"But...."

"Please! Say them--the counties!"

"Lewis, Carter, Morgan, Bath, Nicholas, Mason."

As the door opened and Mr. Beecham entered, they turned. "Mr. Burns has
been showing me on the map where he lives," said Miss Marjorie sweetly.

"Ah, yes--ah, yes," answered Mr. Beecham. "Ah, yes, indeed."

Tom scarcely heard him, or saw him.

"Your horse will be ready to carry you in a few hours, I think," said Mr.
Beecham. "You must have ridden him easily, sir."

"I didn't press him harder than was necessary," responded Tom.

"I tell you," announced Mr. Beecham, divesting himself of his storm coat,
"it takes a Southern man to get the most out of horse flesh, without
hurting the horse. A good reason for the superiority of our cavalry! I
trust you are going to join the cavalry."

"Yes, sir," answered Tom. He was thoroughly sick of deception. At that
moment, if he could have found an adequate excuse for departure, he would
willingly have walked the remaining distance to Chattanooga--and swum the
river in the bargain.

Mr. Beecham settled himself before the fire. "I've not known many gentlemen
from Kentucky," he announced. "For the most part I stay at home, and we