preacher‚ÅÝ‚Äîbegging.‚Äù
‚ÄúAh, lady,‚Äù‚ÅÝ‚Äîin mellow, unctuous tones‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚ÄúI don‚Äôt know what we poor black folks would do without Mr. ¬ÝCresswell‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe Lord bless him,‚Äù said the minister, shoving his hand far down into his pocket.
Shortly afterward they were approaching the Cresswell Mansion, when the young man reined in the horse.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” he suggested, “I could introduce my sister to you.”
“I should be delighted,” answered Miss Taylor, readily.
When they rolled up to the homestead under its famous oaks the hour was past one. The house was a white oblong building of two stories. In front was the high pillared porch, semicircular, extending to the roof with a balcony in the second story. On the right was