“That’s just what I sez myself. When you knows you’re well enough off, sez I, you’d better let well enough alone, sez I. And not take after them unsettled people as are allus changing about from place to place, doing no good,” assented Miss Bayard.
“It’s a habit dey gibs deirselves. ’Deed it is, ole mist’ess. Nuffin’ ’t all but a habit dey gibs deirselves,” remarked Luce, who had just come in with a waiter, on which was a plate of caraway-seed cake and a decanter of blackberry cordial to refresh the visitor.
“Just like my neffy, Roland. He was restless enough after Le went to sea, but after the Forces left the neighborhood and took Rosemary Hedge with ’em, ropes nor chains wouldn’t hold that feller, but he must go off to Baltimore to get a berth, as he called it. Thanks be to goodness, he got in ’long of Capt. Grandiere as first mate; but Lord knows when I’ll ever see him ag’in, for he is gone to the East Indies,” sighed Miss Sibby. And then she stopped to nibble her seed cake and sip her blackberry cordial.
“It’s a habit he gibs hisself, ole mist’ess. ’Deed it is. Nuffin’ ’t all but a habit he gibs hisself, and you ought to try to break him of it,” said Luce, as she set the waiter down on the table and left the room.
“Do you expect Abel Force ever to come home to his own house again?” inquired Miss Sibby, between her sips and nibbles.
“Oh, yes, I reckon so, when the gals have finished their edication, but not till then. You see they have a lovely house in Washington, according to what Miss Grandiere and little Rosemary Hedge tells us, and the children are at a fine school, so they live there all the year until the three months summer vacation comes round, and then when Miss Grandiere goes to Washington to fetch her little niece home to spend the holidays here, why, then Mr. and Mrs. Force takes their three daughters and go traveling. And this next summer they do talk about going to Europe, but I don’t know that they will do it.”
“What I sez is that they ought to spend their summers at Mondreer. When a family is blessed with the blessing of a good, healthy country home, sez I, they ought to stay in it, and be thankful for it, sez I.”
Even while the two cronies spoke the door opened, and Jacob came in, with a letter in his hand.
“There! That’s from the ole ’oman now. I know her handwriting across the room. And now we shall hear some news,” said Mrs. Anglesea, with her mouth full of cake.
And she took the letter from the negro’s hands, and opened it without ceremony, and began to read it to herself, without apology.