The Sins of the Father. Jr. Thomas Dixon

my men to go home and meet me to-morrow at one o'clock in the Court House Square, in their everyday clothes, armed and ready for orders. I'll dismiss the guard I left at the Capitol."

      The white horseman wheeled and galloped away. Norton quietly removed his disguise, folded it neatly, took off his saddle, placed the robe between the folds of the blanket and mounted his horse.

      The old Governor waved to him:

      "My love to the little mother and that boy, Tom, that you've named for me!"

      "Yes, Governor—good night."

      The tall figure on horseback melted into the shadows and in a moment the buggy was spinning over the glistening, moonlit track of the turnpike.

      When they reached the first street lamps on the edge of town, the old man peered curiously at the girl by his side.

      "You drive well, young woman," he said slowly. "Who taught you?"

      "Old Peeler."

      "You lived on his place?" he asked quickly.

      "Yes, sir."

      "What's your mother's name?"

      "Lucy."

      "Hm! I thought so."

      "Why, sir?"

      "Oh, nothing," was the gruff answer.

      "Did you—did you know any of my people, sir?" she asked.

      He looked her squarely in the face, smiled and pursed his withered lips:

      "Yes. I happen to be personally acquainted with your grandfather and he was something of a man in his day."