He lifted his cap and said, "I thank ye." But it was not to Mrs.
Nelson, who still held the money as they drove out of the avenue.
Sandy went wearily back to the house. He had made his first trial in
behalf of his lady fair, but his soul knew no elation. His beautiful
new armor had sustained irreparable injury, and his vanity had
received a mortal wound.
CHAPTER VIII
AUNT MELVY AS A SOOTHSAYER
It was a crisp afternoon in late October. The road leading west from
Clayton ran the gantlet of fiery maples and sumac until it reached the
barren hillside below "Who'd 'a' Thought It." The little cabin clung
to the side of the steep slope like a bit of fungus to the trunk of a
tree.
In the doorway sat three girls, one tall and dark, one plump and fair,
and the third straight and thin. They were anxiously awaiting the
revelation of the future as disclosed by Aunt Melvy's far-famed
tea-leaves. The prophetess kept them company while waiting for the
water to boil.
"He sutenly is a peart boy," she was saying. "De jedge done start him
in plumb at de foot up at de 'cademy, an' dey tell me he's ketchin' up
right along."
"Wasn't it g-grand in Judge Hollis to send him to school?" said
Annette. "Of course he's going to work for him b-between times.
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