There was a drawing of one of the fearsome creatures in a book their father had given Blair Junior—or Little Blair as he was called, to his worthy disgust—the past Christmas. It was young Bonard who, staring at the likeness of the creature with its horrendous jaws gaping wide, had said, “Oh, what if it ate Mama!” Both little boys had laughed merrily at the notion and Annabel, entering the room just then where they sprawled on the floor before the fire with picture books about them, had reached down and slapped her younger son on suspicion. To make up for the slap she allowed him to have two large pieces of fruit cake with his supper, which he later threw up on her Aubusson carpet, thus evening scores with her. After a fit of hysteria Annabel took to her bed and would not get up until late the following afternoon when word came to her by the servant grapevine that Ann-Elizabeth and Margaret-Ella had returned on the train from a shopping trip to Savannah where they had bought “several new gowns and bonnets suitable for summer wearing and in the latest mode.” Blair Saxon was much praised for the earnestness with which he applied himself to his work at the bank, his father Woodrow often boasting, “I have to order him to go home at night!”

Both Edna and Bruce were well content with James and Doreen. Although they had used to tease Doreen a little about becoming an old maid, they were not sorry to have her remain at home. There is always something flattering to a father’s feelings in a daughter’s remaining under the family roof. Casey Troy had been shrewd in his portrait of Doreen; she looked more and more like her grandmother. The two women, the young one, the other now in her seventies, were calm, good friends. Between them there was affection and trust.

Few young men had made an effort to know Doreen. She was not beautiful. Being the second daughter in a family of two sons, she would not be rich. But most telling of the reasons she had not married: she did not want to. Without her being unfriendly, her indifference to the young men who approached her on social occasions in town discouraged further pursuit. She needed no man other than her father and brothers.

James was her heart. She felt something of a mother’s, something of a lover’s, more than a sister’s pride and joy in him as she saw him give himself to the service of the land and animals, as she shared his concern over weather, and anticipated his needs when she could. He repaid her devotion with devotion; but it was Rachel he thought of in the night.