop. The Senator drew up, laughing. The man came forward, put his hands on the buggy tire, took them off, "dusted" them to brush off the dirt, and put them on the tire again. The Senator introduced Mr. Peters, and our detainer looked up, grinned and said: "Yes, Sir, the notorious Bugg Peters." His face was thin and sallow, his long hair looked like hay, and his eyes were simply two pale yellow spots. "Out ridin' for your health, Senator?" "No, just thought I'd show my friend, Mr. Belford, the town and the country."