"You won't be in nobody's way here," Webb declared. "If this ain't an open house there never was one of the old-time sort before the war. Jarvis runs the place like his pa and grandpa did. You never saw the like o' visitors in summer-time. They pile in from all directions, close an' far off. Every friend that comes anywhere nigh has to put up here. Them two live happy, I tell you, if ever a pair did. They've got 'em a fine home in Atlanta, where they spend the winter, but they both love this best. Jarvis is writin' a book about mountain flowers, an' Dolly helps him. They travel about a lot; they take in New York nearly every year, but love to get back home where they say they can be comfortable." "And the rest of the family?" Mostyn said. "Your sister and Drake, how are they?" "Fine, first rate. Tom still bosses the plantation. Jarvis tried to git 'im to quit when he married in the family--said he didn't want his daddy-in-law drawin' pay by the month--but Tom had got interested in the work and hung on. He's turned out to be an A1 manager, I tell you. He knows what's what in plantin', an' makes his men move like clockwork from sun-up to sun-down." "And George and his wife?" Mostyn inquired. "Are they doing well?" "Fine, fine. Got four likely children--three boys and a girl baby that gave 'er first yell just a month ago. That pair has struck a lively lick hatchin' 'em out, but it is exactly what they like--they say they want just as many crawlers under foot as they can step over without stumblin'." "And you, yourself--" Mostyn hesitated. "Have you--" "Oh, me?" Webb's freckled face reddened. "Not on your life. I'll stay like I am till I'm under ground. Not any of it for me. Other folks can do as they like, but not me--no siree! I reckon you hain't never"--Webb hesitated--"married a second time?" "No," Mostyn answered. "I am still quite alone in the world." Webb glanced toward the meadow. "I'll walk down there and let 'em know you are here," he said. "They would dilly-dally like that till after dark, an' then come home swingin' hands an' gigglin' an' sayin' fool things to each other. They make me sick sometimes. I believe in love, you understand--I think married folks ought to love each other, in the bounds o' reason, but this mushy business--well, it ain't in my line, that's all!" He passed through the gate and started toward the meadow. Mostyn leaned on the fence. He saw the couple again. They were standing face to face arranging the flowers. "I don't think I'd disturb them if I were you," he called after the bachelor. "There is no hurry." "Oh, they would want to know you are here," Webb answered over his shoulder, as he strode away. "They will come in a trot when they know about it." Presently Mostyn felt a small hand creep into his. It was the little boy. "Do you see them?" the child inquired. "I can't look over the fence."