The Heart's Kingdom - Page 24/148

"What have you been doing to her now, you rascal?" father demanded of

Dabney, who was handing him his hat and holding out his light overcoat

to put him into it.

"I jist stepped into the kitchen while her light rolls fer supper was

raisin' and got a ruckus fer it," was his mild answer. Dabney lived his

connubial life mildly in the midst of the storms of his better half.

"Well, don't do it again. And put that spade in Mr. Goodloe's car, for

I'm going to bring in some honeysuckle roots and a laurel sprout or two

to try out in the garden," father commanded, as I took my coat and hat

from the chair where I had thrown them the afternoon before, and went

out to the very unministerial-looking car which stood before the

parsonage.

Of course, I had accepted the Reverend Mr. Goodloe's invitation for the

journey out into the hills in order to sit beside this very new kind of

father I was dimly discovering myself to possess, but I do not to this

day know how it happened that I was crushed against the arm steering the

gray racer as we sped through Goodloets toward Old Harpeth, while the

judge sat beaming, though silent, beside the more silent Bill--who did

not beam, but looked out at the road ahead with the shadow in his face

of the fatalism that so many of the mountain folk possess.

We were just turning out from the edge of the town, past the last house

with its stately white pillars, when a bunch of pink-and-white

precipitated itself directly in front of the car--which made the first

of the wildcat springs that its master had prophesied for it and then

stood with its engine palpitating with what seemed like mechanical fear,

while I buried my head on the strong arm next to me, which I could feel

tremble for an instant as the Reverend Mr. Goodloe breathed a fervent,

"Thank God." Father rose from his seat with a good round oath and silent

Bill snorted like a wild animal.

"Why didn't you stop when you saw me coming?" an imperious young voice

demanded in tones of distinct anger, and Charlotte, my name daughter of

the house of Morgan, calmly climbed up on the running board, over the

door next to father, and settled herself in between him and the silent

Bill. "Now you can go on," she calmly announced, in a very much

mollified tone of voice as she shook out her ruffles into a less

compressed state and wiped her face with her dirty hand, much to the

detriment of the roses in her cheeks.

"Where are you going, Charlotte, may I inquire?" asked the Reverend Mr.

Goodloe in a cheerful and calm voice, though I saw that his fingers

still trembled on the steering wheel as he held back the enraged gray

engine. I was still speechless and I saw that father was in the same

condition.