Read Ebook: Kennedy Square by Smith Francis Hopkinson

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Ebook has 2083 lines and 125079 words, and 42 pages

The boy dropped his dishes: "Fo' Gawd, dat's Mister Harry!" he cried as he started on a run for the door. "Don't nobody bang de do' down like dat but him."

A slender, thoroughly graceful young fellow of twenty-one or two, booted and spurred, his dark eyes flashing, his face tingling with the sting of the early morning air, dashed past the obsequious darky and burst into Temple's presence with the rush of a north-west breeze. He had ridden ten miles since he vaulted into the saddle, had never drawn rein uphill or down, and neither he nor the thoroughbred pawing the mud outside had turned a hair.

"Hello, Uncle George!" Temple, as has been said, was Uncle George to every girl and youth in Kennedy Square.

"Why, Harry!" He had sprung from his seat, napkin in hand and had him by both shoulders, looking into his eyes as if he wanted to hug him, and would the first thing he knew. "Where are you from--Moorlands? What a rollicking chap you are, and you look so well and handsome, you dog! And now tell me of your dear mother and your father. But first down with you--here--right opposite--always your place, my dear Harry. Todd, another shell of oysters and more waffles and coffee--everything, Todd, and blazing hot: two shells, Todd--the sight of you, Harry, makes me ravenous again, and I could have eaten my boots, when I got home an hour ago, I was so hungry. But the mare"--here he moved to the window--"is she all right? Spitfire, I suppose--you'd kill anything else, you rascal! But you haven't tied her!"

"No--never tie her--break her heart if I did. Todd, hang up this coat and hat in the hall before you go."

"That's what you said of that horse you bought of Hampson--ran away, didn't he?" persisted his host, his eyes on the mare, which had now become quiet.

"Yes, and broke his leg. But Spitfire's all right--she'll stand. Where will I sit--here? And now what kind of a time did you have, and who were with you?"

"Clayton, Doctor Teackle, and the judge."

"And how many ducks did you get?" and he dropped into his chair.

"Twenty-one," answered St. George, dry-washing his white shapely hands, as he took his seat--a habit of his when greatly pleased.

"All canvas-backs?"

"No--five redheads and a mallard."

"Where did you put up?" echoed Harry, loosening his riding-jacket to give his knife and fork freer play.

"I spent a week at Tom Coston's and a week at Craddock. Another lump of sugar, Todd."

The boy laughed gently: "Lazy Tom's?"

"Lazy Tom's--and the best-hearted fellow in the world. They're going to make him a judge, they say and--"

"--What of--peach brandy? No cream in mine, Todd."

"No--you scurrilous dog--of the Common Court," retorted St. George, looking at him over the top of his cup. "Very good lawyer is Tom--got horse sense and can speak the truth--make a very good judge."

Again Harry laughed--rather a forced laugh this time, as if he were trying to make himself agreeable but with so anxious a ring through it that Todd busied himself about the table before going below for fresh supplies, making excuse of collecting the used dishes. If there were to be any revelations concerning the situation at the Seymour house, he did not intend to miss any part of them.

"Better put Mrs. Coston on the bench and set Tom to rocking the cradle," said the young man, reaching for the plate of corn pone. "She's a thoroughbred if ever I saw one, and does credit to her blood. But go on--tell me about the birds. Are they flying high?--and the duck blinds; have they fixed them up? They were all going to pot when I was there last."

"Birds out of range, most of them--hard work getting what I did. As to the blinds, they are still half full of water--got soaking wet trying to use one. I shot most of mine from the boat just as the day broke," and then followed a full account of what the party had bagged, with details of every day's adventures. This done, St. George pushed back his chair and faced the young man.

"And now you take the witness-stand, sir--look me in the eyes, put your hand on your fob-pocket and tell me the truth. Todd says you have been here every day for a week looking as if you had lost your last fip-penny-bit and wild to see me. What has happened?"

"Todd has a vivid imagination." He turned in his seat, stretched out his hand, and catching one of the dogs by the nose rubbed his head vigorously.

"Go on--all of it--no dodging the king's counsellor. What's the matter?"

The young man glanced furtively at Todd, grabbed another dog, rubbed their two ears together in play, and in a lowered voice, through which a tinge of sadness was only too apparent, murmured:

"Miss Kate--we've had a falling out."

St. George lowered his head suddenly and gave a low whistle:--"Falling out?--what about?"

Again young Rutter glanced at Todd, whose back was turned, but whose ears were stretched to splitting point. His host nodded understandingly.

"There, Todd--that will do; now go down and get your breakfast. No more waffles, tell Aunt Jemima. Bring the pipes over here and throw on another log... that's right." A great sputtering of sparks followed--a spider-legged, mahogany table was wheeled into place, and the dejected darky left the room for the regions below.

"So you two have had a quarrel! Oh, Harry!--when will you learn to think twice before you speak? Whose fault was it?" sighed St. George, filling the bowl of his pipe with his slender fingers, slowly tucking in each shred and grain.

"Mine."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing--I couldn't. She came in and saw it all." The boy had his elbows on the table now, his cheeks sunk in his hands.

St. George looked up: "Drunk, were you?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"At Mrs. Cheston's ball last week."

"Have you seen her since?"

"No--she won't let me come near her. Mr. Seymour passed me yesterday and hardly spoke to me."

St. George canted his chair and zigzagged it toward the blazing hearth; then he said thoughtfully, without looking at the young man:

"Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish! Have you told your father?"

"No--he wouldn't understand."

"And I know you didn't tell your mother." This came with the tone of positive conviction.

"No--and don't you. Mother is daft on the subject. If she had her way, father would never put a drop of wine on the table. She says it is ruining the county--but that's mother's way."

St. George stooped over, fondled one of the dogs for a moment--two had followed Todd out of the room--settled back in his chair again, and still looking into the fire, said slowly:

"Bad business--bad business, Harry! Kate is as proud as Lucifer and dislikes nothing on earth so much as being made conspicuous. Tell me exactly what happened."

"Well, there isn't anything to tell," replied the young fellow, raising his head and leaning back in his chair, his face the picture of despair. "We were all in the library and the place was boiling-hot, and they had two big bowls, one full of eggnog and the other full of apple-toddy: and the next thing I knew I was out in the hall and met Kate on the stairs. She gave a little smothered scream, and moaned--'Oh, Harry!--and you promised me!'--and then she put her hands to her face, as if to shut me out of her sight. That sobered me somewhat, and after I got out on the porch into the night air and had pulled myself together, I tried to find her and apologize, but she had gone home, although the ball wasn't half over.

"Then this was not the first time?" He was still at the hot coals, both hands outfanned, to screen his face from the blaze.

"No--I'm sorry to say it wasn't. I told her I would never fail her again, and she forgave me, but I don't know what she'll do now. She never forgives anybody who breaks his word--she's very queer about it. That's what I came to see you about. I haven't slept much nights, thinking it over, and so I had the mare saddled, as soon as it got light, hoping you would be home. Todd thought you might be--he saw Dr. Teackle's Joe, who said you were all coming to-day."

Again there was a long pause, during which Temple continued to study the coals through his open fingers, the young man sitting hunched up in his chair, his handsome head dropped between his shoulders, his glossy chestnut hair, a-frouze with his morning ride, fringing his collar behind.

"Harry," said St. George, knocking the ashes slowly from his pipe on the edge of the fender, and turning his face for the first time toward him,--"didn't I hear something before I went away about a ball at your father's--or a dance--or something, when your engagement was to be announced?"

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