Red Rock: A Chronicle of Reconstruction

by Thomas Nelson Page

  CHAPTER XXVII

  HIRAM STILL GETS A LEGAL OPINION AND CAPTAIN ALLEN CLIMBS FOR CHERRIES

  As Major Welch was anxious to be independent, he declined Still’sinvitation to stay with him, and within a week he and Ruth were“camping out” at the Stamper place, which he had rented, preparing itfor the arrival of Mrs. Welch and their furniture.

  As it happened, no one had called on the Welches while they remainedat Still’s; but they were no sooner in their own house than all theneighbors round began to come to see them.

  Ruth found herself treated as if she were an old friend, and feeling asif she had known these visitors all her life. One came in an old wagonand brought two or three chairs, which were left until Ruth’s shouldcome; another sent over a mahogany table; a third came with a quarterof lamb; all accompanied by some message of apology or friendlinesswhich made the kindness appear rather done to the senders than by them.

  In the contribution which the Carys brought, Ruth found the two oldcups she had admired. She packed them up and returned them to Blairwith the sweetest note she knew how to write.

  As soon as he was settled, Major Welch went to the Court-houseto examine the records. He had intended to go alone and had madearrangements, the afternoon before, with a negro near by to furnishhim a horse next day; that evening, however, Still, who appeared toknow everything that was going on, rode over and asked if he could nottake him down in his buggy. He had to go there on some business, heexplained, and Colonel Leech would be there and had told him he wantedto see the Major and talk over some matters, and wanted him to be theretoo.

  The Major would have preferred to go first without Still. However,there was nothing else to do but to accept the offer he made of hiscompany; and the next morning Still drove over, and they set outtogether, Ruth saying that she had plenty to occupy her until herfather’s return.

  They had not been gone very long and Ruth was busying herself, out inthe yard, trimming the old rose-bushes into some sort of shape, whenshe heard a step, and looking up saw coming across the grass, the smallman they had met in the road, who had told them the way to Dr. Cary’s.

  He wasn’t “so very busy just then,” he said, and had come to see ifthey “mightn’t like to have a little hauling done when their furniturecame.”

  Ruth thought that her father had arranged with Mr. Still to have itdone.

  “I ain’t particularly busy jest now, and I’d take feed along—I jestthought I’d like to be neighborly,” repeated the man. “Hiram, I s’pect,he’s chargin’ you some’n?”

  Ruth supposed so.

  “Well, if he ain’t directly, he will some way. The best way to payHiram is to pay him right down.”

  He asked Ruth if she would mind his going in and looking at the house,and, when she assented, he walked around silently, looking at the tworooms which she showed him: their sitting-room and her father’s room;then asked if he could not look into the other room also. This wasRuth’s chamber, and for a second she hesitated to gratify curiositycarried so far; but reflecting that he was a plain countryman, andmight possibly misunderstand her refusal and be wounded, she nodded herassent, and stepped forward to open the door. He opened it himself,however, and walked in, stepping on tip-toe. He stopped in the middleof the room and looked about him, his gaze resting presently on a naildriven into a strip in the Avail just beside the bed.

  “I was born in this here room,” he said, as much to himself as to her;then, after a pause: “right in that thar cornder—and my father wasborn in it before me and his father befo’ him, and to think that Hiramowns it! Hiram Still! Well—well—things do turn out strange—don’tthey? Thar’s the very nail my father used to hang his big silver watchon. I b’lieve I’d give Hiram a hoss for that nail, ef I knowed where Icould get another one to plough my crop.” He walked up and put his handon the nail, feeling it softly. Then walked out.

  “Thankee, miss. Will you tell yo’ pa, Sergeant Stamper’d be glad to dowhat he could for him, and ef he wants him jist to let him know?” Hehad gone but a few steps, when he turned back: “And will you tell him Isay he’s got to watch out for Hiram?”

  The next moment he was gone, leaving Ruth with a sinking feeling abouther heart. What could he mean?

  She had not long to think of it, however, for just then she heard thesound of wheels grinding along outside, and she looked out of the doorjust as a rickety little wagon drew up to the door. She recognized thedriver as Miss Cary and walked out to meet her. Beside Blair in thewagon sat, wrapped up in shawls, though the day was warm, an elderlylady with a faded face, but with very pleasant eyes, looking down atRuth from under a brown veil. Ruth at first supposed that she wasBlair’s mother, but Blair introduced her as “Cousin Thomasia.” As theyhelped the lady out of the vehicle, Ruth was amused at the preparationshe made. Every step she took she gave some explanation or exclamation,talking to herself, it appeared, rather than to either of the girls.

  “My dear Blair, for heaven’s sake don’t let his head go. Take care, mydear, don’t let this drop.” (This to Ruth, about a package wrapped inpaper.)

  When at length she was down on the ground, she asked Blair if herbonnet was on straight: “Because, my dear”—and Ruth could not for herlife tell to whom she was speaking—“nothing characterizes a woman morethan her bonnet.”

  Then having been assured that this mark of character was all right, sheturned to Ruth, and said, with the greatest graciousness:

  “How do you do, my dear? You must allow me to kiss you. I am CousinThomasia.”

  Ruth’s surprised look as she greeted her, perhaps, made her add, “I ameverybody’s Cousin Thomasia.”

  It was indeed as she said, she was everybody’s Cousin Thomasia, andbefore she had been in the house ten minutes, Ruth felt as if shewere, at least, hers. She accepted the arm-chair offered her, with thegraciousness of a queen, and spread out her faded skirts with an airwhich Ruth noted and forthwith determined to copy. Then she producedher knitting, and began to knit so quietly that it was almost as ifthe yarn and needles had appeared at her bidding. The next instant shebegan a search for something—began it casually, so casually that sheknit between-times, but the search quickened and the knitting ceased.

  “Blair?——!”

  “You brought them with you, Cousin Thomasia.”

  “No, my dear, I left them, I’m sure I left them——” (searching all thetime) “right on—Where can they be?”

  “I saw you have them in the wagon.”

  “Then I’ve dropped them—Oh, dear! dear! What shall I do?”

  “What is it?” asked Ruth.

  “My eyes, my dear—and I cannot read a word without them. Blair, wemust go right back and hunt for them.”

  But Blair was up and searching, not on the floor or in the road; butin the folds of Miss Thomasia’s dress; in the wrappings of the littleparcel which she still held in her lap.

  “Here they are, Cousin Thomasia,” she exclaimed, triumphantly drawingthem out of the paper. “Right where you put them.”

  Miss Thomasia gave a laugh as fresh as a girl’s.

  “Why, so I did! How stupid of me!” She seated herself again, adjustedher glasses and began to unwrap her parcel.

  “Here, my dear, is a little cutting I have fetched you from a rosewhich my dear mother brought from Kenilworth Castle, when sheaccompanied my dear father to England. I was afraid you might not haveany flowers now, and nothing is such a panacea for loneliness as thecare of a rose-bush. I can speak from experience. The old one usedto grow just over my window at my old home and I took a cutting withme when we went away—General Legaie obtained the privilege of doingso—and you have no idea how much company it has been to me. I willshow you how to set it out.”

  The glasses were on now, and she was examining the sprig of green inthe little pot with profound interest, while her needles flew.

  “Where was your old home?” Ruth asked, softly.

  “Here, my dear—not this place, but all around you. This w
as Mrs.Stamper’s—one of our poor neighbors. But we lived at Red Rock.”

  “Oh!” said Ruth, shocked at having asked the question.

  “No matter, my dear,” the old lady went on. “Since we moved we havelived at a little place right on the road. You must come over and letme show you my roses there. But I don’t think they will ever be equalto the old ones—or what the old ones were, for I hear they are nearlyall gone now—I have never been back since I left. I do not think Icould stand seeing that—person in possession of my father’s and mybrother’s estate.” She sighed for the first time, and for the firsttime the needles, as she leant back, stopped.

  “I wrapped up my glasses to keep from seeing it as we drove up thehill. I wish they might let me lie there when I die, but I know theywill not.” Her gaze was out of the open door. In the silence whichfollowed her words the sound of a horse’s hoofs was heard.

  “There is someone outside, my dear,” she said, placidly. Both Ruth andBlair looked out.

  “Why, it is the General,” said Blair, and Ruth wondered who the Generalwas, and wondered yet more to detect something very much like a flutterin Miss Thomasia’s manner. Her hand went to her bonnet; to her throat;she smoothed her already smooth skirts, and glanced around—ending ina little appealing look to Blair. It was almost as if a white dove,represented in some sacred mystery, had suddenly lost tranquillity.When, however, the new visitor reached the door, Miss Thomasia wasquietude itself.

  He stepped up to the door and gave a tap with the butt of hisriding-switch before he was aware of the presence of the three ladies;then he took off his hat.

  “Ladies,” he said, with quite a grand bow. At the same moment, both ofthe ladies who knew him, spoke, but Ruth heard only Miss Thomasia’swords:

  “My dear, this is General Legaie, of whom you have often heard, ourold and valued friend.” Ruth had never heard of him, but she wasstruck by him. He was not over five feet three inches high: not astall by several inches as Ruth herself; but his head, with curlingwhite hair, was so set on his shoulders, his form was so straight andvigorous, and his countenance, with its blue eyes and fine mouth, sohandsome and self-contained, that Ruth thought she had never seen amore martial figure. She thought instinctively of a portrait she hadonce seen of a French Marshal; and when the General made his sweepingbow and addressed her with his placid voice in old-fashioned phrase as,“Madam,” the illusion was complete. Why, he was absolutely stately.Then he addressed Miss Thomasia and Blair, making each of them a bowand a compliment with such an old-fashioned courtesy that Ruth felt asif she were reading a novel.

  He had hoped to call and pay his respects before, he told Ruth, whenhe had finished his greetings; but had been unavoidably delayed, andit was a cause of sincere regret that he should be so unfortunate asto miss her father. He had learned of his absence several miles below,but he would not delay longer paying his devoirs to her; so had comeon. “And you see the triple reward I receive,” he said, with a glancewhich included all three ladies, and a little laugh of pleasantry overhimself.

  “See what an adept he is,” said Blair: “he compliments us all in onebreath.”

  The General looked at Miss Thomasia as if he were going to speakdirectly to her, but she was picking up a stitch, so he shifted hisglance to Blair, and, catching her eye, laughed heartily.

  “Well? Why didn’t you say it?”

  Miss Thomasia knitted placidly.

  He shrugged his shoulders, laughed again, and changed his banteringtone.

  “Have you seen Jacquelin?” asked Miss Thomasia, who had calmly ignoredthe preceding conversation.

  “Yes, he’s all right—he came back yesterday and has gone in with SteveAllen. They’ll get along. He’s just the sort of man Steve needed; he’llbe his heavy artillery. He is looking into the matter of the bonds.”

  Miss Thomasia sighed.

  “Two young gentlemen of the County who are great friends of ours, MissWelch,” explained the General.

  * * * * *

  Meanwhile, Major Welch and Mr. Still had reached the county seat.During their ride, Still had given Major Welch an account of affairsin the County, and of most of those with whom he would come incontact. Steve Allen he described as a terrible character. It had beena dreadful struggle that he himself and other Union men had had towage, he said. Leech was the leading Northern man in the County, andwas going to be Governor. But he was disposed to caution Major Welchsomewhat against even him. Leech did not exactly understand things; hedid not rely enough on his white friends. He would have turned out allthe white officials and filled their places with negroes. But Still hadinsisted on keeping, at least, Mr. Dockett, the Clerk, in; because hehad charge of all the records. But Mr. Dockett had not acted exactlyright, he said, and he was afraid at the next election “they’d have tolet him go.” He had been “getting mighty unreasonable.” Some peoplewanted his son, Wash, the Doctor, to run, but he “didn’t know aboutit?” he said, with an interrogation in his voice.

  Major Welch had supposed that the Doctor would find his professionmore profitable, or at least that it would take up all his time if heproposed to follow it; but Still explained that there was not a greatdeal of practice, and that the clerk’s place was a “paying office.”

  When they arrived at Leech’s house Major Welch found it a big, modernaffair with a mansard roof, set in the middle of a treeless lot. ToMajor Welch’s surprise, Leech was not at home. Still appeared muchdisconcerted.

  As they crossed the yard, the Major observed a sign over a door: “ALLENAND GRAY. LAW OFFICE.”

  “If necessary we could secure their services,” he said, indicating thesign.

  Still drew up to his side, and lowered his voice, looking around: Theywere the lawyers he had told him of, he said. That was “that fellowAllen, the leader in all the trouble that went on.”

  “Who’s Gray?” The Major was still scanning the sign.

  Still gave a curious little laugh.

  “He’s the one as used to own my place—Mr. Gray’s son. He’s a bad one,too. He’s just come back and set up as a lawyer. Fact is, I believehe’s set up as one, more to devil me than anything else.”

  Major Welch said, dryly, that he did not see why his setting up as alawyer should bedevil him. Still hesitated.

  “Well, if he thinks he could scare me——”

  “I don’t see how he could scare you. I would not let him scare me,”said Major Welch, dryly.

  “You don’t know ’em, Colonel,” said Still. “You don’t know what weUnion men have had to go through. They won’t let us buy land, and theywon’t let us sell it. They hate you because you come from the North,and they hate me because I don’ hate you. I tell you all the truth,Colonel, and you don’t believe it—but you don’t know what we gothrough down here. We’ve got to stand together. You’ll see.” The man’svoice was so earnest, and his face so sincere that Major Welch couldnot help being impressed.

  “Well, I’ll show him and everyone else pretty quickly that that is notthe way to come at me,” said Major Welch, gravely. “When I get ready tobuy, I’ll buy where I please, and irrespective of anyone else’s viewsexcept the seller’s.” And he walked up to the door, without seeing thelook on Still’s face.

  The only occupants of the clerk’s office were two men; one was an oldman, evidently the clerk, with a bushy beard and keen eyes gleamingthrough a pair of silver spectacles. The other was a young man and avery handsome one, with a broad brow, a strongly chiselled chin, anda very grave and somewhat melancholy face. He was seated in a chairdirectly facing the door, examining a bundle of old chancery paperswhich were spread out on his knee and on a chair beside him, and as thevisitors entered the door he glanced up. Major Welch was struck by hisfine eyes, and the changed look that suddenly came into them. Stillgave his arm a convulsive clutch, and Major Welch knew by instinct thatthis was the man of whom Still had just spoken.

  If Jacquelin Gray was really the sort of man Still had described him
tobe, and held the opinions Still had attributed to him, he played thehypocrite very well, for he not only bowed to Major Welch very civilly,if distantly, but to do so even rose from his seat at some littleinconvenience to himself, as he had to gather up the papers spread onhis knee. It is true that he took not the least notice of Still, whoincluded him as well as the clerk in his greeting, the only evidencehe gave of being aware of the presence of his former manager, beingcontained in a certain quiver of the nostrils, as Still passed him.

  Major Welch was introduced by Still to the clerk, and stated hiserrand, wondering at the change in his companion’s voice.

  “He’s afraid of that young man,” he thought to himself, and hestiffened a little as the idea occurred to him; and at the firstopportunity he glanced again at Jacquelin, who was once more busy withhis bundle of papers, in which be appeared completely absorbed. Stillwas following the clerk, who, with his spectacles on the tip of hislong nose, was looking into the files of his deed-books; but MajorWelch saw that Still was not attending to him; his eyes were turnedand were fastened on the young lawyer, quite on the other side of theroom. As the Major looked he was astonished to see Still start and putout his hand as though to support himself. Following Still’s gaze heglanced across at Jacquelin. He had taken several long, narrow slipsof paper out of the bundle, and was at the instant examining themcuriously, oblivious of everything else. Major Welch looked back atStill, and he was as white as a ghost. Before he could take it in,Still muttered something and turned to the door. As he walked out hetottered so that Major Welch, thinking he was ill, followed him.

  Outside, the air revived Still somewhat, and a drink of whiskey whichhe got at the tavern bar, and told the bar-keeper to make “stiff,” sethim up a good deal. He had been feeling badly for some time, he said;thought he was a little bilious.

  Just as they came out of the bar, they saw young Gray cross thecourt-green and go over to his office.

  They returned to the clerk’s office, and Major Welch was soon runningthrough the deeds, while Still, after looking over his shoulder for amoment or two, took a seat near Mr. Dockett and began to talk to him.He appeared much interested in the old fellow, his family, and all thatbelonged to him, and Major Welch was a little amused at the old man’sshort replies.

  His attention was attracted by Still’s saying casually that he’d liketo see the papers in that old suit of his against the Gray estate, ifhe could lay his hands on them, and the clerk’s dry answer that hecould lay his hands on any paper in the office, and that the papers inquestion were in the “ended-causes” case. “Mr. Jacquelin Gray was justlooking over them as you came in,” he said, as he rose to get them.

  “Well, let him look,” Still growled, with a sudden change of tone. “Hecan look all he wants, and he won’t git around them bonds.”

  “Oh, no! I don’t say as he will,” the old officer answered.

  “I’d like to take ’em home with me—” Still began; but the clerk cuthim short.

  “I can’t let you do that. You’ll have to look at ’em here in theoffice.”

  “Why, they’re nothin’ but—I want Colonel Welch here to look at’em—they’ll show him how the lands come to me—I’ll bring ’em back——”

  “I can’t let you take ’em out of the office.” His tone was as dry asever.

  “Well, I’d like to know why not? They don’t concern nobody but me, andthey’re all ended.”

  “That’s the very reason you can’t take ’em out; they’re part of therecords of this office——”

  “Well, I can take the bonds out, anyway,” Still persisted; “they ismine, anyhow.”

  “No, you can’t take them, either.”

  Still did not often lose his temper, or show it, if he did; but thistime he lost it.

  “Well, I’ll show you if I can’t, before the year is out, Mr. Dockett.I’ll show you who I am!” He rose with much feeling.

  “I know who you are.” The old fellow turned and shot a piercing glanceat him over his spectacles, and Major Welch watched complacently to seehow it would end.

  “Well, if you don’t, I mean to make you know it. I’ll show you youdon’t own this County. I’ll show you who is the bigger man, you or thepeople of this County. You think because you been left in this officethat you own it; but I’ll——”

  “No, I don’t,” the old man said, firmly; “I know you’ve got negroesenough to turn me out if you choose; but I want to tell you that untilyou do I’m in charge here, and I run the office according to what Ithink is my duty, and the only way to change it is to turn me out. Doyou want to see the papers or not? You can look at ’em here just aseverybody else does.”

  “That’s right,” said Major Welch, meaning to explain that it was thelaw. Still took it in a different sense, however, and quieted down. Hewould look at them, he said, sulkily, and, taking the bundle, he pickedout the same slips which young Gray had been examining.

  “You’re so particular about your old papers,” he said, as he held upone of the slips, “I wonder you don’t keep ’em a little better. You gota whole lot o’ red ink smeared on this bond.”

  “I didn’t get it on it.” The clerk got up and walked across the room tolook at the paper indicated, adjusting his spectacles as he did so. Oneglance sufficed for him.

  “That ain’t ink, and if ’tis, it didn’t get on it in this office. Thatstain was on that bond when Leech filed it. I remember it particularly.”

  “I don’t know anything about that—I know it wa’n’t on it when I giveit to him, and I don’t remember of ever having seen it before,” Stillpersisted.

  “Well, I remember it well—I remember speaking of it to him, becausewe thought ’twas finger-marks, and he said ’twas on it when you gave itto him.”

  “Well, I know ’twant,” Still repeated, hotly. “If ’twas on thar when hebrought it here he got ’t on it himself, and I’ll take my oath to it.Well, that don’t make any difference in the bond, I s’pose? It’s justas good with that on it as if ’twant?”

  “Oh, yes; that’s so,” said Mr. Dockett. “If it’s all right every otherway, that won’t hurt it.”

  Still looked at him sharply.

  As they drove home, Still, after a long period of silence, suddenlyasked Major Welch, within what time after a case was ended a man couldbring a suit to upset it.

  “Well, I don’t know what the statutes of this State are, but he cangenerally bring it without limit, on the ground of fraud,” said theMajor, “unless he is estopped by laches.”

  “What’s that?” asked Still, somewhat huskily, and the Major started toexplain; but Still was taken with another of his ill turns.

  That same afternoon, a little before Major Welch’s return, Ruth waswalking about the yard, looking, every now and then, across the hill,in the direction of Red Rock, from which her father should soon becoming, when, as she passed near a cherry-tree, she observed that someof the fruit was already ripe. One or two branches were not very high.She had been feeling a little lonely, and it occurred to her that itwould be great fun to climb the tree. She had once been a good climber,and she remembered the scoldings she had received for it from hermother, who regarded it as “essentially frivolous,” and had once, asa punishment, set her to learn all the names of all the branches of atree which hung on the nursery wall, and represented, allegorically,all the virtues and vices, together with a perfect network ofsubsidiary qualities. She could remember many of them now— “Faith,Hope, Temperance,” and so on.

  “Dear mamma,”she thought, with a pang of homesickness, “I wish she werehere now.” This reflection only made her more lonely, and to overcomethe feeling she turned to the more material and attractive tree.

  “I could climb that tree easily enough,” she said,”and there’s noone to know anything about it. Even mamma would not mind that much.Besides, I could see papa from a greater distance and I’ll get him somecherries for his tea.”

  These last two considerations were sufficient to counterbal
ance theidea of maternal disapproval. So Ruth turned up the skirt of her dress,pinned it so that it would not be stained, and five minutes later wasscrambling up the tree. Higher and higher she went up, feeling theold exhilaration of childhood as she climbed. What a fine view therewas from her perch! the rolling hills, the green low-grounds, thewinding river, the blue mountains behind and, away to the eastward,the level of the tide-water country almost as blue at the horizon asthe mountains to the westward. How still it was too! Every sound wasdistinct: the lowing of a cow far away toward Red Rock, the notes of athrush in a thicket, and the chirp of a sparrow in an old tree. Ruthwished she could have described it as she saw it, or, rather, as shefelt it, for it was more feeling than seeing, she thought. But thebest cherries were out toward the ends of the limbs, so she secured asafe position and set to work, gathering them. She was so engrossed inthis occupation that she forgot everything else until she heard thetrampling of a horse’s feet somewhere. It was quite in a differentdirection from that in which she expected her father, but supposingthat it was he, Ruth gave a little yodel, with which she often greetedhim when at a distance, and climbed out on a limb that she might lookdown and see him. How astonished and amused he would be, she thought.Yes, there he was, coming around the slope just below her, but howwas he going to get across the ditch? If only that bough were not inthe way! Ah! now she had the bough and could pull it aside. Heavens!it was a stranger, and he was near enough for her to see that he wasa young man. What should she do? Suppose he should have heard her! Atthe moment she looked he was putting his horse at the ditch—a splendidjump it was. She let the bough go and edged in toward the body of thetree, listening and half seeing the rider below through the leaves ashe galloped up into the yard. Perhaps he had not seen her? She croucheddown. It was a vain hope, for the next instant he turned his horse’shead toward the tree and drew him in almost under her.

  “I say—Is anyone at home?” he asked. The voice was a very deep andpleasant one. Although Ruth was sure he was speaking to her, she didnot answer.

  “I say, little girl, are Colonel Welch and his daughter at home?”

  This time he looked up. So Ruth answered. No, they were not at home.Her voice sounded curiously quavering.

  “Ah! I’m very sorry. When will they be at home? Can you tell me?”

  “Ah! ur—not exactly,” quavered Ruth, crouching still closer to thetree-trunk and gathering in her skirts.

  “You have some fine cherries up there!”

  Oh, heavens! why didn’t he go away!

  To this she made no answer, hoping he would go. He caught hold of abough, she thought, to pull some cherries; wrapped his reins around it,and the next moment stood up in his saddle, seized a limb above him andswung himself up. In her astonishment Ruth almost stopped breathing.

  “I believe I’ll try a few—for old times’ sake,” he said to himself, orto her, she could not tell which, and swung himself higher. “I don’tsuppose Colonel Welch would object.”

  The next swing brought him up to the limb immediately below Ruth, andhe turned and looked up at her where she sat in the fork of the limb.Her face had been burning ever since she had been discovered, and wasburning now; but she could not help being amused at the expressionwhich came into the stranger’s eyes as he looked at her. Astonishment,chagrin, and amusement were all stamped there, mingled together.

  “What on earth!—I beg your pardon—” he began, his eyes wide open withsurprise, gazing straight into hers. The next instant he burst outlaughing, a peal so full of real mirth that Ruth joined in and laughedwith all her might too.

  “I’m Captain Allen, Steve Allen—and you are——?”

  “Miss Welch—when I’m at home.”

  He pulled himself up to the limb on which Ruth sat and coolly seatedhimself near her.

  “I hope you will be at home—Miss Welch; for I am. I used to be verymuch at home in this tree in old times, which is my excuse for beinghere now, though I confess I never found quite such fruit on it as itseems to bear to-day.”

  The twinkle in his gray eyes and a something in his lazy voice remindedRuth of Reely Thurston. The last part of his speech to her soundedpartly as if he meant it, but partly as if lie were half poking fun ather and wished to see how she would take it. She tried to meet him onhis own ground.

  “If you had not made yourself somewhat at home you would not have foundit now.” She was very demure.

  Steve lifted his eyes to her quickly, and she was rather nettled to seethat he looked much amused at her speech.

  “Exactly. You would not have had me act otherwise, I hope? We alwayswish our guests to make themselves at home. You Yankees don’t want tobe behind us.”

  She saw his eyes twinkle, and felt that he had said it to draw herfire, but she could not forbear firing back.

  “No, but sometimes it does not seem necessary, as you _Rebels_ appearinclined to make yourselves at home—sometimes even without aninvitation.” Her chin went up a point.

  Steve burst out laughing.

  “A good square shot. I surrender, Miss Welch.”

  “What! so easily? I thought you Rebels were better fighters? I haveheard so.”

  Steve only laughed.

  “‘He that fights and runs away,’ you know. I can’t run, so I surrender.May I get you some cherries? The best are out on the end of the limbs,and I am afraid you might fall.” His voice had lost the tone ofbadinage and was full of deference and protection.

  Ruth said she believed that she had all the cherries she wanted. Shehad, perhaps, a dozen—. She was wondering how she should get down, andwas in a panic lest her father should appear and find her up in thetree with this strange young man.

  In reply to her refusal, however, Steve looked at her quizzically.

  “You want to get down.” This in assertion rather than in question.

  “Yes.” Defiantly.

  “And you can’t get down unless I let you?”

  “N—n— “ She caught herself quickly, “I thought you had surrendered?”

  “Can’t a prisoner capture his captor?”

  “Not if he has given his parole and is a gentleman.” Steve whistledsoftly. His eyes never left her face.

  “Will you invite me in?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because——”

  “I see.” Steve nodded.

  “Because my father is not at home.”

  “Oh! All the more reason for your having a protector.”

  “No. And I will make no terms with a prisoner.”

  With a laugh Steve let himself down to the limb below. Then he stoppedand turning looked up at her.

  “May I help you down?” The tone was almost humble.

  “No, I thank you, I can get down.” Very firmly.

  “I must order your father to remain at home,” he smiled.

  “My father is not one to take orders; he gives them,” she said, proudly.

  Captain Allen looked up at her, the expression of admiration in hiseyes deepened. “I think it likely,” he said with a nod. “Well, Idon’t always take them so meekly myself. Good-by. Do you require yourprisoner to report at all?” He held out his hand.

  “Good-by—I—don’t know: No.”

  He smiled up at her. “You don’t know all your privileges. Good-by. Ialways heard you Yankees were cruel to prisoners.”

  It was said in such a way that Ruth did not mind it, and did not evenwish to fire back. The next minute Steve was on his horse, canteringaway without looking back, and curiously, Ruth, still seated on herleafy perch, was conscious of a feeling of blankness.

  “I hate that man,” she said to herself, “he has been doing nothing butmake fun of me. But he is amusing—and awfully handsome. And what asplendid rider! I wonder if he will have the audacity to come back?”

  As she reached the ground she saw her father far across the field,coming up the same road along which her visitor was going away. Whenthe two men met they stopped and had a lit
tle talk, during which Ruthwatched with curiosity to see if Captain Allen would return. He didnot, however. It was only a moment and then he cantered on, leavingRuth with a half disappointed feeling, and wondering if he had told herfather of their meeting.

  When Major Welch arrived, Ruth waited with some impatience to discoverif he had been told. He mentioned that he had met Mr. Allen andthought him a striking-looking and rather nice fellow; had invited himto return, but he said he could not, that he had seen her, and wouldcall again.

  “He is a gentlemanly fellow, but is said to be one of the mostuncontrolled men about here, the leader in all the lawlessness thatgoes on.”

  Ruth thought of what the old mammy at Dr. Cary’s had told her. Shewished to change the subject.

  “Did he say where we met?” she asked, laughing and blushing.

  “No, only said he had met you.”

  “He caught me up in a cherry-tree.”

  “What! Well, he’s a nice fellow,” said her father, and Ruth had begunto think so too.