Goose Creek Folks: A Story of the Kentucky MountainsBush, Isabel Graham
General
Goose Creek Folks: A Story of the Kentucky Mountains
Bush, Isabel Graham
Kentucky -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction
“Can’t we manage some way?” urged Miss Howard for the tenth time that
day. “She’s a bright little thing. If she were only a boy now, and yet
the boys are coming in at a great rate this year; it’s wonderful!”
“Let me think.” The dean’s smooth forehead wrinkled in perplexity.
“Well,” with a sudden inspiration, “if that girl from Kerby Knob doesn’t
put in an appearance—she wrote me that her mother was sick and she was
afraid she couldn’t—I’ll keep Gincy, but if Urilla does come back we
shall be obliged to give her precedence because she will be a junior this
year.”
So the matter rested, and blissfully ignorant of the fact that her good
fortune was another girl’s misfortune, Gincy arose in the morning
supremely happy. She was not to remain long a stranger, for Talitha was
a person who made friends—hosts of them—she had such a way of forgetting
Talitha Coyle, and in a few hours they were Gincy’s also. She laughed
and chatted among the girls as she helped wipe the great stacks of dishes
after the early breakfast. There were no lessons yet, but when the
morning’s work was done and the services at the chapel over, Kizzie
Tipton proposed a walk.
“You know the dean said you needn’t hurry to get registered,” added her
new friend. “I’ll meet you on the front porch in five minutes,” and
Kizzie ran to her room.
Gincy opened the hall door also in haste. She had thought of something
she wished to say to Talitha—who was just going down the steps with her
books—and nearly ran against a tall, pale-faced girl carrying a heavy
handbag. “Oh!” Gincy ejaculated with a swift glance at the wan face.
“Jest let me ketch a holt. I ’most tuk you down, I reckon.”
The weary eyes brightened. “You’re a new girl,” asserted the late
arrival confidently as Gincy deposited the baggage in a corner of the
hall.
“Yes,” she nodded, “I reckon I be, but I don’t seem ter sense hit much.
Hit’s the nicest place I ever see fer findin’ friends,” and Gincy
disappeared with a parting smile.
The newcomer sat down in thoughtful silence, forgetting that she had not
made known her arrival to the dean. But that lady chanced to espy her
from the top of the stairs and slowly descended, inwardly determined that
her face should not reveal her embarrassment.
“Well, Urilla, you succeeded in getting here after all,” she said with a
smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” answered the girl, rising respectfully. “Mother’s able to
sit up most of the time, and she wouldn’t hear to my staying home now
Sally’s big enough to help. If I can only manage to stay another year.”
Urilla gave a long sigh.
The girl was sent to her room to get a little rest before dinner, and
Gincy, returning from her walk in a high state of exuberance, was called
to the office.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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