“But, Mumsy, they don’t. People can’t treat you like dust under their feet unless you are beneath them, and I’m not in the least teensy weensy bit beneath the Bucknors of Buck Hill. Now they might treat me like the dust in the air—the dust they have to breathe when the wind blows—breathe that or stop breathing altogether. They might not like to breathe me in. I might be a little thick for them, but breathe me they must. I did not make myself kin to them. I just am kin to them. I don’t know that it makes any great difference to me to know that I am. I rather like to think that, way back yonder, what is now me had something to do with building Buck Hill, 99 because it is beautiful. The part that’s me may have planned the garden. Who knows?
“But I’m not going there to sell things because they are my cousins. I’m not going to mention such a disagreeable subject. I’m too good a salesman for that. I am merely going there because I think I might make some money. They have a house party on and when people go visiting they always forget their tooth brushes and hairpins. I don’t exactly enjoy having Mildred Bucknor pretend I’m not around when I know I’m very much in evidence. She had that way with her at school and then it would have hurt me, if I had not been perfectly conscious of the fact that she couldn’t tell the difference between nouns and verbs in Latin and got gender and case and tense all mixed up.
“Yes, Mumsy, I’m going to Buck Hill and clear about five dollars, even though I may have to take a good snubbing. I want to go less than ever since Jefferson Bucknor was so nice to me yesterday evening. I didn’t tell you he helped boost my basket on the trolley and actually took the can of buttermilk in his own aristocratic hands and swung it on to the platform. Well, he did, and he made his sister furious—and he bored a pretty girl with whom 100 he is supposed to fall in love—one of the house party. I don’t want poor Mr. Jeff Bucknor to have to take up for me—which he is sure to do if the hammers begin to knock—but even to spare his feelings I will not quit trying to sell my wares.”
“Judith, you must not lower yourself.”
“I’m not lowering myself one bit, Mumsy. Just look at it this way: Suppose I had a shop in Ryeville. Wouldn’t I serve any customers who came to the shop, whether they were kin and refused to admit kinship or not—whether they called me red-head, when everybody knows my hair is auburn, or not? I’d hardly refuse to sell to those persons who did not consider me their social equal and did not ask me to house parties or to dances when my feet are just itching to dance. I’d sell to any and everybody who came in the shop. Exactly! Well, now you see I have a shop on wheels. I must go to any and every body who might have use for my wares. I’d have a very limited clientele if I stuck to those who considered me on their level and whom I considered on mine. So give me your blessing, Mumsy, and wish me well.”
“Judith, how you do run on! Aren’t you afraid that that Jeff Bucknor will think you are running after him?” 101
“Not in the least. He’s not that kind of a man. I know by the way his ears are set and the way his hair grows on his forehead and the way his eyes crinkle up at the corners as though he never missed a joke. People who never miss jokes don’t go around thinking other persons are running after them all the time. I know by the way he looks out of his eyes. It isn’t only his eyes that look at you but there is something behind them that looks at you. I reckon if I were a sissy girl I’d say his eyes were soulful, but you see I’m not. I tell you, Mumsy, my Cousin Jeff is a powerful likely young man and I’m quite proud of him. Too bad he doesn’t know he’s my kin.”
Mrs. Buck sighed. “I guess he wouldn’t claim relationship with you if he did know. Those Bucknors of Buck Hill are a proud-stomached lot. They’ve been dusting me on the pike ever since I was a little girl—dusting me and never even seeing me.”
“Did you ever speak to them?”
“Of course not. I was never one to put myself forward.”