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Updated: May 14, 2025
The conversation presently became general, with the exception that Minty, more or less engrossed by professional anxiety in the quality of the dinner and occasional hurried visits to the kitchen, briefly answered the few polite remarks which Mainwaring felt called upon to address to her.
"Oh, he's off in the farm garden with Cap'n Lem," she replied; "but you're not going to leave me, are you, Uncle Calvin? I'm always being disappointed of a visit with you. Edna, you hold on to him while I go in and tell Mrs. Lem that you're here, although Minty has probably already done so." Far from obeying, Edna dismissed their escort the instant Sylvia had disappeared.
Mainwaring was a little startled; he had seen Minty in a holland sun-bonnet and turned up skirt crossing the veranda, only a moment before; in the brief instant between the dishing-up of dinner and its actual announcement she had managed to change her dress, put on a clean collar, cuffs, and a large jet brooch, and apply some odorous unguent to her rebellious hair.
For Minty had conceived the bold idea of altering one of her mother's gowns to the fashion of a certain fascinating frock worn by Louise Macy. It was late when her self-imposed task was completed. With a nervous trepidation that was novel to her, Minty began to disrobe herself preparatory to trying on her new creation.
"No, dear," she said, still gazing at him with an absorbed look in her dark eyes. Richelieu felt a slight creepy sensation under that lonely far-off gaze. "Your eyes look awful big at night, Minty," he said. He would have added "and pretty," but she was his sister, and he had the lofty fraternal conviction of his duty in repressing the inordinate vanity of the sex.
"It's all I kin scrape, Linthicum," he said to that gentleman. "I kin get a few dollars more if Minty kin sell her crop o' corn an' send me the money but this is every cent I kin give ye now. Won't it do nothin'?" "No, it won't," answered the claim agent, with a final sort of shrug. "We're dealing with a business that's got to be handled well or it'll all end in smoke.
This individual was naturally Mr. Doty himself. "Minty," he said, "don't ye let him fool ye. Don't ye know Tom D'Willerby by this time? Ye'd orter. It's jest some o' his gas. Don't ye s'pose he hain't got no more sense? What'd he do with it?" "Ye can believe it or not," replied Mrs. Doty, sharply, "but he's gwine to raise that young'n, as shore as your name's Job. Mornin's got her this minute."
"I ain't never bowed my haid to Minty Brown an' I ain't a-goin' to do it now," was his mother's only reply. "Oh, ma," Kitty put in, "you don't want to get talked about up here, do you?" "We 'd jes' as well be talked about fu' somep'n we did n't do as fu' somep'n we did do, an' it would n' be long befo' we 'd come to dat if we made frien's wid dat Brown gal. I ain't a-goin' to do it.
Mainwaring could not reply, with Richelieu, "You ought to know"; nor did he dare explain what he thought it meant, and how he knew it. Louise, however, innocently solved the difficulty. "There's a country song I've heard Minty sing," she said. "It runs Come, Philander, let us be a-marchin', Every one for his true love a-sarchin' Choose your true love now or never. . . .
I used to wonder how that young man, brought up in town, could take so to such work, and then, after a while, I got to wondering why it took him and Minty Glenwood, as we always called her, so long to get through. "That was the first thing Aunt Melissy wondered, too.
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