The Clan In Conclave
Mr. Bob Bucknor was troubled. He had always prided himself on keeping
an open house for his relations and to him Cousin Ann was a kind of
symbol of consanguinity. He paid very little attention to her as a
rule, except to be scrupulously polite. He had been trained in
politeness to Cousin Ann from his earliest childhood and had
endeavored to bring his own children up with the same strict regard to
hospitality and courtesy to his aged relative. His son had profited by
his teaching and was ever kindly to the old lady, but his daughters
had rebelled, and it could not be denied were even openly rude to the
chronic visitor. Now this project of European travel was afoot and the
problem of what to do with Cousin Ann must be settled. The masculine
representatives of the family were meeting in Ryeville and the matter
was soon under discussion.
"It's the women," declared Big Josh. "They are kicking like steers
and they say they won't stand for her any longer."
"My wife says she has got a nice old cousin who would like to come and
stay with us, and that she does all the darning wherever she stays and
looks after the children besides. Nobody ever heard of Cousin Ann
turning a hand to help anybody," said Little Josh.
"Well, I fancy you have heard the news that I am taking my wife and
daughters abroad this month and I cannot keep the poor old lady any
longer," sighed Bob Bucknor.
"Sure, Bob, we think you've had too much of her already," said Sister
Sue's husband, Timothy Graves, "but Sue says she can't visit with us
any more. The children are big enough now to demand separate rooms and
our house is not very large--not as large as it used to be somehow. In
old days people didn't mind doubling up, but nobody wants to double up
with Cousin Ann and her horses are a nuisance and that old Billy
irritates the servants and--"
"My mother says an old ladies' home is the only thing for her," said
David Throckmorton.
"So do all the women. But who's going to bell the cat?" asked Big
Josh.
"I reckon we'll have to go in a body and speak in chorus," suggested
Little Josh. It was thus decided, after much argument. All the
cousins were willing to contribute something towards the support of
the old lady, but nobody was willing or able to take her in his home.
"Of course, we must provide for old Billy, too."
"Of course!"
"Well, after dinner all of you ride out to Buck Hill and there wait on
the poor old thing and together we can break the news to her. It's
going to make me feel awfully bad," declared Mr. Bob Bucknor.
"I reckon we'll all feel bad, but none of us must weaken," blustered
Big Josh. "And while we are discussing family matters, how about this
talk about that pretty Miss Judith Buck being a cousin?"
"The women folk have settled that. At least mine have; and since we
are the closest neighbors there at Buck Hill--" began Bob Bucknor.
"You may be the closest neighbors, but you are not the closest kin.
I'm for taking her into the clan. By golly, we haven't got too many
pretty women in our family to be turning any down. I tell you, I'm
going to call on her. Owe her a party call anyhow." Thus rumbled Big
Josh.
"Better not," warned Mr. Bob Bucknor and then, since the clan were
having dinner at the hotel where "you could" and a feeling of good
cheer had begun to permeate the diners, Mr. Bucknor proceeded to tell
the story, of course in the strictest confidence, about Tom Harbison
and the milk can, all of which went to convince others beside Big Josh
that Judith might prove a valuable acquisition to the family.
"I reckon she's coped with worse than our women," said Little Josh.
"With poverty staring her in the face and old Dick Buck for a
grandfather, she's kept her head up and made a living and got a tidy
bank account, so I hear. All by herself, too! I think I'll call when
you do, Big Josh, but I'll fight shy of the milk cans."
So it was voted that Judith was to be received into the family, Mr.
Bob Bucknor making a mental reservation that he would not divulge the
news to his wife and daughters until they were well out of Kentucky.
He had strong hopes that European travel might soften the hearts of
his daughters towards their pretty, red-haired cousin and neighbor.
"While we've got a little Dutch courage left, let's go on out to Buck
Hill and tackle Cousin Ann," said Big Josh. "Now remember, all at
once and nobody backing out and coughing. Everybody speak up strong
and all together."
A handsome family of men they were, taken all in all--handsome and
prosperous, good citizens, honorable, upright, courageous--but this
thing of deliberately getting together to inform a poor old woman that
no longer would their several homes be ready to receive her made them
seem to themselves anything but admirable.
"Darn the women folks, I say!" rumbled Big Josh. "If they weren't so
selfish and bent on their own pleasure we would not have to be doing
this miserable thing."
"Perhaps if we had helped them a little with Cousin Ann they wouldn't
be kicking so," humbly suggested Little Josh.
"Help them! Help them! How in Pete's name could we help them any more?
I am sure I have allowed Cousin Ann to give me a lamp mat every
Christmas since I was born and my attic is full of her hoop skirts." A
smile went the rounds and Big Josh subsided.
Buck Hill never looked more hospitable or attractive, as the cousins
speeded up the driveway--two cars full of Kentucky blue blood. The
gently rolling meadows dotted with grazing cattle, the great friendly
beech trees on the shaven lawn, the monthly roses in the garden, the
ever-blooming honeysuckle clambering over the summer-house seemed to
cry out, "Welcome to all!"
"Gee! Poor Cousin Ann!" muttered one. "No wonder she likes to stay
here."
An unwonted silence fell on the group, as they tiptoed up the front
walk. They could not have said why they walked so quietly, but had
they been called on to serve as pall bearers to their aged relative
they would not have entered into the duty with any greater solemnity.
Aunt Em'ly appeared at the front door.
"Lawsamussy, Marse Bob, you done give me a turn," she gasped, bobbing
a courtesy to the assembled gentlemen. "Is you done et?"
"Yes, yes, Aunt Em'ly, we have had dinner, but we should like to--"
"Yassir! I'll git the ice cracked in no time an' sen' Kizzie fer some
mint."
"Not yet, Aunt Em'ly," faltered her master miserably. "A little later,
perhaps, but now--"
"I know! You done had a po' dinner an' come home fer some 'spectable
victuals. It ain't gonter take me long."
"Not at all, Aunt Em'ly, we had an excellent dinner, but now--"
"Call Miss Ann Peyton," blustered Big Josh. "Tell her her cousins all
want to see her," and then he swelled his chest with pride. He for one
wasn't going to back out.
"Miss Ann done gone," grinned Aunt Em'ly.
"Gone where?" they asked in chorus.
"Gawd knows! She an' ol' Billy an' the hosses done took theyselves off
this mawnin' jes' 'bout five minutes after my white folks lef."
"Didn't she say where she was going?" asked Mr. Bucknor.
"She never said 'peep turkey!' ter man or beast. She lef' a dime fer
me an' one fer Kizzie an' she went a sailin' out, an' although I done
my bes' ter git that ol' Billy ter talk he ain't done give me no
satisfaction, but jes' a little back talk, an' then he fotch hisself
off, walkin' low an' settin' high an' I ain't seed hide or har of them
since. Miss Ann done lef' a note fer you an' Miss Milly, though."
The note proved to be nothing more than Miss Ann's usual formal
farewell and did not mention her proposed destination.
"By the great jumping jingo, I hope she didn't try my lane with her
old carriage!" exclaimed Big Josh. "That lane, with the women in my
family at the end of it, would be the undoing of poor old Cousin Ann.
May I use your phone, Bob? I think I'll find out if she's there
before I go home."
Every man rang up his home and every man breathed a sigh of relief
when he found that Miss Ann had not arrived. Wild and varied were
their surmises concerning where she had gone.
"This is the most disgraceful thing that ever happened in the family,"
declared Timothy Graves. "Of course I know I am only law-kin, but
still I feel the disgrace."
"You needn't be so proud of yourself, Tim, because you were some kin
already before you married Sister Sue," chided Brother Tom. "I can't
see that you are not in on it too."
"That's what I said."
"Yes, but you said it because you really felt it in your favor that
you were law-kin," put in Little Josh.
"Nonsense!"
"Come, come," pleaded Mr. Bob Bucknor, "rowing with each other isn't
finding out where Cousin Ann has gone. Kizzie! Aunt Em'ly!" he
shouted, "get that cracked ice and mint now. Come on, you fellows, and
let's see if we can find any inspiration in the bottom of a frosted
goblet."