"You are not going to do anything of the kind. Uncle Jimpson is going
to drive you in to town to catch the first train in the morning."
"I ain't going," insisted the Colonel, shaking his head doggedly.
"Yes you are. Where's your traveling bag?"
"On the top shelf of the cupboard. But I'm not going." He said it
firmly, but the next instant he asked, "Did Jimpson press my gray
suit?"
"Oh! Squire Daddy, I'm so sorry I forgot to tell him! I'll tell him
now."
"Too late!" the Colonel sighed in resignation; "no use talking any
more about it."
"Yes there is! Your enthusiasm's just gotten damp like everything
else. I am going to tell Uncle Jimpson to make a little fire to cheer
us up, then we'll all go to work to get you ready."
It seemed to be a relief to her to bustle about and set things in
motion. In a short while she had a cheerful blaze going on the hearth,
and the curtains drawn against the dreary twilight without.
The Colonel sat in the middle of the room, watching Uncle Jimpson and
Aunt Caroline collect his scattered wardrobe, keeping a vigilant eye
meanwhile upon Miss Lady. He simply did not intend to have her
unhappy! It was preposterous! Altogether out of the question! His
little girl crying around in corners where he couldn't see her? The
idea of such a thing! If she must cry, what was the matter with his
shoulder?
"You ain't got but four hankchiefs in de wash, Cunnel," announced Aunt
Caroline from her knees beside a large wicker basket.
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