people who were descending the rubber-carpeted steps and grouping
themselves under the direction of a tall man who reminded Thomas
Jefferson of his Uncle Silas with an indescribable something left out of
the face.

"As I was about to say, General, this station building is one of the
relics. You mustn't judge South Tredegar--our new South Tredegar--by
this. Eh?--I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vanadam? Oh, the hotel? It is just
across the street, and a very good house; remarkably good, indeed, all
things considered. In fact, we're quite proud of the Marlboro."

One of the younger women smiled.

"How enthusiastic you are, Mr. Parley. I thought we had outgrown all
that--we moderns."

"But, my dear Miss Elleroy, if you could know what we have to be
enthusiastic about down here! Why, these mountains we've been passing
through for the last six hours are simply so many vast treasure-houses;
coal at the top, iron at the bottom, and enough of both to keep the
world's industries going for ages! There's millions in them!"

Thomas Jefferson overheard without understanding, but his eyes served a
better purpose. Away back in the line of the Scottish Gordons there
must have been an ancestor with the seer's gift of insight, and some
drop or two of his blood had come down to this sober-faced country boy
searching the faces of the excursionists for his cue of fellowship or
antipathy.

For the sweet-voiced young woman called Miss Elleroy there was love at