"Don' it beat all how Miss Milly's daughters is marryin' out and her sons a-marryin' in? I done heard Miss Milly say hunderds er times that she'd 'low her daughters to marry in but her sons must marry out, as daughters-in-law is heaps mo' ticklish to git 'long wif than sons-in-law. Here her three daughters is a marryin' an' going to all kin's er outlan'ish places leavin' they ma an' they home; an' now the boys is thinkin' bout takin' unto theyselves wives, an' one an' all say they can't sleep nowheres but at Chatsworth, an' they mus' bring they wives back home to keep comp'ny wif yo' ma! Mr. Paul's cou'tin' 'round, but he manages to git stuck on too many gals at oncet and makes it hard to settle hisself. I done noticed, howsomever, 'bout that kinder whimsified lover, when he do settle down, he makes the bes' husband er all. Men folks is gotter have they fling, and they bes' have it 'fo' matrimony than durin' it.
"Dr. John was right hard hit wif that Miss Hunt what was a-visiting yo' Aunt Clay 'til he seed her wif her hair all stringy an' out er curl that time you all went on the night picnic and the creek riz so and mos' drownded the passel of you. He ain't never paid no 'tention to her since; but they do tell me that pretty, rosy-cheeked young lady he drove out here las' week from Lou'ville is liable to be Mrs. Dr. John. What's mo,' Ca'line tells me she is a trained nurse. She certainly do look lak a lady and I tuck notice she eat lak a lady, ef she does hire herself out in service. Pears lak to me that the mo' things the niggers thinks theyselves too good to do, the mo' things the white folks decide they ain't too good ter do fer theyselves."
"Why, Aunt Mary, of course Miss Graves is a lady. She belongs to one of the very best families and is very well educated and certainly charming and sweet. John will be lucky, indeed, if he can persuade her to have him."
"Well, honey chile, ef you say so, 'tis so. 'Cose in days gone by a nuss was a nuss, cep' some was good and some was bad, but now it seems some is ladies an' some ain't."
"Here comes Mother," exclaimed Edwin, springing from his seat to go meet his mother-in-law, who was opening the neat little green gate that connected the Chatsworth gardens with the old orchard where he had built his nest.
"What lazy children, just having breakfast! I feel as though I had eaten mine ages ago, and yours looks so good, I believe I'll have some more,—just a cup of coffee and a biscuit. Aunt Mary, you have made a better cook of your Molly Baby than you have of Caroline. I never have such biscuit as these except when you come to spend the day."
Aunt Mary had become so feeble that she was not able to do steady work. She lived in a comfortable cabin at the foot of the hill, making frequent excursions to the "great house" to see that "the niggers was 'memberin' they places and that that there Ca'line wan't sleepin' out er season."
"Well, Miss Milly, it's jes' this way: some folks is good slow cooks an' some is good quick cooks. Now Ca'line shines when slow patience is the needcessity. She is great on a biled dinner, where the 'gredients have to jes' simper along. You have her make a Brunswick stew an' you'll think she is the bes' cook in the county. Her yeas' bread is good 'cause that takes time and Ca'line is twins to whatsoever takes time; but ef you have a steak to brile or quick bis'it to cook, you jes sen' fer this ole woman, an' ef she can't crawl up the hill she kin ketch holt er President's tail an' he kin pull her up."
Aunt Mary then busied herself clearing off the table, as her way of spending the day was to help her hostess in many ways.
What a peaceful picture the orchard home presents on this late summer morning! The little brown bungalow looks as though it had always been there. The trees are laden with apples. The fall cheeses are beginning to ripen, and the wine saps are so heavy that Edwin has proudly propped up the bending boughs. The quickly growing vines have done their best for the newly-wedded pair, and the slower ivy has begun to send out shoots that need daily training with matting tacks until they accustom themselves to sticking to the stone foundations. Molly's porch boxes are filled with nasturtiums and petunias, and on each side of the steps are beds of scarlet sage.