The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1940-05-02
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Nv Mrs. Harry Pueh Smith ~.

house.
"As near as can make out,
you're the court of last resort, "
he said. eff there's any doubt IN
my mind about how to 60 ahead
I'm to trust your memory"
He took it for granted that she
would be on hand every afternoon
from two to five.
Janet was eager to know II
their employer was pleased SO Tar
as they had gone, but Mr.. Busby
volunteered no information and,
in view of Tony Ryan's attitude
toward herself, Janet was deter
mined to betray no interest IN the
man. He never came near the
Radcliffe place while she was
there. Janet thought she under
stood the pointed way in which
she was being ignored. Priscilla
was a jealous goddess. She de-
manded undivided attention, and
although during July Janet
avoided her old crowd, she did
from time to time run into one
of them on the street. The alb
sorbing topic of their conversa-
ton was Priscilla Leigh's crush
on Tony Ryan.
She was startled one afternoon
on staring out the great bay Win
dow of the master bedroom, to
discover a young colored man
busily engaged in removing the
barbed wire which for years had
replaced the wide gate between
the big house and the cotton
fields behind it.
Janet ran down the back stairs
and out the rear entrance. Aren't
you making a mistaken" she in
quired.
The man paused to wipe the
sweat off his brow with his sleeze
and smiled, shifting his feet.
"No'm, Mr.. Tony ordered me to
get this wire out of the way. He
say he done sick and tired snag-
ging himself ever time he want
to go over to his farm. He done
bought all de land dis way and
dat
He gestured vaguely in a cir
Gle which took in both cotton
fields and woods to the east and
south.
"Mr. Tony low he going to
have the finest stock farm in dis
here state" announced the small
darky with a broad smile, "and
l amt never knoWed him to make
a mess of nothing he started. I'm
Deke Miss. Maybe, Mr.. Tony done
told you about me.
She shook her head. "Im mere
ly an employee here"
Il was a jockey, Miss, before l
got TANNED at the quarter and
cracked my ankle. I growed up
in Kentucky and I don't know
nothing 'cept horses, but you can't
ride no races with a bum foot. l
guess I'd have starved right on
the sidewalks of New Yawk II
l hadn't run across Mr.. Tony"
He glanced over his shoulder
to the rambling farmhouse which
stood on the slope of the hill
where the fields met the woods.
Janet frowned. A couple of men
were sitting on a scaffolding at
the side, lavishly applying white
wash.
"Dat's Rufe and the Earl of Jer-
sey," volunteered Deke.
One afternoon Janet discovered
more activity near the rear wall
of the estate, and when she
strolled down to investigate she
found a large, muscular man en-
gagged in painting the new plank
gate while a small elderly man
in worn tweeds directed proceed
ings.
Chow do you do, Miss Phil
lips?" he murmured. He had an
impeccable British accent and a
moncle and one of the tiredest
and most civilized faces she had
ever seen.
Evening, Miss" mumbled the
man astride the gate.
Again Janet started.
Don't mind, Rufe," said the
little Englishman quietly. Il re-
member when he was superb
physical speciman. Now he's a lit
tie blah as to- mental awareness,
but quite harmless. I recall when