old-fashioned brick house (it had no pillars), with its windows shining
through the firs and cedars that filled the yard. The Major put his hand on
the boy's shoulder:

"Well, here we are, little man."

At the yard gate there was a great barking of dogs, and a great shout of
welcome from the negroes who came forward to take the horses. To each of them
the Major gave a little package, which each darky took with shining teeth and
a laugh of delight--all looking with wonder at the curious little stranger
with his rifle and coonskin cap, until a scowl from the Major checked the
smile that started on each black face. Then the Major led Chad up a flight of
steps and into a big hall and on into a big drawing-room, where there was a
huge fireplace and a great fire that gave Chad a pang of homesickness at once.
Chad was not accustomed to taking off his hat when he entered a house in the
mountains, but he saw the Major take off his, and he dropped his own cap
quickly. The Major sank into a chair.

"Here we are, little man," he said, kindly.

Chad sat down and looked at the books, and the portraits and prints, and the
big mirrors and the carpets on the floor, none of which he had ever seen
before, and he wondered at it all and what it all might mean. A few minutes
later, a tall lady in black, with a curl down each side of her pale face, came
in. Like old Tom, the driver, the Major, too, had been wondering what his
sister, Miss Lucy, would think of his bringing so strange a waif home, and
now, with sudden humor, he saw himself fortified.

"Sister," he said, solemnly, "here's a little kinsman of yours. He's a
great-great-grandson of your great-great-uncle--Chadwick Buford. That's his