At this late season the foliage was dense and a little dusty, while here and there a sumac waved the first red flag of autumn, or a gum-tree stood like a flame in the midst of a grove of cedars. Virginia was watching a cardinal-bird winging its crimson flight from branch to branch when she heard Lucas accost a passing friend and then fall to chuckling--the succulent, suggestively happy chuckle of the negro. Lucas had never acquired the silent elegance of Mrs. Payson’s coachman. He was an old family servant, and he had known Virginia from her childhood. He chuckled now, touching the off horse with the mildly provoking tip of his whip. “See dat nigger, Miss Jinny? He works at Miz Quantah’s place. He’s gwine courtin’, sho’s yo’re born!” Virginia, who had lost sight of the red bird, glanced down the road after the retreating form of a middle-aged negro attired in clean blue overalls and a big straw hat. “How do you know he’s going courting, Lucas? He’s not very young, is he?” “No, ma’am, Miss Jinny, he ain’t, but his wife died a while ago. He’s gwine courtin’--yes, miss, he sho’ is. How’d I know? He done wash his face, Miss Jinny. When a man wash his face an’ shave, he’s gwine courtin’--yes, miss.” Virginia laughed, and Lucas, thus encouraged, proceeded. He touched the nigh horse this time. “Yo’ g’long, Tommy Becket. Yes, Miss Jinny, he’s gwine courtin’--he works ober at Miz Quantah’s, ayonnah”--Lucas pointed his whip--“righ’ over dere in dem trees. Dat’s where Miz Wilyum Carter am now, Miss Jinny.” Virginia blushed. Involuntarily her eyes followed the flourish of his whip. They had come to the foot-hills, and, in a clearing, she saw a bleak farmhouse, a mere shack it seemed to her. She remembered that the Quantah place was miserable and the woman herself gaunt and poor--a forlorn, forbidding creature. Then Lucas broke into his monologue again. “Miz Carter, she’s sick, Miss Jinny--took sick jest after de trial. I did heah she ain’t got any money, an’ Miz Quantah, she’s gwine to turn her out, sick or no sick, she say.” Virginia sat up suddenly. “What did you say, Lucas?” Lucas turned half-way round, driving with one hand, and flourishing the other as he answered. “I say Miz Wilyum Carter took sick, an’ she ain’t got any money.” Lucas stopped the horses and pointed. “I reckon she’s sick in dat room ayonnah--see de blinds open? Ain’t nebber open ’less Miz Quantah got a lodger. Ain’t got noffin to eat at Miz Quantah’s ’cept corn-dodgers an’ rabbits--no, Miss Jinny, dey ain’t.” “Lucas,” said Virginia earnestly, “do you really mean that Mrs. William Carter is over there now, ill, and without money?” “Sho, Miss Jinny, she is. I got dat from Miz Quantah’s collud man--yes, miss, I sho did. She’s sick an’ she ain’t got no money.”