It's on a Monday, long in early garden-makin' time."
They had come to a little brook, bridged by a wide, hewed log. When they
had crossed in careful silence, John Jay began again. "Mammy, when's my
buthday?"
"I kaint tell 'zactly, honey," she answered, "'twel I adds it up." As
she began counting on her fingers, her skirts slipped lower and lower
from her grasp, until they brushed the dew of the wayside weeds.
"Yes, that's it," she announced at last. "Miss Hallie is nineteen this
Satiddy, and you'll be nine next Satiddy. A week from to-day is yoah
buthday. Pity it hadn't a-happened to be the same day, then maybe Mis'
Haven mought a give you somethin' like Mis' Alice give Jintsey's boy."
John Jay had that same thought all the rest of the way to Rosehaven,
but after they entered the brilliantly illuminated grounds he seemed to
stop thinking altogether. It was a sight beyond all that his wildest
imaginings had pictured. He did not recognize the place. All the
lanterns were lighted now, hanging like strings of stars around the
porches, and from tree to tree.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55