The Battle Ground Part 12

"No offence, my dear," was the Major's meek apology. "An auger is a very useful implement, eh, Governor; and it's Plaintain Dudley, after all, that we're concerned with. Do you remember Plaintain, Mrs. Ambler, a big ruddy fellow, with ruffled shirts? Oh, he prided himself on his shirts, did Plaintain!"

"A very becoming weakness," said Mrs. Ambler, smiling at the Governor, who was blushing above his tucks.

"Becoming? Well, well, I dare say," admitted the Major. "Plaintain thought so, at any rate. Why, I can see him now, on the day he came to the Governor, puffing out his front, and twirling his white silk handkerchief.

'May I ask your opinion of me, sir?' he had the audacity to begin, and the Governor! Bless my soul, ma'am, the Governor bowed his politest bow, and replied with his pleasantest smile, 'My opinion of you, sir, is that were you as great a gentleman as you are a scoundrel, you would be a greater gentleman than my Lord Chesterfield.' Those were his words, ma'am, on my oath, those were his words!"

"But he was a scoundrel!" exclaimed the Governor. "Why, he swindled women, Major. It was always a mystery to me how you tolerated him."

"And a mystery to Mrs. Lightfoot," responded the Major, in a half whisper; "but as I tell her, sir, you mustn't judge a man by his company, or a 'possum by his grin." Then he raised a well-filled gla.s.s and gave a toast that brought even Mr. Bill upon his feet, "To Virginia, the home of brave men and," he straightened himself, tossed back his hair, and bowed to the ladies, "and of angels."

The Governor raised his gla.s.s with a smile, "To the angels who take pity upon the men," he said.

"That more angels may take pity upon men," added the rector, rising from his seat by the fireside, with a wink at the doctor.

And the toast was drunk, standing, while the girls ran up the crooked stair to lay aside their wraps in a three-cornered bedroom.

As Virginia threw off her pink cloak and twirled round in her flaring skirts, Betty gave a little gasp of admiration and stood holding the lighted candle, with its sprig of holly, above her head. The tall girlish figure, in its flounces of organdy muslin, with the smooth parting of bright brown hair and the dovelike eyes, had flowered suddenly into a beauty that took her breath away.

"Why, you are a vision--a vision!" she cried delightedly.

Virginia stopped short in her twirling and settled the illusion ruche over her slim white shoulders. "It's the first time I've dressed like this, you know," she said, glancing at herself in the dim old mirror.

"Ah, I'm not half so pretty," sighed Betty, hopelessly, "Is the rose in place, do you think?" She had fastened a white rose in the thick coil on her neck, where it lay half hidden by her hair.

"It looks just lovely," replied Virginia, heartily. "Do you hear some one in the drive?" She went to the window, and looked out into the falling snow, her bare shoulders shrinking from the frosted pane. "What a long ride the boys have had, and how cold they'll be. Why, the ground is quite covered with snow." Betty, with the candle still in her hand, turned from the mirror, and gave a quick glance through the sloping window, to the naked elms outside. "Ah, poor things, poor things!" she cried.

"But they have their riding cloaks," said Virginia, in her placid voice.

"Oh, I don't mean Dan and Champe and Big Abel," answered Betty, "I mean the elms, the poor naked elms that wear their clothes all summer, and are stripped bare for the cold. How I should like to warm you, you dear things," she added, going to the window. Against the tossing branches her hair made a glow of colour, and her vivid face was warm with tenderness.

"And Jane Lightfoot rode away on a night like this!" she whispered after a pause.

"She wore a muslin dress and a coral necklace, you know," said Virginia, in the same low tone, "and she had only a knitted shawl over her head when she met Jack Montjoy at the end of the drive. He wrapped her in his cape, and they rode like mad to the town--and she was laughing! Uncle Shadrach met them in the road, and he says he heard her laughing in the wind. She must have been very wicked, mustn't she, Betty?"

But Betty was looking into the storm, and did not answer. "I wonder if he were in the least like Dan," she murmured a moment later.

"Well, he had black hair, and Dan has that," responded Virginia, lightly; "and he had a square chin, and Dan has that, too. Oh, every one says that Dan's the image of his father, except for the Lightfoot eyes. I'm glad he has the Lightfoot eyes, anyway. Are you ready to go down?"

Betty was ready, though her face had grown a little grave, and with a last look at the gla.s.s, they caught hands and went sedately down the winding stair.

In the hall below they met Mrs. Lightfoot, who sent Virginia into the panelled parlour, and bore Betty off to the kitchen to taste the sauce for the plum pudding. "I can't do a thing on earth with Rhody," she remarked uneasily, throwing a knitted scarf over her head as they went from the back porch along the covered way that led to the brick kitchen. "She insists that yours is the only palate in all the country she will permit to pa.s.s judgment upon her sauce. I made the Major try it, and he thinks it needs a dash more of rum, but Rhody says she shan't be induced to change it until she has had your advice. Here, Rhody, open the door; I've brought your young lady."

The door swung back with a jerk upon the big kitchen, where before the Christmas turkeys toasting on the spit, Aunt Rhody was striding to and fro like an Amazon in charcoal. From the beginning of the covered way they had been guided by the tones of penetrant contempt, with which she lashed the circle of house servants who had gathered to her a.s.sistance. "You des lemme alont now," was the advice she royally offered. "Ef you gwine ax me w'at you'd better do, I des tell you right now, you'd better lemme alont.

Ca'line, you teck yo' eyes off dat ar roas' pig, er I'll fling dis yer b'ilin' lard right spang on you. I ain' gwine hev none er my cookin'

conjured fo' my ve'y face. Congo, you shet dat mouf er yourn, er I'll shet hit wid er flat-iron, en den hit'll be shet ter stay."

Then, as Mrs. Lightfoot and Betty came in, she broke off, and wiped her large black hands on her ap.r.o.n, before she waved with pride to the shelves and tables bending beneath her various creations. "I'se done stuff dat ar pig so full er chestnuts dat he's fitten ter bus'," she exclaimed proudly.

"Lawd, Lawd, hit's a pity he ain' 'live agin des ter tase hese'f!"

"Poor little pig," said Betty, "he looks so small and pink, Aunt Rhody, I don't see how you have the heart to roast him."

"I'se done stuff 'im full," returned Aunt Rhody, in justification.

"I hope he's well done, Rhody," briskly broke in Mrs. Lightfoot; "and be sure to bake the hams until the juice runs through the bread crumbs. Is everything ready for to-morrow?"

"Des es ready es ef 'twuz fer Kingdom Come, Ole Miss, en dar ain' gwine be no better dinner on Jedgment Day nurr, I don' cyar who gwine cook hit. You des tase dis yer sa.s.s--dat's all I ax, you des tase dis yer sa.s.s."

"You taste it, Betty," begged Mrs. Lightfoot, shrinking from the approaching spoon; and Betty tasted and p.r.o.nounced it excellent, "and there never was an Ambler who wasn't a judge of 'sa.s.s," she added.

Moved by the compliment, Aunt Rhody fell back and regarded the girl, with her arms akimbo. "I d'clar, her eyes do des shoot fire," she exclaimed admiringly. "I dunno whar de beaux done hid deyse'ves dese days; hit's a wonner dey ain' des a-busin' dey sides ter git yer. Ma.r.s.e Dan, now, whynt he come a-prancin' roun' dese yer parts?"

Mrs. Lightfoot looked at Betty and saw her colour rise. "That will do, Rhody," she cautioned; "you will let the turkeys burn," but as they moved toward the door, Betty herself paused and looked back.

"I gave your Christmas gift to Uncle Cupid, Aunt Rhody," she said; "he put it under the joists in your cabin, so you mustn't look at it till morning."

"Lawd, chile, I'se done got Christmas gifts afo' now," replied Aunt Rhody, ungratefully, "en I'se done got a pa'cel er no count ones, too. Folks dey give Christmas gifts same es de Lawd he give chillun--dey des han's out w'at dey's got on dey han's, wid no stiddyin' 'bout de tase. Sakes er live!

Ef'n de Lawd hadn't hed a plum sight ter git rid er, he 'ouldn't er sont Ca'line all dose driblets, fo' he'd done sont 'er a husban'."

"Husban', huh!" exclaimed Ca'line, with a snort from the fireplace.

"Husban' yo'se'f! No mo' n.i.g.g.e.risms fer me, ma'am!"

"Hold your tongue, Ca'line," said Mrs. Lightfoot, sternly; "and, Rhody, you ought to be ashamed of yourself to talk so before your Miss Betty."

"Husban', huh!" repeated the indignant Ca'line, under her breath.

"Hold your tongues, both of you," cried the old lady, as she lifted her silk skirt in both hands and swept from the kitchen.

When they reached the house again, they heard the Major's voice, on its highest key, demanding: "Molly! Why, bless my soul, what's become of Molly?" He was calling from the front steps, and the sound of tramping feet rang in the drive below. Against the whiteness of the storm Big Abel's face shone in the light from the open door, and about him, as he held the horses, Dan and Champe and a guest or two were dismounting upon the steps.

As the old lady went forward, Champe rushed into the hall, and caught her in his arms.

"On my word, you're so young I didn't know you," he cried gayly. "If you keep this up, Aunt Molly, there'll be a second Lightfoot beauty yet. You grow prettier every day--I declare you do!"

"Hold your tongue, you scamp," said the old lady, flushing with pleasure, "or there'll be a second Ananias as well. Here, Betty, come and wish this bad boy a Merry Christmas."

Betty looked round with a smile, but as she did so, her eyes went beyond Champe, and saw Dan standing in the doorway, his soft slouch hat in his hand, and a powdering of snow on his dark hair. He had grown bigger and older in the last few months, and the Lightfoot eyes, with the Lightfoot twinkle in their pupils, gave an expression of careless humour to his pale, strongly moulded face. The same humour was in his voice even as he held his grandfather's hand.

"By George, we're glad to get here," was his greeting. "Morson's been cursing our hospitality for the last three miles. Grandpa, this is my friend Morson--Jack Morson, you've heard me speak of him; and this is Bland Diggs, you know of him, too."

"Why, to be sure, to be sure," cried the Major, heartily, as he held out both hands. "You're welcome, gentlemen, as welcome as Christmas--what more can I say? But come in, come in to the fire. Cupid, the gla.s.ses!"

"Ah, the ladies first," suggested Dan, lightly; "grace before meat, you know. So here you are, grandma, cap and all. And Virginia;--ye G.o.ds!--is this little Virginia?"

His laughing eyes were on her as she stood, tall and lovely, beneath a Christmas garland, and with the laughter still in them, they blazed with approval of her beauty. "Oh, but do you know, how did you do it?" he demanded with his blithe confidence, as if it mattered very little how his words were met.

"It wasn't any trouble, believe me," responded Virginia, blushing, "not half so much trouble as you took to tie your neckerchief."

Dan's hand went to his throat. "Then I may presume that it is mere natural genius," he exclaimed.