House Divided by Ben Ames Williams

her cheek had made her drowsy, and even while he spoke she fell asleep. She slept past Dancing Point and did not wake till Trav roused her to see Great Oak, the big house on the clay bluffs above the river set well back and half-hidden by trees; and after that she was full of eagerness. He had sent word ahead that they were coming, so when they landed at Allen’s Wharf, the carriage and a cart for their belongings were waiting to meet them. They came into Williamsburg by Francis Street and angled past Capitol Square; and as the horses trotted westward through the town, Trav pointed out the court house in Market Square and the old Magazine across the way, and the college building with ugly square towers defacing its front; and he told her of the town’s great days until she protested:

    â€œBut, Trav, all that was seventy or eighty years ago. Doesn’t anything ever happen here now?”
    â€œWell, I suppose Williamsburg has to be satisfied with having been important once.”
    Sudden misgivings touched her and she clung to his arm. “Trav, will your Mama like me?”
    â€œOf course, Honey.”
    â€œOh, I hope so.”
    He pressed her hand, gently reassuring. “Don’t worry. You and she’ll get along just fine.”
    Uneasy silence briefly held her. They took the Barrett’s Ferry road. “Is she big and stern, Trav?”
    He laughed. “About as big as a minute! She won’t come much higher than your shoulder.”
    â€œYou’re big, and I remember Tony was tall and lanky, and Cinda’s sort of big, too.” Brett and Cinda had come from the Plains for their wedding, and Tony from Great Oak. I’ve never seen Faunt or Tilda.”
    â€œFather was tall,” Trav explained. “Tony’s like him. But Mama’s a little bit of a thing.”
    They turned into an oak wood, and Enid sat breathless, watching the drive ahead. The oaks gave way to an avenue of tulip trees which passed stables and poultry yard and the overseer’s house on one side, the smoke house and the corn cribs on the other. At the head of the avenue the big house was at first concealed; then as they drew near it came more and more clearly into view, till the circle of the driveway brought them to the hospitable door and the waiting welcome.
    â€œThere’s Mama,” Trav said. Mrs. Currain, small and exquisite and smiling, stood at the head of the steps, and at her shoulder a fat old Negro woman beaming with love and pride. “And April,” Trav exclaimed. Then the carriage pulled up and he swung Enid to the ground, and her fears were forgotten. She took Mrs. Currain in her arms, and the little old lady returned her kiss with ready affection.
    â€œWelcome to Great Oak, my dear!” she said, and held Enid at arm’s length to survey her approvingly, and turned to take Trav’s kiss, and to welcome Lucy and Peter. While Trav stayed a moment in talk with April, Enid and Mrs. Currain turned into the great hall, and Enid uttered a cry of delight.

    â€œOh, Mama, it’s so big; so big, and so beautiful!”
    Mrs. Currain smiled at her happiness. “My husband used to say you could drive a coach-and-four through the hall, if you could get them through the doors. Well, now, I’m glad you’ve come, my dears; I’m happy you’re here.”
    Vigil at Enid’s command brought the baby to be admired; and then April and Vigil took the children away and Enid went whirling through the lofty rooms, admiring everything, exclaiming and asking questions and not waiting for answers. She saw Trav watching her with content in his eyes, and called to him: “Oh, Honey, I never was so happy in my life before!”
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    During the summer days that followed, Enid explored everywhere, indoors and out, with a delicious secret sense of ownership; for surely, some day, all this would be Trav’s, and she would be its mistress. The big house, though