The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor

by Annie F. Johnston

  CHAPTER X.

  "A COON HUNT"

  The morning after the arrival of the rest of the bridal party, Betty wasout of bed at the first sound of any one stirring in the servants'quarters. She and Lloyd had given up their rooms to the new guests, andmoved back into the sewing-room together. Now in order not to awakenLloyd she tiptoed out to the little vine-covered balcony, through thewindow that opened into it from the sewing-room. She was in hernightgown, for she could not wait to dress, when she was so eager tofind out what kind of a day Eugenia was to have for her wedding.

  Not a cloud was in sight. It was as perfect as only a June morning canbe, in Kentucky. The fresh smell of dewy roses and new-mown grassmingled with the pungent smoke of the wood fire, just beginning to curlup in blue rings from the kitchen chimney. Soft twitterings and jubilantbird-calls followed the flash of wings from tree to tree. She peepedout between the thick mass of wistaria vines, across the grassy court,formed by the two rear wings of the house, to another balcony oppositethe one in which she stood. It opened off Eugenia's room, and was almosthidden by a climbing rose, which made a perfect bride's bower, with itsgorgeous full-blown Gloire Dijon roses.

  Stray rhymes and words suggestive of music and color and the morning'sglory began to flit through her mind as she stood there, as if a littlepoem were about to start to life with a happy fluttering of wings; amadrigal of June. But in a few moments she slipped back into the housethrough the window, put on her kimono and slippers, and gathering up herjournal in one hand and pen and ink with the other, she stole back tothe balcony again. The seamstress had left her sewing-chair out therethe afternoon she finished Mary's dress, and it still stood there, withthe lap-board beside it. Taking the board on her knees, and opening herjournal upon it, Betty perched her ink-bottle on the balcony railing andbegan to write. She knew there would be no time later in the day for herto bring her record up-to-date, and she did not want to let thehappenings pile up unrecorded. She was afraid she might leave outsomething she wanted to include, and she had found that the trivialconversations and the trifles she noted were often the things whichrecalled a scene most vividly, and almost made it seem to live again.She began her narrative just where she had left off, so that it made acontinuous story.

  "We didn't settle down to anything yesterday morning. Phil went to townwith Papa Jack directly after breakfast, and we girls just strolled upand down the avenue and talked. It was delightfully cool under thelocusts, and we knew it would be our last morning with Eugenia; thatafter the arrival of the rest of the bridal party, everything would bein confusion until after the wedding, and then she would never beEugenia Forbes again. She would be Mrs. Stuart Tremont.

  "She told us that her being married wouldn't make any difference, thatshe'd always be the same to us. But it's bound to make a difference. Amarried woman can't be interested in the same things that young girlsare. Her husband is bound to come first in her consideration.

  "Joyce asked her if it didn't make her feel queer to know that herwedding-day was coming closer and closer, and quoted that line from 'TheSiege of Lucknow,'--'_Day by day the Bengal tiger nearer drew andcloser crept_.' She said she'd have a fit if she knew her wedding-daywas creeping up on her that way. Eugenia was horrified to have her talkthat way, and said that it was because she didn't know Stuart, anddidn't know what it meant to care enough for a man to be glad to joinher life to his, forever and ever. There was such a light in her eyes asshe talked about him, that we didn't say anything more for awhile, justwondered how it must feel to be so supremely happy as she is. There isno doubt about it, he is certainly the one written for her in the stars,for he measures up to every ideal of hers, as faultlessly 'as thefalcon's feathers fit the falcon.'

  "We had heard so much from her and Phil about Doctor Miles Bradford,Stuart's friend who is coming with him to be one of the ushers, that wedreaded meeting him. When she told us that he is from Boston and belongsto one of its most exclusive families, and is very conventional, andtwenty-five years old, Joyce nicknamed him 'The Pilgrim Father,' andvowed she wouldn't have him for her attendant; that I had to take himand let her walk in with Rob. She said she'd shock him with her wildwest slang and uncivilized ways, and that I was the literary lady ofthe establishment, and would know how to entertain such a personage.

  "I was just as much afraid of him as she was, and wanted Rob myself, sowe squabbled over it all the way up and down the avenue. We were walkingfive abreast, swinging hands. When we got to the gate we saw some onecoming up the road, and we all stood in a row, peeping out between thebars till we saw that it was Rob himself. Then Joyce said that we wouldmake him decide the matter--that we'd all put our hands through the barsas if we had something in them, and make him choose which he'd take,right or left. If he said right, I could have him for my attendant andshe'd take Doctor Bradford, but if he said left I'd have to put up withthe Pilgrim Father, and she'd take Rob.

  "'ALL YOU GIRLS STANDING WITH YOUR HANDS STUCK THROUGHTHE BARS'"]

  "He came along bareheaded, swinging his hat in his hand, and we were sobusy explaining to him that he was to choose which hand he'd take, rightor left, that we did not notice that he had a kodak hidden behind hishat. He held it up in front of him, and bowed and scraped and did allsorts of ridiculous things to keep us from noticing what he was doing,till all of a sudden we heard the shutter click and he gave a whoop andsaid, 'There! That will be one of the best pictures in my collection.All you girls standing with your hands stuck through the bars, likemonkeys at the Zoo, begging for peanuts. I don't know whether to call it"Behind the Bars," or "Don't Feed the Animals."'

  "Then Lloyd said he shouldn't come in for making such a speech, and hesat down on the grass and began to sing in a ridiculous way, the oldsong that goes:

  "'Oh, angel, sweet angel, I pray thee Set the beautiful gates ajar.'

  "He was off the key, as he usually is when he sings without anaccompaniment, and it was so funny, such a howl of a song, that welaughed till the tears came. Then he said he'd name the picture 'At theGate of Paradise,' and make a foot-note to the effect that she was aPeri, if she'd let him in.

  "After awhile she said she'd let him in to Paradise if he could name onegood deed he'd ever done that had benefited human kind. He saidcertainly he could, and that he wouldn't have to dig it up from the deadpast. He could give it to her hot from the griddle, for only ten minutesbefore he had completed arrangements for the evening's entertainment ofthe bridal party.

  "Lloyd opened the gate in a hurry then, and fairly begged him to comein, for we had been wild all week to know what godmother had decidedupon. She only laughed when we teased her to tell us, and said we'd see.We were sure it would be something very elegant and formal. Maybe a realgrown-up affair, with an orchestra from town and distinguished strangersto meet the three fathers, Eugenia's, Stuart's and the Pilgrim F.

  "We couldn't believe Rob when he told us that we were to go on a _coonhunt_, and went racing up to the house to ask godmother herself.

  "And she said yes, she was sure they would enjoy a glimpse of realcountry Southern life, and some of our informal fun, far more than thefunctions they could attend any time in the East. Besides she wantedeverybody to keep in mind that we were still little schoolgirls, even ifwe were to be bridesmaids, and that was why she was taking us all off tothe woods for an old-time country frolic, instead of having a granddinner or a formal dance.

  "Then Rob asked us if we didn't want to beg his pardon for doubting hisword, but Lloyd told him no, that

  "'The truth itself is not believed From one who often has deceived.'

  "Then we tried to make him choose which he'd have, right or left, andheld out our hands again, but he said he knew that some great questionof choice was being involved, and that he would not assume theresponsibility. That we'd have to draw straws, if we wanted to decideanything. So Eugenia held two blades of grass between her palms, andJoyce drew the longest one. I couldn't help groaning, for that meantthat the
Pilgrim Father must fall to my lot.

  "But it didn't seem so bad after I met him. They all came out on thethree o'clock train with Phil. When the carriage came up from thestation we had a grand jubilee. Cousin Carl seemed so glad to get backto the Valley, but no gladder than everybody was to see him. Stuart isso much like Phil that we felt as if we were already acquainted withhim. He is very boyish-looking and young, but there is something sodignified and gentle in his manner that one feels he is cut out to be astaid old family physician, and that in time he will grow into the loveand confidence of his patients like Maclaren's Doctor of the Old School.But dear old Doctor Tremont is the flower of _that_ family. We all fellin love with him the moment we saw him. It is easy to see what he hasbeen to his boys. The very tone in which they call him 'Daddy' showshow they adore him; and he is so sweet and tender with Eugenia.

  "Contrasted with him and Cousin Carl, I must say that the Pilgrim Fatheris not a suitable name for Doctor Bradford. Really, with his smoothshaven face, and clear ruddy complexion like an Englishman's, he doesn'tseem much older than Malcolm. Still his dignity is rather awe-full, andhis grave manner and Boston accent make him seem sort of foreign, sodifferent from the boys whom we have always known. We were afraid atfirst that godmother had made a great mistake in planning to take him ona coon hunt. But it turned out that she was right, as she always is. Hetold us afterward he had never enjoyed anything so much in all his life.

  "It was just eight o'clock when we set out on the hunt last night. A bighay-wagon drove up to the door with the party from The Beeches alreadystowed away in it, sitting flat on the hay in the bottom. Mrs. Waltonwas with them, and Miss Allison and Katie Mallard and her father, andseveral others they had picked up on the way.

  "While they were laughing and talking and everybody was beingintroduced, Alec came driving up from the barn with another big wagon,and we all piled into it except Lloyd and Rob, Joyce and Phil. Theywere on horseback and kept alongside of us as outriders. The moon hadn'tcome up, but the starlight was so bright that the road gleamed like awhite ribbon ahead of us, and we sang most of the way to the woods.

  "Old Unc' Jefferson led the procession on his white mule, with threelanky coon dogs following. They struck the trail before we reached ourstopping-place, and went dashing off into the woods. Unc' Jeffersonfairly rolled off his old mule, and threw the rope bridle over the firstfence-post, and went crashing through the underbrush after them. Thewagons kept on a few rods farther and landed us on the creek bank, up bythe black bridge.

  "It seemed as if the whole itinerary of the hunt had been planned forour especial benefit, for just as we reached the creek the moon began toroll up through the trees like a great golden mill-wheel, and we couldsee our way about in the woods. Evidently the coon's home was in somehollow near our stopping-place, for instead of staying in the densebeech woods, up where it would have been hard for us to climb, the firstdash of the dogs sent him scurrying toward the row of big sycamores thatoverhang the creek.

  "It whizzed by us so fast that at first we did not know what had passedus till the dogs came tumbling after at breakneck speed. They were suchold hands at the game that they gave their quarry a bad time of it forawhile, turning and doubling on his tracks till we were almost asexcited and bewildered as the poor coon. Little Mary Ware just stood andwrung her hands, and once when the dogs were almost on him she teeteredup and down on her tiptoes and squealed.

  "All of a sudden the coon dodged to one side and disappeared. We thoughthe had escaped, but a little later on we heard the dogs bayingfrantically farther down the creek, and Rob shouted that they had treedhim, and for everybody to hurry up if they wanted to be in at the death.So away we went, helter-skelter, in a wild race down the creek bank,godmother, Papa Jack, Cousin Carl, and everybody. It was a roughscramble, and as we pitched over rolling stones, and caught at bushes topull ourselves up, and swung down holding on to the saplings, I wonderedwhat Doctor Bradford would think of our tomboy ways.

  "Nobody waited to be helped. It was every fellow for himself, we were insuch a hurry to get to the coon. Lloyd kept far in the lead, ahead ofeverybody, and Joyce walked straight up a steep bank as if she had beena fly. When we got to the tree where the dogs were howling and baying wehad to look a long time before we could see the coon. Then all we coulddistinguish was the shine of its eyeballs, for it crouched so flatagainst the limb that it seemed a part of the bark. It was away out onthe tip-end of one of the highest branches.

  "The only way to get it was to shake it down, and to our surprise,before we knew who had volunteered, we saw Doctor Bradford, in hisimmaculate white flannels, throw off his coat and go shinning up thetree like an acrobat in a circus. He had to shake and shake the limbbefore he could dislodge the coon, but at last it let go, and the dogshad it before it fairly touched the ground. We girls didn't wait to seewhat they did with it, but stuck our fingers in our ears and tore backto the wagons. Rob made fun of Lloyd when she said she didn't see whythey couldn't have coon hunts without coon killings, and that they oughtto have made the dogs let go. They had had the fun of catching it, andthey ought to be satisfied with that.

  "Joyce whispered to me that the hunt had had one desirable result. Ithad limbered up the Pilgrim Father so thoroughly, that he couldn't bestiff and dignified again after his acrobatic feat. It really did makea difference, for after that he was one of the jolliest men in theparty.

  "As it was out of season and old Unc' Jefferson didn't care for thecoons, he called off the dogs after they had caught one, to show us whatthe sport was like, and then he built us a grand camp-fire on the creekbank, and we had what Mrs. Walton called the sequel. She and MissAllison and godmother made coffee and unpacked the hampers we hadbrought with us. There was beaten biscuit and fried chicken and icedwatermelon, and all sorts of good things. As we ate, the moon came uphigher and higher, and silvered the white trunks of the sycamores tillthey looked like a row of ghosts standing with outstretched arms alongthe creek. It was so lovely there above the water. All the sweet woodsysmells of fern and mint and fallen leaves seem stronger after nightfall.Everybody enjoyed the feast so much, and was in such high spirits thatwe all felt a shade of regret that it had to come to an end so soon.

  "'THEY STEPPED IN AND ROWED OFF DOWN THE SHININGWATERWAY'"]

  "There were two boats down by the bridge which we found that Rob had hadsent over that morning for the occasion. They had brought the oars overin the wagon. Pretty soon we saw Eugenia and Stuart going down towardone of them, a little white canvas one, and they stepped in and rowedoff down the shining waterway. It was only a narrow creek, but themoonlight seemed to glorify it, and we knew that it made them think ofthat boat-ride that had been the beginning of their happiness, infar-away Venice.

  "The other boat was larger. Allison and Miss Bonham, Phil and LieutenantStanley went out in that. The music of their singing, as it floated backto us, was so beautiful, that those of us on the bank stopped talking tolisten. When they came back presently, Kitty and Joyce, Rob andLieutenant Logan pushed out in it for awhile. They sang too.

  "When the little boat came back, Doctor Bradford asked Lloyd to go outwith him, and she said she would as soon as she had given her chatelainewatch to her father to keep for her. The clasp kept coming unfastenedand she was afraid she would lose it."

  Here Betty laid down her pen a moment and sat peering dreamily outbetween the vines. She was about to record a little conversation she hadoverheard between Lloyd and her father as they stood a moment in thebushes behind her, but paused as she reflected that it would be likebetraying a confidence to make an entry of it in her journal. It wouldbe even worse, since it was no confidence of hers, but a matter lyingbetween Lloyd and her father alone.

  She sat tapping the rim of the ink-bottle with her pen as she recalledthe conversation. "Yes, it's all right for you to go, Lloyd, but wait amoment. Have you my silver yardstick with you to-night, dear?"

  "Why of co'se, Papa Jack. What makes you ask such a question?"

 
"Well," he answered, "there is so much weaving going on around youlately, and weddings are apt to put all sorts of notions into a girl'shead. I just wanted to remind you that only village lads and shepherdboys are in sight, probably not even a knight, and the mantle must beworthy of a prince's wearing, you know."

  Then Lloyd pretended to be hurt, and Betty could tell from her voicejust how she lifted her head with an air of injured dignity.

  "Remembah I gave you my promise, suh, the promise of a Lloyd. Isn't thatenough?"

  "More than enough, my little Hildegarde." As they stepped out of thebushes together Betty saw him playfully pinch her cheek. Then Lloydwent on down the bank. Here Betty took up her pen again.

  "When she stepped into the boat the moonlight on her white dress andshining hair made her look almost as ethereal and fair as she had in theElaine tableau. The boats could only go as far as the shallows, just alittle way below the bridge, so they went back and forth a number oftimes, making such a pretty picture for those who waited on the bank.

  "After Doctor Bradford had brought Lloyd back he asked me to go withhim, and oh, it was so beautiful out there on the water. I'll enjoy thememory of it as long as I live. At first I couldn't think of anything tosay, and the more I tried to think of something that would interest aman like him, the more embarrassed I grew. It was the first time I hadever tried to talk to any but old men or the home boys.

  "After we had rowed a little way in silence he turned to me with thejolliest twinkle in his eyes and asked me why the boat ought to becalled the Mayflower. I was _so_ surprised, I asked him if that was ariddle, and he said no, but he wondered if I wouldn't feel that it wasthe Mayflower because I was adrift in it with the Pilgrim Father.

  "I was so embarrassed I didn't know what to say, for I couldn't imaginehow he had found out that we had called him that. I couldn't have talkedto him at all if I had known what Lloyd told me afterward when we hadgone to our room. It seems that by some unlucky chance he was left alonewith Mary Ware for awhile before dinner. Godmother told her to entertainhim, and she proceeded to do so by showing him the collection of all thekodak pictures Rob had taken of us during the house-party. After he leftus yesterday morning he went straight to work to develop and print thefilms he had just taken, and when he brought us the copies thatafternoon, we were busy, and he slipped them into the album with theothers without saying anything about them. So none of us saw them untilMary came across them in showing them to Doctor Bradford.

  "There was the one of us with our hands thrust through the bars, when wewere trying to make Rob choose right or left, and one of Joyce and medrawing straws. Neither of us had the slightest idea that he had takenus in that act, and Mary was so surprised that she gave the whole thingaway--blurted out what we were doing, before she thought that he was thePilgrim Father. Then in her confusion, to cover up her mistake, shebegan to explain as only Mary Ware can, and the more she explained, themore ridiculous things she told about us. Doctor Bradford must havefound her vastly entertaining from the way he laughed whenever he quotedher, which he did frequently.

  "I wish she wouldn't be so alarmingly outspoken when she sings ourpraises to strangers. She gave him to understand that I am afull-fledged author and playwright, the peer of any poet laureate whoever held a pen; that Lloyd is a combination of princess and angel andhalo-crowned saint, and Joyce a model big sister and an all-roundgenius. How she managed in the short time they were alone to tell him asmuch as she did will always remain a mystery.

  "He knew all about Joyce raising bees at the Wigwam to earn money forher art lessons, and my nearly going blind at the first house-party, andwhy we all wear Tusitala rings. Only time will reveal what else shetold. Maybe, after all, her confidences made things easier, for it gaveus something to laugh about right in the beginning, and that took awaythe stiff feeling, and we were soon talking like old friends. By thetime the boat landed I was glad that he had fallen to my lot asattendant instead of Rob, for he is so much more entertaining. He toldabout a moonlight ride he had on the Nile last winter when he was inEgypt, and that led us to talking of lotus flowers, and that toTennyson's poem of the 'Lotus Eaters.' He quoted a verse from it whichhe said was, to him, one of the best comparisons in English verse.

  "'There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night dews upon still waters, between walls Of shadowy granite in a gleaming pass. _Music that gentlier on the spirit lies_ _Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes._'

  "The other boat-load, far down the creek, was singing 'Sweet and low,wind of the western sea,' and he rested on his oars for us to listen. Ihad often repeated that verse to myself when I closed my eyes after ahard day's study. Nothing falls gentlier than tired eyelids upon tiredeyes, and to have him understand the feeling and admire the poem in thesame way that I did, was such a pleasant sensation, as if I had comeupon a delightful unexplored country, full of pleasant surprises.

  "Such thoughts as that about music are the ones I love best, and yet Inever would dream of speaking of such things to Rob or Malcolm, who areboth old and dear friends.

  "After all, the coon hunt proved a very small part of the evening'sentertainment, and he must have liked it, for I heard him say togodmother, as he bade her good night, that if this was a taste of realKentucky life, he would like a steady diet of it all the rest of hisdays."