The days went dreamily on. Edwin Green lengthened his stay in Kentucky
until he really became touchy on the subject, and one day when some one
spoke of the old Virginia gentleman who came in out of the rain and
stayed six years, he told Mrs. Brown that he felt very like that old
man. She was hospitality itself, and made him understand that he was
more than welcome, and, every time he set a date for his departure, some
form of entertainment was immediately on foot where his presence seemed
both desirable and necessary, and his going away was postponed again.
Once it was a coon hunt with Ernest and John and Lewis, the colored
gardener; once it was a moonlight picnic at a wonderful spot called
Black Rock.
On that occasion they drove in a hay wagon over a road that was a
disgrace to Kentucky, and then up a dry creek bed until they came to the
great black boulder that stood at least twenty feet in the air; there
they made their temporary camp. Kent confided to Professor Green that
they never dared to come up that creek bed unless they were sure of
clear weather, as it had been known to fill so quickly with a big rain
that it drowned a man and horse. It was innocent enough then, with only
a thin stream of water trickling along the rocks, sometimes forming a
pool where the horses would go in almost to their knees; but, as a rule,
they went dry shod along the bed. It was rough riding, but no one
minded. There was plenty of hay in the wagon for young bones, and Mrs.
Brown, who was chaperoning, had a pillow to sit on and one to lean
against. When they got to the sylvan spot every one agreed it was worth
the bumping they had undergone.
"Oh, it looks like the Doone Valley," said Judy.
And so it did, except that the stream of water was not quite so big as
the one John Ridd had to climb up.
There were sixteen in the party, which filled the big wagon comfortably
so that no one had room to bounce out. Paul and Ernest had invited two
girls from Louisville, who turned out to be very pleasant and attractive
and in for a good time. The only person who was not very agreeable was
John's friend, the girl visiting Aunt Clay, a Miss Hunt from Tennessee.
She was fussy and particular and afraid of spoiling her dress, a chiffon
thing, entirely inappropriate for a hay ride. She complained of a
headache, and, besides, as Molly said, "she didn't sit fair." That is a
very important thing to do on a hay ride. One person doubling up or
lolling can upset the comfort of a whole wagon load. You must sit with
your feet stretched out, making what quilt makers call "the every other
one pattern."
"I am glad she acts this way," whispered Mrs. Brown to Molly. "I know
now why I can't abide her. I couldn't tell before."
Miss Hunt's selfishness did not seem to worry her admirers any. John was
all devotion, as were the two other young men who came along in her
train. They were sorry about her headache and wanted to make room in the
wagon for her to lie down; but Mrs. Brown was firm there and said it was
a pity for her to suffer, but she thought it might injure her back
unless she sat up going over the rough road. That lady had no patience
with the headache, and thought the girl would much better have stayed at
home if she were too ill to sit up. She did not much believe in the
headache, anyhow, and was irritated to see poor Molly with her long legs
doubled up under her trying to make room for the lolling little beauty.
"She is pretty, no doubt of that," said Edwin Green to Mrs. Brown, whom
he had elected to sit by and look after for the ride, "as pretty as a
brunette can be. I like a blonde as a rule. But it looks to me as though
Miss Molly is getting the hot end of it, as far as comfort goes."
He would have offered to change places with Molly, but had a big reason
for refraining. That was that no other than Jimmy Lufton, Molly's New
York newspaper friend, was occupying the seat next to Molly, and
Professor Green was determined to do nothing to show his misery at that
young man's proximity. Jimmy had arrived quite unexpectedly that
afternoon and seemed to be as intimate with the whole Brown family in
two hours as he, Edwin Green, was after weeks of close companionship. He
tried not to feel bitter, and, next to sitting by Molly, he was sure he
would rather sit by her mother than any one in the world, certainly than
anyone in the wagon.
Jimmy was easily the life of the party. He had a good tenor voice and
knew all the new songs "hot off of the bat" from New York. He told the
funniest stories, and at the same time was so good-natured and kindly
and modest withal that you had to like him. He was not the typical funny
man. Edwin Green felt that he could not have stood Molly's preferring a
typical funny man to him. She did prefer Jimmy, he felt almost sure, and
now he was trying to steel himself to take his medicine like a man. He
was determined not to whine and not to make Molly unhappy. He had seen
the meeting between Molly and Jimmy, and it was the flood of color that
had suffused Molly's face and her almost painful agitation that had
convinced him of her regard for that brilliant young journalist. Had he
heard the conversation as well as seen the meeting, he might have been
spared some of his unhappiness. Jimmy had said, "Where's my lemon?" and
Molly had answered, "Done et up."
They piled out of the wagon. John, the woodsman of the crowd, busied
himself making a fire, demanding that the two "extra men" should come
and chop wood, determined that they should not get in too many words
with the beautiful Miss Hunt while he was working. Miss Hunt then
exercised her fascinations on Jimmy Lufton, on whom she had had her eye
ever since they left Chatsworth. Jimmy was polite, but had a
"nothing-doing" expression which quite baffled the practiced flirt. Poor
Molly's foot had gone so fast asleep that she was forced to hop around
for at least five minutes before she could get out of the wagon and
begin to make herself useful. Kent, who had driven, with Judy on the
front seat with him, was busy taking out the four horses to let them
rest for the heavy pull home. The other young men were occupied in
various ways, lifting the hampers out of the wagon and getting water
from the beautiful spring at the foot of the huge black rock. Professor
Green came to Molly's assistance.
"I was afraid your foot would go to sleep. You are too good to let that
girl crowd you so. She was the most deliberately selfish person I ever
saw."
"Oh, there is always somebody like that on a hay ride. I have never been
on one yet that there wasn't some girl along with a headache who took up
more than her share of room. I am too long to double up; but it is all
right now. The tingle has stopped, and I can bear my weight on it, I
see."
"Did you ever see anything more beautiful than this valley? How clever
Miss Kean is in hitting off a description! I haven't thought of the
Doone Valley for years, and now I can't get it out of my head; these
overhanging cliffs and this green grass, green even by moonlight; and
the sensation of being in an impenetrable fortress! And the great black
rock might be Carver Doone petrified and very much magnified, left here
forever for his sins. It must be a magnificent sight when the creek is
full."
"So it is; but I hope we shall not see that sight to-night. Lorna Doone
in the big snow was in a safe place to what we would be in a big freshet
up this valley with no way to get back but by the creek bed," said
Molly, jumping out of the hay wagon and beginning to make ready the
supper.
Such a supper it was, with appetites to match after the long ride and
good jolting! Mrs. Brown was an old hand at picnic suppers and knew
exactly what to put in and how to pack the baskets in the most
appetizing way. There were different kinds of sandwiches, thin bread and
butter, all kinds of pickles, apple turnovers and cheese cakes; but the
crowning success of one of these camp picnics was always the hot coffee
and bacon cooked on John's fire. The Browns kept a skillet and big
coffee pot to use only on such occasions. The cloth was soon spread and
the cold lunch arranged on it, and then in an incredibly short time the
coffee was boiling and the bacon sizzling.
"Oh, what a smell is this?" said Jimmy Lufton, emerging from behind
Black Rock, where Miss Hunt had been doing her best to captivate him.
(Kent said he bet on Jimmy to give her as good as he got.) "Mark Twain
says, 'Bacon would improve the flavor of an angel,' and so it would."
"Well, I'm no angel, but I certainly do smell like bacon," said Molly
with flushed face and rumpled hair as she knelt over the fire with a
long stick turning the luscious morsels. "Sue and Cyrus are responsible
for the coffee and the bacon is my affair."
"As Todger's boy says, 'Wittles is up,'" called Jimmy to the strolling
couples, who lost no time in hurrying to the feast. Mrs. Brown was
installed at the head of the cloth, but not allowed to wait on any one.
"For once, you shall be a guest at your own table," said Kent, taking
the coffee pot out of her hands. "Miss Judy, don't you think we can
serve this?"
"Mostly cream for me and very little coffee," drawled Miss Hunt.
"If you have such a bad headache you had better take it black," said
Judy, who was aware of that young lady's selfish behavior on the trip.
"The people who want a great deal of cream will have to wait until the
rest are served, as some of the cream got spilled; and, while there is
enough for reasonable helps, there is not enough for exorbitant
demands."
John and the two "extras" offered their shares to the spoiled beauty,
but Judy was adamant.
"Those sandwiches with olives and mayonnaise are very rich for any one
with a liver," said Judy later on as Miss Hunt was preparing to help
herself plentifully to the delectable food; "these plain
bread-and-butter ones would be much more wholesome for you, my dear.
What, cheese cakes for any one who is too ill to sit up straight!
Goodness gracious, Miss Hunt, do be careful! Your demise would grieve so
many it is really selfish of you not to take better care of yourself."
"You seem to be very much concerned about my health, Miss Kean. I wonder
that you knew I did not feel well; you seemed to be fully occupied on
the journey with Mr. Kent Brown," snapped Miss Hunt.
"So I was," answered Judy, nothing daunted. "But whenever Kent had to
turn his attentions to the four horses when we came to rough spots in
the road and he was trying not to jolt the ambulance too much, then I
could turn around and get a good bird's-eye view of the passengers, and
you always seemed to be on the point of fainting."
"I know you are better now," said Molly, who could not bear for even
Miss Hunt, who was certainly not her style of girl, to be teased. "I
know these apple turnovers won't hurt you, and Aunt Mary makes such good
ones. Do have one, and here is some more cream if you want it in your
coffee."
"What a sweet girl your sister is," said Miss Hunt in an audible
whisper. "I can't see what she finds in that Miss Kean to want her to
make her such an interminable visit."
The ill-natured remark was heard by every one. For did you ever notice
that the way to make yourself heard in a crowd of noisy talkers is to
whisper? Molly looked ready for tears, and Kent bit his lips in rage,
but Judy, as spunky as usual, and feeling that she deserved a rebuke
from Miss Hunt, but rather shocked at the ill-bred way of delivering it,
spoke out: "Mrs. Brown, when we were laughing the other day over your
story of the old Virginia gentleman who came in out of the rain and
stayed six years, I had another one to tell, but something happened to
interrupt me. Might I tell it now?"
Mrs. Brown gave a smiling consent. She was not so tender-hearted as
Molly and, while she felt it a mistake to wrangle, she was rather
curious to see who would get ahead in this trial of wits.
"I bet my bottom dollar on Miss Judy, don't you, mother?" said Kent in
an undertone.
"I certainly do," whispered his mother.
"A little Southern girl we knew at college, Madeline Pettit, told in all
seriousness about a neighbor of hers who was invited to go on a visit.
She accepted, but they had to sell the cow for her to go on, and then
she had to prolong her visit for the calf to get big enough for her to
come home on. I am afraid our calf is almost big enough and papa may
come riding in on it any day and carry me off." There was a general roar
of laughter, and then the picnickers, having eaten all that they
uncomfortably could, made a general movement toward adjournment.
"Where is the moon?" they all exclaimed at once. While they were eating
and drinking and making themselves generally merry, the proverbial
cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, had grown and spread and now the
moon was put out of business. The cliffs were so high that a storm had
come up out of the west without any one dreaming of it.
"This creek can fill in such a hurry when a big rain comes we had better
start," said Kent.
"Oh, don't be such a croaker, Kent. It can't rain. The sky was as clear
as a bell when we left home," said Mrs. Brown, as eager as any of the
young people to prolong the good times.
"All right, mother, just as you think best, but I am going to get the
horses hitched up in case you change your mind."
Change her mind she did in a very few minutes, as large drops of rain
began to fall. The crowd came pell-mell and scrambled into the wagon.
Mrs. Brown noticed in the confusion that she had lost her cavalier and
that Professor Green had attached himself to Molly. She was pleased to
see it, as she had felt sorry for the young man. He was evidently so
miserable, and yet at the same time so determined to make himself
agreeable to her that he had been really very charming. She loved to
talk about books, and, as she said, seldom had the chance, for the
people who knew about books and cared for them never seemed to realize
that a busy mother and housekeeper could have similar tastes.
"I get so tired of swapping recipes for pickles and talking about how to
raise children. Aunt Mary makes the pickle and my children are all
raised," she had confided to Edwin Green. "We had a very interesting
guest on one occasion, a woman who had done a great many delightful
things and knew many delightful literary people, and I hoped to have a
real good talk with her about books; but she seemed to feel she must
stick to the obvious when she conversed with me. I often laugh when I
think of Aunt Mary's retort courteous to this same lady. She was
constantly asking me how we made this and what we did to have that so
much better than other people, and I would always refer her to Aunt
Mary.
"Once it was bread that was under discussion. You know how difficult it
is to get a recipe from a darkey, as they never really know how they do
the things they do best. Aunt Mary told her to the best of her ability
what she did, but the woman was not satisfied. 'Now, tell me exactly how
many cups of flour you use.' 'Why, bless you, we done stop dolin' out
flour with a cup long ago an' uses a ole broken pitcher.' Another time
it was coffee. 'Now, you have told me about the freshly roasted and
ground coffee, please tell me how much water.' Aunt Mary gave a scornful
sniff. 'You mus' think we are stingy folks ef you think we measure
water!' At another time she said, 'Aunt Mary, you must have told me
wrong, because I did exactly what you said and my popovers were complete
failures.' 'Laws a mussy, I did fergit to tell you one thing, an' that
is that you mus' stir in some gumption wif ev'y aig.'"
"De rain kep' a-drappin' in draps so mighty heavy;
De ribber kep' a-risin' an' bus'ed froo de levvy,
Ring, ring de banjo, how I lub dat good ole song,
Come, come, my true love, oh, whar you been so long?"
It was Jimmy who broke into this rollicking song, and when all of the
Brown boys, who had had an experience with this old dry creek bed once
on a 'possum hunt, heard him, they felt that the song was singularly
appropriate. They also thanked their stars that they had with them some
one who would "whoop things up" and keep the crowd cheerful, and perhaps
the ladies would not realize the danger they were in. This wet-weather
creek was fed by innumerable small branches, all of them dry now from
something of a drought that had been prevalent, and John, the woodsman,
noticed that before they had much rainfall in the valley those small
branches had begun to flow, showing that there had already been a great
storm to the west of them.
"If the rain were merely local, old Stony Creek could not do much damage
in itself, but it is the help of all of these wet-weather springs and
branches that makes it play such havoc," whispered John to Jimmy Lufton.
"I have known it in two hours' time to rise four feet, which sounds
incredible; and then in two hours more subside two feet, and in a day be
almost dry again. I spent four hours up on top of Black Rock once in a
sudden freshet. I would have scaled the hills, but I had some young dogs
hunting, and they were so panic-stricken and I was so afraid they would
fall down the cliffs in the creek, that I just took them up on top of
the rock; and there we sat huddled up in the driving rain until the
water subsided enough for us to wade home. Swimming is out of the
question for more than a few strokes, the current is so swift; and as
for keeping your feet and walking, you simply can't do it."
"We have a creek up near Lexington that goes on just such unexpected
sprees," said Jimmy. "It will be a perfectly respectable citizen and
every one will forget its bad behavior, when suddenly it will break
loose and get so full it disgraces itself and brings shame on its family
of branches."
By this time the whole crowd was fairly damp, but they made a joke of
it, with the exception of Miss Hunt, who was much irritated at the
damage done her pretty dress. Although she was covered up with three
coats, she clamored for more, but no more were offered her. Professor
Green took off his coat and, folding it carefully, put it under the seat
in the lunch hamper.
"I fancy you think this is a funny thing to do, but I have seen a wet
crowd almost freeze after a storm like this, and it is a great mistake
to get all of the wraps wet. It is much better to take the rain and get
wet yourself, and keep the coats dry; and then, when the rain is over,
have something warm and comfortable to put on."
"That is a fine scheme," said Paul, and all of the men followed Edwin
Green's example, and Molly and Judy, who had prudently brought their
college sweaters, did the same.
"I think it is rather fun to get wet when you have on clothes that won't
get ruined," said Judy.
"I am glad you like it," answered Miss Hunt, still sore over her bout
with Judy, "but I must say it is hard on me with this chiffon dress.
What will it look like after this?"
"Well, you know, chiffon is French for rag so I fancy it will look like
a Paris creation," called back Judy from the front seat, where she was
still installed by Kent. "I'll bet anything her hair will come out of
curl," she whispered to her companion, "and I should not be astonished
to see some of her beauty wash off."
"Eany, meany," laughed Kent. "You are already way ahead of her, Miss
Judy. Do leave her her hair and complexion."
"Well, I'll try to be good," said penitent Judy. "You and Molly are so
alike, it is right amusing. And the worst of it is your goodness rubs
off on everybody you come in contact with. Do you realize I have been in
Kentucky for weeks and that Miss Hunt is the first person I have had a
scrap with, and so far I have not got myself in a single 'Julia Kean'
scrape? I have been in so many, that the girls at college have named the
particular kind of scrape I get in after me, just as though I were a
famous physician who had discovered a disease."
"Just what kind of scrape do you usually get in?"
"The kind of scrape I get in is always one I can get out of, and usually
one that I fall in from not looking ahead enough at the consequences."
"Well, I pray God that this will be a 'Julia Kean' scrape we are in
to-night. Certainly, lack of foresight got us in. I'd like to get that
weather man and throw him in this creek. 'Generally fair and variable
winds,' much!" said Kent with such a serious expression that Judy began
to realize that this was not simply a case of a good wetting, but might
mean something more.
The horses were knee deep in water now, but splashing bravely on. Molly
noticed that in hitching up for the homeward trip Kent had put President
in the lead.
"That is because old President has so much sense and will know how to
pick his way and keep his feet when the other horses would get scared
and begin to struggle and pull down the whole team," said Molly to
Professor Green. Molly was fully aware of the danger they were in, but
was keeping her knowledge to herself for fear of starting a panic among
the girls. "There is no real danger of drowning," she whispered to her
companion, "so long as we stay in the wagon. But the banks are so steep
that if we should get out we might slip into the creek and then it would
be about impossible to keep our feet. Look at the water now, up to the
hubs of the wheels! I am sorry for the horses, and what an awful
responsibility for Kent! But he is equal to it. Do you know, I really
believe Kent is equal to anything!"
It was, of course, pitch dark now, except for frequent flashes of
lightning that illuminated the raging torrents, so all were forced to
realize the grave situation.
"The horses are behaving wonderfully well, and so far all the passengers
are. I hope it will keep up," muttered Kent. "It is awfully hard to keep
your head when you are driving if any one screams."
"The water is in the wagon bed now. I can tell by my feet. Don't you
think your mother ought to come on the front seat, where she can be out
of it somewhat?" suggested Judy.
"You are right. Mother, come on up here and help me drive. There is
plenty of room for three of us, and I believe you would be more
comfortable."
Mrs. Brown got up, glad to change her position. She was more frightened
than she cared to own, and was anxious to find out just how Kent felt
about the matter.
"I am going on the front seat, too," said the bedraggled Miss Hunt. "It
seems to me Miss Julia Kean has had the best of everything long enough.
I see no reason why she should sit high and dry during the whole drive,
while here I am absolutely and actually sitting in the water."
Kent bit his lips in fury, but held his horses and his tongue while the
change was being made. Judy showed her breeding in a way that made Molly
proud.
"High I may be, but not dry," said Judy, playfully shaking herself on
the already drenched Molly as she sank by her side on the soggy hay. "I
am going to see how long our fair friend will stay up there. It is
really the scariest place I ever got in. Down here you feel the water
without seeing it, but up there every flash of lightning reveals terrors
that down here are undreamed of."
"Sit in the middle, mother, and Miss Hunt and I can take better care of
you."
"Oh, I am afraid to sit on the outside! Mrs. Brown is much larger than I
am and could hold me in better than I could her," said the selfish girl.
She squeezed in between mother and son, as Kent said afterward, taking
up more room then any little person that he ever saw.
"Noah he did build an ark, one wide river to cross.
Built it out of hickory bark, one wide river to cross.
One wide river, and that wide river was Jordan,
One wide river, and that wide river to cross."
"All join in the chorus," demanded Jimmy.
There were many verses to the time-honored song, and before they got all
the animals in the ark the moon suddenly came out from behind a very
black cloud, and the rain was over, but not the flood.
"It took many days and nights for the water to subside for old Noah, and
we may expect the same delay in our case," said the happy and
irrepressible Jimmy.
Kent was glad indeed for the light of the moon. He had really had to
leave it to President to take the proper road, or, rather, channel. That
brave old horse had gone sturdily on, and, when one of the younger
horses had begun to struggle and pull back, he had turned solemnly
around and given him a soft little bite.
"Mother, did you see that? And look at that off horse now! I bet he will
behave after this."
Sure enough, the admonished animal was pulling as steadily as President
himself, and they had no more trouble with him.
There were many large holes in the creek bed, and, of course, the wheels
often went into them. Once it looked for a moment as though they might
have a turnover to add to their disasters. The wagon toppled, but
righted itself in a moment. Miss Hunt, as Judy had said, on the front
seat was able to see the danger as she could not down in the wagon, and
when the wheels went down that particularly deep hole she let out a
piercing scream and tried to seize the reins from Kent.
Kent pulled up his horses as soon as the wagon was on a level and called
to John, "John, will you please help Miss Hunt back into the seat she
has just vacated? She finds she is not comfortable here."
At that Miss Hunt very humbly crawled back, and, like the Heathen
Chinee, "subsequent proceedings interested her no more."
As dawn was breaking they drove into the avenue at Chatsworth, not
really very much the worse for wear. The warm, dry wraps produced from
under the seat after the moon came out had been wonderfully comforting.
Edwin Green had made Mrs. Brown take his coat, and as he folded it
around her he had whispered, "Kentucky women are very remarkable. They
meet danger as though it were a partner at a ball."
"Yes," said Kent, who had overheard him, "I could never have come
through the deep waters if it had not been for the brave women. You saw
how the one scream unnerved me, to say nothing of that little vixen
grabbing my reins. Here, Ernest, we are on the pike at last, and I am
just about all in. I wouldn't give up until we got through, but take the
reins. Maybe Miss Hunt would like to drive," he had slyly added, but a
low moan from under the wet coats was all the proud beauty could utter.
Aunt Mary greeted them at Chatsworth with much delight.
"The sto'm here been somethin' turrible. I ain't seed sich a wind sence
the chilluns' castle blowed down. All of yer had better come back to the
kitchen whar it's warm and eat somethin'. I got a big pot er hot coffee
and pitchers er hot milk an' a pan er quick yeast biscuit. I done notice
ef you eat somethin' when you is cold an' wet, somehow you fergits ter
catch cold."
They all came trooping back to the warm old kitchen, "ev'y spot in it as
clean as a bisc'it board," and there they ate the hot buttered biscuit
and drank the coffee and milk. It was noticed that John let the "extras"
take care of Miss Hunt, and he devoted himself to his mother. Just as
they were separating for the morning he hugged his mother and whispered
to her, "You need not have any more uneasiness about me, mumsy. I don't
believe there is a Brown living who could go on loving a woman who has
no more sense than to grab the reins."