In response to the call Kitty Mills started to run across the big road as she had sped many times that day, and in so doing she encountered Miss Pettus, who had gone home and was now returning in great haste, bearing a small covered dish with the greatest care. At the sight of her the sadness instantly flitted from poor Kitty Mills's face--which was newly wet with tears--and the old quizzical, bantering challenge flashed into it without her dreaming that it was there. But Miss Pettus saw it as quickly as it came, and her fiery temper flared up forthwith, like a flame in a sudden gust of wind. Her sharp little black eyes snapped with all the old fire, although they were red and swollen with weeping and watching the whole night through. Her homely, hard, faithful features stiffened at once with all the old scornful wrath as she caught Kitty Mills looking at the dish. "_Yes_, it's a chicken for Miss Judy! And no bigger than a bird either--and tenderer too. There's no law--that I know of--against my having late chickens, even if that stubborn old dorminica _won't_ set," she said, as fiercely defiant as ever. She gave the usual contemptuous toss of her head in its gingham sunbonnet, and the accustomed excited swish of her starched calico skirt, as she passed Kitty Mills. And then she turned for the parting shot, which she could not even then bring herself to forego:-- "What if I _have_ cooked this chicken for Miss Judy with my own hands? Don't _I_ know as well as you do that she can't eat it--nor anything else--ever again in this world? And what's that got to do with my cooking this chicken, and thinking that--maybe Miss Judy might feel a little better--if"--with a burst of angry sobbing, "--if she could see Miss Sophia eat it. She always liked that better than anything for herself. You know as well as _I_ do, Kitty Mills, that she always was just that silly and soft!" Miss Pettus went on toward the gate, and Lynn Gordon got up to open it for her, some passer-by having thoughtlessly dropped over the post the loop of faded blue ribbon which served in the place of a latch. How like Miss Judy that poor little scrap of daintiness was! As he stood holding the gate back for Miss Pettus to pass, seeing that her hands were full, he heard the rumble of wheels, the rattle of some approaching vehicle. The great, brown cloud of dust lifted, drifting farther down the big road, and out of it came an old-fashioned buggy drawn by an old gray horse. This was driven by a white-haired negro, who had once been Colonel Fielding's coachman, and who was now long since become his nurse. Beside the driver sat the colonel himself, and Lynn sprang to assist him in getting down from the buggy; but the negro made a sly restraining gesture, and when the young man came near he saw that the colonel's beautiful old head was shaking strangely, and that his fine old eyes appeared not to see what they were resting upon. The colonel gazed vaguely down at Lynn before he spoke:--