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“‘She went unto a tailor And dressed in men’s array, And thence unto a sailor And paid her fare away.’” |
recited Evilena, with uplifted finger punctuating the sentences. “Wasn’t she brave? Well, she found him, and they were married. There are seven verses of it.”
“I––I should think that quite enough,” he remarked, dropping his head forward and looking at her from under the overhanging brows. “Do you mean to sing them all to me?”
“Perhaps, some day,” she promised, showing all her teeth and dropping the curtain.
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“So now this couple’s married, Despite their bitter foe, And she’s back again in England With her darling, Jack Monroe.” |
The two visitors laughed outright as this information was wafted to them from the veranda, the old song growing 139 more faint as the singer circled the house in search of Gertrude.
“A true daughter of the South, Dr. Delaven,” said the Judge, with a tender cadence betraying how close to his heart was his pride in all Southern excellence––“child and woman in one, sir––a charming combination.”
“Right you are, Judge, in that; may their numbers never be less.”
Evilena had found Gertrude and at once confessed her daring.
“Don’t know how I ever did have courage to pop my head in there. Aunt Sajane––but he talked of Jack Monroe just as I passed the window, and I pretended I thought he meant the old song (I do wonder if he ever––ever sang or whistled?) Then I told him what it was all about, and promised to sing it to him some day, and I know by the sort of smile he had that he wanted to order me out of the room as he used to when I was little.”