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Updated: June 19, 2025
I perceive that, though a plain countryman, you are by no means deficient in tact and understanding. If sending these things to you gives me pleasure, why should you object? The fact is, Hayward, I occasionally take an interest in people, and like to do a little for them. I take an interest in you. Now go home, and a week hence invite Marg the young woman and her father, to tea with you.
Something in the words and in the appealing beauty made Marg quiver. Had happiness and justice been meted out to Marg Greyson she would have been the tenderest of sisters to Nella-Rose. Several years lay between them; the younger girl was encroaching upon the diminishing rights of the older.
"Not if I see you first!" muttered Margaret, under her breath, as her mother walked out. Presently, following gay talk and laughter down stairs, a bevy of Margaret's friends entered her boudoir. "Hello, old socks!" was Helen's greeting. "You look punk." "Marg, where's the doll? Your mother tipped us off," was Elinor's greeting. "Where's the eats?" was Flossie Dickerson's greeting.
What yo' mean coming brazen to us-all?" "Get out of my way!" commanded Burke, "Where's Jed?" "What's that to you?" "You'll find out soon enough. Let me by." But Marg held her ground and Lawson waited. The look in his eyes awed Marg, but his presence enraged her. "What you-all done with Nella-Rose?" Lawson asked. "You better find out! You've left it long enough." "Whar is she, I say?
"Only to toss her head and turn the cold shoulder on me. She is in no way responsible for my folly, as you call it, except by being so decidedly pretty. You'd better give in, Aunt Marg it'll be for your interest not to make an enemy of me," he quoted, in a peculiar tone, "and it will make a man of me, too, for I vow I love the girl to distraction." Mrs. Montague uttered a sigh of despair.
He led her past Lane and Blair without so much as glancing in their direction. Lane heard Blair swear. "Dare, if my mother throws Marg at that slacker, I'll block the deal if it's the last thing I ever do," he declared, violently. "And I'll help you," replied Lane, instantly. "I know Margie hates him." "Blair, your sister is in love with Holt Dalrymple." "No! Not really?
"Glad to see you, old dear," was dark-eyed, dark-haired Dorothy Dalrymple's greeting. Her rich color bore no hint of the artificial. She sank down on her knees beside Margaret. The other girls draped themselves comfortably round the room; and Flossie with a 'Yum Yum' began to dig into a box of candy on Margaret's couch. They all talked at once. "Hear the latest, Marg?"
Whatever of relaxation Martin could hope for lay in Greyson; whatever of material comfort Peter could command, must come through Jed, and so they laboured, in slow, primitive fashion, and edged in a little pleasure together. Marg, having achieved her ambition, was content and, for the first time in her life, easy to get along with.
You're safe. How long have you been back?" "Mor'n two weeks!" Nella-Rose started. So they had known all along, and while she had played with Marg the hunt might at any moment have become deadly earnest. "More'n two weeks," Lawson repeated. "Where?" The girl's voice was hard and cold. "In the Holler. Miss Lois Ann helped but Lord! you can't eat a helpless old woman out of house and home.
If you can't do your part, father, and she won't do hers, that's no reason for me being benastied with such work as I did to-day. You hear me?" "Sure I hear you, Marg, and I'm plumb humiliated that that I let you. It it sha'n't happen again. I'll keep a smart watch next year. A gentleman can't say more to his daughter than that can he?" "Saying is all very well it's the doing." Marg was adamant.
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