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Updated: June 19, 2025
If I was strong, like other little boys, I would make money for her, so that she shouldn't keep any boarders except Mr. Reybold. Oh! she has to work a lot; but she's proud and won't tell anybody. All the money I get I mean to give her; but I wouldn't have it if I had to beg for it like that man!" "O Beau," said Colonel Jeems Bee, "you've cotched it now! Reybold's even with you.
Basil?" asked Reybold one day, when his mind was very full of Joyce, the daughter. "Not while Congress is in session," said Mrs. Basil. "It's a little too much of the oi polloi for the Judge. His family, you may not know, Mr. Reybold, air of the Basils of King George. They married into the Tayloze of Mount Snaffle.
Yet in two days the Judge was shooting blue-winged teal at the mouth of the Accotink, and his entire indifference to his family set Reybold to thinking whether the Virginia husband and father was any thing more than a forgetful savage. The boarders, however, made very merry over the absent unknown.
"Joyce Basil Miss Joyce Basil to you, gentlemen. My mother keeps boarders. Mr. Reybold boards there. I think it's hard when a little boy from the South wants to work, that the only body to help him find it is a Northern man. Don't you?" "Good hit!" cried Jeroboam Coffee, Esq., of Alabama. "That boy would run, if he could!"
Reybold was impressed with something in the attitude of the two, which made him forget his own interest in the controversy. Beau answered with a tone of nearly tender pacification: "Now, my little man; come, don't be hard on the old veteran!
An expression of agitation and cunning passed over Mrs. Basil's face. "Colonel Reybold," she whined, "I pity your blasted hopes. If I was a widow, they should be comfoted. Alas! my daughter is in love with one of the Fitz-chews of Fawqueeah. His parents is cousins of the Jedge, and attached to the military." The Congressman looked disappointed, but not yet satisfied.
Reybold," she would say, "you commercial people of the Nawth can't hunt, I believe. Jedge Basil is now on the mountains of Fawquear hunting the plova. His grandfather's estate is full of plova." If, by chance, Reybold saw a look of care on Mrs. Basil's face, he inquired for the Judge, her husband, and found he was still shooting on the Occequan. "Does he never come to Washington, Mrs.
I tried to keep the secret from my daughter, but her affection broke down my disguises. Thank God! the old rounder's deal has run out at last. For his wife he'll flash her diles no more, nor be taken on the vag." "Basil," said Reybold, "what trust do you leave to me in your family?" Mrs. Basil strove to interpose, but the dying man raised his voice: "Tryphonee can go home to Fauquier.
"Go and work like me. You're big, and you called Mr. Reybold mean. Haven't you got a wife or little girl, or nobody to work for? You ought to work for yourself, anyhow. Oughtn't he, gentlemen?" Reybold, who had slipped around by the little cripple and was holding him in a caressing way from behind, looked over to Beau and was even more impressed with that generally undaunted worthy's expression.
The Basils repudiate her, and she may jine the Dutch and other foreigners at her pleasure." "That is her only safety," exclaimed Reybold. "I hope to break every string that holds her to yonder barren honor and exhausted soil." He pointed toward Virginia, and hastened away to the Capitol. All the way up the squalid and muddy avenue of that day he mused and wondered: "Who is Fitzhugh?
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