On Sunday, the Major and Miss Lucy took Chad to church—­a country church built of red brick and overgrown with ivy—­and the sermon was very short, Chad thought, for, down in the mountains, the circuit-rider would preach for hours—­and the deacons passed around velvet pouches for the people to drop money in, and they passed around bread, of which nearly everybody took a pinch, and a silver goblet with wine, from which the same people took a sip—­all of which Chad did not understand.  Usually the Deans went to Lexington to church, for they were Episcopalians, but they were all at the country church that day, and with them was Richard Hunt, who smiled at Chad and waved his riding-whip.  After church Dan came to him and shook hands.  Harry nodded to him gravely, the mother smiled kindly, and the General put his hand on the boy’s head.  Margaret looked at him furtively, but passed him by.  Perhaps she was still “mad” at him, Chad thought, and he was much worried.  Margaret was not shy like Melissa, but her face was kind.  The General asked them all over to take dinner, but Miss Lucy declined—­she had asked people to take dinner with her.  And Chad, with keen disappointment, saw them drive away.

It was a lonely day for him that Sunday.  He got tired staying so long at the table, and he did not understand what the guests were talking about.  The afternoon was long, and he wandered restlessly about the yard and the quarters.  Jerome Conners, the overseer, tried to be friendly with him for the first time, but the boy did not like the overseer and turned away from him.  He walked down to the pike gate and sat on it, looking over toward the Deans’.  He wished that Dan would come over to see him or, better still, that he could go over to see Dan and Harry and—­Margaret.  But Dan did not come and Chad could not ask the Major to let him go—­he was too shy about it—­and Chad was glad when bedtime came.

Two days more and spring was come in earnest.  It was in the softness of the air, the tenderness of cloud and sky, and the warmth of the sunlight.  The grass was greener and the trees quivered happily.  Hens scratched and cocks crowed more lustily.  Insect life was busier.  A stallion nickered in the barn, and from the fields came the mooing of cattle.  Field-hands going to work chaffed the maids about the house and quarters.  It stirred dreamy memories of his youth in the Major, and it brought a sad light into Miss Lucy’s faded eyes.  Would she ever see another spring?  It brought tender memories to General Dean, and over at Woodlawn, after he and Mrs. Dean had watched the children go off with happy cries and laughter to school, it led them back into the house hand in hand.  And it set Chad’s heart aglow as he walked through the dewy grass and amid the singing of many birds toward the pike gate.  He, too, was on his way to school—­in a brave new suit of clothes—­and nobody smiled at him now, except admiringly, for the Major had taken him to town the preceding day and had got the boy clothes such as Dan and Harry wore.  Chad was worried at first—­he did not like to accept so much from the Major.