XVIII

A Cavalier O'erthrown

The house party departed and Buck Hill settled into normalcy. Jeff had
tried very hard to be what Mildred had expected him to be for the last
few days. He had even said tender nothings to Jean Roland and
expressed an eager desire to see her in Louisville, where she was to
visit before returning to Detroit. So flattering was his manner that
the girl forgave him for his inattention during her stay at Buck Hill
and was all smiles at the parting.

The guests who did not leave by automobile took the noon trolley to
Louisville. Among the latter was Tom Harbison. Mildred had rather
hoped he would stay over Sunday at Buck Hill. He pleaded an
engagement, however, but with melting eyes declared he would soon be
back.

Jeff heaved a great sigh of relief when they were all gone, especially
Miss Jean Roland. What a nuisance black-headed girls were, anyhow! He
began to wonder what Judith was doing. Was she wearied after the ball?
Was she on the road in her little blue car selling toilet articles?
Would she feed the motormen and conductors, in spite of having been up
until morning? Of course she would! Judith was not the kind of girl to
fail in an undertaking and to let men go hungry.

"Half past five! She furnishes dinner for the men on the six-thirty. I
wonder what she is giving them to-day?" Jeff smiled when he remembered
how Judith had satisfied Nan's impertinent curiosity concerning what
was in her basket. "I've a great mind to find out. Foolishness! I'll
do nothing of the sort." The young man tried to lose himself in the
intricate plot of a detective story but he had to confess he was not
half so much interested in the outcome of the tale as he was in what
Judith was to carry in her basket.

"I'll go help her lift the heavy load on the trolley," he decided,
slinging aside the stupid book and starting across the meadows to the
trolley station. He must traverse the broad acres of Buck Hill to the
dividing line of Judith's mother's farm, then through a swampy creek
bottom, up a hill to the grove of old beech trees, and then down to
the trolley track.

"Can't make it! There's the whistle blowing for the next station," he
said as he reached the grove. He stopped and, leaning against the
smooth trunk of a great beech, looked out across the fields. There was
Judith in a blue dress, standing on the little platform, a cooler of
buttermilk in one hand, swinging it as before as a signal to the
app