“Yessuh, I like ’im, but he don’ like me. He’s very good horse, Pole Star’s grandson, but I reckon I scared ob ridin’ him. Sam Bun, he Mist’ Colfax’s man--he say dat horse bit four men las’ Saturday week.” “I don’t want him,” said Virginia laughing. “Hear any news up there, Lucas? How’s Miss Sally?” “Gone to de springs, Miss Jinny. I did heah on de road back ’bout young Mis’ Carter--de one dat done got Mist’ Corwin shot.” He looked over his green corn at the colonel. “She’s stayin’ up to Quantah’s place now.” “Eh!” The colonel stared. “Pretty poor place isn’t it, Lucas?” “Sho is, suh. Ain’t noffin’ dere now but de woman, Mis’ Quantah, an’ dat bug-house boy ob hers. Dey sold de cow las’ week to de butcher. Ain’t no place fo’ quality nohow. Yessuh, Mis’ Wilyum Carter up dere now. She lef’ Mist’ Wilyum or Mist’ Wilyum lef’ her, I don’t know--” “Lucas, you take that corn to the kitchen. I want some for dinner.” “Yessuh,” said Lucas, and went. The colonel turned to Virginia. “That Quantah place is pretty forlorn. Can that girl be as poor as that? I thought Mrs. Quantah was about down and out.” “Why, grandpa, the place is a wreck! There can’t be a decent room up-stairs!” Virginia’s face was still flushed, she clung to the banister. “I can’t understand.” The colonel looked grave. “She’s going on the stand for Leigh. The Carters oughtn’t to allow this.” He turned and laid his hand on his granddaughter’s shoulder. “Jinny,” he said quietly. “I reckon we mustn’t judge it too hard, but--well, I’m beginning to pity that girl.” Virginia said nothing. She was afraid that her grandfather felt her trembling under his hand. XXII WILLIAM CARTER spent the days after the shooting entirely alone in his office at the Payson Building. He slept there on the old couch, and for the most part ate there, Moses, the elevator-boy, running errands for him to the delicatessen store and then devouring the viands after he had brought them. For William ate practically nothing, though he drank a good deal. Mr. Payson, who had found him once or twice in a state of stupor, called up Mr. Carter on the telephone the day before the trial. “You’d better come over and see William,” he advised. “He’s in no condition to do business.” Mr. Carter, who had just returned to his office after a long talk with Leigh, was shaken; but he picked up his hat, clapped it down again on his gray head, and started determinedly for the Payson Building. He felt that his cup was full. He even experienced a sensation of ire at Payson for having acquired wealth to build this huge edifice of mottled brick and sandstone. “Looks like a huge loaf of ginger-bread,” Mr. Carter grumbled to himself.