She was frankly astonished now. “Would you really?” And I think some light about me began to reach her. A Northerner willing to side against a Northern state! I was very glad that I had found that phrase to make clear to her my American creed. I proceeded. “I shall help to hand down all the glories and all the sadnesses; Lee’s, Lincoln’s, everybody’s. But I shall not hand ‘it’ down.” This checked her. “It’s easy for me, you know,” I hastily explained. “Nothing noble about it at all. But from noble people”--and I looked hard at her--“one expects, sooner or later, noble things.” She repressed something she had been going to reply. “If ever I have children,” I finished, “they shall know ‘Dixie’ and ‘Yankee Doodle’ by heart, and never know the difference. By that time I should think they might have a chance of hearing ‘Yankee Doodle’ in Kings Port.” Again she checked a rapid retort. “Well,” she, after a pause, repeated, “you have been really quite nice.” “May I tell you what you have been?” “Certainly not. Have you seen Mr. Mayrant to-day?” “We have an engagement to walk this afternoon. May I go walking with you sometime?” “May he, General?” A wagging tail knocked on the floor behind the counter. “General says that he will think about it. What makes you like Mr. Mayrant so much?” This question struck me as an odd one; nor could I make out the import of the peculiar tone in which she put it. “Why, I should think everybody would like him--except, perhaps, his double victim.” “Double?” “Yes, first of his fist and then of--of his hand!” But she didn’t respond. “Of his hand--his poker hand,” I explained. “Poker hand?” She remained honestly vague. It rejoiced me to be the first to tell her. “You haven’t heard of Master John’s last performance? Well, finding himself forced by that immeasurable old Aunt Josephine of yours to shake hands, he shook ‘em all right, but he took thirty dollars away as a little set-off for his pious docility.” “Oh!” she murmured, overwhelmed with astonishment. Then she broke into one of her delicious peals of laughter. “Anybody,” I said, “likes a boy who plays a hand--and a fist--to that tune.” I continued to say a number of commendatory words about young John, while her sparkling eyes rested upon me. But even as I talked I grew aware that these eyes were not sparkling, were starry rather, and distant, and that she was not hearing what I said; so I stopped abruptly, and at the stopping she spoke, like a person waking up. “Oh, yes! Certainly he can take care of himself. Why not?” “Rather creditable, don’t you think?” “Creditable?” “Considering his aunts and everything.” She became haughty on the instant. “Upon my word! And do you suppose the women of South Carolina don’t wish their men to be men? Why”--she returned to mirth and that arch mockery which was her special charm--“we South Carolina women consider virtue our business, and we don’t expect the men to meddle with it!”