"Well, he needed to grow, and it wouldn't hurt Truxton either."
"But if Truxton has grown up and wants his own way—the Judge won't like it. The Judge has always ruled at Huntersfield."
"Well, he supports Truxton; why shouldn't he?"
A bright flush stained Mary's skin. "Truxton has his officer's pay now."
"He won't have it when he gets out of the Army."
Mary rose and went to the stove. She came back with a kettle and poured boiling water over a dish of almonds to blanch them.
"We ought to have made this fruit cake a week ago to have it really good," she said, and shelved the subject of Truxton Beaufort.
"It will be good enough as it is," said Mrs. Flippin; "there isn't anybody in the county that can beat me when it comes to baking cakes."
"Where's Fiddle," Mary said, suddenly; "can you see her from the window, Mother?"