“Look at her! What do you suppose she has in her basket?”
“Hot rolls, fried chicken, hashed brown potatoes, damson jam, radishes and young onions. Can’t you smell ’em?” answered Judith quite casually, as though announcing a menu at a restaurant. At the same time she smiled brightly and looked at the Misses Bucknor with no trace of either embarrassment or resentment. Jeff, who was plainly mortified at Nan’s rudeness, laughed in spite of himself.
One of the things that irritated Mildred more than anything else about Judith Buck was that she seemed never to take offense, nor even 85 to know when an insult was intended. Sometimes she would wear for a moment a quizzical smile, but usually she presented what she called a duck’s back to intentional slights. Having satisfied Nan’s curiosity concerning what was in her basket, she stepped forward to the platform and swung the cooler of buttermilk back and forth in the manner of a brakeman with a red lantern.
“I think they will stop here anyhow, Miss Buck,” said Jeff. “Do let me help you on with your basket. I know it is heavy. I am Jefferson Bucknor. Perhaps you don’t remember me, but I have seen you often when you were a child. I’ve been away from home a long time.”
While Jeff was introducing himself to Judith the trolley had slowed up and stopped. Three young women and two young men were standing on the platform ready to alight. They were part of the house party and delighted greetings were exchanged between them and Mildred and Nan.
One of the young men, catching sight of Judith, gave only a hurried handshake to his hostesses and then sauntered towards the end of the platform where the girl in blue cotton was standing. He was a handsome youth, 86 dressed in the latest and most pronounced style. His manner and general carriage were indefinably impudent. He came quite close to Judith and peered into her face and only turned to join the others at a sharp call from Mildred.
“Tom Harbison, come here this minute!”
At Jeff’s proffers of assistance Judith had smilingly thanked him. “But I’m not getting on myself—only my basket and can of milk,” she said.
“Then I’ll help them on,” said Jeff, although Judith assured him she was quite able to do it herself.
“Yonder she is!” the conductor shouted to the motorman. “I knew she would come. I never knew a red-headed gal to disappoint a fellow yet.”