CHAPTER III.
Two hours later, Colonel Lloyd, riding down the avenue under thelocusts, was surprised by a novel sight on his stately front steps.
Three little darkies and a big flop-eared hound were crouched on thebottom step, looking up at the Little Colonel, who sat just above them.
She was industriously stirring something in an old rusty pan with a big,battered spoon.
"Now, May Lilly," she ordered, speaking to the largest and blackest ofthe group, "you run an' find some nice 'mooth pebbles to put in forraisins. Henry Clay, you go get me some moah sand. This is 'most toowet."
"Here, you little pickaninnies!" roared the Colonel, as he recognizedthe cook's children. "What did I tell you about playing around here,tracking dirt all over my premises? You just chase back to the cabinwhere you belong!"
The sudden call startled Lloyd so that she dropped the pan, and thegreat mud pie turned upside down on the white steps.
"Well, you're a pretty sight!" said the Colonel, as he glanced withdisgust from her soiled dress and muddy hands to her bare feet.
He had been in a bad humour all morning. The sight of the steps coveredwith sand and muddy tracks gave him an excuse to give vent to his crossfeelings.
It was one of his theories that a little girl should always be kept asfresh and dainty as a flower. He had never seen his own little daughterin such a plight as this, and she had never been allowed to step outsideof her own room without her shoes and stockings.
"What does your mother mean," he cried, savagely, "by letting you runbarefooted around the country just like poor white trash? An' what areyou playing with low-flung niggers for? Haven't you ever been taught anybetter? I suppose it's some of your father's miserable Yankee notions."
May Lilly, peeping around the corner of the house, rolled her frightenedeyes from one angry face to the other. The same temper that glared fromthe face of the man, sitting erect in his saddle, seemed to be burningin the eyes of the child, who stood so defiantly before him. The samekind of scowl drew their eyebrows together darkly.
"Don't you talk that way to me," cried the Little Colonel, tremblingwith a wrath she did not know how to express.
Suddenly she stooped, and snatching both hands full of mud from theoverturned pie, flung it wildly over the spotless white coat.
Colonel Lloyd gasped with astonishment. It was the first time in hislife he had ever been openly defied. The next moment his anger gave wayto amusement.
"By George!" he chuckled, admiringly. "The little thing has got spirit,sure enough. She's a Lloyd through and through. So that's why they callher the 'Little Colonel,' is it?"
There was a tinge of pride in the look he gave her haughty little headand flashing eyes. "There, there, child!" he said, soothingly. "I didn'tmean to make you mad, when you were good enough to come and see me. Itisn't often I have a little lady like you pay me a visit."
"I didn't come to see you, suh," she answered, indignantly, as shestarted toward the gate. "I came to see May Lilly. But I nevah wouldhave come inside yo' gate if I'd known you was goin' to hollah at me an'be so cross."
She was walking off with the air of an offended queen, when the Colonelremembered that if he allowed her to go away in that mood she wouldprobably never set foot on his grounds again. Her display of temper hadinterested him immensely.
Now that he had laughed off his ill humour, he was anxious to see whatother traits of character she possessed. He wheeled his horse across thewalk to bar her way, and quickly dismounted.
"Oh, now, wait a minute," he said, in a coaxing tone. "Don't you wanta nice big saucer of strawberries and cream before you go? Walker'spicking some now. And you haven't seen my hothouse. It's just full ofthe loveliest flowers you ever saw. You like roses, don't you, and pinksand lilies and pansies?"
He saw he had struck the right chord as soon as he mentioned theflowers. The sullen look vanished as if by magic. Her face changed assuddenly as an April day.
"Oh, yes!" she cried, with a beaming smile. "I loves 'm bettah thananything!"
He tied his horse, and led the way to the conservatory. He opened thedoor for her to pass through, and then watched her closely to see whatimpression it would make on her. He had expected a delighted exclamationof surprise, for he had good reason to be proud of his rare plants. Theywere arranged with a true artist's eye for colour and effect.
She did not say a word for a moment, but drew a long breath, while thedelicate pink in her cheeks deepened and her eyes lighted up. Then shebegan going slowly from flower to flower, laying her face against thecool, velvety purple of the pansies, touching the roses with her lips,and tilting the white lily-cups to look into their golden depths.
As she passed from one to another as lightly as a butterfly might havedone, she began chanting in a happy undertone.
Ever since she had learned to talk she had a quaint little way ofsinging to herself. All the names that pleased her fancy she strungtogether in a crooning melody of her own.
There was no special tune. It sounded happy, although nearly always in aminor key.
"Oh, the jonquils an' the lilies!" she sang. "All white an' gold an'yellow. Oh, they're all a-smilin' at me, an' a-sayin' howdy! howdy!"
She was so absorbed in her intense enjoyment that she forgot all aboutthe old Colonel. She was wholly unconscious that he was watching orlistening.
"She really does love them," he thought, complacently. "To see her faceone would think she had found a fortune."
It was another bond between them.
After awhile he took a small basket from the wall, and began to fill itwith his choicest blooms. "You shall have these to take home," he said."Now come into the house and get your strawberries."
She followed him reluctantly, turning back several times for one morelong sniff of the delicious fragrance.
She was not at all like the Colonel's ideal of what a little girlshould be, as she sat in one of the high, stiff chairs, enjoying herstrawberries. Her dusty little toes wriggled around in the curls onFritz's back, as she used him for a footstool. Her dress was draggledand dirty, and she kept leaning over to give the dog berries and creamfrom the spoon she was eating with herself.
He forgot all this, however, when she began to talk to him.
"My great-aunt Sally Tylah is to our house this mawnin'," she announced,confidentially. "That's why we came off. Do you know my Aunt SallyTylah?"
"Well, slightly!" chuckled the Colonel. "She was my wife's half-sister.So you don't like her, eh? Well, I don't like her either."
He threw back his head and laughed heartily. The more the child talkedthe more entertaining he found her. He did not remember when he had everbeen so amused before as he was by this tiny counterpart of himself.
When the last berry had vanished, she slipped down from the tall chair.
"Do you 'pose it's very late?" she asked, in an anxious voice. "Mom Beckwill be comin' for me soon."
"Yes, it is nearly noon," he answered. "It didn't do much good to runaway from your Aunt Tyler; she'll see you after all."
"Well, she can't 'queeze me an' kiss me, 'cause I've been naughty, an'I'll be put to bed like I was the othah day, just as soon as I get home.I 'most wish I was there now," she sighed. "It's so fa' an' the sun's sohot. I lost my sunbonnet when I was comin' heah, too."
Something in the tired, dirty face prompted the old Colonel to say,"Well, my horse hasn't been put away yet. I'll take you home on MaggieBoy."
The next moment he repented making such an offer, thinking whatthe neighbours might say if they should meet him on the road withElizabeth's child in his arm.
But it was too late. He could not unclasp the trusting little hand thatwas slipped in his. He could not cloud the happiness of the eager littleface by retracting his promise.
He swung himself into the saddle, with her in front. Then he put hisone arm around her with a firm clasp, as he reached forward to take thebridle.
"You couldn't take Fritz on behin', could you?" she asked
, anxiously."He's mighty ti'ed too."
"No," said the Colonel, with a laugh. "Maggie Boy might object and throwus all off."
Hugging her basket of flowers close in her arms, she leaned her headagainst him contentedly as they cantered down the avenue.
"Look!" whispered all the locusts, waving their hands to each otherexcitedly. "Look! The master has his own again. The dear old times arecoming back to us."
"How the trees blow!" exclaimed the child, looking up at the green archoverhead. "See! They's all a-noddin' to each othah." "We'll have to getmy shoes an' 'tockin's," she said, presently, when they were nearlyhome. "They're in that fence cawnah behin' a log."
The Colonel obediently got down and handed them to her. As he mountedagain he saw a carriage coming toward them. He recognized one of hisnearest neighbours. Striking the astonished Maggie Boy with his spur,he turned her across the railroad track, down the steep embankment, andinto an unfrequented lane.
"This road is just back of your garden," he said. "Can you get throughthe fence if I take you there?"
"That's the way we came out," was the answer. "See that hole where thepalin's are off?"
Just as he was about to lift her down, she put one arm around his neck,and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Good-bye, gran'fatha'," she said,in her most winning way. "I've had a mighty nice time." Then she added,in a lower tone, "'Kuse me fo' throwin' mud on yo' coat."
He held her close a moment, thinking nothing had ever before been halfso sweet as the way she called him grandfather.
From that moment his heart went out to her as it had to little Tom andElizabeth. It made no difference if her mother had forfeited his love.It made no difference if Jack Sherman was her father, and that the twomen heartily hated each other.
It was his own little grandchild he held in his arms.
She had sealed the relationship with a trusting kiss.
"Child," he said, huskily, "you will come and see me again, won't you,no matter if they do tell you not to? You shall have all the flowers andberries you want, and you can ride Maggie Boy as often as you please."
She looked up into his face. It was very familiar to her. She had lookedat his portrait often, unconsciously recognizing a kindred spirit thatshe longed to know.
Her ideas of grandfathers, gained from stories and observation, led herto class them with fairy godmothers. She had always wished for one.
The day they moved to Lloydsborough, Locust had been pointed out to heras her grandfather's home. From that time on she slipped away withFritz on every possible occasion to peer through the gate, hoping for aglimpse of him.
"Yes, I'll come suah!" she promised. "I likes you just lots,gran'fathah!" He watched her scramble through the hole in the fence.Then he turned his horse's head slowly homeward.
A scrap of white lying on the grass attracted his attention as he nearedthe gate.
"It's the lost sunbonnet," he said, with a smile. He carried it into thehouse, and hung it on the hat-rack in the wide front hall.
"Ole marse is crosser'n two sticks," growled Walker to the cook atdinner. "There ain't no livin' with him. What do you s'pose is themattah?"