“I got over it before I was old enough to make myself a butt of hilarity,” the doctor retorted. “I see by the papers they’ve invented a new dance called the grizzly bear. I believe there’s another named the yip-kyoodle. I hope you’ve got ’em down pat to show the young folks to-night, Bristow.” The major got up with some irritation. “Southall,” he said, “sometimes I’m tempted to think your remarks verge upon the personal. You don’t have to watch me dance if you don’t choose to.” “No, thank God,” muttered the doctor. “I prefer [Pg 273]to remember you when you still preserved a trace of dignity—twenty odd years ago.” “If dignity—” the major’s blood was rising now,—“consists in your eternal tasteless bickerings, I want none of it. What on earth do you do it for? You had some friends once.” “Friends!” snapped the other, “the fewer I have the better!” The major clapped on his straw hat angrily, strode to the door, and opened it. But on the threshold he stopped, and presently shut it, turned back slowly and resumed his chair. The doctor was relighting his cigar, but an odd furtive look had slipped to his face, and the hand that struck the match was unsteady. For a time both sat smoking, at first in silence, then talking in a desultory way on indifferent topics. Finally the major rose and tossed his cigar into the empty grate. “I’ll be off now,” he said. “I must be on the field before the others.” As he went down the steps a carriage, drawn by a pair of dancing grays, plunged past. “Who are those people with the Chalmers, I wonder,” said the doctor. “They’re strangers here.” The major peered. “Oh,” he said, over his shoulder, “I forgot to tell you. That’s Silas Fargo, the railroad president from New York, and his daughter Katharine. His private car’s down [Pg 274]on the siding. They’re at the judge’s—he’s chief counsel for the road in this state. They’ll be at the tournament, I reckon. You’ll be there, won’t you?” The doctor was putting some phials and instruments into a worn leather bag. “No,” he said, shortly. “I’m going to take a ten-mile drive—to add to this county’s population, I expect. But I’m coming to the dance. Promised Valiant I would in a moment of temporary aberration.” [Pg 275] CHAPTER XXXII A VIRGINIAN RUNNYMEDE “ June in Virginia is something to remember.” To-day the master of Damory Court deemed this a true saying. For the air was like wine, and the drifting white wings of cloud, piled above the amethystine ramparts of the far Blue Ridge, looked down upon a violet world bound in green and silver. In his bedroom Valiant stood looking into the depths of an ancient wardrobe. Presently he took from a hook a suit of white flannel in which he arrayed himself. Over his soft shirt he knotted a pale gray scarf. The modish white suit and the rolling Panama threw out in fine contrast the keen sun-tanned face and dark brown eyes.