"I wish he bore the Bannister name," said the Judge. "Becky is the only Bannister." After the death of her husband Mrs. Beaufort had come to live with the Judge. Truxton's boyhood had been spent on the old estate. The Judge's income was small, and Truxton had known few luxuries. Like the rest of the boys of the Bannister family he was studying law at the University. He and Randy had been classmates, but had gone into different branches of the service. "When he comes back," the Judge told Mary, "he must show the stuff he is made of. I can't have him selling cars around the county like Randy Paine." "Well, Randy has sold a lot of them," said Mary. "Father has given him an order----" "You don't mean to say that Bob Flippin is going to buy a car----" "He is." "He didn't dare tell me," the Judge said; "what's he going to do with his horses?" "Keep them," said Mary serenely; "the car is for Mother--she's going to drive it herself." The Judge, with a vision of Mollie Flippin's middle-aged plumpness upon him, exclaimed: "You don't mean that your mother is going to--drive a car?" "Yes," said Mary, "she is." "I would as soon think of Claudia----" "No," said Mary, "Mrs. Beaufort will never drive her own car. She has the coachman habit, and if she ever gets a car, there'll be a man at the wheel." She brought the conversation back to Truxton. "Do you remember how we had a picnic here years ago, Mother packed the lunch, and Truxton ate up all the raspberry tarts?" "He loved tarts," said the Judge, "and chocolate cake. Well, well, I shall be glad to see him." "Perhaps--perhaps when he gets here you'll be disappointed." "Why," sharply, "why should I?" Mary did not answer. She stood up with Fiddle in her arms. "Calvin's coming for the basket," she said, "and I shall have to go up on the other side--I left the cart." She said "good-bye" and crossed by the stepping-stones. The Judge wound up his fishing tackle. The day's sport resulted in three small "shiners." But he had enjoyed the day--there had been the stillness and the sunlight, and the good company of Bob Flippin and his daughter Mary. The dogs followed, and Mary from the other side of the stream watched the little procession, Calvin in the lead with the load, the Judge straight and slim with his fluff of white hair, the three little dogs paddling on their short legs. "Judge Bannister of Huntersfield," said Mary Flippin. Then she raised Fiddle high in her arms. "Say _Granddad_, Fiddle," she whispered, "say _Granddad_." II