It was evident at once that visitors were not frequent at
Knapp-of-Reeds.

"Where's Mr. Ware?" asked the stranger.

"He's done gone out in de new-ground terbacker, long wid de han's,"
answered the woman.

"Where is the new-ground this year?" repeated the questioner.
"Jes' down on the p'int 'twixt de branch an' de Hyco," she replied.

"Anybody you can send for him?"

"Wal, thar mout be some shaver dat's big enough to go, but Marse
War's dat keerful ter please Marse Desmit dat he takes 'em all
outen de field afore dey can well toddle," said the woman doubtfully.

"Well, come and take my horse," said he, as he began to descend
from his gig, "and send for Mr. Ware to come up at once."

The woman came forward doubtfully and took the horse by the bit,
while the traveler alighted. No sooner did he turn fully toward
her than her face lighted up with a smile, and she said,

"Wal, dar, ef dat a'n't Marse Desmit hisself, I do believe! How
d'ye do, Mahs'r?" and the woman dropped a courtesy.

"I'm very well, thank ye, Lorency, an' glad to see you looking so
peart," he responded pleasantly. "How's Mr. Ware and the people?