"But I'm that kind. I have to get things off my mind. Truxton isn't.
And I'll bet when Aunt Claudia does get his letters that they are worth
reading."

Mrs. Beaufort nodded. "They are lovely letters. I have the last one
with me; would you like to hear it?"

"Not before lunch, Claudia," the Judge urged.

"I will read it while the rest of you eat." There were red spots in
Mrs. Beaufort's cheeks. She adored her son. She could not understand
her father's critical attitude. Had she searched for motives, however,
she might have found them in the Judge's jealousy.

It was while she was reading Truxton's letter that the Flippins came
by--Mr. Flippin and his wife, Mary, and little Fidelity. A slender
mulatto woman followed with a basket.

The Flippins were one of the "second families." Between them and the
Paines of King's Crest and the Bannisters of Huntersfield stretched a
deep chasm of social prejudice. Three generations of Flippins had been
small farmers on rented lands. They had no coats-of-arms or family
trees. They were never asked to dine with the Paines or Bannisters,
but there had been always an interchange of small hospitalities, and
much neighborliness, and as children Mary Flippin, Randy and Becky and
Truxton had played together and had been great friends.

So it was now as they stopped to speak to the Judge's party that Mrs.
Beaufort said graciously, "I am reading a letter from Truxton. Would
you like to hear it?"