it's silk she wears."
"What's her name?" asked the hunter, filling his pipe.
"Jacqueline—Jacqueline Churchill. She lives at Fontenoy."
"Fontenoy's a mighty fine place," remarked Gaudylock.
"And the Churchills are mighty fine people.—Here's the partridge back, with another freckle-face."
"That's Tom Mocket," said Lewis. "If Vinie's a partridge, Tom's a weasel."
The weasel, sandy-haired and freckled, came up the path with long steps. "Hi, Lewis! Father's gone toward the market looking for your father. That's a brig from the Indies down there, and the captain's our cousin—ain't he, Vinie? I know who you are, sir. You're Adam Gaudylock, the great hunter!"
"So I am, so I am!" quoth Adam. "Look here, little partridge, at what I've got in my pouch!"
The partridge busied herself with the beaded thing, and the two boys talked aside. "I've till dinner time to do what I like in," said Lewis Rand. "Have you got to work?"
"Not unless I want to," Young Mocket answered blissfully. "Father, he don't care! Besides"—he swelled with pride—"I don't work now at the wharf. I'm at Chancellor Wythe's."
"Chancellor Wythe's! What are you doing there?"
"Helping him. Maybe, by and by, I'll be a lawyer, too."
"Heugh!" said the other. "Do you mean you're reading law?"
"No-o, not just exactly. But I let people in—and I hear what they talk about. I like it better than the wharf, anyhow. I'll go with you and show you things. Is Mr. Gaudylock coming?"
"No," replied Adam. "I'll finish my pipe, and take a look at the ship down there, and then I'll meet a friend at the Indian Queen. Be off with you both! Vinie will stay and talk to me."
"Yeth, thir," said Vinie, her brown arm deep in the beaded pouch.
The two lads left behind the scarlet-clad porch, the hunter and Vinie, the little green yard and the broken gate. "Where first? demanded Tom.
"Where is the best place in Richmond to buy books?"
Young Mocket considered. "There's a shop near the bridge. What do you want with books?"
"I want to read them. We'll go to the bridge first."
Tom hung back. "Don't you want to see the brig from Barbadoes? She's a beauty. There's a schooner from Baltimore, too, at the Rock Landing. You won't? Then let's go over to Widewilt's Island. Well, they whipped a man this morning and he's in the pillory now, down by the market. Let's go look at him.—Pshaw! what's the use of books! Don't you want to see the Guard turn out at noon, and hear the trumpet blow? Well, come on to the bridge! Nancy, the apple-woman, is there too."
The shop near the bridge to which they resorted was dark and low, but learning was spread upon its counter, and a benevolent dragon of knowledge in horn spectacles ran over the wares for Lewis Rand. "De Jure Maritimo, six shillings eightpence, my lad. Burnet's History and Demosthenes' Orations, two crowns, Mr. Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, a great book and dear! Common Sense—and that's Tom Paine's, and you may have it for two pistareens."
The boy shook his head. "I want a law-book."
The genie put forth The Principles of Equity, and named the price.
"'Tis too dear."
A gentleman lounging against the counter closed the book into which he had been dipping, and drew nearer to the would-be purchaser.
"Equity is an expensive commodity, my lad," he said kindly. "How much law have you read?"
"I have read The Law of Virginia," answered the boy. "I borrowed it. I worked a week for Mr. Douglas, and read The Law of Nations rest-hours. Mrs. Selden, on the Three-Notched Road, gave me The Federalist. Are you a lawyer, sir?"
The gentleman laughed, and the genie behind the counter laughed. Young Mocket plucked Lewis Rand by the sleeve, but the latter was intent upon the personage before him and did not heed.
"Yes," said the gentleman, "I am a lawyer. Are you going to be one?"
"I am," said the boy. "Will you tell me what books I ought to buy? I have two dollars."
The other looked at him with keen light eyes. "That amount will not buy you many books," he said. "You should enter some lawyer's office where you may have access to his library. You spoke of the Three-Notched Road. Are you from Albemarle?"
"Yes, sir. I am Gideon Rand's son."
"Indeed! Gideon Rand! Then Mary Wayne was your mother?"
"Yes, sir."
"I remember," said the gentleman, "when she married your father. She was a beautiful woman. I heard of her death while I was in Paris."
The boy's regard, at first solely for the books, had been for some moments transferred to the gentleman who, it seemed, was a lawyer, and had known his people, and had been to Paris. He saw a tall man, of a spare and sinewy frame, with red hair, lightly powdered, and keen blue eyes. Lewis Rand's cheek grew red, and his eyes at once shy and eager. He stammered when he spoke. "Are you from Albemarle, sir?"
The other smiled, a bright and gracious smile, irradiating his ruddy, freckled face. "I am," he said.
"From—from Monticello?"
"From Monticello." The speaker, who loved his home with passion, never uttered its name without a softening of the voice. "From Monticello," he said again. "There are books enough there, my lad. Some day you shall ride over from the Three-Notched Road, and I will show you them."
"I will come," said Lewis Rand. The colour deepened in his face and a moisture troubled his vision. The shop, the littered counter, the guardian of the books, and President Washington's Secretary of State wavered like the sunbeam at the door.
Jefferson ran his hand over the row of books. "Mr. Smith, give the lad old Coke, yes, and Locke on Government, and put them to my account.—Where do you go to school?"
The boy swallowed hard, straightened his shoulders, and looked his questioner in the face. "Nowhere, sir—not now. My father hates learning, and I work in the fields. I am very much obliged to you for the books—and had I best buy Blackstone with the two dollars?"
The other smiled. "No, no, not Blackstone. Blackstone's frippery. You've got old Coke. Buy for yourself some book that shall mean much to you all your life.—Mr. Smith, give him Plutarch's Lives—Ossian, too. He's rich enough to buy Ossian.—As for law-books, my lad, if you will come to Monticello, I will lend you what you need. I like your spirit." He looked at his watch. "I have to dine at the Eagle with the Governor and Mr. Randolph. When do you return to Albemarle?"
"To-morrow, sir."
"Then I may overtake you on the road. Once I did your father a good turn, and I shall be glad to have a word with him now. He must not keep the son of Mary Wayne in the fields. Some day I will ride down the Three-Notched Road, and examine you on old Coke. Don't spare study; if you will be a lawyer, become
