"Miss Lou" Part 4

In nervous haste Aun' Jinkey prepared the ample supper. Scoville hooted again, a shadowy form stole to the cabin for the food, and disappeared again toward the run. Then Aun' Jinkey prepared to compose her nerves by another smoke.

"Hand me up a coal for my pipe, also," said Scoville, "and then we'll have a sociable time."

"I des feared onsosh'ble times dis eb'nin'," remarked Aun' Jinkey.

"If you knew how my bones ached, you'd help me pa.s.s the time."

"Reck'n mine ache, too, 'fo' I troo wid dis bus'ness."

"No, Aunt Jinkey, you won't be punished for doing a good deed. Your young mistress is on your side, anyway. Who is she?"

"Young mistis ain' got no po'r ef dey fin's out. She nuff ter do ter hol' 'er own."

"How comes it she's friendly to 'we uns,' as you say down here?"

"She ain' friendly. You drap at her feet ez ef you wuz dead, en she hab a lil gyurlish, soft heart, dat's all. Didn't she tole you dat she ain'

on yo' side?"

"Well, bless her heart, then."

"I circ.u.mscribe ter dat ar."

"Aren't you on our side?"

"I'se des 'twix en 'tween all de sides."

"You're all right, Aunt Jinkey. I'd trust you with my life."

"Reck'n you hab ter dis eb'nin'."

"Well, about Miss Lou--you say she has trouble to hold her own. How's that?"

"Dem's fambly matters."

"And so none of my business, unless she tells me herself."

"How she gwine ter tol' you tings?"

"Ah, Aunt Jinkey, you've vegetated a great while in these slow parts. I feel it in my bones, sore as they are, that some day I'll give you a new dress that will make you look like a spike of red hollyhocks.

You'll see changes you don't dream of."

"My haid whirlin' now, mars'r. Hope ter grashus I kin do my wuk ter-morrer in peace and quietness."

There was neither peace nor quietness at the mansion. Whately, with a soldier's instincts to make the most of pa.s.sing opportunities, added to the hasty tendencies of his own nature, was not only enjoying the abundant supper, but feasting his eyes meantime on the charms developed by his cousin in his absence. He knew of his uncle's wish to unite the two plantations, and had given his a.s.sent to the means, for it had always been his delight to tease, frighten, and pet his little cousin, whose promise of beauty had been all that he could desire. Now she evoked a sudden flame of pa.s.sion, and his mind, which leaped to conclusions, was already engaged in plans for consummating their union at once. He sought to break down her reserve by paying her extravagant compliments, and to excite her admiration by accounts of battles in which he would not have posed as hero so plainly had he not been flushed with wine. There was an ominous fire in her eyes scarcely in accord with her cool demeanor. Unused to the world, and distrusting her own powers, she made little effort to reply, taking refuge in comparative silence. This course encouraged him and her uncle. The former liked her manifestation of spirit as long as he believed it to be within control. To his impetuous, imperious nature the idea of a tame, insipid bride was not agreeable; while Mr. Baron, still under the illusion that she was yet but a submissive child, thought that her bad mood was pa.s.sing and would be gone in the morning. He little dreamed how swiftly her mind was awakening and developing under the spur of events. She did not yet know that her cousin was meditating such a speedy consummation of his purpose, but was aware that he and all her relatives looked upon her as his predestined wife. Now, as never before, she shrank from the relation, and in the instinct of self-preservation resolved never to enter into it.

Her long, rebellious reveries in solitude had prepared her for this hour, and her proud, excited spirit surprised her by the intensity of its pa.s.sionate revolt. Not as a timid, shrinking maiden did she look at her cousin and his men feasting on the piazza. She glanced at him, then through the open windows at their burly forms, as one might face a menace which brought no thought of yielding.

The family resemblance between Whately and herself was strong. He had her blue eyes, but they were smaller than hers, and his expression was bold, verging toward recklessness. Her look was steady and her lips compressed into accord with the firm little chin.

Mrs. Baron's ideas of decorum soon brought temporary relief. She also saw that her nephew was becoming too excited to make a good impression, so she said, "Louise, you may now retire, and I trust that you will waken tomorrow to the truth that your natural guardians can best direct your thoughts and actions."

Whately was about to rise in order to bid an affectionate good-night, but the girl almost fled from the room. In the hall she met Chunk, who whispered, "Link.u.m man gittin' peart, Miss Lou."

"She'll be over her tantrum by morning," said Mr. Baron in an apologetic tone. "Perhaps we'll have to humor her more in little things."

"That's just where the trouble lies, uncle. You and aunt have tried to make her feel and act as if as old as yourselves. She's no longer a child; neither is she exactly a woman. All young creatures at her age are skittish. Bless you, she wouldn't be a Baron if she hadn't lots of red, warm blood. So much the better. When I've married her she'll settle down like other Southern girls."

"I think we had better discuss these matters more privately, nephew,"

said Mrs. Baron.

"Beg pardon, I reckon we had, aunt. My advice, however, is that we act first and discuss afterward."

"We'll talk it over to-morrow, nephew," said Mr. Baron. "Of course as guardian I must adopt the best and safest plan."

Chunk's ears were long if he was short, and in waiting on a soldier near the window he caught the purport of this conversation.

CHAPTER V

WHATELY'S IDEA OF COURTSHIP

When waiting on the table, Zany either stood like an image carved out of black walnut or moved with the angular promptness of an automaton when a spring is touched. Only the quick roll of her eyes indicated how observant she was. If, however, she met Chunk in the hall, or anywhere away from observation, she never lost the opportunity to torment him. A queer grimace, a surprised stare, an exasperating derisive giggle, were her only acknowledgments of his amorous attentions. "Ef I doesn't git eben wid dat n.i.g.g.ah, den I eat a mule," he muttered more than once.

But Chunk was in great spirits and a state of suppressed excitement.

"'Pears ez ef I mout own mysef 'fo' dis moon done waxin' en wanin'," he thought. "Dere's big times comin,' big times. I'se yeard w'at hap'n w'en de Yanks go troo de kentry like an ol bull in a crock'ry sto'." In his duties of waiting on the troopers and clearing the table he had opportunities of purloining a goodly portion of the viands, for he remembered that he also had a.s.sumed the role of host with a very meagre larder to draw upon.

Since the Confederates were greatly wearied and were doubly inclined to sleep from the effects of a hearty supper and liberal potations, Mr.

Baron offered to maintain a watch the early part of the night, while Perkins was enjoined to sleep with one eye open near the quarters.

Mattresses and quilts were brought down and spread on the piazza floor, from which soon rose a nasal chorus, "des like," as Chunk declared, "a frog-pon' in full blas'."

Whately, trained in alert, soldierly ways, slept on the sofa in the parlor near his men. One after another the lights were extinguished, and the house became quiet. Chunk was stealing away with his plunder through the shrubbery in the rear of the house, when he was suddenly confronted by Zany. "Hi! you n.i.g.g.ah!" she whispered, "I'se cotch you now kyarin' off nuff vittles ter keep you a mont. You gwinter run away."

"You wan ter run wid me?" asked Chunk, unabashed.

"What you took me fer?"

"Fer better er wuss, w'ite folks say. Reck'n it ud be fer wuss in dis case."

"I reck'n de wuss ain' fur off. I des step ter ole mars'r an' tell 'im ter 'vestigate yo' cabin dis eb'nin'," she said, and, with a great show of offended dignity, she was about to move away.

"Look yere, Zany, doan yer be a fool. Doan you wanter be a free gyurl?"

"Ef you had me fer wuss I'd be des 'bout ez free ez Miss Lou w'en she mar'ed ter Mad Whately."

"Hi! you year dat, too?"