But why were the dress and shawl smuggled into
her room, instead of being brought openly? Maybe they were not really on
terms of association after all. I wished I knew, or that I had the right
to ask. I forgot all about the Bunkers, until the judge whipped up the
horses as we turned into the Wade place, and brought us up standing
at the door.
"Well," said he, with a kind of nervous laugh, "the Bunkers didn't get
us after all!"
I was out before him this time, and helped Virginia and Mrs. Stone to
get down. The judge was wrestling with the heavy bag. The governor came
out to welcome us, and he and Judge Stone carried it in. Mrs. Wade, a
scared-looking little woman, stood in the hall and gave me her hand as
I went in.
"Good evening, Mr.----," said she.
"Mr. Vandemark," said the judge. "My body-guard, Mrs. Wade."
The good lady looked at my worn, tight-fitting corduroys, at my clean
boiled shirt which I had done up myself, at my heavy boots, newly
greased for the occasion, and at my bright blue and red silk
neckerchief, and turned to other guests. After all I was dressed as well
as some of the rest of them. There are many who may read this account of
the way the Boyds, the Burnses, the Flemings, the Creedes, the Stones
and others of our county aristocracy, came to this party in alpacas,
delaines, figured lawns, and even calicoes, riding on loads of hay and
in lumber wagons with spring seats, who may be a little nettled when a
plain old farmer tells it; but they should never mind this: the time
will come when their descendants will be proud of it.
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