ed had
promised, but Jeff found himself gazing over the head of his companion
at a slender figure in blue gingham, disappearing over the hill.

It was a distinct annoyance to him that Tom Harbison should lean far
out of the back of the car and wave his forty-dollar panama hat at
Judith Buck's retreating figure, and even a greater annoyance that
Judith should turn around when she got to the brow of the hill and see
the fine hat doing obeisance to her.

CHAPTER VIII

Cousin Ann Looks Backward

Mildred was right. Buck Hill was a perfect place for parties--of all
kinds. There was a long, broad hall leading into double parlors on one
side and on the other the dining-room and sitting-room. The satiny
floors--ideal for dancing--reflected in their polished surfaces rare
pieces of old mahogany. French windows opened on the porches, where
comfortable wicker chairs and hammocks were plentiful.

The garden to the south of the house was noted in a county famous for
gardens. Mr. Bucknor prided himself on having every kind of known rose
that would grow in the Kentucky climate. The garden had everything in
it a garden should have--marble benches, a sun dial, a pergola, a
summer house, a box maze and a fountain around which was a circle of
stone flagging with flowering portulacca springing up in the cracks.
The shrubs were old and huge, forming pleasant nooks for benches--now
a couple of syringa bushes meeting overhead, now lilacs, white and
purple extending an invitation to lovers to come sit on the bench. Oh,
Buck Hill was a place for lovers! The garden a place of all places!

The house party was in full swing. Five guests had arrived on the
six-thirty and three more on the seven o'clock trolley and a car of
six had driven over from Lexington in time for supper. The mansion was
filled and running over, but the overflow could always be taken care
of in "The Office," a cottage near the house, a building quite common
in old southern homes, often set aside for young male visitors.

Cousin Ann had been lying down all afternoon in response to the
earnest pleadings of old Billy. He had pressed the sprigged muslin and
it hung on a hook behind the door in readiness for the mistress. Then
he brought her a pitcher of water, fresh from the well, and a funny
little tight bouquet of verbenas.

"I thought you mought w'ar 'em in yo' ha'r, Miss Ann," he said. "I
'member how you uster always w'ar verbeny in yo' ha'r."

"So I did, Bil