don’t mind walking ahead, though.” “I will walk with you, Bee,” graciously offered Patsy. “Woe be to the wriggly, jiggly sarpint that crosses our path.” In this light strain the four girls left Miss Martha to her writing and sallied forth from the coolness of the old house into the bright sunlight. “Where shall we go first?” queried Patsy, as they paused on the drive in front of the house. “Shall we get acquainted with our numerous acres of front yard, or shall we make a bee-line for the orange groves?” [68] [68] “Let’s do the groves first,” suggested Eleanor. “I’m awfully anxious to get close to real orange trees with real oranges growing on them.” “Come on, then.” Seizing Beatrice by the arm, Patsy piloted her around a corner of the house, Mabel and Eleanor following. Crossing a comparatively smooth bit of lawn, at the rear of the house, the Wayfarers halted by common consent before proceeding further. Between them and the orange groves lay a wide stretch of ground, fairly overrun with tangled bush and vine. Magnificent live oak, cedar and palmetto trees, spread their noble branches over thickets of bright bloom and living green. It was extremely picturesque, but “very snaky,” as Mabel declared with a little shudder. “There’s a darkie over yonder, clipping away that thicket!” Eleanor pointed to where an ancient, bare-footed, overalled African, wearing a huge, tattered straw hat, was industriously cutting away at a thick patch of sprawling green growth. “Hey, there, Uncle!” called out undignified Patsy. “Come here a minute, please.” The old man straightened up at the hail and looked rather blankly about him. Catching sight[69] of the group of white-clad girls, he ambled slowly toward them through the long grass. [69] “Mornin’, young ladies,” he saluted, pulling off his ragged headgear and disclosing a thick crop of snow-white wool. “Ah reckin mebbe yoh wants Uncle Jemmy t’ tell yoh suthin’?”
Prev.
Back
Top