Part 12 (2/2)

befo' Miss Ann lef' home that time when the ol' place burnt up. It looks like I never could leave Miss Ann long enuf to go back an'

finish my confab with Mandy. An' arter a while Mandy must er got tired of waitin' fer me an' she took up with a big buck n.i.g.g.e.r from Jeff'son County an' they do say she had goin' onter twenty chilluns an' about fo' husbands.”

”Uncle Billy, you have certainly been faithful to Cousin Ann. I don't see what she would have done without you.”

”Gawd grant she won't never have ter, Ma.r.s.e Jeff! It'll be a sad day fer this ol' n.i.g.g.e.r when Miss Ann goes but I'm a hopin' an' prayin'

she'll go befo' I'm called. If I should die they would'n be n.o.body ter fotch an' carry fer Miss Ann. She gits erlong moughty fine here at Buck Hill, but some places I have ter kinder fend fer us-alls right smart. Miss Ann air that proudified she don't never demand but ol'

Billy he knows an' he does the demandin' fer her. An' I presses her frocks an' sometimes I makes out to laundry fer her in some places whar we visits an' the missus don't see fit ter put Miss Ann's siled clothes along with the fambly wash. An' I fin's wil' strawberries fer her, an' sometimes fiel' mushrooms, an' sometimes I goes out in the fall an' knocks over a patridge an' I picks an' briles it an' sarves it up fer a little extry treat fer my lady.”

”She certainly would be lost without you, Uncle Billy, but I'm going to make you a promise. If you should be called before my cousin I do solemnly swear that I'll see to it that she has every comfort. The family owes you that much and I for one will do what I can for Cousin Ann. On the other hand, if Cousin Ann should go first, I'll do what I can to help you.”

”Oh, Ma.r.s.e Bob--I mean Ma.r.s.e Jeff--you air lif' a load from a ol'

man's heart. Yo' gran'pap air sho' come ter life agin in his prodigy.

Nothin' ain't gonter make much diffunce ter me arfter this. I been a thinkin' some er my burdins wa' mo' than I kin bear, but 'tain't so.

My back air done fitted ter them, kase you done eased me er my load.”

The old man wept, great tears running down his furrowed brown cheeks and glistening on his long, grotesque beard.

CHAPTER XIII

The Debut Party

Everything was propitious for the debut party, even the weather. A brisk shower in the morning, followed by refres.h.i.+ng breezes, gave a.s.surance of a night not too hot for dancing but not too cool for couples so inclined to sit out on the balcony and enjoy the moonlight.

The ten old men were very much excited as the time approached for their ball. The skating rink was swept and garnished and decorated with bunting and flags, and wreaths of immortelles rented from the undertaker. Extra chairs were also furnished by that accommodating person. The caterer from Louisville came in a truck, bringing with him stylish negro waiters and many freezers and hampers. The musicians arrived on the seven o'clock trolley, almost filling one car with their great drums and saxophones and ba.s.s fiddles.

The women who were either supported by, or supported, the ten old men were kept busy by their aged relatives hunting s.h.i.+rt studs and collar b.u.t.tons, pressing broadcloth trousers, letting out waistcoats or taking them up, sewing on b.u.t.tons and laundering white ties. The barber had to call in extra help, because of the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of beards and shaving of chins and cutting of hair that the party entailed.

Judge Middleton was chosen to make the speech naming the guest of honor for whom the debut party was given.

”He's got the gift of gab,” Pete Barnes had said, ”but I hope he ain't gonter forget 'twas my idee.”

One of the many virtues that belong to country people is that they come on time. At eight o'clock the fiddles were tuning up, the skating rink lights were on and already Main Street was crowded with a varied a.s.sortment of vehicles--automobiles, buggies, wagons, surreys, rockaways and even a large hay wagon that had brought a merry party of young folks from Clayton.

Buck Hill arrived, three automobiles strong, besides Miss Ann Peyton's coach. Behind them came Judith Buck and her mother, the little blue car brave from a recent bath and Judith's eyes s.h.i.+ning and dancing like will-o-the-wisps.

”Mumsy, listen! They are tuning up! I'm going to dance every dance if I have to do it by myself. I don't know any of the new dances, but it won't take me a minute to learn. It's the golden slippers that make me feel so like flying.”

”Now, Judy, don't take on so. It ain't modest to be so sure you'll be asked to dance. Besides, you must save your dress and slippers and not wear them out this first time you wear them.”

Judith laughed happily. ”Oh, Mumsy, what a spendthrift you are with your breath! I'm going to dance my dress to a rag. Did you ever think that Cinderella may have just danced her dress to rags by twelve o'clock and after all the fairy G.o.dmother had nothing to do with it?

Cinderella danced every dance with the prince and perhaps he was an awkward prince and tangled his feet in her train. In fact, I am sure he was awkward or he would have caught up with her when she tried to run away, and she with one shoe off and one shoe on like 'Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John!'”

”Let me help you out, Mrs. Buck.” It was Jeff Bucknor, leaning over the little blue car. He had heard every word of Judith's foolishness and seemed to be much pleased with it, considering he was a learned young lawyer getting ready to hang out his s.h.i.+ngle, and supposed to be above fairy stories and nursery jingles.

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