Jefferson Bucknor had been away from home, except for flying visits, for five years. Like most of the young men of his age, the World War had broken in on his college course. He had gone into training at the first suggestion of his country's need. He was then in his junior year at the University of Virginia. Law had been his goal and at the close of the war he hastened back to finish what he had begun. Determined to hang out his shingle as soon as possible, he had studied summer and winter until he got his degree. He was now at home, taking a much-needed rest and getting acquainted again with his family. The sisters had grown up while he was away, and his father and mother were turning gray. He had only arrived the day before the coming of Cousin Ann, and could not help regretting that his sisters were having this house party. It would have been pleasant to be quietly at home for a while. "When does your company come?" Jeff asked Mildred. Cousin Ann had joined them on the front porch, where the family awaited the summons to dinner. "Mildred and Nan are having a swarm of guests," he explained to the old cousin. "Ah, indeed!" said Cousin Ann. "Some of them come at six-thirty and the rest at seven from Louisville. We are to meet them at the trolley. You'll go with us, won't you, Jeff?" asked Mildred. "Of course, if you need me." "Need you! I should say we do need you. Why, you are to fall madly in love with Jean Roland. We've fixed it all up. She's rich and beautiful." "Yes, and we put linen sheets on the bed in the guest chamber," broke in Nan. "Jean Roland is used to grand things, but she'll have to sleep three in the bed and so will all of us--now." "Hush!" from Mrs. Bucknor. There was an embarrassed silence. Cousin Ann's backbone stiffened. Mrs. Bucknor looked reproachfully at her daughters, who giggled helplessly. It was a relief to have the head of the house arrive at that moment. Mr. Bucknor was a hale and hearty man of fifty, florid and handsome, slightly dictatorial in manner, but easily influenced by his wife, who was all softness and gentleness. He was generous and hospitable, priding himself on keeping up the reputation in which Buck Hill had gloried in the past--that of an open house with bed and board for all of the blood. He greeted his Cousin Ann with a cordiality that might have been balm to her wounded feelings had she not been aware that that was Cousin Bob's manner to everybody. "And where do you come from, Cousin Ann?" he demanded. "I hope all were well. Cousin Betty Throckmorton's? Well, well! I thought Sister Sue was to have the honor of your company. It will keep! It will keep! Measles at Cousin Betty's? Heavens! I hope none of them will go off in pneumonia. You must give us a nice long visit. Always glad to have you, Cousin Ann. Glad to have any of my kin come and stay as long as they choose. Blood is thicker than water, I say, and blue blood is thicker than red blood."