A Little Florida Lady | Page 5

two children, therefore,
scrambled up in front beside the driver, while Mr. and Mrs. Davenport
took the back seat.

January sat bolt upright. His dignity fitted the occasion. His driving,
however, worried Beth.
She loved to go fast. She knew no fear of horses. She would have
undertaken to drive the car of Phaeton, himself, had she been given the
chance. She had little patience to poke along, and that was exactly what
Dolly did when January drove.
"Can't she go faster?" she asked.
"She don't 'pear to go very fast, does she?" said January mildly. "Missy
Beth, yo' jes' wait until her racing blood am up, and den she'll go so fast,
yo'll wish she didn't go so fast."
Beth had her doubts of this, and even of Dolly's racing blood. Its truth,
however, was to be proven by a later experience which will be told in
due course.
"Has Dolly really racing blood?" asked Marian. Although January was
sitting so straight that it seemed impossible for him to sit any straighter,
he stiffened up at least an inch.
"Racing blood? Well, I jes' 'lows she has. Onct she wuz de fastest horse
in dis State or any odder, I reckon. She could clean beat ebbery horse
far and near. Many's de race I'se ridden her in, an' nebber onct lost. My
ole massa wuz powerful proud of us. Now he's gone, an' Dolly an' me's
gettin' old."
"How old are you, January?"
"Powerful ole, massa. I reckon I'm nigh on a hundred."
"That's impossible," interrupted Mrs. Davenport. "When were you
born?"
He scratched his head to help his memory. "Well, de truf is, Miss
Mary"--he had heard Mr. Davenport call her Mary, and so from the
start he addressed her in Southern style--"I can't say 'xactly, but I know

I'se powerful old. I wuz an ole man when de wah broke out. I must
have been 'bout--well 'bout twenty then."
"The war was only about forty years ago, January," broke in Marian,
"and that would make you sixty now."
"I reckon, I'm 'bout dat." He had no idea of his age. The longer the
Davenports knew him, the more they realized the truth of this.
Sometimes he would make himself out a centenarian, and then, by his
own reckoning, he was not out of his teens.
"Get up, Dolly," he cried. She paid no more attention to this mild
command than she would have to the buzzing of a fly--probably not so
much.
"Papa, may I drive?" asked Marian in her quiet way. Receiving consent,
she took the reins. Dolly soon noticed a difference in drivers. Presently
she went so fast, that she satisfied even Beth as to speed.
"Look at the river," cried Beth. They were driving under great,
over-arching trees. To the right of them, between the openings of the
trees, the glorious St. Johns was to be seen gleaming under the brilliant
tropical sun.
"That's a beautiful hammock yonder," said Mr. Davenport.
Beth could see no hammock. There was a wonderful, intricate growth
of shrubs, trees, and vines which formed an almost impenetrable mass
of green, but no hammock.
"Where is it?" she asked. "It seems a very queer place for a hammock."
Mr. Davenport laughed at her, and explained that such a mass of green
is called a hammock in Florida, not hummock as in the North.
Very soon they were past the swamps. The banks of the river grew
higher and nice houses were to be seen on either side of the road.
Dolly, of her own accord, turned in at the gate of an unusually beautiful

place. There are no fine lawns in Florida. In this case, the lack of such
green was made up by a waving mass of blooming cardinal phlox,
behind which was an orange grove in full bearing. In the
well-cultivated grounds there were many inviting drives through
avenues of trees.
"What are we going in here for?" asked Beth.
"Do you think it a pretty place?" returned Mr. Davenport.
"I never saw a prettier place. It's grand."
"Guess who owns it."
"How should I know? I don't know any people in Florida."
"You know the Davenports. They are to live here. I bought the place
this morning."
Beth could hardly believe her father. He had, indeed, greatly surprised
her. That she was to be a little Florida lady henceforth, hardly seemed
possible. She thought she must be a fairy-story princess, and that the
fairies were vying with one another in showering upon her the good
things of life.
"I'm so happy, I don't know what to say or do. Why, if a good fairy
offered to grant me three wishes, I shouldn't know what to ask. I have
everything," declared Beth.
"There aren't any fairies, and you know it. So