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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Do let me help you on with your basket. I know it is heavy. I am Jefferson Bucknor. Perhaps you don't remember me, but I have seen you often when you were a child. I've been away from home a long time." While Jeff was introducing himself to Judith the trolley had slowed up and stopped. Three young women and two young men were standing on the platform ready to alight.
Old Billy crept from the balcony and hid himself behind a palm, where he could look out on his beloved mistress and declare to himself over and over, "She am the pick er the bunch." Jeff Bucknor, although he had resolved to give the evening up to making his sisters' friends enjoy themselves, found himself taken up with watching Judith Buck.
"What's the matter, Uncle Billy?" asked Jeff Bucknor, who had just crawled from under one of the cars, where he had been delightfully employed in a manner peculiar to some males, finding out what was wrong with the mysterious workings of an automobile. "Nothin' 'tall, Mr. Jeff! I wa' jes' kinder ruminatin' to myse'f. I din't know nobody wa' clost enough ter hear me.
Ol' Mis, the gran'maw er my Miss Ann Miss Elizabeth Bucknor as was gib it to ter my mammy fer faithfulness in time er stress. It were when smallpox done laid low the white folks an' my mammy nuss 'em though the trouble when ev'ybody, white and black, wa' so scairt they runned off an' hid." "Why, Uncle Billy, I think you are too lovely to give it to me. But you ought to keep it."
Bob Bucknor making a mental reservation that he would not divulge the news to his wife and daughters until they were well out of Kentucky. He had strong hopes that European travel might soften the hearts of his daughters towards their pretty, red-haired cousin and neighbor. "While we've got a little Dutch courage left, let's go on out to Buck Hill and tackle Cousin Ann," said Big Josh.
"That's very kind, but really the things are not heavy," and Judith began busily picking out the articles from the back of her car and putting them in a basket. But Jeff had come to help, and help he would. He assumed a cousinly air that put Tom Harbison's courtliness entirely in the shade. If any protecting was to be done he, Jeff Bucknor, was going to do it.
"Now I do hope Cousin Ann will like her summer coverings," he said. "She's sho' too an' we's moughty 'bleeged ter you, Marse Jeff. Miss Ann an' me air jes' been talkin' 'bout how much you favors yo' gran'pap, Marse Bob Bucknor as war. I don't want ter put no disrespec' on yo' gran'mammy, but if Marse Bob Bucknor had er had his way Miss Ann would er been her."
She had not looked as though she expected anyone as she stood swinging her cooler. But then one can never tell. Young men don't go gallivanting after girls unless they are encouraged. On the other hand, what encouragement had Judith given him, Jeff Bucknor? None! However, Tom Harbison certainly had no right to play fast and loose with his sister, Mildred.
I want to go less than ever since Jefferson Bucknor was so nice to me yesterday evening. I didn't tell you he helped boost my basket on the trolley and actually took the can of buttermilk in his own aristocratic hands and swung it on to the platform. Well, he did, and he made his sister furious and he bored a pretty girl with whom he is supposed to fall in love one of the house party.
In the other drawers Mrs. Bucknor had put away sundry articles which she had forgotten about remnants of cloth, old ribbons and laces and photographs. The hall room was used only when there was an overflow of guests and only transient visitors put there. For transients one drawer was sufficient.
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