"Why, he sent word over to the plantation to have his hounds brought last night, but, somehow, the message wasn't delivered, and so he has gone after them himself. We want to start from here--" "After the hounds? Start where?" "Fox-hunting." The old woman cleared her throat with an ach, ach. "Fox-hunting? Is it possible that he keeps up that foolishness? Chasing a fox, when there's so much to be done in this world? I read in a paper yesterday that a woman had starved to death in New Orleans, and here you all are, going to chase a fox." "Why, Mrs. Braxon," the young man spoke up, "we can't help that. If we let the fox go it won't bring the woman back to life." She looked at him and his knees flew together. "But you could be raising something for folks to eat." "Yes, ma'am, but we raise more now than we can sell." She looked at him with a bow and a smirk of contempt. "More than you can sell. Yes, of course. More than you can sell to a woman that's starving. Yes, of course." "But nobody starves to death in Bolanyo, Aunt Patsey," Mrs. Estell remarked. "We take care of our poor; and it was a mere accident that the woman starved in New Orleans." "Oh, you do? A mere accident. Of course. Are you going to chase a fox?" the old woman asked, with her eyes on Miss Rodney. "I have been invited to go, and--" "Of course. But, go on, and don't let anything I say prevent you. I staid at home, year in and year out, and never went anywhere, while my husband was a-galloping over the country, a-blowing of his horn and a-chasing of foxes; and folks in a town not more than twenty miles away were as hungry as they could be. But, after he died, I didn't stay at home, I tell you. I went out and looked for hungry folks, and I fed 'em, too. Talk to me about chasing a fox." "Auntie," said Mrs. Estell, smiling upon the old lady, indeed, approaching her and bending with graceful tenderness over her chair, "you try to make people believe that you are hard to get along with, but you are the sweetest thing. She snaps and snarls to hide the tenderness of her heart, Mr. Belford." "I do nothing of the sort. For goodness' sake, child, take your hands off me. Stop fussing with me. Go over there and sit down. A body would think that I'm so old that you are standing here ready to catch me when I start to fall over. Go along with you!" Mrs. Estell, laughing, pressed her radiant cheek against the widow's whitening hair. "I like to have half tearful fun with you, Aunt Patsey," she said. "Oh, you do. Well, get away and don't pretend that you think anything of me. I have no money to leave you." Elkin laughed. The old woman looked at him and he clapped his knees together. "I--I--beg your pardon," he stammered. "She's so delightful," said Miss Rodney, leaning toward me. "Quite a character for the stage, papa says. And when does your house open?" "Not before October," I answered.