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Updated: June 23, 2025
The old log house in which Jason and Mavis's great-great-grandfather had spent his pioneer days had been weather-boarded and was invisible somewhere in the big frame house that, trimmed with green and porticoed with startling colors, glared white in the afternoon sun. They could see the two ponies hitched at the front gate.
Then Mavis heard footsteps and the clatter of a pail in the passage. The door opened, and the misshapen person who had been rude to her when she was waiting downstairs appeared. "Here she is," called this person, at which two men entered with Mavis's trunks; these they dumped on the floor. "Thank you," said Mavis. "Heavy work, miss," remarked one of the men. "Be off with you," cried the servant.
Perigal felt the pressure of Mavis's hand instinctively tighten on his; it gripped as if she could never let him go: tears fell from her eyes on to his fingers. With an effort he freed himself and, without saying a word, walked quickly away. With all her soul, she listened to his retreating steps.
"Of course money is wonderful, but it isn't everything." "You say that because you don't know. Money is power, happiness, contentment, life. And you know it in your heart of hearts. Every woman, who is anything at all, knows it. Surely, after all you've gone through, it appeals to you?" Mrs Hamilton anxiously watched Mavis's face. "Not a bit like it seems to to some people," replied Mavis.
"There's one thing you might have told me about," he went on. "What?" Perigal dropped his eyes as he said: "Someone who died." Mavis's heart was pitiless. "Why should I?" "He was mine as much as yours. There are several things I want to know. And if it were the last word I utter, all that happened over that has 'hipped' me more than anything." "I shall tell you nothing," declared Mavis.
"Home," was Jason's short answer, and he felt Mavis's arm about his waist begin to tremble. "Git off, Mavis, an' git up hyeh behind me. Yo' home's with me." Jason valiantly reached for his gun, but Mavis caught his hand and, holding it, slipped to the ground. "Don't, Jasie I'll come, pap, I'll come."
A little later, she came out carrying the sleeping baby in her arms. Mavis's heart inclined to Windebank for his request; at the same time, she knew well that, were she a man, and in his present situation, she would not be the least interested in the loved woman's child, whose father was a successful rival. Windebank uncovered the little one's face. He looked at it intently for a while.
And so Babe Honeycutt swung twice down the spur on the other side and up again with Mavis's worldly goods on his great shoulders, while inside the cottage Martha Hawn and the old circuit rider's wife were as joyously busy as bees. On his last trip Mavis and Jason followed, and on top of the spur Babe stopped, cocked his ear, and listened.
Windebank would have been flattered could he have known of Mavis's consideration for his pocket. He and the girl talked when the attendants were out of the way, to stop conversing when they were immediately about them; the two would resume where they had left off, directly they were sure of not being overheard. "Just imagine, if you were little Mavis Keeves grown up," began Windebank.
Wasn't he working very hard still, and wouldn't he be, in the natural course, not yet satisfied that he had found his feet or knew enough to launch out? He would be a man of long preparations Miss Mavis's white face seemed to speak to one of that. It struck me that if I had been in love with her I shouldn't have needed to lay such a train for the closer approach.
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