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 the South. What's she doing down here this time of year?"

"Somewhere up in the Palmetto state, I don't know where.—Have the address.—Going to find out."

Dr. Tansey looked at the young man shrewdly—studiously, for some minutes then asked, "Does she know who you are?"

"Foolish question. Do you think I'd deceive the girl I loved?"

"I beg pardon, Old Boy. I wanted to be sure.—You're either a fool or you've got the nerve of ten brass monkeys.—No fool like a young lover," added the doctor, paraphrasing the old saw. "Know anybody down here?"

"Not a soul that I'm aware of."

"Well, you'll have to be very careful. These people are very funny. They're very touchy on the race question. So, talk but little. Mind your own business."—After a considerable pause.—"What you need is a guardian angel—or a keeper.—You'll get along, I guess."

"Oh, I realize the dangers. I got an idea from Professor Armstrong," vouchsafed Bennet.

"By the way, he's down here somewhere," continued Dr. Tansey. "He's rabid on the subject. But he's as mild as a June day compared with some. I don't believe I'm going to get along down here. So have a care. Have a care, son. Where're you stopping, when you get to Charleston?"

"Don't know. Some hotel."

"Humph!—Better come with me—till you start inland."