“He never did. Uncle Robert never kept any overseer. He used to say that the authority of the master of a plantation was too great to be delegated to any person who didn’t care for the black people and didn’t feel his responsibility.” “But how did the fellow come to be here then? Who employed him?” “Mr. Peyton did--Mr. Madison Peyton. When your uncle was ill, Mr. Peyton looked after things for him, and he kept it up after Uncle Robert died. He hired this overseer. He said he was too busy on his own plantation to take care of things here in person.” “Uncle Robert was quite right,” said Arthur meditatively. “And now that I am charged with the responsibility for these black people, I will not delegate my power to any overseer, least of all to one whom you have found out to be a cruel coward. Where do you suppose we could find him now?” “Down in the tobacco new grounds,” the girl answered. “I was going there to-day to set my dogs on him, but I remembered that you were master now.” “What was the special occasion for your anger this time?” Arthur asked in a certain quiet, seemingly half indifferent tone which Dorothy found inscrutable. “He whipped poor old Michael, the gardener last night,” answered the girl with a glint as of fire in her eyes. “He had no right to do that. Michael isn’t a field hand, and he isn’t under the overseer’s control.” “Do you mean the shambling old man I saw in the garden yesterday? Surely he didn’t whip that poor decrepit old man!” “Yes, he did. I told you he was a cruel coward.” “Let’s ride to the tobacco new grounds at once,” said Arthur quite as he might have suggested the most indifferent thing. But Dorothy observed that on the way to the new grounds Arthur Brent spoke no word. Twice she addressed him, but he made no response. Arrived at the new grounds Arthur called the overseer to him and without preface asked him: “Did you strike old Michael with your whip last night?” “Yes, and there wan’t a lick amiss unless I made a lick at him and missed him.” The man laughed at his own clumsy witticism, but the humor of it seemed not to impress the new master of the plantation. For reply he said: “Go to your house at once and pack up your belongings. Come to me after I have had my breakfast, and we’ll have a settlement. You are to leave my plantation to-day and never set foot upon it again. Come, Miss Dorothy, let’s continue our ride!” With that the two wheeled about, the girl saying: “Let’s run our horses for a stretch.” Instantly she set off at breakneck speed across the fields and over two stiff fences before regaining the main plantation road. There she drew rein and turning full upon her companion she said: “Now you may call me Dorothy.” VII SHRUB HILL CHURCH