“Well,” commented the doctor deliberately, “all I have to say is, don’t materialize too much to Mrs. Poly Gifford when you meet her. She’ll have you lecturing to the Ladies’ Church Guild before you know it. She’s sailed herself out here already, I understand.” “She called the second day: my first visitor. I’ve subscribed to the Guild.” The doctor chuckled. “Blame curiosity! That woman’s housemaid-silly. She can spin more street yarn than any ten in the county. Miss Mattie Sue’s been here, too, she told me. Ah, yes,”—looking quizzically at the tray—“I recognize the apple-butter. [Pg 207]A pot just like that goes to the White House every Christmas there’s a Democrat there. She reminds me of a little drab-gray wren in horn-rimmed spectacles.” “She’s perfectly dear!” said Valiant, “from her hoops to the calycanthus bud tied in the corner of her handkerchief. She must be very old. She told me she remembered seeing Jefferson at Monticello.” “She’s growing younger,” the doctor said. “Sixteen or seventeen years ago she was very feeble and the Ladies’ Guild agreed to support her for life on consideration that she will her house and lot to the church, next door. Mrs. Poly Gifford refers to her now, I believe, as a dispensation of Providence. Did she bring the apple-butter herself?” “No,” smiled John Valiant. “She sent it afterward by Miss Rickey Snyder.” The major stroked his imperial. “Rickey’s an institution,” he said. “I hope she gave us all good characters. I’d hate to have Rickey Snyder down on me! Have you heard her history?” “Yes, Uncle Jefferson told me.” “I’m glad of that,” shot out the doctor. “Now, we needn’t have it from Bristow. He’s as fond of oratory as a maltese cat is of milk.” “He gave me a hint of the major’s powers in that direction, in his account of Greef King’s trial.” “Humph!” retorted the doctor gloomily, “that was in his palmy days. He’s fallen off since then. [Pg 208]Plenty of others been here to bore you, I reckon, though of course you don’t remember all the names yet.” Valiant summoned Uncle Jefferson. “Yas, suh,” grinned the old darky pridefully, “de folkses mos’ lam de face off’n dat-ar ol’ knockah. Day ’fo’ yistiddy dah wuz Mars’ Quarles en Jedge en Mis’ Chalmahs. De jedge done sen’ er streng o’ silvah perch.” “His place is Gladden Hall,” the major said, “one of the finest mansions round here. A sportsman, sah, and one of the best pokah hands in the county.” “—En yistiddy dah’s Mars’ Chilly Lusk en de Pen’letons en de Byloes en Mars’ Livy Stowe f’om Seven Oaks, en de Woodrows en—”