admirers, he rode complacently forward until he reached the lane that
led to the Dows plantation.

Here a better kept roadway and fence, whose careful repair would
have delighted Drummond, seemed to augur well for the new enterprise.
Presently, even the old-fashioned local form of the fence, a slanting
zigzag, gave way to the more direct line of post and rail in the
Northern fashion. Beyond it presently appeared a long low frontage of
modern buildings which, to Courtland's surprise, were entirely new in
structure and design. There was no reminiscence of the usual Southern
porticoed gable or columned veranda. Yet it was not Northern either. The
factory-like outline of facade was partly hidden in Cherokee rose and
jessamine.

A long roofed gallery connected the buildings and became a veranda to
one. A broad, well-rolled gravel drive led from the open gate to the
newest building, which seemed to be the office; a smaller path diverged
from it to the corner house, which, despite its severe simplicity, had a
more residential appearance. Unlike Reed's house, there were no lounging
servants or field hands to be seen; they were evidently attending to
their respective duties. Dismounting, Courtland tied his horse to a post
at the office door and took the smaller path to the corner house.

The door was open to the fragrant afternoon breeze wafted through the
rose and jessamine. So also was a side door opening from the hall into
a long parlor or sitting-room that ran the whole width of the house.
Courtland entered it. It was prettily furnished, but everything had the
air of freshness and of being uncharacteristically new. It was empty,
but a faint hammering was audible on the rear wall of the house, through
the two open French windows at the back, curtained with trailing vines,