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 of the foremen of the Lauriston plantation, the' landed tenantry, and the squat dwellings of the Negro hands. In the midst of the grouping was the saw mill with its piles of sawdust and discarded slabs over which Lida had romped as a child.

Between adjoining fields of growing crops which seemed to be waving their welcome greeting, wound the white sanded road like a ribbon passing house after house till it came to the gate of the Lauriston mansion.

Nestling back in the woods, some distance from the road on the opposite side to the Lauriston lands, and two miles away behind the copse of woods around which the road had curved, was the less pretentious home of Old John Marley. Lida stood as these familiar scenes came into view.

"Hello, everybody," she shouted as she waved her hand joyously over the expanse that had opened up to view. "Hello, everybody." Tears of joy dimmed her eyes as she thought.—"Home again."

She rested her hand gently on her father's shoulder as the carriage gave a lurch but held her balance, looking through her tears over the landscape. Taking in here and there groups of laborers who halted in their work as they beheld the carriage and knew that the daughter of the house had returned. Lida gripped her handkerchief and waved it at first one group and then another. Hats and hands were waved in response. The carriage never halted till the horses came panting up to the wide piazza and rounded up to the hitching post.