And as if in sympathy with the heart of the pursued possum, the
thermometer began to fall in the afternoon and by night had established a
clear, cold, windless condition of weather. The start for the Cliffs was
to be made from the fork of the River Road, where cars, horses, traps and
hampers were to be left with the servants, who by half past nine were
already in an excited group around a blazing, dry oak fire, over which
two score plump birds were ready to be roasted, attended by the
autocratic Tempie. Jeff piled high with brush a huge log whose
heart was being burned out for the baking of sundry potatoes, while the
aroma from the barbecue pit was maddening to even a ten o'clock appetite,
and no estimate could be made of what damage would be done after the
midnight return from the trail of the wily tree fruit.
David Kildare as usual was M.F.H. and his voice rang out as clearly
against the tall pines, while he welcomed the cars and traps full of
excited hunters, as if he had not been speaking in a crowded hall for an
hour or two.
Mrs. Cherry Lawrence arrived early, accompanied by the distinguished
suffragist, who was as alert for sensations new as if she had been one of
an exploration party into the heart of darkest Africa. They were attended
by Tom and also the suave Hobson, who was all attentions but whose
maneuvers in the direction of Caroline Darrah were pitiably fruitless.
He was seconded in his attentions to the stranger by David with his most
fascinating manner, and Mrs. Cherry sparkled and glowed at him with
subdued witchery, while Tom sulked close at her side.
Polly and young Boston had trailed Mrs. Buchanan's car on horses and
Phoebe was intent on pinning up the débutante's habit skirt to a
comfortable scramble length. Billy Bob fairly bubbled over with glee and
Milly, who had come to assist Mrs. Matilda in overlooking the
preparations for the feast for the returned hunters, was already busy
assembling hampers and cases on a flat rock over behind the largest fire.
Her anxious heart was at rest about her nestlings, for Caroline's maid,
Annette, had gone French mad over the babies and had begged the privilege
of keeping Mammy Betty company in her watch beside the cots.
"Come here, Caroline, child," called David from behind the farthest fire,
"let me look at you! Seems to me you are in for a good freezing." And he
drew her into the light of the blaze.
She was kilted and booted and coated and belted in the most beautiful and
wholly correct attire for the hunt that could possibly have been
contrived; that is, for a sedate cross-country bird stalk or a decorous
trap shooting, but for a long night scramble over the frozen ground she
was insufficiently clad. The other girls all wore heavy golf skirts and
coats and were muffled to their eyes; even the big-bug lady wore a
knitted comforter high round her throat. Without doubt Caroline would
have been in for a cold deal, if David had not been more than equal to
any occasion.