CHAPTER XXVII
A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION
But the great Gilead Balm explosion came three days later.
It was nearly sunset, and they were all upon the wide, front porch—the Colonel, Old Miss, Miss Serena, Captain Bob, Mrs. LeGrand, Hagar. Ralph was not there, he had ridden to Hawk Nest, but would return to-night. It had been a beautiful, early September day, the sky high and blue, the air all sunny vigour. Gilead Balm sat and enjoyed the cool, golden, winey afternoon, the shadows lengthening over the hills, the swallows overhead, the tinkle of the cow-bells. It was not one of your families that were always chattering. The porch held rather silent than otherwise. Mrs. LeGrand could, indeed, keep up a smooth, slow flow of talk, but Mrs. LeGrand had been packing to return to Eglantine which would "open" in another week, and she was somewhat fatigued. The Colonel, pending the arrival of yesterday's newspaper, was reviewing that of the day before yesterday. Captain Bob and Lisa communed together. Old Miss knitted. Miss Serena ran a strawberry emery bag through and through with her embroidery needle. Hagar had a book, but she was not reading. It lay face down in her lap; she was hardly thinking; she was dreaming with her eyes upon a vast pearly, cumulus cloud, coming up between the spires of the cedars. A mulatto boy appeared with the mail-bag. "Ha!" said the Colonel, and stretched out his hand.
There was a small table beside him. He opened the bag and turned the contents out upon this, then began to sort them. No one—it was a Gilead Balm way—claimed letter or paper until the Colonel had made as many little heaps as there were individuals and had placed every jot and tittle of mail accruing, ending by shaking out the empty bag. He did all this to-day. Captain Bob had only a county paper—no letters for Old Miss—a good deal of forwarded mail for Mrs. LeGrand—the Colonel's own—letters and papers for Hagar. The Colonel handled each piece, glanced at the superscription, put it in the proper heap. He shook out the bag; then, gathering up Mrs. LeGrand's mail, gave it to her with a smile and a small courtly bow. Miss Serena rose, work in hand, and took hers from the table. Lisa walked gravely up, then returned to Captain Bob with the county paper in her mouth. The Colonel's shrunken long fingers took up Hagar's rather large amount and held it out to her. "Here, Gipsy"—the last time for many a day that he called her Gipsy. A letter slipped from the packet to the floor. Bending, the Colonel picked it up, and in doing so for the first time regarded the printing on the upper left-hand corner—Return in five days to the —— Equal Suffrage League. The envelope turned in his hand. On its reverse, across the flap, was boldly stamped—VOTES FOR WOMEN.
Colonel Argall Ashendyne straightened himself with a jerk. "Hagar!—What is that? How do you happen to get letters like that?—Answer!"
His granddaughter, who had risen to take her mail, regarded first the letter and then the Colonel with some astonishment. "What do you mean, grandfather? The letter's from my friend, Elizabeth Eden. I wonder if you don't remember her, that summer long ago at the New Springs?"
The Colonel's forefinger stabbed the three words on the back of the envelope. "You don't have friends and correspondents who are working for that?"
"Why not? I propose presently actively to work for it myself."
Apoplectic silence on the part of the Colonel. The suddenly arisen storm darted an electric feeler from one to the other upon the porch.