by Lilian Bell
CHAPTER XIV.
KINFOLK
Carolina took her writing materials out on the back porch. There wasnot a small table in the house whose legs did not wabble, so she proppedthe best of them with chips from Aunt Calla's wood-pile and wrote untilAunt Calla could stand it no longer.
"Miss Calline, honey," she said, "you writes so fas' wid yo' fingahs,would you min' ef I brung de aigplant out here to peel it en watch you?I won't make no fuss."
"Certainly not, Aunt Calla. I'd be glad to have you."
"Hum! hum! You sho have got pretty mannahs, Miss Calline. Youse got demannahs ob de ole ladies of de South. You don't see 'em now'days wid deyoung ladies. De young people got de po'est mannahs I ebber didsee,--screechin' and hollerin' to each odder 'cross de street, or fromone eend ob de house to de other. Ole mahster would 'a' lammed hischillen ef dey'd cut up sech capers en his time! But MissPeachie,--she's got de La Grange mannahs. She's Mist' Moultrie'ssistah. Dey calls her 'Peachie' caze she's got such pretty red in huhcheeks,--lake yores. Most ladies down in dese pahts is too white tosuit me. I lakes 'em pinky and pretty."
"Thank you, Aunt Calla!" cried Carolina. "I wonder if I couldn't getCousin Lois to give you that black grenadine you thought was so prettyyesterday."
Aunt Calla laid down her knife.
"Miss Calline, is you foolin' me?"
"No, Calla, I am not."
"Dish yere grenadier dress I mean is lined wid black silk!"
"I know it."
"En you gwine gib dat to me?"
"I am thinking of it."
"Well, glory be! Ef you does dat, Ise gwine jine de chutch all overag'in, en I reckon I'll jine de Babtis' dish yere time. Dey's mo' styleto de Babtis' den to de Meth'diss. Ise 'bleeged to live up to dat silklinin'!"
The old woman's face took on a worried look.
"I don' keer!" she said aloud. "I don' keer! Nemmine, Miss Calline!You wouldn' laff so ef you knew what Ise studyin' 'bout doin'. Ise beensavin' my money foh two years now to get a gravestone foh my fou'thhusban' what done died three yeahs ago. He baiged me wid his las'breath to bury him stylish, en I promus him I would. He was all forstyle. Do you know, Miss Calline, dat man would 'a' gone hongry rathahdan turn his meat ovah awn de fiah. He was de mos' dudish man I ebbersee. But I can't he'p it. Ise gwine take dat grave-stone money and habdat dress made to fit me good en stylish. En I bet Miss Peachie willcharge me eve'y cent I got to do it!"
"Who?" demanded Carolina.
"Miss Peachie La Grange. She does all my sewin' foh me, an' foh Lily,too. Dat's de way she mek huh money. Yas, _ma'am_. Sewin' fohniggahs!"
Aunt Calla paused with her mouth open, for Carolina, regardless of whatanybody thought, sprang up, overturning her table, spilling her ink overAunt Calla's clean porch floor, and scattering her papers to the fourwinds of heaven.
"Ump! So dat's de way de win' blows! Well, ef she ain't a Lee shonuff. She's got de pride of huh ole gran'dad, en mo', too. She lookedat me ez if she'd lake to kill me. I wondah ef I'll evah git dat dressnow!"
She sent Lily to reconnoitre.
"Jes' creep up en see what she's doin'. De keyhole in huh room isbusted, en you kin see de whole room thoo it. Jis' go en peek. But efyou let huh ketch you, she'll know who sont you, en she'll be so mad, Inevah will git dat dress. Den I'll bust yo' yallah face open wid dei'nin' boa'd!"
"She ain't cryin' nor nothin'!" cried Lily, bursting into the kitchentwenty minutes later. "She's settin' in huh rockin'-cheer, wid a openbook awn huh lap, en huh eyes is shut en huh lips a-movin', lake she'sstudyin'."
"T'ank de Lawd!" observed Calla. "Somehow er odder, Ise gwine git holeob a fryin' chicken foh huh. You tell Jake I wants tuh see him disevenin'. Run, Lily! See who's dat drivin' in outen de big road!"
"Hit's de La Granges! De whole kit en bilin' ob 'em. Dey's doneborried de Barnwells' double ca'y-all."
Fortunately, there were many rocking-chairs at Whitehall, and, althoughmany of them were war veterans, all were pressed into service the daythe La Granges came to call. Miss Sue and Miss Sallie Yancey glanced ateach other expressively when they saw that even Flower, Mrs. Winfield LaGrange, was one of the party. It was the first time that she had everbeen openly recognized by the La Grange family, except in name, and noone knew that it was by Moultrie's express wish that Peachie had askedher to go with them. Thus, indirectly, Carolina was at the bottom ofit, after all.
Peachie was pretty, but her delicate prettiness was scarcely noticeablewhen Carolina was in the room. Aunt Angie La Grange, Cousin Elise LaGrange, Cousin Rose Manigault, with her little girl Corinne, who hadcome to play with Gladys and Emmeline Yancey,--all these insisted onclaiming kin with Mrs. Winchester and Carolina, and, as Aunt Angie andCousin Lois had known each other in their girlhood, and had spent muchtime at Guildford and Sunnymede, it was easy for them to fall into theold way of claiming cousinship, even when a slender excuse was calledupon to serve.
The conversation was very gay and kindly, but, under cover of itsuniversality, Carolina managed to seat herself next to Flower La Grange,whose pale cheeks and frightened eyes proclaimed how much of a strangershe was to such scenes. When Carolina called her "Cousin Flower," theflush on her face and the look of passionate gratitude in her eyes gaveCarolina ample evidence that any kindness she might choose to bestowhere would be appreciated beyond reason.
At first Flower was constrained and answered in monosyllables, but whenCarolina adroitly mentioned the baby, Flower's whole manner thawed, and,in her eagerness, she poured forth a stream of rapturous talk whichcaused the others to look at her in a chilling surprise. But Flower'sback was toward her haughty relatives, and only Carolina caught theglances,--Carolina, who calmly ignored them.
"You must come to see my baby!" cried Flower, impulsively. "He is sodear! And so smart! You can't imagine how hard it is to keep himasleep. He hears every sound and wants to be up all the time."
"I suppose he notices everything, doesn't he?"
"No-o, I can't say that he does. He likes things that make a noise. Hedoesn't care much for looks. If you hold a rattle right up before hiseyes, he won't pay any attention to it. But, if you shake it, he smilesand coos and reaches out for it. Oh, he is a regular boy for noise!"
As Flower said this upon a moment of comparative silence, Carolinanoticed that Aunt Angie grew rather pale and said:
"I haven't seen your baby for several months, Flower. May I come to seehim to-morrow?"
"Oh, I should be so glad if you would, Mrs.--"
"Call me mother, child," said the older woman, looking compassionatelyat her daughter-in-law.
Flower flushed as delicately as a wild rose, and looked at Carolina, asif wondering if she had noticed this sudden access of cordiality. Butto Carolina, a stranger, it seemed perfectly natural, and she ratherhurriedly resumed her conversation with Flower, because she had theuneasy consciousness that Miss Sue and Aunt Angie, on the other side ofthe room, were talking about her. Fragments of their conversationfloated over to her in the pauses of her talk with Flower.
"She thinks nothing of sending off ten or a dozen telegrams a day--"
"--she'll wear herself out--"
"--it can't last long. Moultrie says she shows a wonderful head for--"
"--and she never gets tired. I never saw such power of concentration--"
"--when I was a girl--"
"--writes--writes--writes the longest letters, and if you could see hermail!"
"--the very prettiest girl I ever saw,--a perfect beauty, Moultriethinks."
Carolina's little ears burned so scarlet that she got up and tookPeachie and Flower out into the garden, and, as the three girls wentdown the steps, a perfect babel of voices arose in the parlour. PlainlyCarolina's going had loosened their tongues. They drew their chairsaround Mrs. Winchester's, and, although the day was cool, they gave herthe warmest half-hour she could remember since she left Bombay. T
heycould understand and excuse every feminine vagary, from stealing anotherwoman's lover to coaxing a man to spend more than he could afford, oridling away every moment of a day over novels or embroidery, but for abeauty, a belle, a toast, a girl who had been presented at three courtsbefore she was twenty, to come down to South Carolina and live onhorseback or in a buggy, meeting men by appointment and understandinglong columns of figures, sending and receiving cipher telegrams, and inall this aided and abetted by no less exclusive and particular achaperon than Cousin Lois Winchester, Rhett Winchester's widow, herselfrelated to the Lees,--this was a little more than they could comprehend.Nor could Miss Sue Yancey nor Miss Sallie (Mrs. Pringle), although theywere in the same house with her, throw any light on the subject or helpthem in any way. Carolina was plainly a puzzle to the La Granges, atleast, and when, that same afternoon, Carolina and the two girls in thegarden saw another carryall and a buggy drive in at Whitehall,containing her father's relatives, the Lees, she frankly said that shewould stay out a little longer and give them a chance to talk her overbefore she went in to meet them.
Peachie laughed at Carolina's high colour when she said this.
"You mustn't get mad, Cousin Carol, because you are talked about. Wetalk about everybody,--it's all we have to do in the country. But youought to be used to it. You are such a little beauty, you must havebeen talked about all your life."
"Nonsense, Peachie!" cried Carolina, blushing. "I am not half asgood-looking as you and Flower. But the way you all watch me here makesme feel as if I were a strange kind of a beetle under a powerfulmicroscope, at the other end of which there was always a curious humaneye."
"Oh, Cousin Carol, you do say such quayah things!" cried Peachie,laughing.
"We ought to go in, I think," said Carolina. But at her words the twogirls, as if nerving themselves for an ordeal planned beforehand, lookedat each other, and then Peachie, in evident embarrassment, said:
"Cousin Carol, I want to ask you something, and I don't want you to beoffended or to think that we have no manners, but--"
"Go on, Peachie, dear. Ask anything you like. You won't offend me.Remember that we are all cousins down here."
"I know, you dear! But maybe when you know what I want,--but you see,we never get a chance to see any of the styles--"
"Do you want to see my clothes?" cried Carolina. "You shall see everyrag I possess, you dear children! Don't I know how awful it must benever to know what they are wearing at Church Parade. Five trunks cameyesterday that haven't even been unpacked. They are just as they werepacked by a frisky little Frenchman in Paris, and, as they were sentafter me, they were detained in the custom-house, and, before I couldget them out, I was hurt. While I was in bed, my brother got them out ofthe custom-house and took them to _his_ house, where I forgot all aboutthem until I was preparing to come here. Then I thought of clothes!And I also thought I might find some pretty girls down here among myrelatives who would like to see the Real Thing just as it comes from thehands of the Paris couturieres,--so there you are!"
"Oh, Carolina Lee!" shrieked Peachie, softly. "What a sweet thing youare! Just think, Flower, Paris clothes!"
"And better still, Vienna clothes!" said Carolina, laughing.
"You said you were hurt, Cousin Carol," said Flower, in her soft littlevoice. "How were you injured?"
"I was thrown from my horse, Flower, dear, and my hip was broken. I wasin bed for months with it."
"But you were cured," said Flower. "I never heard of a broken hip thatdidn't leave a limp. There must be mighty fine doctors in New York."
"There are!" said Carolina, softly. Then she turned suddenly and ledthe way to the house, the girls eagerly following.
It will be difficult and not at all to the point to try to learn therelationship of the Lees and La Granges to Carolina and to each other.Aunt Angie La Grange was Moultrie's, Winfield's, and Peachie's mother.Rose Manigault was Aunt Angie's married sister, and Elise an unmarriedone.
Of the Lees, there was Aunt Evelyn Lee, Carolina's own maiden aunt.Aunt Isabel Fitzhugh, her married aunt, with her two daughters, Eppieand Marie. Uncle Gordon Fitzhugh, Aunt Isabel's husband, and a bachelorcousin of Carolina's, De Courcey Lee, were the ones who had come in thebuggy with the two little Fitzhugh boys, Teddy and Bob.
The children could not be induced to leave the parlour until they hadseen their new cousin, they had heard so much of her beauty fromMoultrie, so that, when Carolina entered and was introduced to heradmiring relatives, none was more admiring than the children. Indeed,Bob Fitzhugh announced to his father, as they were driving home thatevening, that he was going to marry Cousin Carol. He said that he hadalready asked her, and that she had told him that she was ten yearsolder than he was, but that, if he still wanted her when he wastwenty-one and she hadn't married any one in the meantime, she wouldmarry him.
"You couldn't do better, son," said his father, nudging De Courcey, "andI commend your promptness, for, as Carolina is the prettiest--the veryprettiest little woman I ever saw, the other boys will doubtless getafter her, and it's just as well to have filed your petitionbeforehand."
Indeed the verdict on Carolina was universally favourable. Herrelatives were familiar with her photographs, and were proud of theaccounts which at intervals had filtered home to them through lettersand newspapers, but the girl's beauty of colouring had so far outshonetheir expectations, and her exquisite modesty had so captivated themthat they annexed her bodily, and quoted her and praised and flatteredher until she hardly knew where to turn. She won the Fitzhugh hearts byher devotion to Teddy, the seven-year-old boy, who could not speak anintelligible word on account of a cleft palate. She took him with heron the sofa and talked to him and encouraged him to try to answer, untilthe mother, though her soul was filled with the most passionategratitude, unselfishly called the boy away, saying, in a hurried asideto Carolina:
"Thank you, and God bless you, my darling girl, for trying to help mybaby boy, but you owe your attention to the grown people, who, some ofthem, have driven twenty miles to see your sweet face. Some day,Carolina, I want you to come and spend a week with us, and tell me aboutthe best doctor to send the child to. You must know all about suchthings, coming from New York."
She won the heart of her bachelor cousin, a man of nearly sixty, byallowing him to lead her to a sofa and question her about her father,his last days in London, and of how she had inherited her love forGuildford.
"For it is an inheritance, Carolina, my dear. Your father loved theplace as not one of us do who have stayed near it."
"Yes, Cousin De Courcey, I think you are right. Daddy used to dream ofit."
"Did he ever tell you of the loss of the family silver?"
"Yes, he said it was lost during the war."
"Did he never tell you of his suspicions concerning it?"
"No, because I don't think he had any."
"Pardon me for disagreeing with you, my dear, but in letters to me hehas stated it. You know our family silver included many historicalpieces,--gifts from great men, who had been guests atGuildford,--besides all that the family had inherited on both sides forgenerations. Many of these pieces were engraved and inscribed, and,unless they were melted at once, could have been traced. Yourgrandfather and your father, being the only ones fortunate enough tohave increased their fortunes, undertook to search the world over fortraces of this silver, but, as not so much as a teaspoon of it was everfound, we think it is still buried somewhere near here,--possibly on theestate. Aunt 'Polyte, your father's black mammy, and her husband buriedit, and to the day of their death they swore it was not stolen by theYankees, for, when they missed it, there were no Federal troops withinfifty miles. They both declared that some one traced them in theirfrequent pilgrimages to its hiding-place to ascertain that it wasintact, and that the Lee family will yet come into its own. As you seemto be our good angel, it will probably be you who will find it. Doesn'tsomething tell you that you will?"
"Yes, something tells me that
it is not lost," said Carolina, with graveeyes. "I came into the possession of Guildford so wonderfully, perhapsI shall find the Lee silver by the same means."
Just then Mrs. Pringle hurried into the room, saying hospitably:
"Now listen to me, good people. You all don't come to Whitehall sooften that we don't feel the honour, and now that you are here, you muststay to supper. Don't say a word! I'll tell Jake to hitch up and goafter Moultrie and Winfield, and there's a full moon to-night, so youwon't have any trouble in getting home. Elise, if you are too big acoward to drive twenty miles after dark, you can stay here all night.Flower, do you trust your nurse to stay with the baby?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, thank you, Miss Sallie. I'll just write a note toWinfield and send it by Jake, if I may, telling him to see that AuntTempy and the baby are all right before he starts, then I won't be a bituneasy."
The La Granges had never heard their unpopular kinswoman make so long aspeech before, and, as they listened to it, with critical, if nothostile ears, they were forced to admit that she exhibited both spiritand breeding, and her voice had a curious low-toned dignity whichindicated an inherited power.
Whitehall had not been famous for its hospitality since the death ofElliott Pringle, Miss Sallie's husband. During his lifetime they hadkept open house, and Miss Sallie was the soul of hospitality. She woulddearly have loved to continue his policy and the prestige of Whitehall,but her sister, Sue Yancey, was, in popular parlance, called "thestingiest old maid in the State of Georgia," and when she came to livewith her widowed sister she watched the expenditures at Whitehall, untilnobody who ever dined there had enough to eat. There was a story goingaround that the reason she lost the only beau she ever had, was becauseonce when he was going on a journey she asked him to take out anaccident insurance policy, and when he told her that he was all alone inthe world and that no one would be benefited by his death, she told himto send the ticket to her. Rumour said that he sent the ticket, butthat he never came back to Sue.
Sue either cared nothing for the good opinion of other people or shemade the mistake of underestimating her friends' intelligence, for shecarried her thrift with a high hand. At Sunday-school picnics it was nouncommon sight for the neighbours to see Miss Sue Yancey going around tothe different tables gathering all that was edible into her basket totake home with her. And that these scraps subsequently appeared on thetable at Whitehall often led to high words between the sisters; but inthe end it always happened that Sue conquered, because Mrs. Pringledreaded her sister's bitter tongue and ungoverned temper.
Yet Sue often complained that she felt so alone in the world because noone understood her.
"Don't stay," whispered Gordon Fitzhugh, in his wife's ear. "Sue nevergives me enough sugar in my tea!"
Carolina could not help overhearing. She looked up quickly and laughed.
"Are you getting thin?" he whispered. "Does Sue give you as hash forsupper the beef the soup is made from?"
"I think Miss Sallie is ordering while we are here," said Carolina,loyally. She would not tell her Uncle Fitzhugh that one morning whenLily was taking Cousin Lois's breakfast up to her, when her asthma wasbad, that Sue had waylaid Lily in the hall and had taken the extrabutter ball off the tray and carried it back to the dining-room intriumph.
"I admire economy," said Uncle Fitzhugh. "Sue's ancestors were French,but, in her case, French thrift has degenerated into American meanness."
"You stay," said Carolina, dimpling, "and I'll see that you get all thesugar you want, if I have to ask for it myself!"
"Then I'll stay," chuckled Uncle Fitzhugh, and he beckoned to De Courceyto come out into the garden and have a smoke--in reality to gossip.
Hardly were the gentlemen out of sight when Peachie said, excitedly:
"Mamma, do beg them all to excuse Cousin Carol, Flower, and me! Carolhas promised to show us her Paris clothes--five trunks full of them!"Her voice rose to a little shriek of ecstasy, which was echoed invarious keys all over the room. Every face took on a look of intenseexcitement and anticipation.
"Excuse you!" cried Aunt Angie La Grange. "We shall do no such thing.If Carol thinks we old people are not just as crazy over pretty clothesas we were when we were girls, she doesn't know the temperament of herown blood and kin. Carol, child, lead the way to those trunksimmediately. My fingers fairly burn to turn the keys in those locks!"
"Really, Aunt Angie? Why, we shall be delighted. You should see thegowns Cousin Lois had made for the Durbar. They are simply regal!"
"Lois Winchester," said Aunt Angie, as they went up-stairs, "they tellme that you actually rode an elephant while you were in India!"
"I did, Cousin Angie," said Mrs. Winchester, imperturbably. "And whatis more, I had my picture taken on one. You can hardly tell me from theelephant!"
Now Cousin Lois so seldom jested that this sally met with the usualreception which non-jokers seem to expect, and the walls fairly reeledwith the peals of laughter from the delighted kinfolk. But when theywere all gathered in Carolina's room and the chairs were brought fromall the other rooms to seat the guests, a hush fell upon the assemblagesimilar to that which falls upon Westminster Abbey when a funeralcortege arrives.
Carolina was unlocking her Paris trunks!
