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Updated: May 27, 2025
I'll tell him now." "Too late!" the Colonel sighed in resignation; "no use talking any more about it." "Yes there is! Your enthusiasm's just gotten damp like everything else. I am going to tell Uncle Jimpson to make a little fire to cheer us up, then we'll all go to work to get you ready." It seemed to be a relief to her to bustle about and set things in motion.
"Oh, she says she is coming to-day," interrupted Miss Lady, "on the eleven train. I must go down and tell Uncle Jimpson to be at the station, and have Aunt Caroline put on another plate for dinner." "Then what are you going to do, my dear?" "I was going to the cemetery." "You would better come up here instead. In your mental state a person is very sensitive to environment.
The note of defiance was stronger. "Oh nuthin, only I'm Jake Tompkins, that used ter work fer Jimpson at the still. Me 'n yer daddy war pards; I used ter set 'em up ter him heap o' times." "Yes," replied Dick bitterly, "I know you now. You gave my father whiskey and then laughed when he went home drunk and drove my mother from the cabin to spend the night in the brush. You know it killed her."
Across his feet with nose on paws lay a dog, and about him was scattered a profusion of fishing paraphernalia. The Colonel, carefully crushing the mint between his stubby fingers, stirred it with the sugar at the bottom of his tall glass; then, resting the concoction on the broad arm of the rocker, and without turning his head, lifted his voice in stentorian command: "Jimpson!" No answer.
"Jest wait," Uncle Jimpson smilingly insisted, "dat chile can't no more help 'cumulatin' beaux dan a flower kin bees. An' hits de king bee dat's comin' dis time, shore!" "Where's Connie? Where's Hat?" cried Miss Lady breathlessly, bringing her foam-flecked horse to a halt in front of the porch where Mrs. Ivy was sitting in the twilight.
As he passed the compliments of the day with two farm hands, who were loading a wagon near by, his eye fell upon a strange object that stood in the door of the dining-room. It looked to Uncle Jimpson like pictures he had seen of lions, only it was small and white and barked remarkably like a dog. "Dat sure am a curious lookin' animal," he observed. "Hit must b'long to a show."
Through the bare trees above them blazed the magnificent proportions of Angora Heights, with its pretentious assembly of stables, garage and servants' quarters in the rear. "Ye gods!" exclaimed the stranger under his breath; "is this all of it?" "Naw, sir!" Uncle Jimpson denied emphatically; "if hit wuz daytime you could see de Ramparts an' de Estanade. Over dere is de Lygoon.
Why don't you git married, and git a kerridge, an' I'll dribe an' Carline'll cook an' tak' care de chillun." "I'm never going to marry, Uncle Jimpson," Miss Lady declared, with the passionate assurance of youth. "And I am never going to leave Thornwood. If you see Miss Ferney going down the road, ask her to stop by a minute. Come on, Mike, we are late now."
One problem was unexpectedly solved by the appearance of Uncle Jimpson, who announced that "he had done come back home to stay."
So engrossed were the conductor and brakeman and Uncle Jimpson in safely depositing the freezers on the platform, that no one noticed a passenger who had alighted. In fact, it was not until Uncle Jimpson heard Mrs. Sequin's name that he paused from his labor and looked up.
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