CHAPTER II.--MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME.
They turned into an avenue through a gate opened from the wagon by meansof a rope pulled by the driver.
"How is that for a gate, Molly? I began my holiday by getting the thingin order. It works beautifully now, but the least bit of rough handlinggets it off its trolley."
"It is fine, Kent. But tell me, are you to have your holiday now?"
"Yes; you see I can help with the harvesting this week, and next weekthe wedding bells have to be rung. And I thought any spare time I have Icould take Miss Judy off your hands."
"I am afraid that your holiday will be a very busy one," laughed Judy;"but maybe I can help ring the wedding bells, and, if I can't do muchtoward harvesting, I can at least carry water to the thirsty laborers."
Kent Brown was in an architect's office in Louisville, working very hardto master his profession, for which he had a fondness amounting to apassion. Mrs. Brown had secretly hoped that one of her boys would wantto become a farmer, but they one and all looked upon Chatsworth as abeloved home, but not a place to make a living. Their earnest endeavor,however, was to keep up the place, and often their hard-earned andharder-saved earnings went toward much needed repairs or farm machinery.Mrs. Brown had to confess that a little ready money earned irrespectiveof the farm was very acceptable; and, since her four boys were on theirfeet and beginning to walk alone, and stretch out willing, helpful handsto her, she found life much easier.
Not that money or the lack of money had much to do with Mrs. Brown'shappiness. She was a woman of strong character and deep feelings, with alove for her children that her sister, Mrs. Clay, said was like that ofa lioness for her cubs. But that remark was called forth when Mrs. Clay,Sister Sarah, one morning found Mrs. Brown making two pairs of newstockings out of four pairs of old ones, after a pattern clipped fromthe woman's page of a newspaper. With her accustomed bluntness, she hadsaid: "Well, Mildred Carmichael, if you had only three and a halfchildren, instead of seven, you would not have to be guilty of suchabsurd makeshifts."
Mrs. Brown had risen up in her wrath and given her such a talk that,although ten years had elapsed since that memorable morning, SisterSarah still avoided the subject of stockings with Sister Mildred.
Mrs. Brown was a great reader, and loved old books and old poetry. Oneof Molly's earliest remembrances was lying on the otter-skin rug infront of the great open fire, with brothers and sisters curled up by heror seated close to the big brass fender, while mother read Dickensaloud, or the Idyls of the King, or something else equally delightful.One by one the younger children would drop to sleep; and then Mammywould come and do what she called "walk 'em to baid," muttering toherself, "I hope to Gawd that these chilluns won't be a dreamin' allnight about that stuff Miss Mildred done packed in they haids."
Just now, however, Molly's memories were merged in anticipations, andshe watched eagerly for the first signs of welcome.
As they approached the house, the colts neighed, and were greeted byanswering whinnies from two mares grazing in a paddock. The mares ran tothe white-washed picket fence and stretched their necks as far over asthey could, gazing fondly on their handsome offspring, trotting gailyby, tossing their manes and tails.
"The mothers are all coming out to meet their babies, and there ismine!" cried Molly.
It was mother. Oh, that beloved face; that familiar, spirited walk andbearing of the head; those wide, clear, far-seeing gray eyes, and thatfine patrician nose, with the mouth ever ready to laugh in spite of acertain sadness that lurked there! She folded Molly in her arms, but didnot forget to keep a hand free to clasp Judy's, and, before Molly washalf through her hug, the older woman drew the young visitor to her, andkissed her fondly. Then, with an arm around each girl, she said: "I amtruly glad to know my Molly's friend, and gratified, indeed, to have herwith us."
"It means a great deal to me, too, Mrs. Brown, to see Molly's mother andhome." Judy feared that it would be forward to say what she had in hermind, and that was "such a beautiful mother and home."
The house was of white-washed brick, with a sloping gray shingled roofand green shutters, and a general air of roominess and comfort. A long,deep gallery or porch ran across the front, which Architect Kentexplained to Judy was not quite in keeping with the style ofarchitecture, but had been added by a comfort-loving Brown to thedelectation of all who came after him. The lines of the old house wereso good that the addition of a mere porch could not ruin it, andcertainly added to its charm and comfort. To the left, in the rear, welloff from the house, were the barn-yard and stables, chicken houses,smokehouse, and servants' quarters; to the right, a tan-bark walk led tothe garden. Down that path came Mildred, by her side a young man whoseemed to be so amused by her lively chatter that he could hardlycontain himself.
"Molly, Molly, I'm so glad to see you, and so is Crit, although he hasno words to tell you how glad he is. And, Miss Kean, Judy! It issplendid for you to come just now. I am certain that Kent could not keepthe news, and you know by this time that Crit and I are to be marriedthe last of next week. Mr. Rutledge, let me introduce you to Miss Kean."
Although Crittenden had never uttered a word, he seemed to be able tolet Molly understand that he, too, was glad to see her, as he wasvigorously hugging her and two-stepping with her over the short,well-kept grass. But, at Mildred's call, he suddenly stopped, made a lowand courtly bow to his partner, and turned to Judy, clasping her hand ina warm and friendly grasp, and giving her such a smile as she had neverbefore beheld. In it he made her feel that she was welcome to Kentucky;that he intended to like her and have her like him; and had his heartnot been already engaged, he would lay it at her feet. Never a word didhe utter. He was tall, rather soldierly in bearing, with the mostbeaming countenance Judy had ever seen, and such perfect teeth shealmost had her doubts about them.
"Where is Sue, mother?" said Molly. "And Aunt Mary and Ca'line? Ofcourse the other boys are not home so early."
"Sue has gone over to Aunt Sarah Clay's. She sent for her in a greathurry. Sue was loath to go, fearing she could not get back before youarrived, but you know your Aunt Clay and how autocratic she is. Sueseems to be in great favor just now. Here is Aunt Mary, however."
Molly ran to meet the decrepit old darkey, embracing her with almost asmuch fervor as she had her mother. Aunt Mary Morton was surely of theold school: very short and fat, dressed in a starched purple calico,with a white "neckercher" and a voluminous gingham apron, her head tiedup in a gorgeous bandanna handkerchief.
"Oh, my chile, I'm glad to see you. I hope you done learned 'nuf to stayat home a while. Yo' ma's so lonesome 'thout you, with Mr. Ernest 'wayout West surveyin' the landscape." (Ernest, the oldest of the Brownboys, was employed by the government on the geological survey.) "Mr.Paul so took up wif sassiety in Lou'ville he can't hardly walk straight,and jes' come home long 'nuf to snatch a moufful--but I done tuck'ticular notice he do manage to eat at home in spite er all his gran'frien's. And now, Miss Milly gwine to step off; an' 'mos' fo' we gittime to cook up any mo' victuals, Miss Sue'll be walkin' off. Praise be,she ain't a-goin' fur. How she eber made up her min' to gib her promiseto a man what lib up sech a muddy lane, beats me; an' Miss Sue, the mos''ticular of all yo' ma's chilluns 'bout her shoes an' skirts an'comp'ny! Now Mr. John ain't been a full-fleshed doctor mo'n two weeksbefo' he so took up wif a young lady's tongue what stayin' over to MissSarah Clay's, and so anxious 'bout feelin' her pulse, dat yo' ma an' Idon' neber see nothin' of him. He jes' come home from dat doctor'soffice in town long 'nuf to shave and mess up a lot er crivats an' pecka little eatin's, an' off he goes. My 'pinion is, dat's what Miss Sarahdone sent for Miss Sue in sech a hurry 'bout, but you' ma say fer me tohesh up, no sich a thing, she jes' wan' to talk 'bout a suit'ble weddin'presen' for little Miss Milly."
"Oh, Aunt Mary, isn't it exciting to have a wedding in the family? Youalways said Milly would be the first to get married, if Sue was thefirst to get born," said Molly, giving the old woman another hug forluck. "Now I want you to s
hake hands with my dear friend, Miss JudyKean."
Aunt Mary made a bobbing curtsey to Judy, then gave her a friendlyhandshake, looking keenly in her face the while. Then she nodded herhead, until the ends of the bright bandanna, tied in a bow on top of herhead, quivered, and said: "I don' know but what that there Kent wasright."
"Aunt Mary, I am truly glad to meet you. If you could hear the blessingsthat are showered on your head when Molly gets a box from home, andcould see how hard it is for all of those hungry girls to be polite whenthe time comes for snakey noodles, you would know how honored I feelthat I am the first to make your acquaintance."
"Well, honey, what makes all of you go 'way from yo' homes to sechoutlandish places as collidges where the eatin's is so scurse? Can't youlearn what little you don' know right by yo' own fi'side?"
"Maybe we could, Aunt Mary, but you see I haven't any real fireside ofmy own."
"What! did yo' folks git burned out?"
"Oh, no; but you see my father is an engineer, and mamma travels withhim, and stays wherever he stays; and, when I am not at school orcollege, I knock around with them. Of course, I'd like to have a homelike Chatsworth, but it is lots of fun to go to new places all the timeand meet all kinds of people."
"Well, they ain't but two kin's, quality an' po' white trash, an' I'llbe boun' you don't neber take up wid any ob dat kin', so you an' yo' ma'n' pa mought jes' as well stay in one place."
While the girls were up in Molly's room, which Judy was to share,getting ready for a belated dinner, they heard the sound of a piano,cracked but sweet, like the notes of an old spinnet, then a male voice,wonderful in its power and intensity, and at the same time so sweet andfull of feeling that Judy, ever emotional where art was concerned, felther eyes filling.
"Shed no tear, oh, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more! Oh, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core. Dry your eyes, oh, dry your eyes! For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies, Shed no tear.
"Overhead--look overhead 'Mong the blossoms white and red. Look up, look up! I flutter now On this flush pomegranate bough. See me! 'tis this silvery bill Ever cures the good man's ill. Shed no tear, oh, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Adieu, adieu--I fly. Adieu, I vanish in the heaven's blue, Adieu, adieu!"
"Oh, Molly, Molly, who is that?" cried Judy, weeping copiously, in spiteof the repeated request of the singer to "shed no tear."
"Why, that is Crit. Isn't his voice wonderful?"
"Do you really mean it is Mr. Rutledge? I thought he was dumb, and havebeen feeling so sorry for Mildred."
"Dumb, indeed! He has the most beautiful voice in Kentucky, and can makesuch an eloquent speech when roused that we have been afraid he would gointo politics. But, so far as passing the time of day is concerned, andthe little chit-chat that fills up life, he is indeed as dumb as a fish.When he was a little boy he stammered and got into the habit ofexpressing his feelings in silence, and he can still do it. He had ateacher who cured him of stammering, but nothing will ever cure him ofsilence, unless he has something important to say, and then nothing canstop him. Mother tells of a man who stammered in talking but not insinging. One day he was passing a friend's house, and saw that the roofwas in a blaze, the inmates perfectly unconscious of the conflagration.He rushed in, tried to speak, could only stutter, and then indesperation burst into song. To the tune of 'The Campbells Are Coming,'he sang, 'Your house is on fire, tra-la, tra-la!' Kent declares thatCrit proposed to Milly in song, but Milly herself is dumb about how thatcame about."
"Well, anyhow, I have never heard such scintillating silence as his, andI think that Milly ought to be a very proud and happy girl."