Mary Louise in the Country | Page 2

face all smiles. "Dis shuah am one prosterous country foh health. Nobuddy sick but de invahlids, an' dey jus' 'magines dey's sick, dat's all."
"Glad to see you, Uncle," said the Colonel. "A little late, eh?--as usual. But perhaps you had a tire change."
"No, seh, Kun'l, no tire change. I was jus' tryin' to hurry 'long dat lazy Joe Brennan, who's done comin' foh de trunks. Niggehs is slow, Kun'l, dey ain't no argyment 'bout dat, but when a white man's a reg'leh loaf eh, seh, dey ain' no niggeh kin keep behind him."
"Joe Brennan is coming, then?"
"Dat's right, Kun'l; he's comin'. Done start befoh daylight, in de lumbeh-wagin. But when I done ketch up wi' dat Joe--a mile 'n' a half away--he won't lis'n to no reason. So I dodged on ahead to tell you-uns dat Joe's on de way."
"How far is it from here to Cragg's Crossing, then?" inquired Mary Louise.
"They call it ten miles," replied her grandfather, "but I imagine it's nearer twelve."
"And this is the nearest railway station?"
"Yes, the nearest. But usually the Crossing folks who own motor cars drive to the city to take the trains. We alighted here because in our own case it was more convenient and pleasant than running into the city and out again, and it will save us time."
"We be home in half'n hour, mos' likely," added Uncle Eben, as he placed the suit cases and satchels in the car. Colonel Hathaway and Mary Louise followed and took their seats.
"Is it safe to leave our trunks here?" asked the girl.
"Undoubtedly," replied her grandfather. "Joe Brennan will doubtless arrive before long and, really, there is no person around to steal them."
"I've an idea I shall like this part of the country," said Mary Louise musingly, as they drove away.
"I am confident you will, my dear."
"Is Cragg's Crossing as beautiful as this?"
"I think it more beautiful."
"And how did you happen to find it, Gran'pa Jim? It seems as isolated as can be."
"A friend and I were taking a motor trip and lost our way. A farmer told us that if we went to Cragg's Crossing we would find a good road to our destination. We went there, following the man's directions, and encountered beastly roads but found a perfect gem of a tiny, antiquated town which seems to have been forgotten or overlooked by map-makers, automobile guides and tourists. My friend had difficulty in getting me away from the town, I was so charmed with it. Before I left I had discovered, by dint of patient inquiry, a furnished house to let, and you know, of course, that I promptly secured the place for the summer. That's the whole story, Mary Louise."
"It is interesting," she remarked. "As a result of your famous discovery you sent down Uncle Eben and Aunt Polly, with our car and a lot of truck you thought we might need, and now--when all is ready--you and I have come to take possession."
"Rather neatly arranged, I think," declared the Colonel, with satisfaction.
"Do you know anything about the history of the place, Gran'pa, or of the people who live in your tiny, forgotten town?"
"Nothing whatever. I imagine there are folks Cragg's Crossing who have never been a dozen miles away from it since they were born. The village boasts a 'hotel'--the funniest little inn you can imagine--where we had an excellent home-cooked meal; and there is one store and a blacksmith's shop, one church and one schoolhouse. These, with half a dozen ancient and curiously assorted residences, constitute the shy and retiring town of Cragg's Crossing. Ah, think we have found Joe Brennan."
Uncle Eben drew up beside a rickety wagon drawn by two sorry nags who just now were engaged in cropping grass from the roadside. On the seat half reclined a young man who was industriously eating an apple. He wore a blue checked shirt open at the throat, overalls, suspenders and a straw hat that had weathered many seasons of sunshine and rain. His feet were encased in heavy boots and his bronzed face betokened an out-of-door life. There are a million countrymen in the United States just like Joe Brennan in outward appearance.
Joe did not stop munching; he merely stared as the automobile stopped beside him.
"Say, you Joe!" shouted Uncle Eben indignatly, "wha' foh yo' done sett'n' heah?"
"Rest'n'," said Joe Brennan, taking another bite from his apple.
"Ain't yo' gwine git dem trunks home to-day?" demanded the old darkey.
Joe seemed to consider this question carefully before he ventured to commit himself. Then he looked at Colonel Hathaway and said:
"What I want t' know, Boss, is whether I'm hired by the hour, er by the day?"
"Didn't Uncle Eben tell you?"
"Naw, he didn't. He jes' said t' go git the trunks an' he'd gimme a dollar fer the trip."
"Well, that seems