The Heart's Kingdom

"We were just saying, Charlotte dear, that this absurd school affair has

completely overshadowed your wedding day," said Mrs. Cockrell, as she

rocked back and forth in tune with her Irish point rose she was

constructing. "It seems to me a wedding ought to come before a school

festivity."

"Social law requires that marriage take precedence of schooling," said

Mrs. Sproul, as her mischievous old eyes snapped at Mrs. Cockrell's

placid conventionality. "The correct order is for women to take husbands

and then school children should be the inevitable outcome. They are not,

however, in this day and generation, which is about to be the last, I'm

thinking."

"There will be thirty-nine kiddies from the Settlement and eleven from

the Town to feast on reason and flow soul together in the new school," I

laughed, as I sat down between them. "Also I'm thinking that a lot more

will be forthcoming from the Settlement by next week. Young Charlotte

and Mother Spurlock clothed as far as they could, but they will keep at

it, I feel sure. I feel guilty at the idea of taking three trunks of

clothes away from the watchful eye of Mother Elsie, only I'm leaving the

accumulation of years for her distribution."

"The passport to Elsie Spurlock's heart is a condition composed of rags,

hunger and unhappiness. She has no sympathy or time for a sanitary and

contented friend," said Mrs. Sproul with a decided tartness that was

only a reflex of the deep affection she bore the mistress of the Little

House, which had existed since childhood and would endure.

"I hear some of the cars coming," announced Mrs. Cockrell, as she began

to crochet furiously at the last petal of a rose. "Is my cap straight? I

do so want to finish this row and can't go in to look."

"You'll put out St. Peter's eye with a crochet needle while he's

unlocking the pearly gates for you, Lettie Cockrell," said Mrs. Sproul,

as she rose and stood with ceremony at the head of the steps to meet

the Governor and Mr. Jeffries and father as they came up her front walk.

Mrs. Sproul always has the most delightful old world sort of midday

dinners and it was two o'clock before we all arose from her long table,

at one end of which had been demolished a spiced ham and from the other

end had disappeared two fat summer turkeys. A saddle of lamb had been

passed in between and we had wound up with sweet potato custards, apple

float and ice cream.

"I understand now," said Mr. Jeffries, as his keen old eyes twinkled

down the table at Nickols. "This food should produce geniuses. The South

feeds for it."

"Yes, we eat, drink, are merry and do it all over again to-morrow," said

Mark, as he walked beside Mrs. Sproul from the devastated dining room.

"And we must all hurry if we are to see your young ideas begin to shoot.

This day isn't really hot, but just thinks it is. Look at those clouds

boiling up back of Old Harpeth as if wanting to storm, but afraid to

begin it. There's not a breath of air stirring. Wish it would shower,

for I believe the colors of Goodloe's pageant would run and I'd like to

see the true hue of this melee of his come out in the wash. It would do

Charlotte good to fade a bit. She has been hectic since daylight and the

rest of my juvenile family with her. Jimmy is S and Z in the alphabet

and Sue has got a huge A sewed on her back. Goodloe intends that

education shall be nailed to 'em."