“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 Pete 177 Barnes. 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 air 178 tuckered 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’ his 180 delight 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 good 182 clothes 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 spoiled 183 and 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 was 184 a 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.