Part 4 (1/2)

”She is the thing I am going back to France for, Aunt Mary.”

”Sho nuf? Well, well! They do tell me they's fightin' goin' on in some er them furren parts. Sholy Miss Judy ain't nigh the fightin' an'

fussin'?”

”Yes, I am afraid she is. That's the reason I must go for her.”

”Oh, Kent son! Don't you git into no sc.r.a.p yo'sef. It's moughty hard fer young folks ter look on at a sc.r.a.p 'thout gittin' mixed up in it.

Don't you git too clost, whin you is lookin', either. Them what looks on sometimes gits the deepes' razor cuts with the back han' licks. You pick up that gal an' bring her back ter you' maw jes' as fas' as yo'

legs kin carry you.”

”I'll try to,” laughed Kent.

”Don't try! Jes' do it! That there Judy gal is sho nice an'

'ristocratic, considerin' she ain't never had no home. She done tell me whin she was here to little Miss Milly's weddin' that she an' her folks ain't never lived in nothin' but rented houses. That's moughty queer to me, but 'cose n.i.g.g.e.rs don't understan' ev'y thing. Well, you tell her that ole Mary Morton say she better pick up an' come back to Chatswuth.”

”I certainly will, Aunt Mary, and good-by!”

The old woman put her hand on his bowed head for a moment, and while she said nothing, Kent took it for a benediction.

CHAPTER IV.

AFTERNOON TEA.

Molly had established the custom of afternoon tea in her orchard home, and while she had been greatly teased by her brothers for introducing this English custom into Kentucky country life, they one and all turned up on her porch for tea if they were in the neighborhood.

”It is one place where a fellow can always find some talk and a place to air his views,” declared John, as he reached for another slice of bread and b.u.t.ter. ”It isn't the food so much as the being gathered together.”

”Well, you are gathering a good deal of food together in spite of your contempt for it,” put in Paul. ”That's the sixth slice! I have kept tab on you.”

”Why not? I always think plain bread and b.u.t.ter is about the best thing there is.”

”Yes, why not?” asked Molly, calling her little cook Kizzie to prepare another plate of the desirable article. ”Aunt Clay, you had better change your mind and have some tea and bread and b.u.t.ter.”

Mrs. Sarah Clay had driven over in state from her home when she heard Kent had arrived. She wanted to hear the latest news, also to tender her advice as to what he was to do now. She presented the same uncompromising front as of yore, although her back had given way somewhat to the weight of years. Judy Kean always said she had a hard face and a soft figure. This soft figure she poured into tight basques, evidently determined to try to make it live up to her face.

”Tea!” she exclaimed indignantly. ”I never eat between meals.”

”But this is a meal, in a way,” said Molly hospitably bent, as was her wont, on feeding people.

”A meal! Whoever heard of tea and bread and b.u.t.ter comprising a meal?”

and the stern aunt stalked to the end of the porch where the baby lay in her basket, kicking her pink heels in the air in an ecstasy of joy over being in the world.

”Molly, this baby has on too few clothes. What can you be thinking of, having the child barefooted and nothing on but this muslin slip over her arms? She is positively blue with cold.”

Molly flew to her darling but found her glowing and warm. ”Why, Aunt Clay, only feel her hands and feet! She is as warm as toast. The doctor cautioned me against wrapping her up too much. He says little babies are much warmer than we are.”