Big Josh slapped his leg and laughed aloud. Everything about Big Josh was loud and hearty. He was a short, fat man with a big, red face and a perfectly bald head. The Misses Bucknor were tall and aristocratic in figure and bearing. They were constantly being mortified by their father’s tendency to make a noise and his unfailing habit of diverging from the strict truth. But Big Josh was more popular in the county than his conscientious daughters.
Old Billy had wormed his way into the ballroom with the pretext of having to carry Miss Ann’s shawl. Quietly he slipped up the stairs into the balcony and, hiding behind the festooned bunting, he peeped down on his beloved mistress as she stood, a quaint, old-fashioned figure, making her bow to the receiving line.
“By gad, Miss Ann, you are looking fit,” said Major Fitch. “We are proud to have you with us. I hope you will save me a dance. Yes, yes! We are going to have some reels and lancers and some good old time quadrilles. If the young uns don’t like it they can lump it. Here, Colonel Crutcher, give Miss Ann a dance card. How about giving me the first square dance?”
“And put me down for the next,” begged the Colonel gallantly. “It won’t be the first 153 quadrille I have stepped with you.”
All down the line Miss Ann was greeted with kindness and courtesy. Old Billy almost fell out of the balcony, so great was his joy when he saw Miss Ann’s card in demand and realized that his mistress was being sought after. A flush was on the old lady’s cheeks as she swept across the ballroom floor and seated herself in the outer row of chairs, reserved for the dancers. A little titter arose.
“What a funny-looking old woman!” was the general verdict.
“By the great jumping jingo, they shan’t laugh at her!” exclaimed Big Josh. “She’s kin—hoop skirt and all.”
His daughters held him back a moment: “Remember! Don’t dare invite her home with you.”
Big Josh made a wry face but he immediately went to speak to his aged cousin, looking threateningly at the crowd who had dared to giggle at anyone related to him.
“How do you do, Cousin?” he said, pushing her voluminous skirts aside so that he might slide into the chair next to her. “Glad to see you looking so spry. Thought we couldn’t come to-night because the lane is so bad after the rain this morning. Dust three feet deep 154 yesterday and to-day puddles big enough to drown a pig. I’m gonter get me a flying machine. Lots cheaper than trying to put that road in condition. Yes—I’ll get a family machine for the girls and a light little fly-by-night for myself. I believe in the latest improvements in everything.