The Little Brown Jug at KildareNicholson, Meredith
General
The Little Brown Jug at Kildare
Nicholson, Meredith
Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Governors -- Fiction; Humorous stories; North Carolina -- Fiction; South Carolina -- Fiction
"I must tell you as my chaperon, Mrs. Atchison, that the duke has
already offered to elope with me. He told me last night as we were
having our coffee on the terrace, that he would gladly give up his wife,
meaning, I suppose, your sister, and the Ardmore millions for me; but
while I think him fascinating I want you to feel quite safe, for I
promise you I shall elope with no one while I am your guest."
Mrs. Atchison's face had grown a little white and she compressed her
lips in lines that were the least bit grim.
"The scoundrel!" she exclaimed half under her breath. "To think that he
would insult a child like you! He is hanging about us here in the hope
of getting more money, while my poor sister, his wife, is in an English
sanatorium half crazed by his brutality. If Tommy knew this he would
undoubtedly kill him!"
"That would be very unnecessary. A duke, after all, is something, and I
should hate to have the poor man killed on my account. And besides, Mrs.
Atchison, I am perfectly able to take care of myself."
"I believe you are, Jerry. But it's a terrible thing to have that beast
about, and I shall tell him to-night that he must leave this place and
the country."
"But first," said Jerry, "I have an engagement to ride with him after
dinner to see the moon, and the opportunity of seeing a moon with a duke
of ancient family, here on the sacred soil of North Carolina, is
something that I can not lightly put aside."
"You can not--you must not go!"
"Leave it to me," said Jerry, smiling slightly; "and I promise you that
the duke will never again insult an American girl. And now I think I
must dress for dinner."
She rose and turned her eyes dreamily to the tower above, where the
North Carolina state flag flapped idly in the breeze. This silken emblem
with its single star Miss Geraldine Dangerfield carried with her in her
trunk wherever she traveled; and having noted Ardsley's unadorned
flagstaff, she had, with her own hands, unfurled it, highly resolved
that it should remain until the rightful governor returned to his own.
A few minutes later, as Mrs. Atchison was reading the late mail in her
sitting-room, she took up a New York newspaper of the day before and ran
over the head-lines. "Lost: A Governor" was a caption that held her eye,
and she read a special despatch dated Raleigh with deepest interest.
Governor Dangerfield, the item hinted, had not yet returned from New
Orleans where he had gone to attend the Cotton Planters' Convention,
and where, moreover, he had quarreled with the governor of South
Carolina. The cowardly conduct of both governors in dealing with the
Appleweight band of outlaws was recited at length; and it was also
intimated that Governor Dangerfield was deliberately absenting himself
from his office to avoid meeting squarely the Appleweight issue.
Mrs. Atchison smiled to herself; then she laughed merrily as she rang
for her maid.
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.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account