“Let him get toughened up then,” growled the General. “You spoil all these young ones, my dear. Andy will have heavy responsibilities when I’m gone. He has to be trained to meet them. I’ve done fairly well with Andrew Jackson Donelson for all you women trying continually to soften him up. He’ll make a man.” Emily’s heart was a bit happier. Uncle Jackson did need someone to help him, as Jack had written. She hoped that when Jack arrived, when the storm of her uncle’s ire had subsided, that the General would welcome young Jack’s assistance. Inevitably, it was certain, the General would be off again on some public service or other. He protested, he fumed, but always, when he was convinced that the call came from the people, he obeyed, and Rachel would be left alone again with the burden of this big plantation. The slaves were willing but aunt Rachel was too soft with them, as she was too gentle, by the General’s standards, with the young people who surrounded her. She was continually protesting the overseer’s decisions, protecting shirkers and malcontents from punishment. She was too indulgent with young Andy—a spoiled boy already who, his cousin was convinced, was never going to learn the value of money. Rachel excused herself now and hurried out—to see that the boy was adequately protected from the weather, Emily suspected. She would wrap him in coats and scarfs and when he returned from the pasture or the stable he would be put to bed, his feet soaked in hot mustard water and a plaster of goose grease and pepper on his chest if he so much as sneezed. Jack would be out there, seeing to the mares, without being told, his sweetheart believed worshipfully. Jack would be a great help to aunt Rachel. “I’ll do my own room, aunt Rachel,” she called, as she went back through the house. “The girls have so much to do today.” In the big buttery Rachel turned the keys in her hands anxiously. “I declare I keep forgetting how many people you counted, Emily.” “I counted fifty-two, but with the weather so bad some of them might not get here. You know how awful the roads get when it rains very long. I wish it hadn’t rained today. I was going to have the boys cut some greens for me and decorate the house. There’s a big holly tree out there beyond the tulip grove covered with red berries.” “Send George,” her aunt suggested. “Mr. Jackson gave George his old oilskin coat and a pair of boots. You could put holly on the mantelpieces. It would look right pretty but it would dry out mighty quick, I’m afraid. Emily, do you reckon Mr. Jackson has any idea of going to Russia? My patience, that would be a terrible place to go!” “He said he had refused the appointment, aunt Rachel.”