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Updated: June 29, 2025
"You simply cannot appear in Hynds House in this shape, and invite comment and question," said Mr. Jelnik, anxiously. His fine brows wrinkled. "I have it: you will stop at my house for a few minutes, and I'll give you a cordial, that will put you to rights." I went staggering along beside him, making desperate efforts to hold myself erect.
That is why, on the first free afternoon I had, I changed into the selfsame brown frock, put on the brown hat with the yellow quill in it, and slipped out of Hynds House alone. It wasn't a gray afternoon this time, but a clear, bright, sun-shiny one, all blue and gold and green, and with the pleasantest of friendly winds a-frolicking, and a pine-scented air with a pungent and a vital bite to it.
Hynds House itself was on the extreme edge of things. The hack presently stopped before a high iron gate in a waist-high brick wall with a spiked iron railing on top of it, the whole overrun with weeds and creepers. Of Hynds House itself one couldn't see anything but a stack of chimneys above a forest of trees.
I can fancy the ancient beldam sniggering sardonically the while she figured to herself the chagrined astonishment, the helpless wrath, of her watchfully waiting neighbors, when they should discover that historic Hynds House, dating from the beginning of things Carolinian, had passed into the unpedigreed hands of a woman named Smith.
Freeman Hynds, riding about the plantation after his habit, was thrown from his horse and died from the injuries sustained. He recovered consciousness for a few minutes before he died; some said he never really regained it. Be that as it may, the dying man cried out, in a voice of great anguish and affliction: 'Richard! Brother Richard!
And then I stopped. If Jessamine's confession were true and I believed in my heart that every word Jessamine had written was the truth what right had I to Hynds House itself? "As to that, I have no right to Hynds House, either. It is yours," I said. He stared at me thoughtfully. "It is yours," I repeated, gaining courage.
"Why don't you rap on one of the tables," I suggested ironically, "and call up your high spirits to do your bidding?" "My high spirits won't be above making you a soothing cup of coffee just as soon as that ancient African returns. In the meantime, let's look around us." People had forests to draw from when they built rooms like those in Hynds House. There were eight of them on the first floor.
The drawer was quite empty. The little flat book was gone. Alicia insisted that we were living in a fairy-story, and had better enjoy every shining minute while it lasted. But, as I pointed out, the cost of restoring Hynds House was appallingly real, so real that it left a big, big hole in the bank-account.
Anyhow, the house reached out for Miss Emmeline as with hands and laid its spell upon her enduringly. She sat beside me, with Alicia's pet album of Confederate generals on her knees. "I never thought I'd have a sentimental regard for rebels," she confessed. "But, oh, they were gallant and romantic figures, when one looks at their old photographs here in Hynds House.
You keep your chickens in your own yard, and we'll keep our cats in our own house." "Compromise: you get a dog," suggested the doctor. "Perhaps I may. I've always wanted a poodle." "I said a dog!" said the doctor, lifting his lip. "A poodle! In Hynds House! The lamented Sophronisba had a bloodhound." "The lamented Sophronisba could have what she chose. This Sophronisba prefers a poodle."
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