Those were certainly three mad, merry days I spent in Richmond with the Tuckers. Poor Father had to go to Cousin Park Garnett's and he just hated it. But he had promised her that the first time he went to Richmond he would stay at her house, and stay he had to.

The Tuckers met us at the station in little Henry Ford. It had been only a few days since they had been with us at Bracken, but we had much to talk about and a great deal of news to exchange.

"Father is having the deer skin tanned to make a rug for our room at Gresham, and the antlers are to be mounted for a hat-rack," exclaimed Dum.

"Sally Winn tried to die last night, and I drove over to Milton with Father, and Jo told me he thought you, Dee, were the most sensible lady he had ever met," I managed to get in.

"He promised me a pointer pup; I hope he won't forget it. Brindle had a fight yesterday and is all bunged up from it. I know you are dying to meet Brindle," said Dee.

"No doubt she is pining away for that honor," teased Mr. Tucker, "but don't you think she could wait until after luncheon? How about it, Miss Page?"

"Well, if Brindle can stand it, I fancy I can," said I. And so we went to a delightful restaurant, where we had a scrumptious luncheon (I know no other word to express it): Lynhaven oysters on the deep shell; Hampton spots so beautifully cooked that it must have made them glad to be caught and fried; shoestring potatoes vying with the fish in charm; Waldorf salad, with everything in it but the kitchen stove, as Dee declared.

Cousin Park was not expecting Father until the afternoon, so he was spared to us for a little while, much to his delight and ours.

"Now, what shall we have for dessert?" asked our genial host. "Tweedles always wants pie,—cocoanut, as a rule."

"Pink ice cream for me," said Father. "Did you ever see a country Jake that didn't want pink ice cream as soon as he hit the city?"

"What seasoning?" laughed Mr. Tucker.

"I don't care, just so it's pink."

"I believe I'll have what Father has. I like it pink, too."

"Well, cocoanut pie for mine," ordered Dum.

"And lemon meringue for mine," ordered Dee.

"You are not like the young man who never ate lemon meringue pie because it messed up his ears so, are you, Dee?" said Mr. Tucker; and so our gay little luncheon proceeded.

"My, how I hate to go to Cousin Park's!" sighed Father. "She is kind in a way, but so—so—ponderous."

"Poor Father!" and I patted his knee under the table, "I do wish you didn't have to go."

"Well, I have plenty of engagements that will keep me busy, and I won't have to do much more than eat and sleep there. But it is her long formal dinners that bore me so."

"Well, you have simply got to have dinner with us to-morrow, Saturday, evening at the Country Club, and no doubt these girls will have you fox-trotting before the evening is over," and Mr. Tucker would not take "No" for an answer,—not that Father was very persistent in his refusal. We dropped the dear man at Cousin Park's great, dark house and he had the look of "Give up all hope ye who enter here."

The Tuckers had a very attractive apartment in a large, new, up-to-date building, but I could fancy the havoc that Dum and Dee caused whenever they resorted to the gloves to settle their disputes. The place was so full of nicknacks that one could hardly turn around. There were really enough of what Mammy Susan called "doodads" to decorate a mansion, and all of these things were crowded into a not very large apartment. Some of the things were very beautiful and all of them were interesting, but if they belonged to me I would pack about half of them away in storage.

I thought of a colored woman in the country who lived in a very small cabin with six little children falling over her feet all the time, and she used to pray fervently, "Oh, Gawd, gimme grace not ter git so pestered dat I'll throw ary one er dem out do's." I am afraid I would have been so pestered with all of the doodads that I would surely have thrown some of them outdoors.

"Miss Page, I have been trying to persuade Tweedles to help me to get rid of some of the mess in these rooms," said Mr. Tucker, almost as though he had read my mind. "I feel the stuffiness of it even more since our visit at Bracken." That was it, the simplicity of Bracken had spoiled me for overcrowded rooms.

"But Zebedee, everything we want to get rid of is just the thing you think most of, and the things that you think superfluous are our special treasures," complained Dum.

"Well, I am afraid we'll have to wait until you get some kind of education, and then, if stocks is riz, we'll move into a house big enough to spread out in."

Their rugs were beautiful and their pictures I have since found out were very fine. At that time, however, they did not seem very good to me. The taste in art of a fifteen-year-old girl who has seen next to no pictures is not to be relied upon; and no doubt my taste was abominable.

Brindle took me to his heart and made me perfectly at home. He was a bow-legged, brindle bull with undershot jaw and eyes like damson jam. Dee loved him next to Zebedee and Dum; and I know cried herself to sleep many a night at boarding school, longing for her pet. He was certainly a very human person, or rather dog, I should say, and ruled the Tuckers with a rod of iron. He actually made Mr. Tucker get out of a chair that he, Brindle, had taken a fancy to, and he curled himself up on the seat with a haughty sniff that made us scream with laughter, until Dee insisted that we control our merriment, as Brindle did not like to be laughed at.

"It is his one fault," she said; "he has not a very keen sense of humor."

"He has one other, Dee," said Mr. Tucker; "he does smell like a dog, you must admit." Dee had to admit it, but declared she thought a dog should smell like a dog and not like a tuberose; so the discussion ended.

We took in the movies that afternoon. I don't know how many of them, but it was great fun.

"Zebedee won't usually let us go without him," said Dee, "but he thinks you are dignified enough to hold us down."

"Me—dignified? Why, father thinks I am as wild as a March hare!"

"Well, Zebedee says you know when to be quiet. Zebedee likes you a lot, Page," declared Dum. "If you weren't exactly what you are, Dee and I would be awfully jealous of you. What you blushing about?" Such a double-barreled compliment would make an old pair of leather saddle bags blush; and a girl of my thin skin naturally took on a rosy hue, that Dee declared put me out of the chaperone class.

That evening we went to a vaudeville performance. Mr. Tucker's newspaper connection gave him the entrÉe anywhere in the house, so we were very grand in box seats. A particularly amusing black-faced artist was giving a song-and-dance when Dee exclaimed:

"Look up there in the balcony!" And what should we see but Father's dear old lean, solemn face convulsed with merriment. Zebedee—I mean Mr. Tucker—went up and made him join us.

"How did you escape Cousin Park?" I asked.

"Oh, she thinks I am in solemn conclave with some of my professional brethren! I didn't exactly tell a lie, but I acted one. It was either that or burst a blood vessel. You know my Cousin Park, do you not, Mr. Tucker?"

"Y-e-s, I know her, but she never seems to know me. With Mrs. Garnett, one must have either plenty of very blue blood or more than plenty of very yellow gold. I've got blue blood to burn, but no yellow gold, as you know. There must be something radically wrong with me in her eyes. What it is, I don't know; nor do I much care. I was very fond of her husband. Major Peyton Garnett was a good friend to me. I admired him immensely."

"Yes, the Major was a fine old gentleman," said father. He afterward told me that one reason he had to escape from Cousin Park's presence or break a blood vessel was that she had so many unkind things to say of Mr. Jeffry Tucker, the old croaker that she was! "I am sorry for you, Page, but you are in for a Sunday dinner at Cousin Park's." I groaned in agonized anticipation. "I couldn't get out of it for you, my child, she made such a point of it. She is our kinswoman, and we have to show her some respect."

"Well, thank goodness, this time I don't have to go to the dentist's, too! The combination of Cousin Park and the dentist is a strong one, I can tell you. If you can stand her, Father, I reckon I can."

"That's my good girl," said Father, patting my shoulder, and Mr. Tucker gave me a warm and friendly glance and said:

"Tweedles and I will see that you get there late and come away early."

It seems to me I laughed more at that vaudeville performance than anybody in the theater. I had seen very few shows in my life, and everything was new and fresh to me. I was not bored even by the strong man who seemed to be so tiresome to the audience, and no joke was too much of a chestnut to be scorned by me. To have Father with us, too, made my cup of happiness full to the brim.

The next evening, Saturday, we had dinner at the Country Club, and stayed for the dance afterward. The Country Club was a beautiful building with spacious grounds, golf links, tennis courts, and a view of the James River that appealed to me very much. The dinner was fine, and Father and I had a splendid time.

"I am glad to escape all the meals I can at the apartment house cafÉ," confessed Mr. Tucker. "When Tweedles are away, I eat anywhere but at home."

"You are an extravagant piece," said Dee.

"But I have my regular meals served for Brindle," laughed Mr. Tucker.

"Oh, that alters the case, then!" exclaimed Dee. "Brindle should have just as good food as people, with a variety of vegetables."

What a ballroom floor they had at that clubhouse! I had never danced, as I said before, until I went to school, but I had been an apt pupil because I was such an eager one, and now knew enough of the modern dances to get along very well. I had never in my life danced with a man. At school we took turns guiding, and I was much sought after because of my being so untiring.

"Miss Page, you are the guest of honor and I am the host, so it is in order that you give me this first dance." And Mr. Jeffry Tucker bowed in front of me as though I were a great society belle.

The Tuckers were all born dancers, and as I glided away with Mr. Tucker, I remembered what Miss Jane Cox had said about his leading the germans at the University with his little sweetheart Virginia, afterward his wife. A great wave of pity for the poor little dead wife swept over me, and I came very near missing step in a rather intricate dance we were attempting. It must have been so sad to die and leave such a delightful husband and the twins, who were such charming girls that they must have been cunning little babies. What a vigorous presence was Jeffry Tucker's! He must have been a lover that any girl would have been happy with. I hoped if I ever did have a lover that he would be the kind that I fancied Mr. Tucker must have been. Something made me blush as my thoughts dwelt on my ever having a lover.

"My, what a color dancing gives you!" exclaimed my partner. "A minute ago you looked so sad I wondered what you were thinking of, and now you are as rosy as the dawn."

"'It is darkest just before dawn,' you know," I answered. I wondered what he would have said had he known what I was thinking of when I looked so sad. And then a strange thing happened, and the kind of thing has happened very often in my life when I have been with Mr. Tucker: he took up my thoughts almost as though he had read them and said:

"I was thinking of my little girl wife, Virginia. I so often think of her when I dance. She and I danced our youth away. She was a wonderful dancer. She had the same smooth glide that you have. I hate a hoppy dancer," and with his usual disregard of appearances he wiped his eyes in which the big tears had gathered. I did feel so sorry for him, I actually had the hardihood to pat him on the shoulder where my left hand rested, but I could not say anything to him, I felt so choky. The sun came out in a very few moments, however, and he smiled into my eyes, and we finished the dance without ever losing a step. I know Mr. Jeffry Tucker is the only person in the world who could cry and dance at the same time. His tears were sincere, too, quite as sincere as his dancing, and he certainly put his whole soul into every step he took.

"Miss Page, you have been mighty good to Tweedles. I don't know how to thank you for it," he said, as the music stopped and left us stranded across the ballroom from Father and the twins, also, who had been dancing with some college boys, home for the holidays.

"Me good to them! Why, they are good to me, as good as gold!"

"Oh, I know what you have done for them. They control themselves so much better than they used to and are so much more considerate in every way. I see your influence at every turn. They haven't had a fight since they came home and actually listen when I talk, whether I have anything to say or not." I had to laugh at this. I had really made the girls come to their senses about fighting when they disagreed. Even with gloves on, it was a very boisterous way of settling disputes; and we had a rule at 117 Carter Hall, instituted by me, that a fine of one penny was imposed when any of us interrupted, unless the speaker had had the floor out of all reason.

We found the girls enthusiastic over the dancing, and Father having as good a time as any of us. It was his first experience in seeing the much written and talked-of new dances, and he was greatly interested.

"Why, daughter, you dance beautifully!" he said fondly, as I squeezed in by him. "If you have learned as much Latin and French at Gresham as you have dancing, you will be a highly-educated young woman."

"Well, I can't promise that," I laughed; "but I know how to conjugate 'to dance' both in Latin and French."

"Well, to be able to conjugate as well as dance means you are becoming very erudite. That is a very pretty step that Dum has been taking. Is that the fox-trot? It looks easy, too."

"It is easy, Doctor Allison," answered Dum, "and now they are going to dance it again. Come on and try!" And to the delight and astonishment of all of us, Father was on the floor with Dum fox-trotting with a precision that made us know he had been watching the dancers very carefully and had been mentally dancing for some time. I know he had not danced for at least sixteen years, but, like Miss Jane Cox, once a dancer, always a dancer.

"This is more fun than Gresham," whispered Dee to me, when we stopped to rest a minute between dances. The college students had been very attentive and the twins and I had danced every dance. Who should come rushing up to us at this moment but Mabel Binks! She embraced us noisily, and one would have thought we were her long-lost sisters. We were coldly polite, but she overlooked our want of cordiality and fastened herself on to us. There was nothing for us but to introduce her to Father and Mr. Tucker and the young men who had been dancing attendance on us. That was what she wanted, and the dead set she made at Mr. Tucker showed what she considered big game. The festive Mabel, who lived in Newport News, was stopping in Richmond for a few days on her way back to Gresham. She was visiting an old cousin who, she volubly explained, was too selfish to do anything for her pleasure. She had with difficulty persuaded her to bring her to the Country Club, and now they were there the cousin either wouldn't or couldn't introduce her to any men.

"I can just shift for myself, I'll let her know!" the dashing girl exclaimed. "The wall is not meant for me to hold up, and if no one will ask me to dance, I'll get out and do a pas seul!"

"I should like to see that pas seul, but first will you do me the extreme honor to dance this with me?" said Mr. Tucker, with mock grandiloquence.

"Dee-lighted!" gushed Mabel, and was soon engaged in a boisterous hopping match with Mr. Tucker.

"I could kill Zebedee!" said Dum through clenched teeth. "I believe that Binks thing came through Richmond with the hope of meeting him, and here he tumbles at the first shot and goes off dancing with her as though it—— Oh, I can't talk about it, it makes me so furious. Look how they are romping, too! I dare Dee or me to romp that way."

I could but recall the views Mr. Tucker had so recently expressed to me about dancers who hopped, and here he was jumping around like a hen on a hot griddle, and as far as I could see, enjoying himself very much. I sympathized with Dum; while I did not feel called upon to get into a rage and clench my teeth, I was a little disappointed in my kind host. I felt very young and shy all of a sudden. Mabel, as she triumphantly bore off the prize, had in a most condescending way tossed me her handkerchief and gloves with a "Here, child, hold these for me!" That I would not do. The heavy smell of musk that hung around all of Mabel's belongings sickened me; and why should she make a catch-all of me, anyhow? I put them down disdainfully on a chair, meeting with Dum's hearty approval by my act, and then had a nice quiet dance with Father, who proved to be as good a partner as one could want.