was no reminiscence of the usual Southernporticoed gable or columned veranda. Yet it was not Northern either. Thefactory-like outline of facade was partly hidden in Cherokee rose andjessamine.
A long roofed gallery connected the buildings and became a veranda toone. A broad, well-rolled gravel drive led from the open gate to thenewest building, which seemed to be the office; a smaller path divergedfrom it to the corner house, which, despite its severe simplicity, had amore residential appearance. Unlike Reed's house, there were no loungingservants or field hands to be seen; they were evidently attending totheir respective duties. Dismounting, Courtland tied his horse to a postat the office door and took the smaller path to the corner house.
The door was open to the fragrant afternoon breeze wafted through therose and jessamine. So also was a side door opening from the hall intoa long parlor or sitting-room that ran the whole width of the house.Courtland entered it. It was prettily furnished, but everything had theair of freshness and of being uncharacteristically new. It was empty,but a faint hammering was audible on the rear wall of the house, throughthe two open French windows at the back, curtained with trailing vines,which gave upon a sunlit courtyard. Courtland walked to the window. Justbefore it, on the ground, stood a small light ladder, which he gentlyput aside to gain a better view of the courtyard as he put on his hat,and stepped out of the open window.
In this attitude he suddenly felt his hat tipped from his head, followedalmost instantaneously by a falling slipper, and the distinct impressionof a very small foot on the crown of his head. An indescribablesensation passed over him. He hurriedly stepped back into the room, justas a small striped-stockinged foot was as hastily drawn up above the topof the window with the feminine exclamation, "Good gracious me!"
Lingering for an instant, only to assure himself that the fair speakerhad secured her foothold and was in no danger of falling, Courtlandsnatched up his hat, which had providentially fallen inside the room,and retreated ingloriously to the other end of the parlor. The voicecame again from the window, and struck him as being very sweet andclear:--
"Sophy, is that YOU?"
Courtland discreetly retired to the hall. To his great relief a voicefrom the outside answered, "Whar, Miss Sally?"
"What did yo' move the ladder for? Yo' might have killed me."
"Fo' God, Miss Sally, I didn't move no ladder!"
"Don't tell me, but go down and get my slipper. And bring up some morenails."
Courtland waited silently in the hall. In a few moments he heard a heavyfootstep outside the rear window. This was his opportunity. Re-enteringthe parlor somewhat ostentatiously, he confronted a tall negro girlwho was passing through the room carrying a tiny slipper in her hand."Excuse me," he said politely, "but I could not find any one to announceme. Is Miss Dows at home?"
The girl instantly whipped the slipper behind her. "Is yo' wanting MissMirandy Dows," she asked with great dignity, "oah Miss Sally Dows--herniece? Miss Mirandy's bin gone to Atlanta for a week."
"I have a letter for Miss Miranda, but I shall be very glad if MissSally Dows will receive me," returned Courtland, handing the letter andhis card to the girl.
She received it with a still greater access of dignity and markeddeliberation. "It's clean gone outer my mind, sah, ef Miss Sally is inde resumption of visitahs at dis houah. In fac', sah," she continued,with intensified gravity and an exaggeration of thoughtfulness as thesounds of Miss Sally's hammering came shamelessly from the wall, "Idoahn know exac'ly ef she's engaged playin' de harp, practicin' delanguages, or paintin' in oil and watah colors, o' givin' audiences tooffishals from de Court House. It might be de houah for de one or deodder. But I'll communicate wid her, sah, in de budwoh on de uppahflo'." She backed dexterously, so as to keep the slipper behind her, butwith no diminution of dignity, out of a side door. In another moment thehammering ceased, followed by the sound of rapid whispering without; afew tiny twigs and leaves slowly rustled to the ground, and then therewas complete silence. He ventured to walk to the fateful window again.
Presently he heard a faint rustle at the other end of the room, and heturned. A sudden tremulousness swept along his pulses, and then theyseemed to pause; he drew a deep breath that was almost a sigh, andremained motionless.
He had no preconceived idea of falling in love with Miss Sally at firstsight, nor had he dreamed such a thing possible. Even the girlish facethat he had seen in the locket, although it had stirred him with asingular emotion, had not suggested that. And the ideal he had evolvedfrom it was never a potent presence. But the exquisitely pretty faceand figure before him, although it might have been painted from his ownfancy of her, was still something more and something unexpected. Allthat had gone before had never prepared him for the beautiful girl whonow stood there. It was a poor explanation to say that Miss Sally wasfour or five years older than her picture, and that later experiences,enlarged capacity, a different life, and new ambition had impressed heryouthful face with a refined mobility; it was a weird fancy to imaginethat the blood of those who had died for her had in some vague,mysterious way imparted an actual fascination to her, and he dismissedit. But even the most familiar spectator, like Sophy, could see thatMiss Sally had the softest pink complexion, the silkiest hair, thatlooked as the floss of the Indian corn might look if curled, or goldenspider threads if materialized, and eyes that were in bright grayharmony with both; that the frock of India muslin, albeit home-made,fitted her figure perfectly, from the azure bows on her shoulders to theribbon around her waist; and that the hem of its billowy skirt showed afoot which had the reputation of being the smallest foot south of Masonand Dixon's Line! But it was something more intangible than this whichkept Courtland breathless and silent.
"I'm not Miss Miranda Dows," said the vision with a frankness that washalf childlike and half practical, as she extended a little hand, "but Ican talk 'fahm' with yo' about as well as aunty, and I reckon from whatMajor Reed says heah," holding up the letter between her fingers, "aslong as yo' get the persimmons yo' don't mind what kind o' pole yo'knock 'em down with."
The voice that carried this speech was so fresh, clear, and sweet that Iam afraid Courtland thought little of its bluntness or its conventionaltransgressions. But it brought him his own tongue quite unemotionallyand quietly. "I don't know what was in that note, Miss Dows, but I canhardly believe that Major Reed ever put my present felicity quite inthat way."
Miss Sally laughed. Then with a charming exaggeration she waved herlittle hand towards the sofa.
"There! Yo' naturally wanted a little room for that, co'nnle, but nowthat yo' 've got it off,--and mighty pooty it was, too,--yo' can sitdown." And with that she sank down at one end of the sofa, prettily drewaside a white billow of skirt so as to leave ample room for Courtlandat the other, and clasping her fingers over her knees, looked demurelyexpectant.
"But let me hope that I am not disturbing you unseasonably," saidCourtland, catching sight of the fateful little slipper beneath herskirt, and remembering the window. "I was so preoccupied in thinking ofyour aunt as the business manager of these estates that I quite forgetthat she might have a lady's hours for receiving."
"We haven't got any company hours," said Miss Sally, "and we haven'tjust now any servants for company manners, for we're short-handed in thefields and barns. When yo' came I was nailing up the laths for the vinesoutside, because we couldn't spare carpenters from the factory. But,"she added, with a faint accession of mischief in her voice, "yo' came totalk about the fahm?"
"Yes," said Courtland, rising, "but not to interrupt the work on it.Will you let me help you nail up the laths on the wall? I have someexperience that way, and we can talk as we work. Do oblige me!"
The young girl looked at him brightly.
"Well, now, there's nothing mean about THAT. Yo' mean it for sure?"
"Perfectly. I shall feel so much less as if I was enjoying your companyunder false pretenses."
"Yo' just wait here, then."
She jumped from the sofa, ran out of the
room, and returned presently,tying the string of a long striped cotton blouse--evidently an extra oneof Sophy's--behind her back as she returned. It was gathered under heroval chin by a tape also tied behind her, while her fair hair was tuckedunder the usual red bandana handkerchief of the negro housemaid. It isscarcely necessary to add that the effect was bewitching.
"But," said Miss Sally, eying her guest's smartly fitting frock-coat,"yo' 'll spoil yo'r pooty clothes, sure! Take off yo'r coat--don't mindme--and work in yo'r shirtsleeves."
Courtland