ket in one hand, buttermilk cooler in
the other.

The big motor car, which was driven by Jeff Bucknor, was parked by the
roadside. From it emerged Mildred and Nan in all the glory of fresh
and frilly lawns and the latest in hats from a Louisville milliner.

"Now, Jeff," said Mildred, "you must get out and meet the bunch, and
be sure you make no mistake. You are to fall in love with Jean Roland
and no one else. She is the smallest and the darkest and much the best
dressed. I do hope and trust it will be love at first sight. She is
already just wild about you, without ever even seeing you, and when
she sees you she is sure to topple over completely."

"What nonsense," scoffed Jeff.

Mildred ignored the presence of Judith Buck, although they could not
help seeing her, since her blue cotton dress and her red gold hair
made a spot of color that would surely have affected the optics of a
stone blind person. Her color was naturally high, and frying chicken
over a hot wood stove and sprinting for the trolley had added to it.
Nan did worse than ignore the presence of her neighbor, as she openly
nudged her sister and whispered audibly:

"Look at her! What do you suppose she has in her basket?"

"Hot rolls, fried chicken, hashed brown potatoes, damson jam, radishes
and young onions. Can't you smell 'em?" answered Judith quite
casually, as though announcing a menu at a restaurant. At the same
time she smiled brightly and looked at the Misses Bucknor with no
trace of either embarrassment or resentment. Jeff, who was plainly
mortified at Nan's rudeness, laughed in spite of himself.

One of the things that irritated Mildred more than anything else about
Judith Buck was that she seemed never to take offense, nor even to
know when an insult was intended. Sometimes she would wear for a
moment a quizzical smile, but usually she presented what she called a
duck's back to intentional slights. Having satisfied Nan's curiosity
concerning what was in her basket, she stepped forward to the platform
and swung the cooler of buttermilk back and forth in the manner of a
brakeman with a red lantern.

"I think they will stop here anyhow, Miss Buck," said Jeff. "Do let me
help you on with your basket. I know it is heavy. I am Jefferson
Bucknor. Perhaps you don't remember me, but I have seen you often when
you were a child. I've been away from home a long time."

While Jeff was introducing himself to Judith the trolley had slowed up
and stop