"
He had got so far when the door opened and the Governor entered--a little
hurriedly, for he was thinking of his supper.
"I am the bearer of an apology, my dear Major," he said, when he had
heartily shaken hands all round. "It seems that Betty--I assure you she is
in great distress--set fire to your woodpile this afternoon, and that your
grandson was punished for her mischief. My dear boy," he laid his hand on
Dan's shoulder and looked into his face with the winning smile which had
made him the most popular man in his State, "my dear boy, you are young to
be such a gentleman."
A hot flush overspread Dan's face; he forgot the smart and the wounded
pride--he forgot even Champe staring from the window seat. The Governor's
voice was like salve to his hurt; the upright little man with the warm
brown eyes seemed to lift him at once to the plane of his own chivalry.
"Oh, I couldn't tell on a girl, sir," he answered, and then his smothered
injury burst forth; "but she ought to be ashamed of herself," he added
bluntly.
"She is," said the Governor with a smile; then he turned to the others.
"Major, the boy is a Lightfoot!" he exclaimed.
"Ah, so I said, so I said!" cried the Major, clapping his hand on Dan's
head in a racial benediction. "'I'd know you were a Lightfoot if I met you
in the road' was what I said the first evening."
"And a Virginian," added Mr. Blake, folding his hands on his stomach and
smiling upon the group.
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