The Jucklins: A Novel

by Opie Percival Read

"But," said I, "the gilt on the dome doesn't prove that the dome is rotten; it may be strong with seasoned wood and ribs of iron."

"Yes," he drawled, "that's all very good, very well put, but it means nothing. By the way, before we get into a discussion let me invite you over to our house to-night. Quite a number of young people will drop in. Not exactly the night, you know; but the old idea that white people shouldn't go out of a Saturday night, the night reserved for negroes, is all nonsense. So, I have asked them to come. Alf will come, I suppose, and so will our little spring branch nymph."

"I didn't suppose that you believed in nymphs, now that you have gone out and learned that everything is false," Guinea spoke up.

"I don't believe in painted ones," he replied, "but you are not painted."

"I shall be pleased to come," I remarked, and then I asked him how long he expected to remain at home.

"Oh, about a month, I should think. I am gradually getting along and I don't want to go to school all my life. I want to begin practice next year."

"In this neighborhood?" I asked, and he gave me a contemptuous look. "Well, not if I have any sense left," he answered. "I might ride around here a thousand years and not win anything of a name. Look at Dr. Etheredge, fine physician, but what has he done? No, I'm going to a city, north, I think."

He stayed to supper and this angered me, for I had set my heart on walking to the General's house with Guinea. Alf had not returned and we wondered whither he could have gone. And when the time came to go, that impudent sprig of a doctor asked me if I would ride his horse around by the road, said that he wanted to walk across the meadows with Guinea. How I should have enjoyed knocking him on the head, but I thought that Guinea supplemented his request with a look, and I consented.

There were many horses tied at the General's fence, and there was laughter within, when I rode up, and I was reminded of the night when I had stood with my hot hand melting the frost on the fence. But I thought of what the men had said on the railway platform, of the woman whom I had seen on the train, and boldly I walked in. The General met me with a warm grasp, and was asking me if I had seen his son, when in walked the young fellow himself, with Guinea beside him. The parlor and the library, opening one into the other, were well filled with good-humored young folk, and among them were old people, none the less good-humored. I was surprised to find myself so much in demand, for every one asked for an introduction, but with bitterness I knew that it was because I had come near being burned up in an old house. They played games, but of this they soon tired; they sang and one of the ladies plucked a sparkling fandango, and then Chydister Lundsford was called upon for a speech. He was not at all embarrassed and he talked fairly well; and when he was done they called upon me. I got up with one hand resting on the piano, and stood there, nervous at first, but strangely steady later on. I told them that I could not make a speech, but that with their permission I would tell them a story, one of my own. They cried out that they would rather have a story than a speech, and I gave them a half humorous, half pathetic sketch, something that had long been running in my head and which I intended to write. What a strong confidence came upon me as I noted the effect of my words! I was drawing a picture and they were eager to see it; I was playing on a strange, rude instrument, and how they bent to catch every vibration. I was astonished at myself, thrilled with myself. And when the climax came, chairs were tipped over as if in a scramble, and a wild applause broke out. Every hand was stretched out toward me, every eye was bright with a tear. The old General grabbed me and, throwing back his great head, almost bellowed a compliment; and through it all I saw Guinea sweetly smiling. They urged me to give them another story, were almost frantic in their entreaty; they had heard the heart-beat of their own life and they must hear it again. I told another story, one over which I had fondly mused, and again the hands came out toward me, and again the General bellowed a compliment. I can scarcely recall anything else that passed that evening. Yes, I remember that as I was taking my leave, to walk across the meadows with Guinea and Chyd, Millie stood in front of me. Once or twice I thought that she had something that she would tell me, for her lips moved, but she said nothing except to bid me good-night.

And where was Alf all this time? No one had spoken his name; Millie had not asked me about him. I walked briskly in advance, half happy, but, of course, with my mind on Guinea, whose low voice reached my ears through the quiet that lay on the grass-land.