Meantime, at the farmhouse there had been a good deal of excitement on the receipt of Mrs. Hart’s letter.
“What shall we do with ’em if it stays as cold as it is now, and nothing but a fireplace in the best room and guest chamber? They’ll freeze to death. I wish they had come in the summer,” Mrs. Stannard said, while Kenneth took a more hopeful view of the situation.
He would much rather they had come in the summer, but would make the best of it and try to keep them warm, he said. If there was any work Kenneth hated it was splitting wood. Now, however, he put aside his dislike, and, remembering how cold the parlor and guest chamber were, he employed his leisure time when out of school in sawing and splitting wood, until his mother said he had enough “to roast an ox.” There were two piles, the parlor pile and the upstairs pile, the latter finer and of a kind which would kindle quickly.
“If Mrs. Hart doesn’t mind I shall creep into her room before she is wake and make a roaring fire. That’s the way Tom Haynes’ niggers do, and he thinks we are niggers,” Kenneth said to his mother, with some bitterness in his tone, for Harry’s letter rankled a little.
And still he wished his cousin was coming home to see Connie. But Harry was off for Kentucky, and did not know of Connie’s expected visit until it was too late to change his plan, if he had cared to do so. There were only a few days between Mrs. Hart’s letter and the day before Christmas, when she was expected, but in that time the house was put in perfect order, although where the disorder before was the deacon could not guess. But his wife knew, and went through a regular cleaning process, even to the big ball-room over the stable, which she swept and mopped and dusted, looking askance at the piles of butternuts and walnuts on the floor and wondering what Mrs. Hart would think of such litter should she chance to go in there. Fires were built in the parlor and guest chamber, with a view to thaw them out, when, fortunately, the weather changed, and the day before Christmas was ushered in with a warm rain, which threatened to take away all the snow. It cleared, however, in the afternoon, and Kenneth was at the station when the New York train came in, and a tall lady in black alighted, with a little girl, in blue cloak and hood trimmed with swan’s down, her lovely face looking out from the hood, and her blue eyes laughing up at Kenneth as he took her in his arms, while Mrs. Hart picked her way through the melting snow and slush.
“This is awful. Couldn’t you have gotten nearer the track?” she said, rather crossly, to Kenneth, as she looked down at her boots covered with mud.
“Perhaps I could, but Sorrel is young and don’t like the engine very well. I’m awfully sorry,” Kenneth replied, helping her into the sleigh and taking his seat beside her, with Connie in the middle.
CHAPTER IV
CONNIE
As they drove up the hill, Connie’s bright eyes studied Kenneth curiously, and as she usually said what was in her mind, she finally asked:
“Boy, who are you? One of Guard’s grooms?”