He found a number of them congregated and evidently expecting something of the kind. “Gideon, tell the men I wish to speak to them.” In fifteen minutes they had collected. He called them all up, and standing on the portico of the office where he had been accustomed to speak with them, addressed a few calm words to them. For a moment he went over the past. They had been faithful servants, he said. And he was glad to be able to say this to them. Now there were to be new relations between them. He told them they were free—on which there was an audible murmur of acquiescence—and they could leave, if they pleased. There was another murmur of satisfaction. But if they remained they would have to work and be subject to his authority. Upon this many of the older ones signified their assent, while some of the others turned and, looking back, called to some one in the rear of the crowd: “Come, Brer Sherrod, you done heah de noration; now come and gi’ de ’sponse.” A low, stout negro, of middle age, whom the Doctor had not before noticed, came forward somewhat sheepishly, but with a certain swagger in his gait. It was evidently concerted. The Doctor’s mind acted quickly. At the speaker’s first word, he cut him short. “I decline to allow Jim Sherwood to be the spokesman,” he said. “He does not belong here. I left him in a position of trust, and he has failed in it. Fall to the rear; I make no terms with outsiders.” Taken by surprise at the tone of authority, the exhorter fell or was moved back, in sudden confusion, while the doctor went on: “Gideon, I appoint you; you have proved trustworthy. This place has supported two hundred souls in the past, and we can make it do so again. Tell them that all those who remain here and work under you, including Sherwood, shall be supported and treated fairly and paid what is proper if it takes every acre I have to do it; the others can go and find homes elsewhere.” He turned on his heel and walked into the house. The next day there was a good force at work in the fields. Some of those he had addressed had gone off in the night; but most of them remained, and the Doctor told Mrs. Cary he thought things would work out all right; he was ready to accept present conditions, and matters would adjust themselves. “Time is the adjuster,” he said. CHAPTER VI A BROKEN SOLDIER COMES HOME FROM WAR