United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
It was Indian summer, the gold and purple season of the year. Frost
had come and gone. Wasps were buzzing confusedly about the eaves again,
marvelling at the balmy air, and the two Misses Russell, Puss and
Emily, were seated within the wide doorway at needlework when Virginia
dismounted at the horseblock.
“Oh, Jinny, I'm so glad to see you,” said Miss Russell. “Here's Elise
Saint Simon from New Orleans. You must stay all day and to-night.”
“I can't, Puss,” said Virginia, submitting impatiently to Miss Russell's
warm embrace. She was disappointed at finding the stranger. “I only
came--to say that I am going to have a birthday party in a few weeks.
You must be sure to come, and bring your guest.”
Virginia took her bridle from Ned, and Miss Russell's hospitable face
fell.
“You're not going?” she said.
“To Bellegarde for dinner,” answered Virginia.
“But it's only ten o'clock,” said Puss. “And, Jinny?”
“Yes.”
“There's a new young man in town, and they do say his appearance is very
striking--not exactly handsome, you know, but strong-looking.”
“He's horrid!” said Virginia. “He's a Yankee.”
“How do you know?” demanded Puss and Emily in chorus.
“And he's no gentleman,” said Virginia.
“But how do you know, Jinny?”
“He's an upstart.”
“Oh. But he belongs to a very good Boston family, they say.”
“There are no good Boston families,” replied Virginia, with conviction,
as she separated her reins. “He has proved that. Who ever heard of a
good Yankee family?”
“What has he done to you, Virginia?” asked Puss, who had brains.
Virginia glanced at the guest. But her grievance was too hot within her
for suppression.
“Do you remember Mr. Benbow's Hester, girls? The one I always said I
wanted. She was sold at auction yesterday. Pa and I were passing the
Court House, with Clarence, when she was put up for sale. We crossed
the street to see what was going on, and there was your strong-looking
Yankee standing at the edge of the crowd. I am quite sure that he saw me
as plainly as I see you, Puss Russell.”
“How could he help it?” said Puss, slyly.
Virginia took no notice of the remark.
“He heard me ask Pa to buy her. He heard Clarence say that he would bid
her in for me. I know he did. And yet he goes in and outbids Clarence,
and buys her himself. Do you think any gentleman would do that, Puss
Russell?”
“He bought her himself!” cried the astonished Miss Russell. “Why I
thought that all Bostonians were Abolitionists.”
“Then he set her free,” said Miss Carvel, contemptuously, “Judge Whipple
went on her bond to-day.”
“Oh, I'm just crazy to see him now,” said Miss Russell.
“Ask him to your party, Virginia,” she added mischievously.
“Do you think I would have him in my house?” cried Virginia.
Miss Russell was likewise courageous--“I don't see why not. You have
Judge Whipple every Sunday dinner, and he's an Abolitionist.”
Virginia drew herself up.
“Judge Whipple has never insulted me,” she said, with dignity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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