“I reckon not,” replied Phillip. “I think he tried law for awhile down in Fredericksburg, but couldn’t make it go. You see, John, after the war――――” “Oh, hang the war!” said the other savagely. “I suppose the brakeman is at least a colonel, isn’t he? And the engineer’s a――a lieutenant-general?” “N-no,” answered Phillip. “I don’t know the brakeman; the Major says he’s just been put on this run. But the engineer’s a man named Warren, who used to go to the University. His folks lost their money and their land――――” “During the war!” “During the war; and so he took to running an engine because he’d rather do that than starve, I reckon. You see, John, we don’t think less of folks here because they run engine or brake, just so long as they’re gentlemen.” “But that isn’t it,” answered the other irritably. “The point’s here: a fellow that had it in him to win promotion in your confounded war must have it in him to do something better than railroad work. Can’t you see that?” “Some of them farm,” answered Phillip, “but, of course, the most of them drifted away to other places after the war was over. Some of our folks went West and stayed there. But――I reckon fellows like the Major and Warren didn’t like leaving home; I know I shouldn’t. I reckon I’d have stayed and done the best I could.” “Home be blowed! The chap that does stunts in the world is the chap that hasn’t got any home. His home’s where his toothbrush is. Your Major had no business thinking about home. He ought to have gone off and scratched gravel somewhere and made something of himself.” “Maybe,” Phillip answered doubtfully. “But I reckon we care more about home than you folks in the North do.” “I guess you do. And if that’s a sample over there I can’t say that I blame you. By Jove, Phil, that is sweet!” A long turn in the road had brought into view a broad expanse of winter turf rising gently from a country road to a wooded promontory on which rested――there is no better word――a gleaming white residence formed of a central structure two stories high, from which on either side lesser buildings stretched away and were lost behind the trees. The sun shone warmly, brightly on the tall pillars and dignified front as though it loved them. “Yes, that’s Wancrewe’s View,” said Phillip. “We’re getting into my country now,” he added with a trace of proud proprietorship in his voice. “Things look different already, don’t they?”