“Mr. Poythress opened the door with a quick push and stepped out. ‘Go on to the house,’ said he to the driver.
“A moment later, the carriage turned a corner of the little wood, and Mrs. Poythress saw her boy, seated upon a log, playing away, while in front of him a negro lad, of about his age, was dancing for dear life. A gang of happy urchins stood around them with open mouths. Mr. Poythress was striding down upon the party unperceived.
“The off horse, annoyed by the dust, gave a snort.
“One glance was enough for the audience; and panic-stricken, they were off in an instant, like a covey of partridges.
“The musician and the dancer had not heard the horse, and followed, for an instant, with puzzled looks, the backs of the fugitive sinners.
“When Theodoric saw his father bearing rapidly down upon him, he rose from his rustic seat and stood, with downcast look and pale face, awaiting his approach. The dancer turned to run.
“‘Stop, sir!’
“The father stood towering above the son, shaking from head to foot.
“‘Give me that flute, sir!’ And seizing it, he broke it into a dozen pieces against the log.
“The boy stood perfectly still, with his arms hanging by his side and his head bowed.