herself and these two.

"Alwyn," she said sharply, "I shall report Zora for stealing. And you
may report yourself to Miss Smith tonight for disrespect toward a
teacher."




_Eight_


MR. HARRY CRESSWELL


The Cresswells, father and son, were at breakfast. The daughter was
taking her coffee and rolls up stairs in bed.

"P'sh! I don't like it!" declared Harry Cresswell, tossing the letter
back to his father. "I tell you, it is a damned Yankee trick."

He was a man of thirty-five, smooth and white, slight, well-bred and
masterful. His father, St. John Cresswell, was sixty, white-haired,
mustached and goateed; a stately, kindly old man with a temper and much
family pride.

"Well, well," he said, his air half preoccupied, half unconcerned, "I
suppose so--and yet"--he read the letter again, aloud: "'Approaching you
as one of the most influential landowners of Alabama, on a confidential
matter'--h'm--h'm--'a combination of capital and power, such as this