"I wish that you might call me Robert, Mr. Clendenning," I said with a
great friendliness as I ate a food that I had not before tasted and
that I did so much like that I was tempted to steal some to put in my
pocket for fear I would come to believe that I had dreamed it to
exist. It is called corn pone and is made of maize, and it will be
found in some form at every meal upon my Uncle, the General Robert's,
table, good Kizzie assured me as I made her a compliment about it.
"Though the name of that son of our great Napoleon is very dear to
me," I added at his quick glance, fearing he might think me offended
at what is called a nickname.
"Sure, Bobbie, and you'll forget that I wouldn't let you kiss me,
won't you?" he answered as he drew back from the table and lit a
cigarette after passing me the case. "Everybody calls me Buzz the
Bumble Bee because of a historic encounter of mine with a whole nest
of bumblebees right out here in the General's garden. It is a title of
heroism and I'd like to have you use it as if we'd been kids together
as we were slated to have been. Gee, I bet you could have beat the
bees down some. You looked all soft to me when I first saw you but you
are so quick and lithe and springy that you must be some steel. What
do you weigh out, stripped?"
"Er--er, about one-thirty," I answered, and I made a resolve not to
blush or show anything of embarrassment, no matter what was to be said
to me in my estate of a young gentleman.
And I make this note to myself that it is a great pleasure and
interest to sit beside a nice young man with a cigarette in his mouth
and one in my hand as if for smoking, which I do not like to do from
its bitterness, and converse with him about matters of good sense
without having in any way to use that coquetry which breaks into small
sections the usual conversation between a man and a woman of
enthusiastic youngness.
"I tip at one fifty-two, but I'm an inch and a half taller. Do you
run? You're good and deep chested," he further inquired and it was
with difficulty that I again controlled the blush.
"I fence and I'm large of lung," I answered quickly.
"Ride?"
"Anything ever foaled," I answered in words I had heard my father use
about my horsemanship.
"Don't smoke?"
"Don't like it."
"Golf?"
"Some--wild."
"I play a hurry game myself," he laughed. "Dance?"
"With a greatness of pleasure," I answered.
After that for a time he puffed at his cigarette and I looked around
the long dining room that was almost as large as the dining-hall at
the Chateau de Grez and which was dark and rich and full of old silver
on the sideboard and old portraits on the walls. Finally my Buzz put
out the stub of his cigarette in his saucer and looked me keenly in
the face as I raised my eyes to his.
"Booze?" he asked quietly.
"No!"
"That's good, old top. Me neither! Say, let's go call on Sue and you
can get a nice little initiation into the girl bunch before the
General stops you by locking you away from them."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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