“It looks like Capt. Brown, on old Roy,” said Mrs. Parks. “Yes’m, hit do, but he woul’n’t be comin’ here fur dinner, ’ceptin’ Miss Jane’s erway,” declared Matt. Sure enough, it was Capt. Brown, and he rode up to the front gate. “The tip of the day to you, Mrs. Parks!” said the gallant fellow, lifting his hat. “Good morning, Capt. Brown; won’t you light?” “No, thank you; I haven’t time.” “You all well?” “We’re up an’ about, but I’m not feeling well. I have had a pain in my head for several days.” “Listen at Miss Jule,” said old Matt to herself, as she peeped around the honeysuckle vine, at the end of the porch to catch what was said. “I ain’t never seed her look better nor puttier.” “How are you all, Capt. Brown?” “Just tollerbly well, only; the old woman is grunting a little this morning.” “Which way is the ’Squire?” “He’s in the Clay Field, back of the house, where the hoe hands are at work.” “Have you heard from Mrs. Marler to-day?” “No, but Sam came by there last night, late, on his way from the post office, and Reuben told him that she was no better. I guess she’s in a right bad way.” “Yes, poor woman, she’s been a great sufferer for a long time. I have been wanting to go to see her, but the stock is busy now, and then, too, I have not felt like riding. I get dizzy every time I get in a buggy.” “You heard about Mrs. Bill McGregor, Mrs. Parks?” “No; is it a boy or girl?” “A ten-pound boy.” “That’s fine! Five girls and three boys. “Tell Mollie to come over. She needn’t wait on me. I’m getting too old to travel about much.” “Thank you. You and George come. “Well, I want to see the old man on a little business; I will just ride around there.” Capt. Brown and Squire Parks were the best of neighbors and friends. Both were influential in political affairs and substantial business men. That morning they talked over a private matter and Capt. Brown turned and went back. Dinner time came and no company arrived. The greens, the chicken and strawberry pies were all ready, but there was no one outside of the family circle to eat them. “I don’t believe in your signs, anyhow,” declared Mr. Parks, “for, this morning, as I went to the field, a red bird, a pretty one, flew across the road in front of me, and I have heard it said that that is the sign that you are going to see your sweetheart, dressed in her best clothes, and I know I haven’t seen any sweetheart to-day.” “O, yes, you is, Marse George,” said Matt, as she handed him the greens for a second help. “Who? Where?” “Here she is, Miss Jule, de onlies’ sweetheart dat you ever had.” “Don’t you believe that, Matt,” said Mrs. Parks, fishing for a compliment. “I guess you are right, Matt, and she’s got on a new dress,” conceded the lord and master of the Parks Big House.