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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Nothing, I suppose " She let it go at that. Her intuitions carried her towards the truth. She had learned from Mandy and the Judge that Dalton had spent much time at Huntersfield in her absence. Becky never mentioned him. Her silence spoke eloquently, Mrs. Beaufort felt, of something concealed. Becky was apt to talk of things that interested her.
The light of his motor flashed down the hills like a falling star. "I wonder what made the dogs bark," the Judge said as they went in. "They probably thought it was morning," was Mrs. Beaufort's retort, as she preceded Becky up the stairs. The dogs had barked because Randy after a quick drive home had walked back to Huntersfield.
"I'm upset by what you've said, Flippin. Dalton's all right as far as I can see as a friend of mine. But when anybody comes courting at Huntersfield he's got to show credentials." He ate his lunch without much appetite. He was guiltily aware of what Claudia would say if she knew what had happened. But perhaps nothing had happened and perhaps she need not know.
Was there, indeed, a Wolf? When he reached Huntersfield, and the dogs barked, he had feared for the moment discovery. He was saved, however, by the friendly silence which followed that first note of alarm. The dogs knew him and followed him with wagging tails as he skirted the lawn and came at last to the gate which had closed a few minutes before on Dalton's car. He saw the Judge go in.
Beyond that the Flippins had no family tree. Mary had seen the family tree at Huntersfield. It was rooted in aristocratic soil. There were Huguenot branches and Royalist branches D'Aubignes and Moncures, Peytons and Carys, Randolphs and Lees. And to match every name there was more than one portrait on the walls of Huntersfield.
It is what we know of ourselves, Mary," she drew a quick breath. "It is what we know of ourselves " Becky was wearing the simple frock of pale blue in which George had seen her on that first night when he came to Huntersfield. "Aren't you going to change?" Mary asked. "No. It is too much trouble." Becky was in front of the mirror. Her pearls caught the light of the candles.
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.
It shone through the windows of the Bird Room at Huntersfield, wooing George out into the fragrant night. He could hear voices on the lawn young Paine's laugh Becky's. Once when he looked he saw them on the ridge, silhouetted against the golden sky. They were dancing, and Randy's clear whistle, piping a modern tune, came up to him, tantalizing him. But the Judge held him.
The boarders had gone from King's Crest, and he and the Major had moved into the big house. Randy spent a good deal of time in the Judge's library at Huntersfield. He and Truxton had great plans for their future. They read law, sold cars, and talked of their partnership. The firm was to be "Bannister, Paine and Beaufort"; it was to have brains, conscience, and business acumen.
If you had enough of it the world was yours! Year after year the Bannisters of Huntersfield had eaten their Horse Show luncheon under a clump of old oaks beneath which the horses now stopped. The big trees were dropping golden leaves in the dryness. From the rise of the hill one looked down on the grandstand and the crowd as from the seats of an amphitheater.
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