Miss Ann Moves On
The Bucknors of Buck Hill were going abroad. It was all settled and
they were to start as soon as necessary arrangements could be made.
The plan had been born in Mildred's mind and she had influenced her
mother, who in turn had persuaded her husband and now passage was
engaged and it was only a matter of a few weeks before they would
sail.
It had all come about because Jeff had felt in duty bound to inform
his sister that Tom Harbison had come back to Ryeville with the
intention of calling on another girl, and that girl Judith Buck.
"I always said she was a forward minx," stormed Mildred.
"Right forward with her milk can," laughed Jeff, and then he told of
Tom's rebuff and of the blow he had received instead of the kiss he
demanded. "He's not worthy of you, little sister, and you must not
bother your head about him," said Jeff.
But Mildred did worry and sulk and feel miserable. Tom had made more
impression on Mildred's heart than Jeff had dreamed possible. The girl
was suffering from blighted affections as well as mortification--both
of which no doubt would be dispelled by the European trip.
Jeff was to settle in Louisville and the home would be closed, with
Aunt Em'ly as caretaker. But what was to become of Cousin Ann?
"We can't leave until her visit with us is completed," objected Mr.
Bucknor.
"But, my dear, her visit to us will never be finished, unless we cut
it short," sighed Mrs. Bucknor.
"Let her go visit some of the others," suggested Nan, "She's needing a
change by this time anyhow."
"We must not be unclannish," admonished Mr. Bucknor. "Blood is--"
"Well, mine is not," interrupted Mildred. "I'm just fed up on all of
this relationship business. Old Cousin Ann isn't very close kin to us
anyhow, if you stop and think. She wasn't even more than a third
cousin to Grandfather Bucknor, and when it comes down to us she is so
far removed it wouldn't count if we lived anywhere but in Kentucky or
maybe Virginia. I thought you were going to have a meeting and come
to some conclusion about Cousin Ann."
"So we are! So we are! I have been talking to Big Josh lately about
it. Quite a problem! Big Josh does nothing but talk and laugh and we
never get anywhere. However, we are going to have a gathering of the
clan to-morrow in Ryeville and I shall bring up the subject."
"Well, don't let them persuade you to give up our trip just to have
old Cousin Ann have a place to visit. We've had more than our share of
her already. If she had a spark of delicacy she would go now and not
wait until we are all upset with packing and all. I know you have not
told her that we are going abroad, but you know she snoops around
enough to have heard us talking. I bet she knows what our plans are as
well as we know ourselves."
Mildred was right. Miss Ann did know the plans of her host and
hostess. With windows and doors wide open and a whole family freely
discussing their trip, it would have been difficult for one who
retained the sense of hearing not to be aware that something was
afoot. Miss Ann had heard and had determined to move on, but to which
relation should she go? The faithful Billy was called in
consultation.
"Billy, you have heard?"
"Yes, Miss Ann, I done hearn. I couldn't help a hearin' with niggers
as full of it as whites."
"I wonder why they did not talk openly to me of their plans."
"Well, I reckon they's kinder shy, kase me'n you's a visitin'. I 'low
we's gotter move on, Miss Ann." The old man's face was drawn with woe.
"I kinder felt it a bad sign when Marse Jeff Bucknor up'n took hisse'f
off to Lou'ville, an' now this talk 'bout the fambly a goin' ter
furren parts an' a shuttin' up Buck Hill. Th'ain't no good gonter come
of it--but howsomever we's gotter pack up an' leave."
"But where are we going, Billy? Cousin Big Josh--"
"Lawsamussy, Miss Ann, please don't mention that there domercile! Our
ca'ige ain't good fer that trip. That lane would be the endin' er
us-all. Don't you reckon we'd better rise an' shine to-morrow?"
"Yes, Billy, but where? There's Cousin Little Josh and Cousin Sue and
Cousin Tom and Philip Throckmorton and Cousin David's oldest daughter,
whose married name has escaped me, but she is living in Jefferson
County. Could the horses go so far?"
"Miss Ann, I ain't so sho' 'bout the ca'ige, but I reckon if you don't
hurry Cupid an' Puck none they's got a lot er go in them yet. I hear
tell Miss Milly an' the two young ladies air a' contemplatin' a trip
in ter Lou'ville in the mawnin' an' I done hear Marse Bob say he wa'
a' gonter spen' the day in Ryeville with some er the kin folks, eatin'
at the hotel. I 'low they'll git a right airly start."
"Exactly! Well, so will we, Billy. As soon as they are gone we will go
too."
Miss Ann rather liked to make a mystery of her departure. One of her
idiosyncrasies was that she seldom divulged the name of her next host
to her last one. She would depart as suddenly as she had arrived,
leaving a formal note of farewell if the head of the house happened to
be away or asleep. She liked to travel early in the morning.
"Where are we going, Billy?" Miss Ann's voice was tremulous and her
eyes were misty.
"Now, Miss Ann, s'pose you jes' leave that ter ol' Billy an' the
hosses. We's gonter git somewhar an' they ain't no use'n worryin'
whar. You go down an' set on the po'ch an' I'll pack yo' things an'
I'll do it as good as anybody an' we'll crope out'n here in the
mawnin' befo' Marse Bob an' Miss Milly's dus' air settled on the
pike. I ain't a worryin' 'bout but one thing an' that is that a ol'
dominicker hen air took ter settin' on the flo' er our coach an' I'm
kinder hatin' ter 'sturb her when she feels so nice an' homelike. I
reckon I kin lif her out kinder sof' an' maybe she kin hatch jes the
same. She ain't got mo'n a day er so ter go."
"Billy, I am sorry to leave the neighborhood without seeing that
lovely girl--the one who sent me the gift and to whom the ball was
tendered. She is in reality my kinswoman. I have been tracing the
relationship and find she is the same kin as my cousins here at Buck
Hill--the young people I mean. I am sorry I did not tell her so."
"Yassum! Maybe some day you kin claim kin with her. I reckon she would
be glad an' proud ter be cousins ter you, Miss Ann."
Billy had never told his mistress of his visit to Judith. That young
person had impressed him as being not at all proud of being of the
same blood as the Bucknors, or in the least desirous of claiming the
relationship. "But she wa'n't speakin' er my Miss Ann," he said to
himself.
Silently and swiftly old Billy packed his mistress's belongings. Every
trunk, suitcase and telescope was in readiness for an early flitting.
As he had boasted, they were starting almost before the dust raised by
the departing car of Mr. and Mrs. Bucknor had settled.
"Hi, what you so nimble-come-trimble 'bout this mawnin'?" asked Aunt
Em'ly, as she met Billy laden with baggage, sneaking out the back way,
planning to load his coach before hitching up.
"Miss Ann an' me is done got a invite ter a house pawty an' we air
gonter hit the pike in the cool er the mawnin'."
"Wha' you goin'?"
"Heaben when we die," was all Billy would divulge.
"Miss Milly an' Marse Bob ain't said nothin' 'bout Miss Ann leavin'.
Fac' is Miss Milly lef' word fer me ter dish up a good dinner fer Miss
Ann whilst they wa' away an' serve it on a tray bein' as she wa' all
alone."
"Well, I 'low we'll be settin' down in the dinin'-room at the house
pawty come dinner time," declared the old man, veiled insolence in his
tone.
"What I gonter tell Marse Bob an' Miss Milly when they axes wha' Miss
Ann done took herself?"
"I ain't consarned with what you tells 'em. My Miss Ann air done writ
a letter ter Miss Milly an' if you ain't got a lie handy you kin jes'
han' her the billy dux."
"I allus been holdin' ter it an' I'll give it ter you extry clarified,
you's a mean nigger man--mean an' low lifed. I axes you, politeful
like, wha' you an' Miss Ann a goin' an' all you kin give me is sass."
Aunt Em'ly was full of curiosity and was greatly irritated not to have
her curiosity satisfied. But Billy was adamant and Miss Ann more
dignified than usual, as she doled out her small tips--all the poor
old lady could afford, but presented to the servants whenever she
departed with the air of royalty.
"Well, skip-ter-ma-loo, she's gone agin!" laughed Aunt Em'ly, as she
stood with Kizzie and watched the old coach rolling down the avenue.
"I reckon Marse Bob's gonter be right riled that I can't tell him wha'
she goin' but you couldn't git nothin' outer that ol' Billy with an
ice pick. I laid off ter ax Miss Ann herself but when she come a
sailin' down the steps like she done swallowed the poker an' helt out
this here dime ter me like it wa' a dollar somehow she looked kinder
awesome an' I couldn't say nothin' but 'Thanky!' Kizzie, did you
notice which-away the coach took when they reached the pike?"
"I think it went up the road to'ds Marse Big Josh's," said Kizzie,
"but the dus' air pow'ful thick right now, owin' ter ortermobiles
goin' both ways, so I ain't quite sho'."
"I wa' pretty night certain ol' Billy p'inted his hosses' heads to'ds
Ryeville, but I ain't sho'. It air sech a misty, moisty mornin' an'
what with the dus' it air hard ter punctuate. I reckon you's right,
Kizzie, an' they's hit the pike fer Marse Big Josh's. Anyhow we'll say
that when Marse Bob axes us. If you tells one tale an' I tells anudder
Marse Bob'll be mad as a wet hen."
The old coach, creaking ominously, lumbered and rolled down the
avenue. The bees, with their front door blocked by the corn cob,
hummed furiously. Miss Ann, ensconced behind the barricade of luggage,
gazed out on the rolling meadows of Buck Hill and thought bitterly of
the old days when devoted cavaliers accompanied her coach, eager to
escort her on her journey and vying with one another for a smile from
the careless girl within.
She tried to remember the intervening years but could not. She was a
beautiful young girl, sought after, welcomed everywhere. Then she was
an old woman, unloved, unwelcome, nobody wanting her, nobody loving
her. She did not know where Billy was driving her. She did not care.
The old man had taken matters into his own hands and no doubt he would
leave the decision to Cupid and Puck. She put her head against the
upholstered back of the seat and dozed. The morning air came sweet and
fresh across the blue-grass meadows. She had a dream, vague and
uncertain, but in some unexpected and shadowy way she was happy. She
awoke and dozed again. Again a sweet dream of peace and contentment.
The horses came to a standstill. Miss Ann awoke with a start. She did
not know whether she had slept moments or hours. Billy had opened the
door and was saying: "Miss Ann, we done arriv!" and then he began to
unpack his beloved mistress.