Ole torm-cat he fish de crick lak he was no 'count Seminole trash--" "One moment, uncle," interrupted Hamil, smiling; "is that the pomelo grove?
And is that gentleman yonder Mr.Cardross ?" "Yaas-suh." He stood silent a moment thoughtfully watching the distant figure through the vista of green leaves, white blossoms, and great clusters of fruit hanging like globes of palest gold in the sun.
"I think," he said absently, "that I'll step over and speak to Mr.
Cardross....

Thank you, uncle....

What kind of fruit is that you're gathering ?" "Sappydilla, suh." Hamil laughed; he had heard that a darky would barter 'possum, ham-bone, and soul immortal for a ripe sapodilla; he had also once, much farther northward, seen the distressing spectacle of Savannah negroes loading a freight car with watermelons; and it struck him now that it was equally rash to commission this aged uncle on any such business as the gathering of sapodillas for family consumption.
The rolling, moist, and guileless eye of the old man whose slightly pained expression made it plain that he divined exactly what Hamil had been thinking, set the young man laughing outright.
"Don't worry, uncle," he said; "they're not my sapodillas"; and he walked toward the pomelo grove, the old man, a picture of outraged innocence, looking after him, thoughtlessly biting into an enormous and juicy specimen of the forbidden fruit as he looked.
There was a high fence of woven wire around the grove; through scented vistas, spotted with sunshine, fruit and blossoms hung together amid tender foliage of glossy green; palms and palmettos stood with broad drooping fronds here and there among the citrus trees, and the brown woody litter which covered the ground was all starred with fallen flowers.
The gate was open, and as Hamil stepped in he met a well-built, active man in white flannels coming out; and both halted abruptly.
"I am looking for Mr.Cardross," said the younger man.
"I am Mr.Cardross." Hamil nodded.

"I mean that I am looking for Mr.Cardross, senior--" "I am Mr.Cardross, senior." Hamil gazed at this active gentleman who could scarcely be the father of married children; and yet, as he looked, the crisp, thick hair, the clear sun-bronzed skin which had misled him might after all belong to that type of young-old men less common in America than in England.

And Hamil also realised that his hair was silvered, not blond, and that neither the hands nor the eyes of this man were the hands and eyes of youth.
"I am Garret Hamil," he said.
"I recognise you perfectly.