A Question of Kinship
Jefferson Bucknor had been away from home, except for flying visits,
for five years. Like most of the young men of his age, the World War
had broken in on his college course. He had gone into training at the
first suggestion of his country's need. He was then in his junior year
at the University of Virginia. Law had been his goal and at the close
of the war he hastened back to finish what he had begun. Determined to
hang out his shingle as soon as possible, he had studied summer and
winter until he got his degree. He was now at home, taking a
much-needed rest and getting acquainted again with his family. The
sisters had grown up while he was away, and his father and mother were
turning gray. He had only arrived the day before the coming of Cousin
Ann, and could not help regretting that his sisters were having this
house party. It would have been pleasant to be quietly at home for a
while.
"When does your company come?" Jeff asked Mildred. Cousin Ann had
joined them on the front porch, where the family awaited the summons
to dinner. "Mildred and Nan are having a swarm of guests," he
explained to the old cousin.
"Ah, indeed!" said Cousin Ann.
"Some of them come at six-thirty and the rest at seven from
Louisville. We are to meet them at the trolley. You'll go with us,
won't you, Jeff?" asked Mildred.
"Of course, if you need me."
"Need you! I should say we do need you. Why, you are to fall madly in
love with Jean Roland. We've fixed it all up. She's rich and
beautiful."
"Yes, and we put linen sheets on the bed in the guest chamber," broke
in Nan. "Jean Roland is used to grand things, but she'll have to sleep
three in the bed and so will all of us--now."
"Hush!" from Mrs. Bucknor. There was an embarrassed silence. Cousin
Ann's backbone stiffened. Mrs. Bucknor looked reproachfully at her
daughters, who giggled helplessly. It was a relief to have the head of
the house arrive at that moment.
Mr. Bucknor was a hale and hearty man of fifty, florid and handsome,
slightly dictatorial in manner, but easily influenced by his wife,
who was all softness and gentleness. He was generous and hospitable,
priding himself on keeping up the reputation in which Buck Hill had
gloried in the past--that of an open house with bed and board for all
of the blood. He greeted his Cousin Ann with a cordiality that might
have been balm to her wounded feelings had she not been aware that
that was Cousin Bob's manner to everybody.
"And where do you come from, Cousin Ann?" he demanded. "I hope all
were well. Cousin Betty Throckmorton's? Well, well! I thought Sister
Sue was to have the honor of your company. It will keep! It will keep!
Measles at Cousin Betty's? Heavens! I hope none of them will go off in
pneumonia. You must give us a nice long visit. Always glad to have
you, Cousin Ann. Glad to have any of my kin come and stay as long as
they choose. Blood is thicker than water, I say, and blue blood is
thicker than red blood."
"Thank you, cousin," was all Miss Ann could say.
"By the way, Mildred, speaking of falling in love, who is that pretty
girl I saw on the trolley yesterday?" asked Jeff. "I can't remember
ever having seen her around here before, but then the girls have all
grown beyond me since I left home. She has what some people call
auburn hair, but I like to call it red, although it had lots of gold
in it. She got on the last stop before you get into Ryeville. Seemed
to know everybody on the car--even the motorman and conductor. At
least, I saw her chatting with them--the ones who were relieved at the
last switch and were eating their suppers. She was as lively as a
cricket--was just bubbling over with energy--"
"Oh, I know who that was," said Mildred. "It sounds like that forward
Judith Buck. She has no idea of her place. I never saw such a girl.
She rides around the country in a ridiculous looking little home made
blue Ford with a spring wagon back and puts on all the airs of
sporting a Stutz racer. She never stops for anybody but just whizzes
on by. Sometimes she even bows to us, although she gets mighty little
encouragement from me, I can tell you."
Suddenly there flashed upon Miss Ann's inward eye a picture of a
bright-haired girl in a little blue car who had passed her coach only
that morning, and with the picture came the remembrance of Uncle
Billy's words: "I ain't seed nothin' in this county ter put 'long side
er you lessen it wa' that pretty red-headed gal what went whizzin' by
us up yonder on the pike in a blue ortermobubble." She remembered that
he had declared the girl looked as she had looked in her youth.
Mildred continued her diatribe concerning the lively Judith: "Surely
you remember her, Jeff. She used to come here selling blackberries
when she was a kid--a little barefooted girl and as pert as you please
even then. After old Dick Buck died she used to trap rabbits and bring
them here for sale and sometimes fish. It always made me mad for Aunt
Em'ly to encourage her by making Mother buy the things. I think poor
persons should be taken care of all right but they should know their
place."
"But what is her place?" asked Jeff, a flush slowly spreading over his
handsome, rather swarthy countenance.
"Well, I should say her place was at the back door," declared Mildred.
"Old Dick Buck's granddaughter needn't expect to get any social
recognition from me."
"Me either!" chimed in Nan.
"Of course not!" said Mrs. Bucknor. Mr. Bucknor was reading the
morning paper and seemed oblivious to the conversation.
"She doesn't look to me like a girl who cared a whit for social
recognition," said Jeff quietly, although his lip had a curl that
showed his disapproval of his family's snobbishness.
"Don't you believe it," said Mildred, with rather more violence than
the subject under discussion warranted. "I went to high school with
her for a year and then thank goodness Father sent me to a private
school. She was the greatest smart Aleck you ever saw. Had herself
elected president of the class and was always showing off, getting
medals for never being late and never missing a single day of school
since she started. She was always acting in plays and getting up class
entertainments for devastated Europe. Some of the girls in Ryeville
wanted to ask her to join our club, but I just told them they could
count me out if they did any such thing."
"Me too!" said Nan.
"And I tell you Buck Hill is too nice a place for parties for the set
to let Nan and me out. She's got a place as teacher now, out in the
county near Clayton. I can't abide her. She even had the impertinence
to tell some of the girls once that the original name of her family
was the same as ours--that her old grandfather, Dick Buck, had told
her so. The idea! Next she'll be claiming kin with us Bucknors."
"What's that? What's that?" asked Mr. Bucknor, dropping his paper.
"Who claims kin with us?"
"Old Dick Buck's granddaughter. Isn't it ridiculous?"
"Not at all," spoke Cousin Ann, coming into the conversation as a ship
in full sail might break into a fleet of fishing boats. "Not
ridiculous at all. In fact, quite the proper thing for the young woman
in question to do. She, too, may have pride of birth and there is no
reason why she should not claim what is due her."
"But--" interrupted Mildred. Miss Ann Peyton paid no attention at all
to the girl. She addressed her remarks to Jeff, who was all respectful
attention.
"Yes, cousin, the Bucks are descended from the Bucknors quite as much
as you or I are. I recall it all now, although I have not thought of
it for many, many years. I can remember hearing my grandfather tell of
a brother of his Grandfather Bucknor who, out of pure carelessness,
dropped the last syllable of his name. It was in connection with a
transfer of property. The deed was recorded wrongly, naming Richard
Buck. He was a lazy man and rather than go to the trouble of having
the matter corrected he just allowed himself to be called Richard
Buck. He left Kentucky after that, but his son returned later on. My
grandfather told me a slump in fortune began from that time and the
Buck branch of the family has been on the downward road ever since.
Perhaps, having reached the bottom, this young person is now
ascending. But low or high, the fact remains that she is kin."
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bucknor, "I didn't dream that old tale
had a word of truth in it. I've heard old Dick Buck, when he was
drunk, insisting that he belonged to my family, but it sounded
ridiculous on the face of it."
"Exactly!" chorused Mildred and Nan.
"However, I must look into the matter," the father continued somewhat
pompously. "If the girl is kin we must claim her."
"Oh, Bob, I beg of you to do no such thing," said Mrs. Bucknor gently,
laying a restraining hand lightly on her husband's arm. Her touch was
soft and light but it held Bob Bucknor as effectively as iron
handcuffs might have. "If this girl is as forward as Mildred and Nan
say she is, it would be very embarrassing to have her constantly
asserting her kinship with our girls. I am sure I do not know her at
all. She is pretty and no doubt is good, but she is naturally common
and evidently very pushing."
"All right, my dear, all right! You know best," responded Mr.
Bucknor.
At this juncture Kizzie announced dinner, which was a relief to all of
them.
"Take my arm, Cousin Ann," said Jeff gallantly.
For a moment the old woman and the young man stood looking off over
the rolling meadows of blue grass. Cutting the lush green pasture
lands was the white limestone turnpike. Far off in the distance a blue
speck appeared on the white road. In a twinkling it grew into a car
and then went whizzing by, leaving a cloud of white dust in its wake.
Jeff smiled and, glancing down at his old cousin, caught an answering
smile on her face.
"I'm rather glad she's kin," he whispered, and she gave his arm a tiny
squeeze.
Then the thought came to him: "I wonder if she is as bold and forward
as Mildred says she is. I wish she hadn't been so familiar with those
motormen. That wasn't very ladylike to go up and engage them in
conversation. Perhaps Mildred is right. You could hardly expect old
Dick Buck's granddaughter to be very refined--but, gee, she's a good
looker!"