Some time he wished to talk to Mr. Still about that Deep-run plantation in the South, he said, as he had attended to stocking it and knew more about it than anyone else; but he did not think he was equal to it just then. Still agreed that this was right, also that the first thing for Jacquelin to do now was to take care of himself and get well.
Just then Andy Stamper came round the house, with a bucket in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other. At sight of Jacquelin his face lit up with pleasure. Before Andy could nod to Hiram the latter had gone, with a queer look on his face, and something not unlike a slink in his gait.
The bucket Andy had brought was full of eggs, which Delia Dove, Andy said, had sent Jacquelin, and she had sent the flowers too.
“I never see anyone like her for chickens an’ flowers,” said Andy. “She’s a good friend o’ yours. I thought when I got home I wa’n’t goin’ to get her after all. I thought she’d ’a’ sent me back to P’int Lookout,” he laughed.
His expression changed after a moment.
“I see Hiram’s been to see you—to wish you well? Don’t know what’s the reason, he kind o’ cuts out whenever I come ’roun’. Looks almost like he’s got some’n’ ag’inst me; yet he done me a mighty good turn when I was married; he come and insisted on lendin’ me some money, not only to buy a horse with fer the ole woman: but a horse to go back in th’ army with—a whole basketful of money, and he’s been lendin’ all aroun’ the neighborhood; an’ don’t seem to be in no hurry to git it back—If you jest give him a little slip o’ writin’ on yo’ land, that’s all. Yet, somehow, he always r’minds me of a mink, kind of slippy-like. He don’t do things all at once. He didn’t tell me he wanted no deed; but after I was gone, he got one from the old lady—said ’twould be all right, and I could pay him any time; he jest wanted it in case he died, and she didn’ know no better than to sign it. I’m goin’ to pay him off, first money I git. I never would ’a’ borrowed it ’cept I was so anxious to go back in the army—an’ to git Delia. Hiram thought he was sure to win.” The little soldier’s face always lighted up when he referred to his wife.
Jacquelin protested that he thought Still a better fellow than Andy would admit, and added that his father had always esteemed him highly.
“Yes, I know that; but the Colonel didn’t know him, Mr. Jack, and he wasn’t lookin’ out for him. I don’t like a man I can’t understand. If you know he’s a liar, you needn’t b’lieve him; but if you aint found him out yet, he gets aroun’ you. Hiram is that sort. I know he us’t to be a liar, an’ I don’t b’lieve folks recovers from that disease. So I’m goin’ to pay him off. An’ you do the same. I tell you, he’s a schemer, an’ he’s lookin’ up.”
Just then there was a light step behind them, a shadow fell on the veranda, which, to one of them, at least, was followed by an apparition of light—as, with a smothered cry of, “Jacquelin!” a young girl, her hair blowing about her brow, ran forward, and as the wounded soldier rose, threw her arms around his neck. Blair Cary looked like a rose as she drew back in a pretty confusion, her blushes growing deeper every moment.
“Why, Blair, how pretty you’ve grown!” exclaimed Jacquelin, thinking only of her beauty.