THE JUDGE.
The morning after the hop we slept late. Of course we did not go to
sleep as soon as we got into bed, as the best part of going to a dance
is talking it over with the girls afterwards. We had much to tell and I
for one had much that I couldn't tell. One and all we pronounced it a
very delightful and successful party. Had we not, everyone of us danced
every dance, except the fatal one that I sat out? Did we not have "trade
lasts" enough to last 'til morning if sleep had not overtaken us? Hadn't
Annie been freely spoken of as the prettiest girl there; the twins as
the most popular; Mary as by all odds the brightest and funniest; and
had not I overheard someone say that I had a nameless charm that was
irresistible? Altogether, we were well pleased with ourselves and one
another and slept the sleep of the just and healthy until late in the
morning, when we heard Miss Cox singing at our door:
"'Kathleen Mavourneen! the gray dawn is breaking,
The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill;
The lark from her light wing the bright dew is shaking,--
Kathleen Mavourneen! what, slumbering still?
Oh, hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever?
Oh, hast thou forgotten this day we must part?
It may be for years and it may be forever!
Oh, why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
Oh, why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?
"'Kathleen Mavourneen, awake from thy slumbers!
The blue mountains glow in the sun's golden light;
Ah, where is the spell that once hung on my numbers?
Arise in thy beauty, thou star of my night!
Mavourneen, Mavourneen, my sad tears are falling,
To think that from Erin and thee I must part!
It may be for years and it may be forever!
Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
Then why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?'"
There was a storm of applause from our porch and a great clapping of
hands from down stairs as Zebedee entered with old Judge Grayson. Miss
Cox had an excellent voice and a singularly true one.
"Well, all of us Kathleens had better rise and shine after that appeal,"
yawned Dum. "It must be almost time for luncheon." And so it was. We
just had time for a hasty dip in the briny and a hastier toilet in the
way of middies and khaki skirts, when Blanche appeared to announce that
our repast was reserved.
"Well, Gawd love us!" she exclaimed, when she beheld us dressed in our
customary girlish middies. "Ef'n the butterflies ain't chrystalized agin
into plain grubs! When I beholden you last night in all the begalia of
sassioty I ruminated to myself that our young misses had done flew the
coop, hair turned up and waistes turned down, an' here you is nothin'
but gals agin. I'll be bound ef'n the beau lovers of the evenin'
recently relapsed could see you now they would wonder how come they felt
so warmed to'ds you. Not that you ain't as sweet as sugar now," she
hastily added, fearing for our feelings, "but you is jes' sugar 'thout
the proper ingredients to make you what you might call intoxicational."
Every single girl except Mary looked a little conscious while Blanche
was talking, and I could not help wondering if there had not been others
besides myself who had been the recipient of tender nothings. Zebedee
overheard Blanche's remarks and I saw him go into the kitchen and a
little later the girl came forth beaming, tying into the corner of her
handkerchief a shiny new half dollar.
"Every time poor, dear Blanche opens her mouth diamonds and pearls of
wisdom come forth," he whispered to me. "It seems a shame to buy such
priceless gems for fifty cents. I would not take anything for what she
has just handed to all of my girls."
The Judge proved to be a delightful old man and all of us were charmed
with his courtly manners and compliments. He seemed to think we were
lovely and quite grown-up in spite of what Blanche had just "handed" us.
He quoted poetry to us with an old world grace and seemed to have a
verse ready for every occasion. Even Blanche came in for her share of
poetry as the Judge helped himself to another and yet another popover:
"'My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but oh, my soul is white!'"
Blanche smiled on him as though at last she had found someone who really
understood her.
After luncheon we repaired to the piazza where Zebedee and the Judge
could enjoy their cigars and the family guitar was produced at the
instigation of the host, hoping to persuade the Judge to give us some of
his fine old ballads. The Tucker guitar was something of a joke, as none
of them could really play on it; but it was always kept in perfect order
if not in perfect tune and placed in a conspicuous place. "Ready for an
emergency if one should arise in anyone else," explained Dum. Dee could
thrum out an accompaniment, if it happened to be a very simple one with
only one or two changes. Dum knew part of the Spanish Fandango, learned
from a teacher who had struggled with the family once when they had
determined that a musical education was necessary. Zebedee, who had a
very good voice and a true ear, could tell when the guitar was out of
tune but never could tune it to his satisfaction; but when someone else
got it in tune he could put up a very good imitation of following
himself in his favourite song of "Danny Deever."
The Judge jumped to the instrument as a trout to a fly and held it with
a loving embrace.
"Gad, Tucker, but this is a good guitar!" and with a practiced hand and
ear he quickly had it in tune.
"Sing, do sing!" we pleaded.
"All right, I'll sing to all of you five girls if you will excuse an old
man's faults. My voice is not what it used to be, but the heart is the
same and
"'No matter what you do if your heart be true,
And his heart was true to Poll.'
"This song I am going to sing is one I have always loved and it seems to
be singularly appropriate for all of you young ladies, who, last night
as I peeped into the ballroom, showed promise of what you might be. But
this morning I find you back 'Where the brook and river meet.' I can't
tell whether it is because of the absence of the gallant swains or a
mere matter of rearrangement of tresses."
Harvie and Shorty had gone to the camp for luncheon and to go crabbing
with the boys, which was rather a relief, as Dum declared we could not
have boys all the time without getting bored. Certainly on the morning
after the hop we were glad just to be little girls again and not have to
play "lady come to see" for a while at least. Dear old Judge Grayson and
Zebedee were singularly restful after the friskings of the youths, and
Miss Cox very calming as she sat on the piazza, an exalted expression on
her good face, stitching, stitching on wedding clothes. All of us had
undertaken to help her but mighty botches I am afraid we made of it, all
except Annie Pore. She could take tiny stitches if shown exactly where
to put them, but she was afraid to take the initiative even in sewing.
Dum could design patterns for embroidery and Dee could tie wonderful
bows; Mary was great on button-holes; I could not even sew carpet rags
together well enough to pass muster, but I was very willing and did my
poor best.
In his high, sweet old tenor the Judge began to sing:
"'My love she's but a lassie yet,
A lightsome, lovely lassie yet;
It scarce wad do
To sit and woo
Down by the stream sae glassy yet.
"'But there's a braw time coming yet,
When we may gang a-roaming yet;
An' hint wi' glee
O' joys to be,
When fa's the modest gloaming yet.
"'She's neither proud nor saucy yet,
She's neither plump nor gaucy yet;
But just a jinking,
Bonny blinking,
Hilty-skilty lassie yet.
"'But O, her artless smile's mair sweet
Then hinny or than marmalete;
An' right or wrang,
Ere it be lang,
I'll bring her to a parley yet.
"'I'm jealous o' what blesses her,
The very breeze that kisses her,
The flowery beds
On which she treads,
Though wae for ane that misses her.
"'Then O, to meet my lassie yet
Up in yon glen sae grassy yet;
For all I see
Are naught to me,
Save her that's but a lassie yet.'"
All of us sat very quietly as the old man finished his quaint, sweet
song. Zebedee looked very shiny-eyed and I rather guessed he was
thinking of his Tweedles, although he did look at me. I fancy he knew
that I understood him and his anxiety about his dear girls. It is no
joke to be the father of sixteen-year-old twins and only about
thirty-six yourself. Dum and Dee were developing very rapidly and they
had looked so grown-up at the hop and had conducted themselves so like
young ladies that their anxious parent was troubled for fear their
womanhood was upon him. He would rather see them romping hoydens than
the sedate young ladies they seemed to be turning into. No wonder he had
tipped Blanche with the shiny fifty-cent piece. Had she not put his mind
at rest for the time being at least? They were certainly girlish enough
looking on that day, even boyish looking as they crowded each other out
of the hammock, both intent on getting the middle.
"That's fine, Judge, give us another!" begged Zebedee, but the bard
insisted upon Miss Cox's putting down her sewing and singing; and then
Annie Pore must give us Annie Laurie; and so the lazy afternoon passed
with songs and many good stories drawn from our guest by the tactful
Zebedee.
Judge Grayson just naturally loved horses and next to being with them
was talking about them. He had many delightful stories to tell of horses
he had known and horses he had owned. He insisted that no horse was
naturally vicious but always ruined in some way by its trainer, and no
horse was irretrievably ruined if just the right person could get hold
of it and by kindness bring it to reason. I had always felt that and of
course this theory appealed to Dee, who thought much worse of humanity
than animality, as she called it.
"The first horse I ever owned was the first horse I ever loved and he
was in a way the best horse I ever owned," said the Judge, addressing
his remarks to Dee who was all attention. "Dobbin was the very ordinary
name for a very extraordinary horse. My father gave him to me when I was
six years old. I say gave him to me but what really occurred was that I
was presented to Dobbin. For if ever man was owned by an animal, Dobbin
owned me. He was an old circus horse and his intelligence was far beyond
that of the average human. He was milk white with pink nostrils and
eyes, a real Albino, in fact. His legs were perfectly formed, his head
small and very well shaped, his back broad and flat as though especially
made for bare-back riding. If you fell off him it was your own fault,
and no more was he to be blamed than a bed that you happen to roll out
of. Indeed his gaits were so smooth that you might easily go to sleep on
him. His temper was perfect and his character very decided and firm. He
knew exactly what he wanted to do and he also knew that his judgment was
much better than a child's. I shall never forget the first time I got on
his back. My father was going to have me taught to ride by our old
coachman, but in the meantime I was given the duty and pleasure of
feeding my horse myself. I had only owned him a day and already I would
have foundered him on oats if it had not been for his own superior
intelligence and judgment. He ate what he considered proper and then
deliberately turned over the bucket and puffed and blew and pawed until
even the chickens had a hard time pecking up the scattered grain."
And here the old man laughed and took another cigar Zebedee offered him,
pausing in his narrative while he bit off the end and lit it.
"But how about the first time you rode him?" demanded Dee.
"I'm coming to that. He was a very high horse, was Dobbin, so high that
it was a tall mount for a grown man and of course it was seemingly
impossible for a little boy to climb up on such a mountain, but get up I
did. My father came out on the gallery and there I was as proud as Punch
perched on the broad back of my snow-white steed. 'You rascal!' he
shouted. 'Who put you up there?' 'Dobbin put me here,' I answered, and
so he had, but my father could not believe it until Dobbin and I
demonstrated the fact for him. I slid down the shapely leg of my circus
horse and then he lowered his head and I nimbly climbed up his neck and
landed safely on his back. I can still hear my father laugh and then all
the household was called out to witness this great feat, and my mother
brought out sugar to feed my pet. She pulled down his head and whispered
in his ear, 'Be careful of my boy, Dobbin! I am going to trust him to
you, do you understand?' and Dobbin whinnied an answer and blew in my
mother's hair with his pink nostrils. After that he felt that he was a
kind of nurse for me and he certainly did make me walk chalk," and the
old man chuckled in delighted memory.
"Tell us more about him," pleaded Dee. "He must have been darling."
"Well, sometimes he was right annoying. For instance, he saw to it that
I minded my black mammy. One of Mammy's rules was that I could play in
the mud all I wanted to in the morning, but in the afternoon when I was
dressed in my clean linen shirt and little white piquet pants, I had to
keep clean. The mud attracted me as much in the afternoon as morning,
and sometimes I would lose track of time and would begin to mix my
delectable pies in spite of my spotless attire. Do you know that old
horse many and many a time has come up behind me and gently but firmly
caught me by my collar or the seat of my breeches, whichever presented
itself handiest, and after giving me a little shake put me out of
temptation? He never was known to do it in the morning when I was in my
blue jean jumpers. Why, that horse knew morning from afternoon and jeans
from white linen. He was a great disciplinarian, I can tell you. My
mother would let me go anywhere just so Dobbin was of the party. She
knew perfectly well he would take care of me. Had he not told her so as
plainly as a horse could speak, and that is pretty plain to those who
understand horse talk."
Dee nodded approval and muttered: "Dog talk, too!"
"We had an old basket phaeton with a rumble (they don't make them
now-a-days) and in the afternoon in summer my sister and I would hitch
up old Dobbin and go off for a picnic in the beech woods. Sam, my body
servant and private property, perched in the rumble and Dilsey, my
sister's maid, crouched at our feet. Dobbin would jog along until he
found what he considered a suitable spot for a picnic and then he would
stop, and no matter how we felt about it, out we had to get. Nothing
would budge Dobbin. He would look at us and whinny as much as to say
that he had forgotten more about picnic places than we could ever hope
to know and no doubt he was right.
"He usually stopped at a very nice spot where there was plenty of shade
and a spring and maybe some luscious blue grass for him to nibble at. He
was never tied but allowed to roam at his own sweet will. When the
shadows lengthened, he would turn the phaeton around, with his nose
headed for home, and as the sun touched the horizon he would send forth
a warning neigh, gentle at first but if his voice was not hearkened to,
more peremptory and then quite sharp. He would give us about five
minutes and then he would start for home. I tell you there would be
scrambling then to get in the phaeton, as none of us relished the
thought of walking home, getting in late to supper and making the
necessary explanations to the grown-ups. One time Dilsey almost got
left, having loitered behind in a fit of stubbornness. 'I's plum wo' out
wif dis here brute beas' a bossin' er me!' she panted as she clambered
over the wheel and sank on the floor of the phaeton. 'Ef'n he was mine
I'd lay him out.' With that ole Dobbin turned his head around in the
shafts, looked sternly at the girl, and deliberately switched her with
his tail until she cried out for mercy, 'Lawsamussy, Marse Dobbin, I's
jes a foolin',' and then that old horse gave a whinny more like laughing
than anything you ever heard and trotted peacefully home."
The old man stopped and shook the ashes from his cigar. "Yes, yes, I
loved that old horse as much as I did Mammy, and God knows Mammy was
next to my parents in my affection. Not have souls! Why, I as firmly
believe I am going to meet Dobbin when I cross the river as I am Mammy."
At that, Dee Tucker got up out of the hammock and went over and hugged
and kissed the old Judge, and Zebedee and Dum both wiped the tears from
their eyes. I felt like it, too, but then tears are not mine to command
as they are the Tuckers'.
Certainly the Judge had touched us all with his story. I wanted to ask
him more about Dobbin but I was afraid the next thing would be Dobbin's
death, as he must have been old when he was presented to the little boy,
and somehow I felt none of us could bear up over the dear old horse's
death. It must have been more than sixty years since those picnics in
the beech woods, but you felt that in Judge Grayson's mind it was but as
yesterday.