176CHAPTER XVIThe Morning After
“All over and paid for!” yawned Colonel Crutcher the morning after the debut party. “I tell you I couldn’t do it every night.”
“Neither could I—nor every week, nor every month, nor even every year,” agreed Major Fitch. “But I tell you, Crutcher, it was worth it, I mean digging in our jeans for the money and getting so tired out and feeling our age and everything. It was worth it all, just to see our girl’s eyes shining and to prove what she is made of. I tell you she stood up there and received with as much dignity as Queen Victoria herself.”
The old men were gathered together on the Rye House porch, chairs tilted back and feet on railing as usual.
“I tell you, she’s a thoroughbred, all right,” declared Pete Barnes. “Why, that gal turned down two of the best-looking beaux at the hop—Jeff Bucknor and that young Harbison—just to sit down an’ talk with me, old Pete177Barnes. Jeff Bucknor was sore, too. He up an’ claimed kin with her an’ she just gave him the merry ha ha.”
“Well, my j’ints are mighty stiff, but I’m proud to have trod a measure with Miss Judith Buck,” said Colonel Crutcher.
“It was worth a lot to see Miss Ann Peyton again, too,” said Judge Middleton. “I heard a good deal of talk on the side about Miss Ann last night. It seems that the family is getting together on the subject. The women folks are reading the riot act and simply refusing to have the old lady visit them any more. Big Josh was shooting off his lip pretty lively because the women of the family want to send her to an old ladies’ home. I say poor Miss Ann, but at the same time I can see the other side.”
Others beside the old men were aweary after the ball. Miss Ann spent a sleepless night and could not drag herself from her bed in time for breakfast. When old Billy came to her room with a can of hot water for her morning ablutions, he found his mistress limp and forlorn.
“Jes’ you lay still, my pretty, an’ ol’ Billy will bring you up some breakfus’. You had so many beaux las’ night, hoverin’ roun’ you like bees ’roun’ a honey pot, no wonder you air178tuckered out this mornin’. I reckon you couldn’t sleep with yo’ haid so full er music an’ carryin’s on.”
“I didn’t sleep very well, Billy, because I am worrying. I am thinking perhaps we had better move on.”
“Don’t say it, Miss Ann, don’t say it! Buck Hill air sho’ the gyardin spot er all our visitations. What put you in min’ er movin’ on?”
“I overheard, without meaning to in the least, but they spoke quite loudly—I overheard Cousin Milly talking on the subject with some of the others at the ball and I am afraid we are not welcome here.”
“Why, Miss Ann, ’twas only yistiddy that young Marse Jeff Bucknor up an’ made me a solemn promise that you wouldn’t never want fer nothin’ so long as he mought live an’ be able ter do fer you.”
“That’s very sweet of him, Billy, but this isn’t his home alone. His mother is the mistress here. I think we might go visit Mr. Big Josh Bucknor for a while. He was very cordial and even said he would come for me in a flying machine because of the bad road leading into his place. What do you think of that, Billy? He said you could follow after with the carriage and horses.”179
“Well, Miss Ann, I think Marse Big Josh air as good as gol’ an’ as kind as custard, but I can’t help a feelin’ that he don’t mean ev’y-thing he says. Not that he ain’t a thinkin’ at the time that he will do what he promises, but ev’ybody knows you have ter take what Marse Big Josh says with a dose of salts. I don’t mean he wouldn’t be proud an’ glad ter have us-alls come an’ visit him, but I mean he ain’t liable ter be a flyin’ any time soon er late in this here world er yet the world ter come. He ain’t ter say sanctified.”
“Well, we’ll stay on here a while longer then, Billy, but far be it from me to have it said we had worn out our welcome.”
“Now, Miss Ann, that there ain’t possible here at Buck Hill. The house pawty air a breakin’ up this day an’ mo’n likely the gues’ chamber will be returned to its rightful habitant. You mus’ a hearn wrong ’bout Miss Milly not wantin’ you. Miss Milly’s all time stoppin’ an’ tellin’ me how proud she air ter have you here under her roof an’ how glad she air ter have sech a zample as you fer her gals ter foller in the footsteps er ’portment an’ ’havior. An’ Marse Bob air continuously singin’ yo’ praises. I hearn him tellin’ Mr. Philip Throckmorton las’ night that you were a gues’ it wa’ his180delight ter honor. An’ Mr. Philip Throckmorton said as how as soon as he had a home er his own you would be the fust pusson ter occupew his gues’ chamber. An’ then Mr. Little Josh he said how noble an’ ’stinguished you were an’ s’perior. I tell you, Miss Ann, these here folks air all proud er bein’ yo’ kin. They’s all quarrelin’ ’bout whar you air gonter visit nex’.”
Thus the old man soothed her troubled spirit and lulled it into a semblance of repose. At any rate it was easier to pretend that she believed him. At least it made him happy, and in pretending she almost persuaded herself that her kinsmen were glad and anxious to have her. She drank the coffee her old servant brought her and settled herself for a morning of rest, although the house was buzzing with the breaking up of the house party.
The young people, too, were feeling the effect of last night’s dissipation. The ball was not over at twelve o’clock, as the invitations had intimated it would be, but had gone on into the wee small hours of morning. It was not often that Ryeville had the chance to trip the light fantastic toe to the music of a Louisville band and the eager dancers had begged for more and more. The old people had dropped out, one by one, but the youngsters danced on and on.181
Then it was that Judith had come into her own as it were, and all of the young men who had been denied before supper seemed determined to make up for lost time. The most persistent of the clamoring swains were Jeff Bucknor and Tom Harbison. This popularity of a person who had always rubbed her the wrong way was wormwood to Mildred Bucknor, and for her brother and Tom Harbison to be rivals for Judith’s favor added gall to the wormwood. Not that Mildred was not having a very good time herself. Indeed, she was always something of a belle and never lacked for partners, but she had other plans for her brother on the one hand and on the other Tom Harbison had paid her enough attention for her to consider him in a measure her property. She had even announced to several of her friends, in the strictest confidence, that she was engaged to him—or “as good as engaged.”
The ball of the night before was under discussion at the breakfast table. It was pronounced, on the whole, to have been a very good ball and a fitting climax to the house party.
“Of course it is perfectly absurd for the old men to think they can put that Buck girl into society by merely giving her a debut party,” said Mildred. “It takes something besides good182clothes and an introduction to place people.”
“How about beauty and intelligence and character?” asked Jeff.
“Well, tastes differ as to beauty, and if she had any sense she would know enough not to try to push herself where she isn’t wanted. I don’t think it is indicative of a very good character to accept clothes from a man. I heard, on very good authority, that a man gave her her dress. He paid a pretty penny for it, too, I am sure. Nan and I looked at some gowns like hers when we were in Louisville and they were too steep for us, I can tell you.”
“I know about the dress. She told me,” said Jeff.
“Ah, things have progressed pretty far with you,” sneered his sister. “Perhaps she was letting you know she was by way of receiving gifts of such a character from her admirers.”
Jeff couldn’t trust himself to speak calmly in rebuttal of Mildred’s accusations and so he left the room. One thing he had determined, and that was to cut his time of recreation short and knuckle down to the practice of law immediately. A spirit of antagonism was developing between brother and sister that greatly distressed Jeff. He had no doubt that he was somewhat to blame, but at the same time Mildred was spoiled183and petulant and overbearing. He doubted her kindness of heart, too, since he had witnessed her cruelty in regard to Cousin Ann Peyton and Judith Buck. He also decided to try a hazard of new fortunes in Louisville rather than Ryeville as his family had planned.
Jeff was glad that the house party was breaking up. Perhaps now Buck Hill would settle down into peace and quiet and he would have a chance to discuss his affairs with his father and mother. He was glad that he would no longer be called upon to do the impossible—to fall in love with the dark beauty, Jean Roland, when for days and nights, in his mind’s eye, was ever the picture of a fair girl with a halo of red-gold hair. He was glad, too, that the obnoxious Tom Harbison would be leaving. It was only lately that he had felt Tom to be obnoxious. If Harbison was in love with Mildred, as he had been led to believe was the case, what right had he to be so persistent in his attentions to Judith? Well, at any rate he was leaving the county and would have no more chance to hover around the girl. Any hovering that was done Jeff was determined to do himself.
“I have seen this girl but four times in all, unless I can count those times when she was184a little, barefooted kid selling blackberries and I was such a fool I couldn’t understand what she was to grow to be, and still I’m as sure as I shall ever be of anything in my life that she is the only girl for me.” Thus he mused after he had left the room rather than listen to his sister’s gossip. He was standing on the porch, looking through the trees at the garden beyond, and thinking what an appropriate background it would be for Judith’s rare beauty. How he would like to lead her through the box maze and then sit beside her on the marble bench under the syringa bushes! If he could prevail upon the independent girl to listen to him, would his family receive her? Would it not be best for all concerned if he could forget Judith? Anyhow, he would not try to see her again, and he would soon be settled in Louisville, making only occasional visits home. Life looked dreary to Jeff.
185CHAPTER XVIIUncle Billy Makes a Call
Judith and her mother were also the victims of the morning after. Mrs. Buck was pale and listless, complaining of shortness of breath, while Judith felt it impossible to accomplish the many duties she had planned for Saturday forenoon.
“The truth of the matter is I can’t stop dancing. If I only had some quick music I could work to it. I wonder if Cinderella swept the hearth clean the morning after the ball. Mumsy, do you think the prince was there last night?” she asked.
“Prince! What prince?”
“Oh, just any old prince! Prince Charming! I think—in fact I am sure—I liked my Cousin Jeff Bucknor better than any of the men who danced with me.”
“Now, Judith, please don’t start up that foolishness. Jeff Bucknor may dance with you because everybody else wanted to, but he would186be very much astonished if he heard you calling him cousin.”
“Well, he heard me last night, but he started it. He wanted to boss me, because he said he was my nearest of kin. I just laughed at him and called out, ‘Good-bye, Cousin!’ Mr. Big Josh Bucknor almost claimed kin with me, too. Wouldn’t it be funny, Mumsy, if all of them got to doing it? It would be kind of nice to have some kinfolks who knew they were kin. I know you think I am conceited, but somehow I believe the men would be more pleased about it than the women. Maybe the women are afraid I’d take to visiting them like poor Cousin Ann!”
“Humph! Cousin Ann indeed!”
“But, Mumsy, she was real cousinish last night. There was a look in her eyes that made me feel that she was almost claiming relationship. She squeezed my hand in the quadrille, and when she came up to speak to me after the darling old men let the cat out of the bag about its being my debut party she was very near to kissing me.”
“Well, I don’t hold much to kissing strangers.”
Mother and daughter were on the side porch, engaged in various household duties, while this187desultory discussion was going on. Suddenly there appeared at the corner of the house old Uncle Billy. In his hand he carried a small package wrapped in newspaper. He bowed and bowed, wagging his head like a mechanical toy.
“You mus’ ’scuse me, ladies, fer a walkin’ up on you ’thout no warnin’, but I got a little comin’ out gif fer the young lady, if she don’t think ol’ Billy air too bold an’ resumtious. It air jes’ a bit er jewilry what air been, so’s ter speak, in my fambly fer goin’ on a hun’erd or so years. Ol’ Mis, the gran’maw er my Miss Ann—Miss Elizabeth Bucknor as was—gib it to ter my mammy fer faithfulness in time er stress. It were when smallpox done laid low the white folks an’ my mammy nuss ’em though the trouble when ev’ybody, white and black, wa’ so scairt they runned off an’ hid.”
“Why, Uncle Billy, I think you are too lovely to give it to me. But you ought to keep it.”
“Well, it ain’t ever been much use ter me, seein’ as I can’t wear a locket, but I reckon you mought hang it roun’ yo’ putty neck sometime.”
He took off the newspaper wrapping, disclosing a flat velvet box much rubbed and188soiled. Touching a spring the lid flew open, disclosing a large cameo of rare and intricate workmanship, with a gold filigree border and gold back.
“I’d like ter give it ter you, if you won’t be a thinkin’ it’s free-niggerish of me.”
“Why, I think it is perfectly lovely of you. It is a beautiful locket—the most beautiful I ever saw. See, Mumsy, I can put it on my little gold chain.”
“No doubt!” Mrs. Buck looked distrustfully at Billy, but the old man held himself so meekly and his manner was so respectful that her heart was somewhat softened.
“You sho’ air got a pleasant place here. I allus been holdin’ th’ain’t no place so peaceful an’ homelike as a shady side po’ch, with plenty er scrubbery an’ chickens a scratchin’ under ’em. I’d be proud to have a po’ch er my own, with a box er portulac a bloomin’ in front er it an’ plenty er nice red jewraniums sproutin’ ’roun’ in ol’ mattersies cans—but, you see, me’n Miss Ann air allus on the jump—what with all the invites we gits ter visitate.”
“Let me show you what a nice vegetable garden I have planted, Uncle Billy, and what a lovely well we have, with the coldest water in the county. Maybe you would like a drink of189cold water, or perhaps you would like some fresh buttermilk. I have just churned and the buttermilk is splendid,” said Judith.
“Thankee, thankee kindly, missy! I’s a great han’ fo’ buttermilk.” The old man followed Judith to the dairy and watched with admiring eyes as she dipped the creamy beverage from the great stone jar and poured it into a big glass mug.
“This was Grandfather Buck’s mug. He liked to drink buttermilk from it, but he always called it a schooner. That was his house, back there. He never lived in it after Grandfather Knight died, so my mother tells me, but we always have called it his house. It still has his furniture in it, but nobody stays there.”
“I hearn my Miss Ann a talkin’ bout yo’ fambly not so long ago. She say the Bucks an’ Bucknors were one an’ the same in days gone by but one er yo’ forebears done mislaid the tail en’ of his name. But Miss Ann say that don’t make no mind ter her—that you is of one blood jes’ the same. She even done up an’ state that you air as clost kin ter her as the Buck Hill folks air. She air allus been a gret han’ for geology an’ tracin’ back whar folks comed from.”
“She—she didn’t tell you to tell me that,190did she, Uncle Billy?” Judith looked piercingly at the old man. He tried to say Miss Ann knew he was going to tell the girl of their kinship but her clear gaze confused him.
“Well, well, no’m, she didn’t ’zactly tell me, but—No’m, she don’t even know I done come a’ callin’. She jes’ thinks I’m out a exercisin’ of Puck an’ Coopid. Them’s the names er my hosses.”
“Perhaps she would not like your telling me this,” persisted Judith.
“Well, missy, if you ain’t a mindin’ I believe I’ll arsk you not ter mention what I done let slip. I ain’t ter say sho’ what the fambly air gonter do ’bout the matter. I done hear tell they air gonter hab a meetin’ er the whole bilin’ an’ decide.”
“Do!” fired Judith. “They will do nothing. You can tell them for me that I don’t give a hang whether they want to claim kin with me or not. They did not have the making of me and I am what I am regardless of them. I know perfectly well that I am descended from the same original Bucknors but I’m glad my ancestor mislaid part of the name and I wouldn’t have the last syllable back for anything in the world.”
“Yassum!” gasped Billy.191
“Uncle Billy, I didn’t mean to be cross with you,” laughed Judith, her anger gone as quickly as it had come, “but it does rile me for the family to think themselves so important and to feel they can have a meeting and make me kin to them or not as they please.”
Billy, mounted on Cupid and leading Puck, rode slowly off. He wagged his great beard and talked solemnly to himself.
“Well now, you ol’ fool nigger, you done broke yo’ ’lasses pitcher. Whe’fo’ you so nimble-come-trimble ter tell little missy ’bout the fambly confab? ’Cause you done hearn Marse Big Josh ’sputin’ with Marse Bob Bucknor at the ball consarnin’ the Bucks an’ Bucknors ain’t no reason whe’fo’ you gotta be so bigity. Ain’t yo’ mammy done tell you, time an’ agin, that ain’t no flies gonter crawl in a shet mouf? All you had ter do wa’ ter go an’ give Miss Judy Buck the trinket an’ kinder git mo’ ’quainted an’, little by little, git her ter look at things yo’ way. You could er let drop kinder accidental like that she wa’ kinfolks ’thout bein’ so ’splicit. She done got her back up now an’ I ain’t a blamin’ her. She sho’ did put me in min’ er my Miss Ann when she wa’ a gal, the way she hilt up her haid an’ jawed back at the fambly. An’ she would er talked192the same way if Marse Big Josh an’ Marse Little Josh an’ Marse Bob Bucknor theyselves had ’a’ been there an’ all the women folk besides. That little gal ain’t feared er nobody. She done tol’ me ter say she wouldn’t have back that extry syllabub on her name fer nothin’. I reckon if I’d tell Marse Jeff that he’d go up in the air for fair. But this nigger is done talkin’—done talkin’.”
He rode on, his brown old face furrowed with trouble. His bowed legs stuck out comically and the long tails of his blue coat spread themselves out on Cupid’s broad back.
“An’ that putty little cabin in the back, with po’ch an’ all, an’ little missy done say it got furnisher in it too,” he murmured plaintively.
193CHAPTER XVIIIA Cavalier O’erthrown
The house party departed and Buck Hill settled into normalcy. Jeff had tried very hard to be what Mildred had expected him to be for the last few days. He had even said tender nothings to Jean Roland and expressed an eager desire to see her in Louisville, where she was to visit before returning to Detroit. So flattering was his manner that the girl forgave him for his inattention during her stay at Buck Hill and was all smiles at the parting.
The guests who did not leave by automobile took the noon trolley to Louisville. Among the latter was Tom Harbison. Mildred had rather hoped he would stay over Sunday at Buck Hill. He pleaded an engagement, however, but with melting eyes declared he would soon be back.
Jeff heaved a great sigh of relief when they were all gone, especially Miss Jean Roland. What a nuisance black-headed girls were, anyhow! He began to wonder what Judith was doing. Was she wearied after the ball? Was194she on the road in her little blue car selling toilet articles? Would she feed the motormen and conductors, in spite of having been up until morning? Of course she would! Judith was not the kind of girl to fail in an undertaking and to let men go hungry.
“Half past five! She furnishes dinner for the men on the six-thirty. I wonder what she is giving them to-day?” Jeff smiled when he remembered how Judith had satisfied Nan’s impertinent curiosity concerning what was in her basket. “I’ve a great mind to find out. Foolishness! I’ll do nothing of the sort.” The young man tried to lose himself in the intricate plot of a detective story but he had to confess he was not half so much interested in the outcome of the tale as he was in what Judith was to carry in her basket.
“I’ll go help her lift the heavy load on the trolley,” he decided, slinging aside the stupid book and starting across the meadows to the trolley station. He must traverse the broad acres of Buck Hill to the dividing line of Judith’s mother’s farm, then through a swampy creek bottom, up a hill to the grove of old beech trees, and then down to the trolley track.
“Can’t make it! There’s the whistle blowing for the next station,” he said as he reached the195grove. He stopped and, leaning against the smooth trunk of a great beech, looked out across the fields. There was Judith in a blue dress, standing on the little platform, a cooler of buttermilk in one hand, swinging it as before as a signal to the approaching trolley. She wore no hat and her hair shone like spun gold.
“I’ll wait here for her and maybe I can persuade her to sit down a minute and talk to me.” Lazily he settled himself on a mossy bank, leaning against the friendly trunk.
The trolley car stopped. Eager hands were ready to receive the heavy cooler and laden basket. Only one passenger—a man—alighted and then the car sped on. Judith picked up the basket of empty dishes and milk can that had been deposited on the platform and turned to follow the path homeward. Jeff sprang to his feet, meaning to hasten to her and relieve her of her burden, when his intention was changed by seeing the man who had just alighted from the trolley walk quickly to her side.
The beech grove was too far off for Jeff to hear what was said but he could plainly see the couple, although not discernible to them because of the dense shade of the beeches. It was a shock to him to recognize the man as Tom196Harbison. What was he doing back again when he had told Mildred he had an important engagement? Was his engagement with Judith Buck? She had not looked as though she expected anyone as she stood swinging her cooler. But then one can never tell. Young men don’t go gallivanting after girls unless they are encouraged. On the other hand, what encouragement had Judith given him, Jeff Bucknor? None!
However, Tom Harbison certainly had no right to play fast and loose with his sister, Mildred. Jeff tried to persuade himself that his anger against Tom was solely the righteous anger of a brother.
Judith and her cavalier followed the path that led directly to the beech grove. Jeff Bucknor again seated himself on the mossy bank and watched their approach. He was totally unconscious of his own invisibility. Again he felt extreme annoyance with Tom Harbison because of his protecting manner. Anyone might have surmised the fields were full of raging bulls, vicious rams or wild boars, judging from Tom’s solicitude for Judith’s safety. Tenderly he assisted the active girl up the hill. Just as they got within earshot of Jeff, who was endeavoring to calm himself sufficiently to meet the couple197with some appearance of equanimity, Judith paused.
“Now, Mr. Harbison, I appreciate very much your kindness in wishing to help me with this basket of dishes, which is not at all heavy, but I think you had much better go directly to your friends at Buck Hill. That path to the left will take you through the gap and over the meadow. I go to the right.”
“Ah, but I am not going to Buck Hill this evening. I came back to Ryeville only to see you. I told you, my beauty, that I was going to. Don’t you remember?”
“I am not your beauty and I do not remember.”
“Well, I did and I have and you are.”
“Maybe you have but I am not. I bid you good evening, Mr. Harbison. Give me my basket.”
“No, no! Not so fast! You don’t understand, my dearest girl. I really have come up here to see you and a fellow doesn’t take that beastly ride twice in one day without some reward. Come on, like the peach that you resemble, and sit down here in this grove of trees with me. I tell you, honey, I’m loving you good and right.”
“Nonsense! You don’t know me and besides198I have no time to sit down as I have two more trolley cars to meet with hot suppers for the motormen. Give me my basket! I must hurry home. I cannot let my customers go hungry.”
“But I am hungry for love,” cried Tom, seizing the hand Judith had stretched out for her basket. In the other hand she carried the empty milk can. Up to this time the girl had been half laughing. She was evidently amused by the gallantries of Tom and had met his advances with badinage, thinking he was in jest. However, when he grasped her hand and attempted to draw her towards him, she grew angry.
“Let me go, Mr. Harbison. You are forgetting yourself.”
“I am not forgetting myself. I am just remembering myself. Here I have been in the same neighborhood with you for days and never once have I had so much as a kiss. Please! Please!” He caught the resisting Judith to him.
Tom was making a fool of himself and no doubt he would have realized it had he known that another man was hearing his pleading. Jeff on the other hand was so conscious of himself that he had not realized, until Harbison plunged into the frantic love-making, that the199couple were not aware of his presence. Under the circumstances, what should he do? He certainly could not beat up a man for asking a beautiful girl to sit down in the shade of a beech tree with him, especially since he had meant to do that very thing himself had not Tom got there ahead of him. Should he make his presence known? Did Judith need his help?
The scene progressed so rapidly that before Jeff could make up his mind exactly what he should do Judith raised her empty milk can and gave the persistent Tom such a whack on the side of his head that the cavalier dropped the basket of china and, losing his balance, fell and rolled down the hill.
Evidently Judith did not need anyone’s help. Tom picked himself up ruefully. Without a word he retraced the path he had so blithely taken a moment before and, hearing the outgoing trolley whistling for the station, he speeded up and boarded the car for Louisville.
Then Judith proceeded to sit down by her basket of broken china and burst into tears.
“Oh, my dear, my dear!” cried Jeff, no longer uncertain of what he should do. “Don’t! Please don’t! I wish I had wrung his neck.”
“You! Where did you come from?” gasped Judith. “I didn’t see you. You needn’t think200I am crying because—because—”
“Because you have been insulted?”
“No. I’m just so miserable because last night I was so happy, and all day I have been happy and now I am not.” She looked like a little girl who had just found out her doll was stuffed with sawdust.
“Look at my dishes! As long as they had to be broken I wish I might have had the pleasure of hitting that man with them instead of making a dent in my perfectly good milk cooler.” She laughed and began picking up the pieces of china.
Was this the staid young lawyer who had determined to see no more of this red-haired girl—to nip in the bud any feeling he might have developed for her? Was this the same man, running down dale and up hill with a basket of broken china on his arm, while the red-haired girl chased on ahead with an empty milk can, running to make up for lost time and not be late with the motormen’s supper? He must wait and help Judith carry the basket. She had no time to wrangle with him about whether he should or should not wait. Supper was cooked but it must be packed properly and the finishing touches put to it. Mrs. Buck was wandering around the kitchen making futile201attempts to help. Jeff, who was sitting outside on a bench under the syringa bushes, could hear her querulous drawl and Judith’s quick, good-natured replies.
“Never mind the china, Mumsy. Some of the pieces can be used as soap dishes and some maybe we can mend. I’ll tell you all about how it happened some day but now I must hurry. There’s a young man waiting in the back yard to help me carry my basket. If you look out the side window you can see who it is, but don’t let him see you peeping.”
Then there was the mad race back to the station. There was no time or breath for talk. They reached the platform several minutes before the seven o’clock trolley.
“Heavens! I came mighty near forgetting what I came all the way from Buck Hill to find out,” declared Jeff.
“And what was that?”
“I got to wondering what you would have in your baskets this evening.”
“Ham croquettes, buttered beets, potato salad and hot muffins. Blackberry dumpling for dessert!” Judith smiled, as she chanted the menu.
202CHAPTER XIXMiss Ann Moves On
The Bucknors of Buck Hill were going abroad. It was all settled and they were to start as soon as necessary arrangements could be made. The plan had been born in Mildred’s mind and she had influenced her mother, who in turn had persuaded her husband and now passage was engaged and it was only a matter of a few weeks before they would sail.
It had all come about because Jeff had felt in duty bound to inform his sister that Tom Harbison had come back to Ryeville with the intention of calling on another girl, and that girl Judith Buck.
“I always said she was a forward minx,” stormed Mildred.
“Right forward with her milk can,” laughed Jeff, and then he told of Tom’s rebuff and of the blow he had received instead of the kiss he demanded. “He’s not worthy of you, little sister, and you must not bother your head about him,” said Jeff.203
But Mildred did worry and sulk and feel miserable. Tom had made more impression on Mildred’s heart than Jeff had dreamed possible. The girl was suffering from blighted affections as well as mortification—both of which no doubt would be dispelled by the European trip.
Jeff was to settle in Louisville and the home would be closed, with Aunt Em’ly as caretaker. But what was to become of Cousin Ann?
“We can’t leave until her visit with us is completed,” objected Mr. Bucknor.
“But, my dear, her visit to us will never be finished, unless we cut it short,” sighed Mrs. Bucknor.
“Let her go visit some of the others,” suggested Nan, “She’s needing a change by this time anyhow.”
“We must not be unclannish,” admonished Mr. Bucknor. “Blood is—”
“Well, mine is not,” interrupted Mildred. “I’m just fed up on all of this relationship business. Old Cousin Ann isn’t very close kin to us anyhow, if you stop and think. She wasn’t even more than a third cousin to Grandfather Bucknor, and when it comes down to us she is so far removed it wouldn’t count if we lived anywhere but in Kentucky or maybe Virginia. I thought you were going to have a204meeting and come to some conclusion about Cousin Ann.”
“So we are! So we are! I have been talking to Big Josh lately about it. Quite a problem! Big Josh does nothing but talk and laugh and we never get anywhere. However, we are going to have a gathering of the clan to-morrow in Ryeville and I shall bring up the subject.”
“Well, don’t let them persuade you to give up our trip just to have old Cousin Ann have a place to visit. We’ve had more than our share of her already. If she had a spark of delicacy she would go now and not wait until we are all upset with packing and all. I know you have not told her that we are going abroad, but you know she snoops around enough to have heard us talking. I bet she knows what our plans are as well as we know ourselves.”
Mildred was right. Miss Ann did know the plans of her host and hostess. With windows and doors wide open and a whole family freely discussing their trip, it would have been difficult for one who retained the sense of hearing not to be aware that something was afoot. Miss Ann had heard and had determined to move on, but to which relation should she go? The faithful Billy was called in consultation.205
“Billy, you have heard?”
“Yes, Miss Ann, I done hearn. I couldn’t help a hearin’ with niggers as full of it as whites.”
“I wonder why they did not talk openly to me of their plans.”
“Well, I reckon they’s kinder shy, kase me’n you’s a visitin’. I ’low we’s gotter move on, Miss Ann.” The old man’s face was drawn with woe. “I kinder felt it a bad sign when Marse Jeff Bucknor up’n took hisse’f off to Lou’ville, an’ now this talk ’bout the fambly a goin’ ter furren parts an’ a shuttin’ up Buck Hill. Th’ain’t no good gonter come of it—but howsomever we’s gotter pack up an’ leave.”
“But where are we going, Billy? Cousin Big Josh—”
“Lawsamussy, Miss Ann, please don’t mention that there domercile! Our ca’ige ain’t good fer that trip. That lane would be the endin’ er us-all. Don’t you reckon we’d better rise an’ shine to-morrow?”
“Yes, Billy, but where? There’s Cousin Little Josh and Cousin Sue and Cousin Tom and Philip Throckmorton and Cousin David’s oldest daughter, whose married name has escaped me, but she is living in Jefferson County. Could the horses go so far?”206
“Miss Ann, I ain’t so sho’ ’bout the ca’ige, but I reckon if you don’t hurry Cupid an’ Puck none they’s got a lot er go in them yet. I hear tell Miss Milly an’ the two young ladies air a’ contemplatin’ a trip in ter Lou’ville in the mawnin’ an’ I done hear Marse Bob say he wa’ a’ gonter spen’ the day in Ryeville with some er the kin folks, eatin’ at the hotel. I ’low they’ll git a right airly start.”
“Exactly! Well, so will we, Billy. As soon as they are gone we will go too.”
Miss Ann rather liked to make a mystery of her departure. One of her idiosyncrasies was that she seldom divulged the name of her next host to her last one. She would depart as suddenly as she had arrived, leaving a formal note of farewell if the head of the house happened to be away or asleep. She liked to travel early in the morning.
“Where are we going, Billy?” Miss Ann’s voice was tremulous and her eyes were misty.
“Now, Miss Ann, s’pose you jes’ leave that ter ol’ Billy an’ the hosses. We’s gonter git somewhar an’ they ain’t no use’n worryin’ whar. You go down an’ set on the po’ch an’ I’ll pack yo’ things an’ I’ll do it as good as anybody an’ we’ll crope out’n here in the mawnin’ befo’ Marse Bob an’ Miss Milly’s dus’ air settled on207the pike. I ain’t a worryin’ ’bout but one thing an’ that is that a ol’ dominicker hen air took ter settin’ on the flo’ er our coach an’ I’m kinder hatin’ ter ’sturb her when she feels so nice an’ homelike. I reckon I kin lif her out kinder sof’ an’ maybe she kin hatch jes the same. She ain’t got mo’n a day er so ter go.”
“Billy, I am sorry to leave the neighborhood without seeing that lovely girl—the one who sent me the gift and to whom the ball was tendered. She is in reality my kinswoman. I have been tracing the relationship and find she is the same kin as my cousins here at Buck Hill—the young people I mean. I am sorry I did not tell her so.”
“Yassum! Maybe some day you kin claim kin with her. I reckon she would be glad an’ proud ter be cousins ter you, Miss Ann.”
Billy had never told his mistress of his visit to Judith. That young person had impressed him as being not at all proud of being of the same blood as the Bucknors, or in the least desirous of claiming the relationship. “But she wa’n’t speakin’ er my Miss Ann,” he said to himself.
Silently and swiftly old Billy packed his mistress’s belongings. Every trunk, suitcase and telescope was in readiness for an early flitting.208As he had boasted, they were starting almost before the dust raised by the departing car of Mr. and Mrs. Bucknor had settled.
“Hi, what you so nimble-come-trimble ’bout this mawnin’?” asked Aunt Em’ly, as she met Billy laden with baggage, sneaking out the back way, planning to load his coach before hitching up.
“Miss Ann an’ me is done got a invite ter a house pawty an’ we air gonter hit the pike in the cool er the mawnin’.”
“Wha’ you goin’?”
“Heaben when we die,” was all Billy would divulge.
“Miss Milly an’ Marse Bob ain’t said nothin’ ’bout Miss Ann leavin’. Fac’ is Miss Milly lef’ word fer me ter dish up a good dinner fer Miss Ann whilst they wa’ away an’ serve it on a tray bein’ as she wa’ all alone.”
“Well, I ’low we’ll be settin’ down in the dinin’-room at the house pawty come dinner time,” declared the old man, veiled insolence in his tone.
“What I gonter tell Marse Bob an’ Miss Milly when they axes wha’ Miss Ann done took herself?”
“I ain’t consarned with what you tells ’em. My Miss Ann air done writ a letter ter Miss209Milly an’ if you ain’t got a lie handy you kin jes’ han’ her the billy dux.”
“I allus been holdin’ ter it an’ I’ll give it ter you extry clarified, you’s a mean nigger man—mean an’ low lifed. I axes you, politeful like, wha’ you an’ Miss Ann a goin’ an’ all you kin give me is sass.” Aunt Em’ly was full of curiosity and was greatly irritated not to have her curiosity satisfied. But Billy was adamant and Miss Ann more dignified than usual, as she doled out her small tips—all the poor old lady could afford, but presented to the servants whenever she departed with the air of royalty.
“Well, skip-ter-ma-loo, she’s gone agin!” laughed Aunt Em’ly, as she stood with Kizzie and watched the old coach rolling down the avenue. “I reckon Marse Bob’s gonter be right riled that I can’t tell him wha’ she goin’ but you couldn’t git nothin’ outer that ol’ Billy with an ice pick. I laid off ter ax Miss Ann herself but when she come a sailin’ down the steps like she done swallowed the poker an’ helt out this here dime ter me like it wa’ a dollar somehow she looked kinder awesome an’ I couldn’t say nothin’ but ‘Thanky!’ Kizzie, did you notice which-away the coach took when they reached the pike?”
“I think it went up the road to’ds Marse Big210Josh’s,” said Kizzie, “but the dus’ air pow’ful thick right now, owin’ ter ortermobiles goin’ both ways, so I ain’t quite sho’.”
“I wa’ pretty night certain ol’ Billy p’inted his hosses’ heads to’ds Ryeville, but I ain’t sho’. It air sech a misty, moisty mornin’ an’ what with the dus’ it air hard ter punctuate. I reckon you’s right, Kizzie, an’ they’s hit the pike fer Marse Big Josh’s. Anyhow we’ll say that when Marse Bob axes us. If you tells one tale an’ I tells anudder Marse Bob’ll be mad as a wet hen.”
The old coach, creaking ominously, lumbered and rolled down the avenue. The bees, with their front door blocked by the corn cob, hummed furiously. Miss Ann, ensconced behind the barricade of luggage, gazed out on the rolling meadows of Buck Hill and thought bitterly of the old days when devoted cavaliers accompanied her coach, eager to escort her on her journey and vying with one another for a smile from the careless girl within.
She tried to remember the intervening years but could not. She was a beautiful young girl, sought after, welcomed everywhere. Then she was an old woman, unloved, unwelcome, nobody wanting her, nobody loving her. She did not know where Billy was driving her. She did not211care. The old man had taken matters into his own hands and no doubt he would leave the decision to Cupid and Puck. She put her head against the upholstered back of the seat and dozed. The morning air came sweet and fresh across the blue-grass meadows. She had a dream, vague and uncertain, but in some unexpected and shadowy way she was happy. She awoke and dozed again. Again a sweet dream of peace and contentment.
The horses came to a standstill. Miss Ann awoke with a start. She did not know whether she had slept moments or hours. Billy had opened the door and was saying: “Miss Ann, we done arriv!” and then he began to unpack his beloved mistress.
212CHAPTER XXA Heart-warming Welcome
“Mumsy, here comes Cousin Ann!”
“There you are at it again, Judith. I say shame on you for calling people cousin who don’t even know they are related.”
“Anyhow, here comes Cousin Ann!”
“Comes where? Along the pike? I don’t see that that is anything to get excited over.”
“But it is not along the pike. She is coming here—here in our home. Old Billy has stopped the horses and is down off his box and has opened the door and is unpacking the luggage. After a little while he will come to Cousin Ann.
“Do you know what that means, Mumsy? It means that we are to be taken into the bosom of the family, as it were. Cousin Ann only visits relations. I reckon I’m a snob but I can’t help being glad that I am to belong. I won’t let anybody but you know that, Mumsy, but I’m going to be just as nice and kind to poor Cousin Ann as can be. You will too, won’t you, dear Mumsy?”213
“Well, I guess I know how to treat company,” bridled Mrs. Buck.
Miss Ann sat, dazed and wondering, while Billy pulled out the luggage and piled it up by the white picket fence. She did not know where the old coachman had brought her. She wondered vaguely if it could be the home of Cousin David’s oldest daughter whose married name had escaped her. Could she have slept a whole day?
Suddenly a red-haired girl in a blue dress came running down the walk and before Billy could get his mistress unpacked this girl had sprung into the coach and putting her arms around Miss Ann’s neck kissed her first on one cheek and then on the other.
“Mother and I are real glad to see you and we hope you and Uncle Billy will stay with us just as long as you are comfortable and happy,” said Judith. “Howdy, Uncle Billy!”
“Howdy, missy!” Great tears were coursing down the old brown face.
“The guest chamber is all ready, except for being sheeted and that won’t take me a minute. Just bring the things right in, Uncle Billy. Here, I’ll help and then Miss Ann can get out.”
“Cousin Ann, child! I am your Cousin Ann Peyton.” Miss Ann spoke from the depths of214the coach. And then Mrs. Buck, having hastily tied on a clean apron, came down the walk and was introduced to the visitor, greeting her with shy hospitality.
“I’m pleased to meet you. Judith and I’ll be right glad of your company.”
How long had it been since anybody had said that to Miss Ann? The old lady flushed with pleasure.
“You are my cousin-in-law, but I don’t know your name.”
“Prudence—Prudence Knight was my maiden name.”
“Ah, then, Cousin Prudence! It is very kind of you and your daughter to greet me so cordially. I hope Billy and I will not be much trouble during our short stay with you. Are you certain it is convenient to have us?”
Now be it noted that in all of the long years of visiting Miss Ann Peyton had never before asked whether or not her coming was convenient. Hitherto she had simply come and stayed until it suited her to move on.
“Indeed it is convenient,” cried Judith. “Mother and I are here all alone and we have loads of room.”
When Mr. and Mrs. Ezra Knight broke up housekeeping in New England they moved215every stick of furniture they possessed to their new home. This furniture had been in the family for generations. There were old highboys of polished mahogany and chaste design, four-poster beds and gate-legged tables, a Sheraton sideboard and Chippendale chairs, a claw-footed secretary with leaded glass doors and secret drawers. There were hooked rugs and patchwork quilts of intricate and wonderful design, hand woven bedspreads of a blue seldom seen and Chinese cabinets and strange grotesque brasses, no doubt brought to New England by the Norse sailor man who had left his mark on the family according to Mrs. Buck.
Miss Ann Peyton felt singularly at home from the moment she entered the front door. The guest chamber, where old Dick Buck had made it convenient to spend the last years of his life, was so pleasant one hardly blamed the old man for establishing himself there. A low-pitched room it was, with windows looking out over the meadow and furnished with mahogany so rare and beautiful it might have graced a museum.
“Now, Cousin Ann, please make yourself absolutely at home. If you want to unpack immediately there is a dandy closet here, and here is a wardrobe and here is a highboy and216here a bureau. Uncle Billy can take your trunks to the attic when you empty them. I wish I could help you, but Mumsy and I are up to our necks canning peaches and we can’t stop a minute. If you want to come help peel we’d be delighted. We are on the side porch and it is lovely and cool out there,” and Judith was gone.
Help peel peaches! Why not? Miss Ann smiled. Nobody ever asked her to help. It was a new experience for her. She decided not to unpack immediately, but donned an apron and hastened to the side porch.
It was pleasant there. Mrs. Buck was peeling laboriously, anxious not to waste a particle of fruit. She stopped long enough to get a paring knife and bowl for the visitor.
“Judith has gone to show your servant where to put the carriage and horses and then to open up the house in the back for him. It was the old house the Bucks had before my father bought this place—a good enough house with furniture in it. Judith gives it a big cleaning now and then and I reckon the old man can move right in.”
Old Billy was in the seventh heaven of delight. A stable for Cupid and Puck, with plenty of good pasture land, a carriage house217for the coach, shared with Judith’s little blue car, but best of all, a house for himself!
“A house with winders an’ a chimbly an’ a po’ch wha’ I kin sot cans er jewraniums an’ a box er portulac! I been a dreamin’ ’bout sech a house all my life, Miss Judy. Sometimes when I is fo’ced ter sleep in the ca’ige, when Miss Ann an’ me air a visitin’ wha’ things air kinder crowded like, I digs me up a little flower an’ plants it in a ol’ can an’ kinder makes out my coachman’s box air a po’ch. Miss Judy, it air a sad thing ter git ter be ol’ an’ wo’ out ’thout ever gittin’ what you wanted when you wa’ young an’ spry.”
“Yes, Uncle Billy, I know how you feel, but now you have a little house and you can live in it as long as it suits you and grow all the flowers you’ve a mind to. Nobody has lived in it for years and years but I used to play down here when I was a little girl and had time to play. Every now and then I give it a good cleaning, though, and you won’t have to do much to start with.”
It was a rough, two-roomed cabin, with shabby furniture, but it seemed like a palace to the old darkey.
“I reckon I’ll put me up a red curtain,” he sighed. “I been always a wantin’ a red218curtain, an’ bless Bob, if they ain’t already a row of skillets an’ cookin’ pots by the chimbly. I am moughty partial ter a big open fiah place wha’ you kin make yo’ se’f a ol’ time ash cake.”
“Can you cook, Uncle Billy?”
“Sho’ I kin cook, but I ain’t git much chanct ter cook, what with livin’ roun’ so much.”
“Well, you can help me sometimes when I get pushed for time,” and Judith told the old man of the task she had undertaken of feeding the motormen.
“Sholy! Sholy!” he agreed and then the thought came to him as it had to Miss Ann—When before had he been asked to help?
Judith found the two ladies busily engaged in paring peaches. She was amused to discover that Miss Ann was quicker than her mother and more expert. The old lady’s fingers were nimble and dainty and she handled her knife with remarkable skill.
“My goodness! You go so fast I can begin to can,” cried Judith. Miss Ann’s face beamed with happiness as she watched her young cousin weighing sugar and fruit and then lighting the kerosene stove which stood behind a screen in the corner of the porch.
Judith kept up a lively chatter as she sterilized glass jars and dipped out the cooked fruit.219Miss Ann worked faster and faster and even Mrs. Buck hurried in spite of herself. Uncle Billy’s amazement was ludicrous when he came upon his mistress making one of this busy family group. But in an instant the old man was helping, too.
The morning was gone but the peaches were all canned, the table filled with amber-colored jars. Billy must carry them to the storeroom and place them on the shelves. He ran back and forth looking like a little brown gnome and actually skipping with happiness. Miss Ann smiled contentedly while Mrs. Buck gathered up the peach skins and stones which she had saved with a view to making marmalade, although Judith assured her that the peach crop was so big that year there would be no use in such close economy.
“Now, we’ll have luncheon and then everybody must take a nap,” commanded Judith and everybody was very glad to, after the strenuous morning’s work, but first Billy slipped out to the carriage house and pulled the corn cob out of the bumble bees’ hole.
“There now, you po’ critters! I reckon you kin call this home too an’ jes’ buzz aroun’ all you’se a min’ ter,” the old man whispered happily.