"You are right. These mothers and babies need rest and quiet. A grove by the river would be ideal." "Oh, surely, that is where we must go." The girl waxed enthusiastic. "The babies can roll upon the grass and play together." "Fiddlesticks," objected Mrs. Henderson. "If you put babies on the ground they will eat bugs, and if you allow them to roll they will go into the river." "But they must be entertained." "Proper entertainment for babies," observed the childless widow sagely, "is eating and sleeping with crying to while away leisure moments." She leaned towards Ike. "Young man, do you know of a shady place along the river where we can have a picnic?" "Yas'm," responded the ever courteous chauffeur. "Elgin's Grove is er nice place fo' er picnic or a barbecue. Heaps o' shade an' de aiah is mighty cool." "Who goes there?" "Ah ain' heard about nobody gwine dyah lately, Ma'm." "What made people stop going?" asked the widow, suspiciously. "Dey fou't dyah. Er man got killed in er fight an' de she'iff close de gamblin' house. Ain' nothin' to go dyah fo' now." "It is very strange that I never heard of the place." "Maybe dey done specify it to you by de common folk's name?" "What's that?" "Some folks calls it Faro Beach." Mrs. Henderson gasped. The name recalled shocking stories of a river resort where games of chance had flourished in open disregard of the law until a murder had awakened public conscience and it had been closed. "I wouldn't think of going there," she objected, and suddenly she began to laugh. "We are creatures of convention. What difference does it make what the place was? Indeed, if they were gambling now it wouldn't hurt these mothers and their babies." Her manner became decisive. "Virginia, as soon as you have your lunch, go and see the place. If it is what we want, make arrangements for the use of it. We don't care about its history." Strange as it may seem, when Virginia arrived at Elgin's Grove that afternoon she found that Ike's description was not exaggerated. Great oaks towered towards the blue sky shading a green sod, clear of underbrush, rolling towards the river. The buildings were good, although locked, and there was a well with a pump at which Ike, much oppressed by the heat, refreshed himself, and recommended the water to Virginia as of superior quality, in these words. "It tast'tes lak de water f'om de seep back o' ma ole home in Tennessee. Dats de fines' water in de worl'." The owner of the grove, a farmer, living a bachelor existence, after listening in a cold and suspicious manner to Virginia's enthusiastic description of the purposes of the picnic, suddenly thawed. Refusing pay for the grove, he announced his personal desire to be present. Having been straightway invited by Virginia, he agreed to unlock a building to afford shelter in case of rain, mow among the trees to scare out the snakes, and to clean out the well to insure a pure water supply. "Coming on the _Nancy Jane_?" he asked her.