Mary Louise in the Country | Page 4

goods. A church and a schoolhouse
naturally followed, in course of time, and then, as if its destiny were
fulfilled, the sleepy little town--ten miles from the nearest
railway--gradually settled into the comatose state in which Colonel
Hathaway and his granddaughter now found it.
CHAPTER II
THE KENTON PLACE
The tiny town, however, was not all that belonged to the Cragg's
Crossing settlement. Barely a quarter of a mile away from the village a
stream with beautifully wooded banks ran diagonally through the
countryside. It was called a "river" by the natives, but it was more of a
creek; halfway between a small rivulet and a brook, perhaps. But its
banks afforded desirable places for summer residences, several of
which had been built by well-to-do families, either retired farmers or
city people who wished for a cool and quiet place in which to pass the
summer months.
These residences, all having ample grounds and facing the creek on
either side, were sufficiently scattered to be secluded, and it was to one
of the most imposing of these that Uncle Eben guided the automobile.
He crossed the creek on a primitive but substantial bridge, turned to the
right, and the first driveway led to the house that was to be Mary
Louise's temporary home.
"This is lovely!" exclaimed the girl, as they rolled up a winding drive
edged by trees and shrubbery, and finally drew up before the entrance

of a low and rambling but quite modern house. There was Aunt Polly,
her round black face all smiles, standing on the veranda to greet them,
and Mary Louise sprang from the car first to hug the old servant--Uncle
Eben's spouse--and then to run in to investigate the establishment,
which seemed much finer than she had dared to imagine it.
The main building was of two stories, but the wings, several of which
jutted out in various directions, were one story in height, somewhat on
the bungalow plan. There was a good-sized stable in connection--now
used as a garage--and down among the oaks toward the river an open
pavilion had been built. All the open spaces were filled with flowers
and ferns, in beds and borders, and graveled paths led here and there in
a very enticing way. But the house was now the chief fascination and
the other details Mary Louise gleaned by sundry glances from open
windows as she rambled from room to room.
At luncheon, which Aunt Polly served as soon as her young mistress
could be coaxed from her tour of inspection, the girl said:
"Gran'pa Jim, who owns this place?"
"A Mrs. Joselyn," he replied.
"A young woman?"
"I believe so. It was built by her mother, a Mrs. Kenton, some fifteen
years ago, and is still called 'the Kenton Place.' Mrs. Kenton died and
her daughter, who married a city man named Joselyn, has used it as a
summer home until this year. I think Mrs. Joselyn is a woman of
considerable means."
"The furnishings prove that," said Mary Louise. "They're not all in the
best of taste, but they are plentiful and meant to be luxurious. Why
doesn't Mrs. Joselyn occupy her home this summer? And why, if she is
wealthy, does she rent the place?"
"Those are problems I am unable to solve, my dear," replied the
Colonel with a smile. "When old man Cragg, who is the nearest

approach to a real estate agent in the village, told me the place was for
rent, I inquired the price and contracted to lease it for the summer. That
satisfied me, Mary Louise, but if you wish to inquire into the history
and antecedents of the Kenton and Joselyn families, I have no doubt
there are plenty of village gossips who can fill your ears full of it."
"Dar's one thing I foun' out, seh," remarked Uncle Eben, who always
served at table and was not too diffident to join in the conversation of
his betters, at times; "dis Joselyn man done dis'pear--er run away-- er
dig out, somehow--an' he missus is mos' plumb crazy 'bout it."
"When did that happen?" asked Mary Louise.
"'Bout Chris'mas time, de stoahkeepah say. Nobody don't like him
down heah, 'cause he put on a 'strord'nary 'mount o' airs an' didn't mix
wid de town people, nohow. De stoahkeepeh t'inks Marse Joselyn am
crooked-like an' done squandeh a lot o' he wife's money befoh he
went."
"Perhaps," said Mary Louise musingly, "that is why the poor woman is
glad to rent this house. I wish, however, we had gotten it for a more
pleasant reason."
"Don't pay attention to Eben's chatter, my dear," advised her
grandfather. "His authority seems to be the ancient storekeeper, whom I
saw but once and didn't fancy. He looks like an old owl, in those big,