‚ÄúSo am I,‚Äù added Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool, suppressing a yawn.
“It is uninteresting,” murmured her husband, preparing for a nap.
On the whole the members of the party enjoyed themselves from the moment they drew out of Jersey City to the afternoon when, in four carriages, they rolled beneath the curious eyes of all Toomsville and swept under the shadowed rampart of the swamp.
‚ÄúThe Christmas‚Äù was coming and all the Southern world was busy. Few people were busier than Bles and Zora. Slowly, wonderfully for them, heaven bent in these dying days of the year and kissed the earth, and the tremor thrilled all lands and seas. Everything was good, all things were happy, and these two were happiest of all. Out of the shadows and hesitations of childhood they had stepped suddenly into manhood and womanhood, with firm feet and uplifted heads. All the day that was theirs they worked, picking the Silver Fleece‚ÅÝ‚Äîpicking it tenderly and lovingly from off the brown and spent bodies which had so utterly yielded life and beauty to the full fruition of this long and silken tendril, this white beauty of the cotton. November came and flew, and still the unexhausted field yielded its frothing fruit.
Today seemed doubly glorious, for Bles had spoken of their marriage; with twined hands and arms, and lips ever and again seeking their mates, they walked the leafy way.
Unconscious, rapt, they stepped out into the Big Road skirting the edge of the swamp. Why not? Was it not the King‚Äôs Highway? And Love was King. So they talked on, unknowing that far up the road the Cresswell coaches were wheeling along with precious burdens. In the first carriage were Mrs. ¬ÝGrey and Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool, Mr. ¬ÝCresswell and Miss Taylor. Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool was lolling luxuriously, but Mrs. ¬ÝGrey was a little stiff from long travel and sat upright. Mr. ¬ÝCresswell looked clean-cut and handsome, and Miss