Chickens -- Fiction; Farms -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- United States -- Fiction
"Will you give me a guarantee that you aren't just a dream lady I'll lose
again in the city, Miss Nancy?" asked Bud, as he handed me into the
Grandmother Craddock coach with great ceremony. Gale Beacon couldn't have
done any better on such short notice.
"I'll be in smocks at feeding-time in the morning, Bud, just as you will be
in overalls," I answered laughingly.
"My, but you are a sight!" said Mrs. Tillett, as she handed up Baby Tillett
to me, with such a beaming countenance that I knew she meant a
complimentary construction to be placed upon her words. "Now, just take up
them little girls and set 'em down easy, Mr. Bud, on account of their
ruffles, and ram the boys in between to hold 'em steady. Now, boys, if you
muss up the girls I'll make every one of you wear your shoes all day
to-morrow to teach you manners. Go on, Mr. Bud."
Thus nicely packed away, we started on down the Riverfield ribbon at the
head of the procession, followed by Uncle Silas driving Aunt Mary's
rockaway, with his beautiful, dappled, shining, gray mules hitched to it,
and beside him sat Mrs. Addcock in serene confidence in being driven by a
man who could drive a bank and a post-office and a grocery. Mamie and
Gertie Spain were spread out carefully on the back seat, with only one
small masculine Spain for a wedge. The Buford buggy, all spick and span
from its first spring washing and polishing, came next, with Mr. and Mrs.
Buford cuddling together on the narrow seat. They were a bride and groom of
very little over a year's standing, and the blue-blanketed bundle that the
bride carried in her arms was no reason, in Mr. Buford's mind, why he
shouldn't drive with one hand while he held a steadying and affectionate
arm around them both. Buford Junior was less than a month old, but why
shouldn't he begin to adventure out in the big world? Parson and Mrs.
Henderson came next, he with snow-white flowing beard, and she, beside him,
in a gray bonnet with a pink rose, while beside her sat his mother, Granny
Henderson, now past eighty, but with a purple pansy nestled in her
waterwaves.
Others followed, and the remainder waited on the steps of the emporium,
with Aunt Mary and Polly, for Matthew and Bess to come for them. It was
hard for them to realize that the powerful engines in both cars would take
them into town in little over an hour, when the journey as they before had
made it had always consumed six, and they were becoming impatient even
before we left. So when we met Bess and Matthew half an hour later down the
Riverfield ribbon, I hurried them back. I afterwards learned that they had
had to persuade Mrs. Spain to reclothe herself in the pink foulard, because
she had decided that they were not coming and had gone back to work.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account