There was much visiting back and forth among the women of Beulah Land and Oaks and the two farms between them, and between all of these and the people of Highboro, who often rode or walked into the countryside during the summer months to sit and lounge and gossip, to sample a peach or pear, to share a melon and a story. There were frequent impromptu country frolics, an evening of dancing perhaps that had not been planned but grew out of a sudden stopping-by or chance suggestion. If there was pleasure and relaxation to be had, word would spread mysteriously, and others would presently arrive in a wagon or on a horse or on foot to join the party. Selma, of course, attended none of these gatherings, and since it was understood there would not likely be any confrontation between estranged husband and wife, Bonard frequented such as he pleased. There was courtesy between him and Sarah, friendliness between him and Leon.

At one such light summer frolic, which the older people attended, indeed, would not miss, Bonard paid his respects to Miss Penelope and asked if she had recent news of her married niece.

“Her second letter came this very day from Baltimore,” she was happy to inform him. “She and Mr. Savage are moving to Philadelphia shortly, where Mr. Savage expects to appear in a fall and winter season of theatrical productions with a new company.”

“How very interesting it must be for—Miss Lauretta, I was about to say—Mrs. Savage, I should say.”

“Ah,” she said warmly, “you knew her as Lauretta and may still call her so. Little did we know when you and she and Leon and Sarah used to have such lively times together on Broughton Street that she—and you, of course!—that all of you—oh, dear!”

“May I fetch you a glass of punch, ma’am?” Bonard asked to relieve her embarrassment.

Uncle Joshua wrote from Savannah to say that all was well on Broughton Street, that the use of whale oil had been almost eliminated during their absence, and that the largest single item of expenditure was for sugar for Clarice’s jellying and preserving. She was taking advantage of the absence of her mistress and the cheap abundance—it was all but given away—of seasonal fruit to put up a good supply for the winter. Uncle Joshua also wrote that the townspeople, with the stern if not threatening example of himself and Judge Truebody, had quite accepted the fact of Miss Lauretta’s elopement and marriage.