Others besides Big Josh had noticed Judith as she came forward to speak to her old friends. Her dress, a shimmer of white and gold, might have been wished on her by a fairy godmother, a thing of gossamer and moonbeams.

“Who is it?”

“Who can it be?”

“Nobody but little Judy Buck, you say?”

“Where did she get her clothes?”

“Worked like a nigger and bought ’em! Why not? She’s the best little worker in town. Got a bunch of irons in the fire and she surely ought to get some clothes out of it.”

“But old Dick Buck’s granddaughter’s got no right to be mixing with county society.”

“The Knights were a good sort and Dick wasn’t anything but lazy and trifling and sometimes a little tipsy. There wasn’t anything mean about old Dick.”

“Well, she’s a humdinger for looks, is all I’ve got to say.” 157

So the talk went around. Judith, all unconscious of having attracted attention, shook hands gaily with the old men and all but kissed them in her joy, and promised to dance with every one of them and immediately had her card filled with trembly-looking autographs.

“Won’t you dance, Mrs. Buck?” suggested Colonel Crutcher, but Mrs. Buck declined with agitated blushes, declaring her health was too feeble for such carryings-on.

“Well, I’m going to put you in a front seat so you won’t miss anything and then Miss Judy can sit by you when she is not dancing. That’s all right, I’ll get some of your church members to keep you company.”

Colonel Crutcher conducted mother and daughter across the ballroom and, much to the confusion of Mrs. Buck, placed them next to Miss Ann Peyton. That lady was seated in solitary grandeur, Big Josh having departed to look up other members of the family.

“Miss Peyton, this is a little friend of mine I want to introduce to you, Miss Judith Buck, and her mother, Mrs. Buck.”

Miss Ann bowed with what might be called gracious stiffness, and moved her skirts a fraction of an inch to make room for Judith.

Mrs. Buck was thankful that some church 158 friends were found by whom she might sit and be as inconspicuous as possible. She would have been frightened beyond words if she had been forced to sit by Miss Ann Peyton. Not so Judith! The girl looked levelly into the old woman’s eyes and then sat down.

“I want to thank you for the toilet water you sent to me by my servant. It was very kind of you,” said Miss Ann.

“I loved to do it.”

“Why did you?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps because ever since I was a tiny little girl I have watched you go driving by on the pike and I’ve always wanted to give you a present. Sometimes I used to pick flowers and hide behind the fence, thinking maybe I could stop your carriage and give them to you, but I was too shy, and old Billy always looked so fierce—as though he were taking the Queen to Windsor. But I used to make up stories about you and your coach and now I am too big and old to make up silly stories and no longer shy and hiding behind hedges, but I kind of felt that the toilet water might be the essence of the flowers I used to pick for you when I was a little girl—the ones you never got.”

“Ah, indeed!” was all Miss Ann said, but 159 she sought the girl’s hand and held it a moment in the folds of her billowing lace dress.

Then the music started and the ball had begun and Major Fitch was bowing low in front of Miss Ann, claiming the first quadrille, and Colonel Crutcher was holding out his hands for Judith.

“Dance in the set with me,” Miss Ann whispered to Judith, as though they were girls together.

Of course nobody dances quadrilles in these jazz days, but the old men had stipulated that the band from Louisville must know how to play for quadrille and lancers and dusty old music had been unearthed and now the ball was opened with an old-fashioned quadrille, with Pete Barnes calling the figures with the gusto of one practiced in the art.

“Swing your partner! Balance all! Swing the corners! Ladies change! Sashay all! First couple to the right, bow and swing! Second couple to the right—do the same thing! Bow and swing! Bow and swing! Third couple to the right—do the same thing! Bow and swing! Bow and swing! Right and left all around—bow to your partner! Promenade all!”

Miss Ann and her partner glided and dipped 160 and bowed, Miss Ann tripping and mincing and Major Fitch pointing his toes and crooking his elbows with much elegance and occasionally taking fancy steps to the edification of all beholders.

Judith gave herself up to the dance with abandon. The music took possession of her and she swayed and rocked to its beat and cut pigeon wings with Colonel Crutcher, much to the delight of that veteran. She smiled at Miss Ann and Miss Ann smiled at her as Pete Barnes called, “Ladies change.” They squeezed hands as they passed and Judith whispered, “Isn’t it lovely?” and Miss Ann murmured, “Lovely!”

There was no doubt about it that the set in which Miss Ann and Judith was dancing was the popular one. The spectators moved to that end of the hall and when the dancers indulged in any particularly graceful steps they were applauded. Old Billy crept from the balcony and hid himself behind a palm, where he could look out on his beloved mistress and declare to himself over and over, “She am the pick er the bunch.”

Jeff Bucknor, although he had resolved to give the evening up to making his sisters’ friends enjoy themselves, found himself taken 161 up with watching Judith Buck. He had fully intended to ask Jean Roland to dance the first dance with him, but had seen her led forth by the fat boy without once offering a rescuing hand. While the quadrille was being danced he stood by a window and looked on. As soon as the quadrille was over he hurried to Judith’s side.

“Please let me have the next dance, Miss Buck.”

“I believe I have an engagement,” panted Judith, looking at her card. “Yes, it’s a waltz and dear old Mr. Pete Barnes has put his name down. See!” She held it up for Jeff’s inspection. Pete had written, “Set this dance out with your true admirer, Pete Barnes.”

“Nonsense,” cried Jeff. “You mustn’t sit out dances with old men when young men are dy—want to dance with you.”

“Mustn’t I though? Not when old men have been good to me beyond belief? These are my old men and I wouldn’t break an engagement with one of them for a pretty. Mr. Pete Barnes had a sabre cut once that made him a little lame and he can’t dance, so I promised to sit out the waltz with him,” explained Judith.

“All right, then the next dance on your card!” 162

“That is with Major Fitch and the next with Judge Middleton—that’s the Lancers—then the Virgina Reel with old Captain Crump. I’m very sorry, but I believe I am booked up until the intermission, which I hope means supper.”

“You can’t mean you are going to give up the whole evening to those old fellows. Miss Buck, Judith! Yes, I have a perfect right to call you Judith. You are my cousin. I—I—just found it out the other day. In fact, I am your nearest male relative,” Jeff said whimsically, “and as such I forbid you to spend the whole evening wasting your sweetness on the old men. They may be very fine old chaps, but—”

“May be! But! There is no maybe and no but about it. They are the loveliest old men in the world. You got to be a cousin too suddenly, Mr. Bucknor. Kinship is something deeper than a sudden flare. The old men are my fairy godfathers and that is closer than forty-eleventh cousins. Why, they even gave me my lovely dress so I could come to the ball. No, Mr. Barnes, I haven’t forgotten,” she said, tucking her hand in the old man’s arm as he came up to claim her promise. She looked over her shoulder and laughed at Jeff Bucknor. “Good-bye, Cousin!” she called. 163

Jeff moodily sought refuge behind Cousin Ann’s draperies. He knew he was behaving rudely, not to dance with the girls of the house party. He was sure Mildred and Nan would berate him, but he felt as though there were weights on his feet. Miss Ann graciously made room for him.

“A very charming ball, Cousin,” she said.

“Yes!”

“Why are you not dancing?”

“Nobody to dance with—unless you will favor me,” he added gallantly.

“No, my dear cousin, I have danced once to-night and I am afraid I had better not venture again. I am very fatigued from the unwonted exertion.” Indeed, the old lady did look tired, although very happy and contented. “Why do you not endeavor to engage my charming vis-a-vis? I see she is not dancing either.”

“Humph! She has given me to understand she preferred talking to old Pete Barnes to dancing with me. She’s a strange girl, Cousin Ann, and I can’t make her out.”

At least Jeff had the satisfaction of seeing Judith refuse to dance with Tom Harbison. That young man had crossed the floor with his accustomed assurance, had bowed low in front of Judith and begged her to favor him, 164 even taking her by the hand and endeavoring to draw her from her chair, but she had refused him in short order.

Judith danced and danced with the old men. Whatever the step they decided to take the girl followed. She was a born dancer and, after a few paces, could adapt herself to any partner. There were other young men besides Jeff and Tom who sought her hand in the dance, but she was always engaged to some one of the ten old men. The only chance for the young ones was for the old ones to fall by the wayside, which they did occasionally when their old legs refused to carry them farther.

“I’d break in on them if they weren’t so old,” declared one young farmer.

“It wouldn’t do a bit of good,” said a young doctor. “I tried and she turned me down—said she had promised the old duffer the whole dance.”

So it happened that Judith’s time was fully taken up by her fairy godfathers until the supper-time intermission.