We were in the tree-lined streets by this time, and suddenly she wheeled the pony in through an open gate-way.

The house was large, painted white, of distinctly Southern architecture, the broad stone steps surmounted by rounded pillars.

On the porch a man sat smoking.

He arose instantly, hat in hand, and came down to meet us.

His was a tall, slender, slightly stooped figure, a finely chiselled face, the hair and beard white.