“I wonder,” said Hamilton half aloud, as the door closed behind his host, “if that isn’t a whole lot more likely to be true than the alarmist stories you read in magazines.”

The following morning, after Hamilton had almost finished covering one side of the street in collecting the census statistics, he heard the trot of horses’ hoofs, and looking up, saw a tall, stern-visaged soldierly-looking gentleman, with iron-gray hair, riding a powerful iron-gray horse.  Beside him rode a young fellow, evidently his son.  Both reined up when they saw Hamilton.  Seeing that he was expected to introduce himself, he stepped forward.

“My name is Hamilton Noble,” he said; “I’m the census enumerator for this district.  I presume you are Colonel Egerius?”

“Yes, Mr. Noble,” the old Confederate leader replied.  “Ephraim sent me word that you were here, and I received a letter a week ago from the supervisor, whom I have known for some time, telling me that you were a friend of his.  I wanted to bid you welcome, sir, and to express the hope that we shall have the pleasure of seeing you at dinner with us to-night.”

Hamilton bowed.

“I shall enjoy coming, Colonel Egerius,” he said.  “At what hour?”

“Six-thirty,” the Colonel replied, “we keep early hours in the country.  By the way,” he added, “have you heard anything of this peonage business here this morning?”

“No, sir,” the boy answered, “I started out with my schedules bright and early.”

“I purpose to hold an inquiry after lunch,” the planter continued.  “You are lunching at Ephraim’s of course?”

“Yes, Colonel Egerius,” the boy answered.

“Very well,” was the reply, “we will lunch together if you have no objection.  Since I heard of your expected arrival I have been looking forward to your visit.  Now that you are here, sir, we must make the most of you.  Allow me to present my son Percy.”

Hamilton made a suitable reply, and consulting his watch found that it was almost lunch time.

“I will join you in half an hour, Colonel Egerius,” he said, “and shall look forward to the evening with great pleasure.”

“You play a good knife and fork, I trust,” said the old gentleman, smiling, as he gathered up the reins.

“Almost good enough to do justice even to Southern hospitality,” answered Hamilton with a smile.  The old soldier nodded approvingly.  “Remember now,” he said, as he rode away, “we’ll hold you to your word.”

At lunch Hamilton took occasion to remark on the well-being of Bullertown.

“I was surprised,” he said, “to find a village so well managed and looked after, and all by negroes.”

“There’s nothing surprising in that,” the Colonel answered.  “How could they do anything different?  I have shown them every step they were to take; all that they had to do was to continue.”

“You mean they couldn’t have done it by themselves?”