Bad Hugh | Page 5

the storm, though I can't imagine why any one should
be abroad to-night," Hugh said, going to the window and peering out
into the darkness.
"Lyd's child, most likely. Negro young ones are always squalling, and I
heard her tell Aunt Chloe at supper time that Tommie had the colic,"
'Lina remarked opening again the book she was reading, and with a
slight shiver drawing nearer to the fire.
"Where are you going, my son?" asked Mrs. Worthington, as Hugh
arose to leave the room.
"Going to Lyd's cabin, for if Tommie is sick enough to make his
screams heard above the storm, she may need some help," was Hugh's
reply, and a moment after he was ploughing his way through the drifts
which lay between the house and the negro quarters.
"How kind and thoughtful he is," the mother said, softly, more to
herself than to her daughter, who nevertheless quickly rejoined:
"Yes, kind to niggers, and horses, and dogs, I'll admit, but let me, or
any other white woman come before him as an object of pity, and the
tables are turned at once. I wonder what does make him hate women
so."
"I don't believe he does," Mrs. Worthington replied. "His uncle, you
know, was very unfortunate in his marriage, and had a way of judging
all our sex by his wife. Living with him as long as Hugh did, it's natural
he should imbibe a few of his ideas."
"A few," 'Lina repeated, "better say all, for John Stanley and Hugh
Worthington are as near alike as an old and young man well could be.
What an old codger he was though, and how like a savage he lived here.
I never shall forget how the house looked the day we came, or how
satisfied Hugh seemed when he met us at the gate, and said, 'everything
was in spendid order,'" and closing her book, the young lady laughed

merrily as she recalled the time when she first crossed her brother's
threshold, stepping, as she affirmed, over half a dozen dogs, and as
many squirming kittens, catching her foot in some fishing tackle,
finding tobacco in the china closet, and segars in the knife box, where
they had been put to get them out of the way.
"But Hugh really did his best for us," mildly interposed the mother.
"Don't you remember what the servants said about his cleaning one
floor himself because he knew they were tired!"
"Did it more to save the lazy negroes' steps than from any regard for
our comfort," retorted 'Lina. "At all events he's been mighty careful
since how he gratified my wishes. Sometimes I believe he perfectly
hates me, and wishes I'd never been born," and tears, which arose from
anger, rather than any wounded sisterly feeling, glittered in 'Lina's
black eyes.
"Hugh does not hate any one," said Mrs. Worthington, "much less his
sister, though you must admit that you try him terribly."
"How, I'd like to know?" 'Lina asked, and her mother replied:
"He thinks you proud, and vain, and artificial, and you know he abhors
deceit above all else. Why, he'd cut off his right hand sooner than tell a
lie."
"Pshaw!" was 'Lina's contemptuous response, then after a moment she
continued: "I wonder how we came to be so different. He must be like
his father, and I like mine--that is, supposing I know who he is.
Wouldn't it be funny if, just to be hateful, he had sent you back the
wrong child?"
"What made you think of that?" Mrs. Worthington asked, quickly, and
'Lina replied:
"Oh, nothing, only the last time Hugh had one of his tantrums, and got
so outrageously angry at me, because I made Mr. Bostwick think my
hair was naturally curly, he said he'd give all he owned if it were so, but

I reckon he'll never have his wish. There's too much of old Sam about
me to admit of a doubt," and half spitefully, half playfully she touched
the spot in the center of her forehead known as her birthmark.
When not excited it could scarcely be discerned at all, but the moment
she was aroused, the delicate network of veins stood out round and full,
forming what seemed to be a tiny hand without the thumb. It showed a
little now in the firelight, and Mrs. Worthington shuddered as she
glanced at what brought so vividly before her the remembrance of other
and wretched days. Adaline observed the shudder and hastened to
change the conversation from herself to Hugh, saying by way of
making some amends for her unkind remarks: "It really is kind in him
to give me a home when I have no particular claim upon him, and I
ought to respect him for that. I