“Bless my soul!” exclaimed Mr. Bucknor, “I didn’t dream that old tale had a word of truth in it. I’ve heard old Dick Buck, when he was drunk, insisting that he belonged to my family, but it sounded ridiculous on the face of it.”
“Exactly!” chorused Mildred and Nan.
“However, I must look into the matter,” the father continued somewhat pompously. “If the girl is kin we must claim her.”
“Oh, Bob, I beg of you to do no such thing,” said Mrs. Bucknor gently, laying a restraining hand lightly on her husband’s arm. Her touch was soft and light but it held Bob Bucknor as effectively as iron handcuffs might have. “If this girl is as forward as Mildred and Nan say she is, it would be very embarrassing to have her constantly asserting her kinship with our girls. I am sure I do not know her at all. She is pretty and no doubt is good, but she is naturally common and evidently very pushing.” 76
“All right, my dear, all right! You know best,” responded Mr. Bucknor.
At this juncture Kizzie announced dinner, which was a relief to all of them.
“Take my arm, Cousin Ann,” said Jeff gallantly.
For a moment the old woman and the young man stood looking off over the rolling meadows of blue grass. Cutting the lush green pasture lands was the white limestone turnpike. Far off in the distance a blue speck appeared on the white road. In a twinkling it grew into a car and then went whizzing by, leaving a cloud of white dust in its wake. Jeff smiled and, glancing down at his old cousin, caught an answering smile on her face.
“I’m rather glad she’s kin,” he whispered, and she gave his arm a tiny squeeze.
Then the thought came to him: “I wonder if she is as bold and forward as Mildred says she is. I wish she hadn’t been so familiar with those motormen. That wasn’t very ladylike to go up and engage them in conversation. Perhaps Mildred is right. You could hardly expect old Dick Buck’s granddaughter to be very refined—but, gee, she’s a good looker!”