“Thank goodness, our boarders won’t come for a week yet and we can have time to enjoy ourselves for a while,” sighed Douglas.
She was very tired but it was not the miserable fatigue she had felt in town. It was a good healthy tired that meant a night’s rest with nothing to think about but how good life was and how kind people were. Everything was certainly working out well. Cousin Lizzie was behaving in a wonderful way for an old lady who thought much of her ease and had no love of Nature. Helen and Lucy were too interested to squabble at all and so were getting on splendidly. Bobby was behaving himself beautifully, and even the servants were rising to the occasion and evidently intending to do their best. The only fly in the ointment was their attitude towards Josh and his towards them. He openly called them “niggers,” and they called him “po’ white” right to his face. Gwen, they seemed to have accepted at her face value and not judged by her bare feet and scanty frock.
“Niggers, an’ min’ you, Miss Douglas, we don’t ’low nobody but us to call us out of our names that way,” said Oscar. “Niggers is reg’lar bloodhoun’s an’ they kin smell out quality same as geologists kin. Me’n Susan knows that that there little Miss Gwen is a lady bawn.”
“I believe she is, Oscar, and I hope you and Susan will be just as nice to her as you can be.”
“We’ll do our best, but land’s sake, Miss Douglas, don’ arsk us to be gentle with that there Josh. He is low flung and mischeevous to that extent.”
“All right, Oscar,” laughed Douglas, “but don’t be too hard on him.” Lewis had told her that Josh was fully capable of taking care of himself and in the trial of wits Josh would certainly come out ahead.
“He already done scart Susan to death, tellin’ her about hants in the mountings. He says that Miss Gwen’s paw was pestered by a ringin’ an’ buzzin’ in his haid that drove him ’stracted, and he used to roam the mountings trying to git shet of the sound, til bynby he couldn’t stan’ it no mo an’ up’n jumped off’n a place called the Devil’s Gorge and brack ev’y bone in his body. An’ he sayed the Englishman still hants these here parts an’ you can hear the buzzin’ an’ ringin’ sometimes jes’ as plain as the po’ man uster hear it in his life time. He say he won’t come over here arfter nightfall to save yo neck.”
“What nonsense!” declared Douglas. “Well, all the buzzing on earth won’t keep me awake,” but before she went to sleep, she recounted the ridiculous tale to her three sisters, who shared the tent with her.
They agreed that they would have to ask Lewis to speak to Josh about telling such things to poor Susan, who was already eaten up with superstition.
“Ain’t it grand to sleep in a——?” but Lucy was asleep before she said what it was grand to sleep in. Nan tried to recall some lines of Wordsworth that Gwen reminded her of, but “The sweetest thing that ever grew,” was all she could think of before sleep got her, too. Helen forgot to put olive oil on her eyebrows, a darkening process she was much interested in, and went off into happy, dreamless slumber. Douglas shut her tired eyes and sleep claimed her for its own before she could count ten.