"When did Mr. Newsome come?"
"Just now," answered Mrs. Rucker, with further banter in her eyes.
"And none of Solomon's lilies in all they glory was ever arrayed like
one of him. You better go frill yourself out, Rose Mary, for the men
ain't a-going to be able to hold him chavering over there at the store
very long."
"It will only take me a few minutes to dress," answered Rose Mary,
with a continuation of the blush. "The Aunties are all ready for
supper, and Stonie and Uncle Tucker. Mag has got everything just ready
to dish up, and I'll take in the sally luns to be run in the stove at
the last moment. Isn't it lovely to have company? Friends right at
home you can show your liking for all the time, but you must be
careful to save their share for the others to give to them when they
come. Mr. Mark, don't you want to--"
But before Rose Mary had begun her sentence Mr. Mark Everett, of New
York City, New York, was striding away across the yard with a long
swing, and as he went through the front gate it somehow slipped out of
his hand and closed itself with a bang. The expression of his back as
he crossed the road might have led one versed in romantics to conclude
that a half-unsheathed sword hung at his side and that he had two
flintlocks thrust into his belt.
And over at the store he found himself in the midst of a jubilation.
Mr. Gideon Newsome, of Bolivar, Tennessee, stood in the doorway, and
surrounding him in the store, in the doorway and on the porch was the
entire masculine population of Sweetbriar.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92