Part 34 (1/2)
”What are they saying?” whispered Aunt Claudia, still tense in the middle of the room.
”Hush,” Becky waved a warning hand.
”There is,” said the Judge, in a declamatory manner, ”everything in a name. The Bannisters of Huntersfield, the Paines of King's Crest, the Randolphs of Cloverdale, do you think these things don't count, Truxton?”
”I think there's a lot of rot in it,” said young Beaufort, ”when we were fighting for democracy over there----”
The shot told. ”Democracy has nothing to do with it----”
”Democracy,” said Truxton, ”has a great deal to do with it. The days of kings and queens are dead, they have married each other for generations and have produced offspring like--William of Germany.
Cla.s.s a.s.sumptions of superiority are withered branches on the tree of civilization. Mary is as good as I am any day.”
”You wrote things like this,” said the Judge, interested in spite of himself, and loving argument.
”I wrote them because I believed them. I am ready to apologize for not telling you of my marriage before this. I have no apologies to make for my wife----
”I have no apologies to make for my wife,” Truxton repeated. ”I fought for democratic ideals. I am practising them. Mary is a lady. You must admit that, Grandfather.”
”I do admit it,” said the Judge slowly, ”in the sense that you mean it.
But in the county sense? Do you think the Merriweathers will ask her to their ball? Do you think Bob Flippin will dine with my friends to-night?”
”I don't think he will expect to dine with you, Grandfather. I think if you ask him, he will refuse. But if you take your friends.h.i.+p from him it will break his heart----”
”Who said I would take my friends.h.i.+p away from Bob Flippin?”
”He is afraid--you may----”
”Because you married Mary?”
”Yes.”
The Judge was breathing hard. ”Whom does he think I'd go fis.h.i.+ng with?”
”Do you think he'll want to go fis.h.i.+ng with you if you cast off Mary?”
The Judge had a vision of life without Bob Flippin. On suns.h.i.+ny days there would be no one to cut bait for him, no one to laugh with him at the dogs as they sat waiting for their corn-cakes, no one to listen with flattering attention to his old, old tales.
It had not occurred to him that Bob Flippin, too, might have his pride.
He sat down heavily in a porch chair.
”Go and get Mary,” he exploded; ”bring her here. The thing is done.
The milk is spilled. And there's no use crying over it. And if you think you two young people can separate me and Bob Flippin----”
Mrs. Beaufort and Becky came down presently, to find the old man gazing, frowning, into s.p.a.ce.
”I have told him to bring Mary, Claudia, but I must say that I am bitterly disappointed.”