“Throckmorton, I see, has an advocate.—And little Cousin Jacky, what do you think of the other Jacky—Jacky Throckmorton?”
“I think he’s perfectly delightful,” assented Jacqueline, after a pause.
Freke said no more about the Throckmortons. The women were evidently against him there; and soon they were driving up to the door at Turkey Thicket, and going up the hall stairs to take off their wraps, very much as on that last evening, when Mrs. Sherrard took occasion to rehabilitate Throckmorton in the good graces of the county people, as she was now trying to do with Freke.
When Judith and Jacqueline came down the stairs, Freke met them at the foot. Jacqueline had pleaded hard to wear a white dress, but Mrs. Temple was inexorable. She might catch cold; consequently, she wore a little prim, Quakerish gown of gray. Judith, as usual, was stately in black.
Throckmorton was standing on the rug before the drawing-room fire, talking gravely with Mrs. Sherrard. Edmund Morford was there and Dr. Wortley, who, with Jack Throckmorton, constituted the company. Mrs. Sherrard drew Judith into the conversation that she had been carrying on with Throckmorton. He said to Judith:
“I will continue what I was saying—but I assure you it is something I could speak of to but few people. It is this absolute barring out on the part of the county people toward me. Not a soul except Mrs. Sherrard and Mrs. Temple has asked me to break bread. I thought I knew Virginians—I thought them the kindest, easiest, least angular people in the world; but, upon my soul, anything like this cold and deliberate ostracism I never witnessed! Why, half the county is related to me—and I’ve been to school with every man in it—and yet, I am a pariah!”
“You don’t look at it from their point of view,” replied Mrs. Sherrard, with more patience than was her wont. “Think how these people have suffered. You see yourself, never was there such ruin wrought, and then remember that you are associated with that ruin. Can’t you fancy the dull and silent resentment, the cold anger, with which they must regard all—”
“Blasted Yankees?” cheerfully remarked Throckmorton, recovering his spirits a little.
“But you know,” said Mrs. Sherrard, whose ideas on some subjects were rudimentary, but speaking kindly though positively, “you mustn’t wear your uniform down here.”