Mornings were pleasant in this room. The canary, hanging beside the window, caught the gleam of sunshine on its cage and burst into song. Some place out back a child laughed. The mistress suppressed a sigh. It would be a black child. Her son lounged so easily in his chair. She bit her lips. “I never thought Delia Tilghman would grow up to be such a charming young lady.” She spoke casually. “She’s really lovely.” “She is, indeed, Mother,” her son assented; but at his smile she looked away. “I reckon Caleb better wash these cups himself.” Her eyes grew indulgent as they rested on Henry. He shuffled his feet as she added, “Henry here was probably out skylarking all night.” “Yes, _ma’m_.” Henry gave a wide grin before vanishing kitchen-ward. His master’s snort was emphatic. “Henry probably slept twelve hours last night. The silly ass!” “Really, William, I do not understand your attitude toward our own people. Henry was born right here at Freelands.” He laughed and took another hot biscuit. “Which undoubtedly should make him less an ass. But does it?” At his mother’s stricken look he was contrite. “Forgive me, Mother, but I’ve just found much better material for you to work on, worthy of your efforts.” “What are you talking about?” Henry had returned with golden-brown baked apples, swimming in thick syrup. “Henry,” Freeland said, “step out back and fetch in that new boy.” Henry’s eyes widened, but he did not move. “Run along! You’ll see him.” Henry disappeared, moving faster than was his wont. Freeland smiled at his mother. “I took on a new boy this morning. You’ll like him.” Mrs. Freeland was incredulous. “You bought a boy this morning?” “I’m hiring this fellow from a peckawood over at St. Michaels.” His mother’s sniff was audible. “But he’s really one of Colonel Lloyd’s people.” “Oh! That’s different. Should be good stock.” “Unquestionably. I’d like to buy him.” The old lady’s eyes had grown reminiscent. She shook her head. “I wonder if that fine old place is going to pieces. How sad that the Colonel died without a son.” The door behind her was shoved open noisily, admitting Henry who breathed as if he had been running. “Hyear he is!” he blurted out. Frederick stopped on the threshold. The room made him hold his breath--sunlight reflected on rich colors and pouring through the singing of a little bird. He wanted to stoop down to see if his shoes carried any tiny speck of sand or dust. He must step softly on the beautiful floor. “Come in, boy!” The man’s voice was kind. Mrs. Freeland turned with a jerk and stared keenly at the new acquisition. She noted at once his color, or lack of color. That meant--the thought was rigorously checked. Who was this boy her son had picked up in St. Michaels? Why this sudden interest in buying the half-grown buck? She spoke brusquely. “Come here!”