Radnor was giving a dance at Four-Pools for the purpose, he said, of introducing me into society; though as a matter of fact Polly Mathers was the guest of honor.

In any case the party was given, and everyone in the neighborhood (the term "neighborhood" is broad in Virginia; it describes a ten mile radius) both young and old came in carriages or on horseback; the younger ones to dance half the night, the older ones to play cards and look on.

I met a great many pretty girls that evening--the South deserves its reputation--but Polly Mathers was by far the prettiest; and the contest for her favors between Radnor and young Mattison was spirited and open.

Had Rad consulted his private wishes, the sheriff would not have been among the guests.
It was getting on toward the end of the evening and the musicians, a band of negro fiddlers made up from the different plantations, were resting after a Virginia reel that had been more a romp than a dance, when someone--I think it was Polly herself--suggested that the company adjourn to the laurel walk to see if the ha'nt were visible.

The story of old Aunt Sukie's convulsions and of the spirited roast chicken had spread through the countryside, and there had been a good many laughing allusions to it during the evening.