Cousin Ann Is Affronted
Mrs. Bucknor stood aside while Uncle Billy and Jeff unpacked the
carriage but as the visitor emerged she came forward. "How do you do,
Cousin Ann?" she said, trying to put some warmth in her remark. "Have
you driven far?"
Cousin Ann leaned over stiffly and gave her hostess a perfunctory peck
on her cheek. "We left Cousin Betty Throckmorton's this morning," she
said with a toss of the purple poke bonnet.
"Then you must have had a very early breakfast." It was a well-known
fact that the sorrel horses, although of the famous Golddust breed,
were old and could travel at a stretch only about five miles an hour.
"We lef' Miss Betty's befo' breakfas'," said Uncle Billy sadly, but a
glance from his mistress made him add, "but we ain't hongry, case we
done et our fill at a hotel back yonder."
"I deemed it wise to travel before the heat of the day," said Miss
Ann with an added dignity. "Take my luggage to my room, Billy."
"Yassum, yes, Miss Ann," and the old man made a show of tying his team
to the hitching post although he knew that the fat old Cupid and Puck
were glad to stop and rest and nothing short of oats would budge
them.
Mildred and Nan came slowly down the walk, followed by Aunt Em'ly.
"We've got to let her kiss us and we might just as well get it over
with," grumbled Mildred.
"Well, they's some compersations in bein' black," chuckled Aunt Em'ly.
"I ain't never had ter kiss Miss Ann yit."
"How do you do, cousins?" and Miss Peyton again stooped from her
loftiness and pecked first one girl and then the other. The old lady
called all of her young relations cousin without adding the Christian
name and it was generally conceded that she did this because she could
not keep up with the younger generation in the many homes she
visited.
"Mother, remember your promise," whispered Mildred.
"Yes, Mother, remember," added Nan. "Now is the time, before the
trunks and things get put in the wrong room."
"Uncle Billy, Miss Ann is to have the room next the guest chamber. I
mean the--hall room," hesitated poor Mrs. Bucknor, who was always
overawed by Cousin Ann.
Uncle Billy put down the two bulging telescopes he had picked up and
looking piteously at Mrs. Bucknor said, "What you say, Miss Milly? I
reckon I done misumberstood. You mus' 'scuse ol' Billy, Miss Milly."
"Miss Milly done said I'll show you the way," said Aunt Em'ly, picking
up a great hat box and a Gladstone bag. "I'll he'p you carry up some
er these here bags an' baggage."
The gaunt old woman stalked ahead, while Billy followed, but far from
meekly. His beard with its many wrapped plaits wagged ominously and he
could hardly wait to get beyond earshot of the white folks before he
gave voice to his indignation.
"What's all this a puttin' my Miss Ann off in a lil' ol' hall bedroom?
You-alls is gone kinder crazy. The bes' ain't good enough fer my Miss
Ann. How she gonter make out in no little squz up room what ain't mo'n
a dressin'-room? Miss Ann air always been a havin' the gues' chamber
an' I'm a gonter 'stablish her thar now. Miss Milly done got mixed up,
Sis Em'ly," and the old man changed his indignant tone to a wheedling
one. "Sholy yo' Miss Milly wa' jes' a foolin' an' seein' as th'ain't
nobody in the gues' chamber we'll jes' put my Miss Ann thar."
The door of the guest chamber was open and the determined old darkey
pushed by Aunt Em'ly and entered the room prepared by Mildred and Nan
for their friends.
"See, they mus' a' got a message she wa' on the way, kase they done
put flowers in her room an' all," and old Billy kneeled to loosen the
straps of the telescopes.
"Git up from yonder, nigger!" exclaimed Aunt Em'ly. "The young ladies
air done swep and garnished this here room for they own comp'ny.
Th'ain't nothin' the matter with that there hall room. It air plenty
good enough fer mos' folks. I reckon yo' Miss Ann ain't a whit
better'n my Miss Mildred and my Miss Nan--ain't so good in fac', kase
they's got the same blood she air an' mo' of it. They's a older fambly
than she is kase they's come along two or three generations further
than what she is. They's Peytons an' Bucknors an' Prestons an'
Throckmortons an' Butlers an'--an' every other Kentucky fambly they's
a mind ter be."
Uncle Billy staggered to his feet and looked at Aunt Em'ly with
amazement and indignation. He tried to speak but words failed him.
She towered above him. There was something sinister and threatening
about her--at least so the old man fancied. Aunt Em'ly was in reality
merely standing up for the rights of her own especial white folks, but
to the dazed old man she seemed like a symbolic figure of famine and
disaster, lean and gaunt, pointing a long, bony finger at him. He
followed her to the hall bedroom and deposited his burdens and then
staggered down the stairs for the rest of Miss Ann's belongings.
Poor Uncle Billy! His troubles were almost more than he could bear.
Not that he personally minded getting up before dawn and flitting from
Mrs. Betty Throckmorton's home before any member of the household was
stirring. His Miss Ann had so willed it and far be it from him to
object to her commands. Even going without breakfast was no hardship,
if it so pleased his beloved mistress. The meal he had declared to
Mrs. Bucknor they had eaten at a hotel on the way was purely
imaginary. Crackers and cheese from a country store they had passed on
their journey and a spray of black-heart cherries he had pulled from a
tree by the wayside was all he and his mistress had eaten since the
evening before at supper.
That supper! Would he ever forget it? From the back porch steps he
had heard the insults flung at Miss Ann by her hostess. Of course
everybody who was anybody, or who had ever belonged to anybody, knew
that Mrs. Elizabeth Throckmorton, known as Cousin Betty, was not
really a member of the family but had merely married into it.
According to Uncle Billy's geography she was not even an American, let
alone a Kentuckian, since she had come from some foreign parts vaguely
spoken of as New England. He and Miss Ann never had liked to visit
there, but stopped on rare occasions when they felt that being an
outsider her feelings might be hurt when she heard they had been in
her neighborhood, had passed by her farm without paying their respects
in the shape of a short visit.
The encounter between the two ladies had been short and sharp, while
the Throckmorton family sat in frightened silence. Miss Ann and Uncle
Billy had been there only two days but from the beginning of the visit
Uncle Billy had felt that things were not going so smoothly as he had
hoped. Things had not been running very well for the chronic visitors
in several of the places visited during the last year but there had
been no open break or rudeness until that evening at the
Throckmortons'. It was a little unfortunate that they had come in on
the family without warning, just as the oldest grandchildren were
recovering from measles and the youngest daughter, Lucy, had made up
her mind to have a June wedding. The measles had necessitated an extra
house cleaning and fumigation of the nursery and the young sufferers
had been put in the guest chamber to sleep, while the June wedding
meant many visits to Louisville for trousseau and much conversation on
the subject of who should not be invited and what kind of refreshments
must be served.
A more unpropitious moment for paying a visit could not have been
chosen. It was plain to see that the Throckmortons were not aware of
the honor conferred upon them. The guest chamber having been converted
into a convalescent hospital, Miss Ann must share room and bed with
the reluctant Lucy. Bureau drawers were cleared and part of a wardrobe
dedicated to the aged relative. Moreover there was no room in the
stable for the visiting carriage horses, as a young Throckmorton had
recently purchased a string of valuable hunters that must be housed,
although Miss Ann's Golddust breed were forced to present their broad
backs to the rain and wind in the pasture.
Old Billy slept in the coach, but he often did this in late
years--how often he never let his mistress know. In early days he had
been welcomed by the servants and treated with the respect due Miss
Ann Peyton's coachman, but the older generation of colored people had
died off or had become too aged and feeble to "make the young folks
stand around." As for the white people, Uncle Billy couldn't make up
his mind what was the matter with them. Wasn't Miss Ann the same Miss
Ann who had been visiting ever since her own beautiful home, Peyton,
had been burned to the ground just after the war? She was on a visit
at the time. Billy was coachman and had driven her to Buck Hill. He
wasn't old Billy then, but was young and sprightly. He drove a
spanking pair of sorrels and the coach was new and shiny. It was
indeed a stylish turnout and Miss Ann Peyton was known as the belle
and beauty of Kentucky.
It was considered very fortunate at the time of the fire that Ann was
visiting and had all of her clothes and jewels with her. They at least
were saved. From Buck Hill they had gone to the home of other
relations and so on until visiting became a habit. Her father, a
widower, died a few weeks after the fire and later her brother. The
estate had dwindled until only a small income was inherited by the
bereaved Ann. Visiting was cheap. She was made welcome by the
relations, and on prosperous blue-grass farms the care of an extra
pair of carriage horses and the keep of another servant made very
little difference. Cousin Ann, horses and coachman, were received with
open arms and urged to stop as long as they cared to.
In those days there always seemed to be plenty of room for visitors.
The houses were certainly no larger than of the present day but they
were more elastic. Of course entertaining a handsome young woman of
lively and engaging manners, whose beaux were legion, was very
different from having a peculiar old lady in a hoop skirt descend upon
you unawares from a shabby coach drawn by fat old horses that looked
as though they might not go another step in spite of the commands of
the grotesque coachman with his plaited beard and bushy white hair.
But that supper at the Throckmortons'! Uncle Billy was seated on the
porch steps with a pan of drippings in his hand, wherein the cook had
grudgingly put the scrag of a fried chicken and a hunk of cold corn
bread. The cook was a new cook and not at all inclined to bother
herself over an old darkey with his whiskers done up in plaits. The
old man silently sopped his bread and listened to the talk of the
white folks indoors.
"Cousin Ann, have you ever thought of going to a home for aged women?"
Mrs. Throckmorton asked. Her tone was brisk and businesslike, though
not unkind. Mrs. Throckmorton had been entertaining this old cousin of
her husband for many years and while she was not honored with as many
visits as some of the relations she was sure she had her full share.
It seemed to her high time that some member or near member of the
family should step in and suggest to the old lady that there were such
homes and that she should enter one.
"I? Ann Peyton go to an old ladies' home? Cousin Betty you must be in
a jocular vein," and Uncle Billy saw through the open door that his
mistress drew herself up like a queen and her eyes flashed.
"Well, plenty of persons quite as good as you go to such homes every
day," insisted the hostess. "I should think you would prefer having a
regular home and not driving from pillar to post, never knowing where
you will land next and never sure whether your relations will have
room for you or not. As it is, just now I am really afraid it will not
be convenient for you to stay much longer with us. What with Lucy's
wedding and the measles and everything! Of course you need not go
immediately--"
"That is enough, Cousin Betty. Never shall it be said that we have
worn out our welcome. We go immediately." Miss Ann's voice was loud
and clear. She stood up and pushed back her chair sharply. "We beg to
be excused," she said and turned to walk from the room.
"Oh, nonsense, Cousin Ann!" exclaimed Mrs. Throckmorton impatiently.
"Nobody said you must go immediately. It was just with the wedding
imminent and--anyhow I meant it for the best when I mentioned a home
for aged women. You would be quite comfortable in one and I am sure I
could find exactly the right sort. You would have to make a deposit of
several thousands--I don't know exactly how much but you must have a
little something left since you pay old Billy's wages and have your
horses shod and so on. Of course in the home you would have no such
expenses. You could sell your horses and your old coach is little more
than junk, and old Billy could go to a home too."
Miss Ann had paused a moment but when Mrs. Throckmorton spoke of her
carriage as junk and suggested a home for Billy, too, her indignation
knew no bounds and with a commanding gesture of dismissal she stalked
from the dining-room. Billy was summoned and since it was out of the
question to start so late in the evening it was determined that
daylight should find them on their way to Buck Hill--Buck Hill where a
certain flavor of old times was still to be found, with Cousin Bob
Bucknor, so like his father, who had been one of the swains who
followed in the train of the beautiful Ann Peyton. Buck Hill would
always make her welcome!
And now--Buck Hill--and a hall bedroom!