There was
the flutter of skirts among the moving groups, the nodding of gay
parasols that shaded fresh young faces, while occasionally a
comfortable family carriage with some planter's wife or daughter
rolled silently over the turf; for Boggs' race-track was a famous
meeting-place where families that saw one another not above once
or twice a year, friends who lived a day's hard drive apart even
when summer roads were at their best, came as to a common center.
The judge's dull eye kindled, the haggard lines that had streaked
his face erased themselves. This was life, opulent and full.
These swift rolling carriages with their handsome women, these
well-dressed men on foot, and splendidly mounted, all did their
part toward lifting him out of his gloom. He settled his hat on
his head with a rakish slant and his walk became a strut, he
courted observation; he would have been grateful for a word, even
a jest at his expense.
A cry from Hannibal drew his attention. Turning, he was in time
to see the boy bound away. An instant later, to his
astonishment, he saw a young girl who was seated with two men in
an open carriage, spring to the ground, and dropping to her knees
put her arms about the tattered little figure.
"Why, Hannibal!" cried Betty Malroy.
"Miss Betty! Miss Betty!" and Hannibal buried his head on her
shoulder.
"What is it, Hannibal; what is it, dear?"
"Nothing, only I'm so glad to find you!"
"I am glad to see you, too!" said Betty, as she wiped his tears
away.
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