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Updated: June 16, 2025
He said nothing until after her grandfather had vanished and his step was no longer heard, and then when she turned to him he said shortly: "So your name's Betty. Betty what?" "Clayton." "An' your grandpap?" "Malcolm Clayton." "Who's Bob?" "My brother." "Any more Claytons around here?" he sneered. "No."
Had he been able to do this at their first meeting he would have been satisfied; if he were able to do it now he would be pleased. "It's none of your business what I thought," he said, leaning over the table and leering at her. "I'm goin' to run things to suit myself, an' if you an' your grandpap an' your brother don't like my style you can pull your freight, pronto. I'm goin' to boss this ranch.
But Bas Rowlett was too adroit to betray by more than a single unguarded flash his jealous reaction to mention of the girl and he responded quietly and unemotionally enough. "She hain't no man's wife ... yit. Old Caleb's her grandpap." "I've done seed some powerful comely gals in my day an' time," mused Maggard, abstractedly, "but I hain't nuver seed ther like of her afore."
She had already turned to get her own shawl. "Yes, hit's leetle Lou. She air powerful sick, an' I wants fer ye ter stay ter-night with her an' grandpap, ef yo' will. Thar haint nothing ter do but stay with them." "In course I'll do hit fer ye, Smiles," was the ready answer, and her lank, slouching husband nodded a silent assent, as she turned to him. "But what air yo' reckonin' ter do?
"I have a faint recollection of my grandparents. My grandfather was sold to a man in South Carolina, to work in the rice field. Grandmother drowned herself in the river when she heard that grand-pap was going away. I was told that grandpap was sold because he got religious and prayed that God would set him and grandma free.
But I reckon that if he has to set around an' listen to your palaver he'd be right glad to cash in. Shucks. I beg your pardon, ma'am. If it'll do you any good to know, I thought your poor grandpap was some one else. I was thinkin' it was a family affair, an' that I had a right to guzzle him. You see, I thought the ol' maverick was my father."
Forty years after parting with Miss Jennie I concluded to visit Petersburg and the old battlefields. I was now a grandpap and a widower, and I thought of my old friend, Mrs. Jones, and I wondered what had become of them. If she and her husband were living, I would certainly give them a call. Then, if I should find her a widow, there might be a little bit of new romance started in the Old Dominion.
So he shook his feathers out, half spread his wings to let the air blow under them, looked down at all the little meadow and forest people gathered about the foot of the tall, dead tree where he delights to roost, grinned at them in the funniest way, and then began this story: "Way back in the days when Grandpap Buzzard had his lil falling out with ol' King Eagle and done fly so high he sco'tch the feathers offen his haid, he had a cousin, did Grandpap Buzzard, and this cousin was jes' naturally lazy and no 'count.
Old as he was, he had tried to find little Aaron, but the boy had left town. Gray and Mavis were seated on the old man's porch when he came in sight of his house, for it was Saturday, and Mavis started the moment she saw her grandfather's face, and rose to meet him. "What's the matter, grandpap?" The old man waved her back. "Git back inter the house," he commanded shortly. "No stay whar you air.
"Does it always take 'em that way?" inquired Yancy. "It takes the Earls of Lambeth that way. I reckon you might say it was hereditary with 'em. Where was I at?" "Your grandpap, the second earl," prompted Polly. "Oh, yes well, he 'lowed he'd emigrate back to England, but while he was studying how he could do this, along come the war.
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