“You look different from yourself, but lovely,” cried Judith. “You make me think of a young person trying to look old.”
She might have added: “Instead of an old person trying to look young,” but she did not.
CHAPTER XXIII
The Lost Is Found
Two days passed and still the Bucknor clan was in ignorance of the whereabouts of Cousin Ann. It had so happened that Judith had been busy at home and had not gone into Ryeville for several days and nobody had called at her home, although since the famous debut party the Bucks had many more visitors than formerly.
Cousin Ann could not have concealed herself from the world more effectually had she tried. Concealment was far from her thoughts, however. She had no idea that a hue and cry would be raised for her. The Fates, in the shapes of Billy, Cupid and Puck, had taken her destiny in hand and landed her with this golden girl, who wanted her and loved her and petted her and made her feel at home. Here she would stay. How long? She would not let herself dwell on that subject.
What the rest of the family would think of her claiming kin with the hitherto impossible 238 Bucks made little difference to the old lady. She determined never to divulge that old Billy had engineered the visit, but intended, when the question came up with her kinsmen, to let it be understood that she, Ann Peyton, had ruled that Judith Buck belonged to the family and had as good a right to the name of Bucknor as any person bearing the name.
The old men of Ryeville were seated in tilted chairs on the hotel porch. The little touch of autumn in the air made it rather pleasant when the sun sought out their feet resting on the railing.