Kennedy Square

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Kennedy Square

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Smith #6 in our series by F. Hopkinson Smith
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Title: Kennedy Square
Author: F. Hopkinson Smith

Release Date: December, 2003 [Etext #4746] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on March 12,
2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT KENNEDY
SQUARE ***

Produced by Duncan Harrod

Kennedy Square
by
F. Hopkinson Smith
Author's Preface:
"Kennedy Square, in the late fifties, was a place of birds and trees and
flowers; of rude stone benches, sagging arbors smothered in vines, and
cool dirt paths bordered by sweet-smelling box. Giant magnolias filled
the air with their fragrance, and climbing roses played hide-and-seek
among the railings of the rotting fence. Along the shaded walks
laughing boys and girls romped all day, with hoop and ball, attended by
old black mammies in white aprons and gayly colored bandannas;
while in the more secluded corners, sheltered by protecting shrubs,
happy lovers sat and talked, tired wayfarers rested with hats off, and
staid old gentlemen read by the hour, their noses in their books.
"Outside of all this color, perfume, and old-time charm; outside the
grass-line and the rickety wooden fence that framed them in, ran an

uneven pavement splashed with cool shadows and stained with green
mould. Here, in summer, the watermelon man stopped his cart; and
there, in winter, upon its broken bricks, old Moses unhooked his bucket
of oysters and ceased for a moment his droning call.
"On the shady side of the square, and half hidden in ivy, was a Noah's
Ark church, topped by a quaint belfry holding a bell that had not rung
for years, and faced by a clock-dial all weather-stains and cracks,
around which travelled a single rusty hand. In its shadow to the right
lay the home of the archdeacon, a stately mansion with Corinthian
columns reaching to the roof and surrounded by a spacious garden
filled with damask roses and bushes of sweet syringa. To the left
crouched a row of dingy houses built of brick, their iron balconies hung
in flowering vines, the windows glistening with panes of wavy glass
purpled by age.
"On the sunny side of the square, opposite the church, were more
houses, high and low: one all garden, filled with broken-nosed statues
hiding behind still more magnolias; and another all veranda and
honeysuckle, big rocking-chairs and swinging hammocks; and still
others with porticos curtained by white jasmine or Virginia creeper."
--From "The Fortunes of Oliver Horn."

KENNEDY SQUARE
CHAPTER I

On the precise day on which this story opens--some sixty or more years
ago, to be exact--a bullet-headed, merry-eyed, mahogany-colored
young darky stood on the top step of an old-fashioned, high-stoop
house, craning his head up and down and across Kennedy Square in the
effort to get the first glimpse of his master, St. George Wilmot Temple,
attorney and counsellor-at-law, who was expected home from a
ducking trip down the bay.

Whether it was the need of this very diet, or whether St. George had
felt a sudden longing for the out-of-doors, is a matter of doubt, but
certain it is that some weeks before the very best shot in the county had
betaken himself to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, accompanied by his
guns, his four dogs, and two or three choice men of fashion--young
bloods of the time--men with whom we shall become better acquainted
as these chronicles go on--there to search for the toothsome and elusive
canvas-back for which his State was famous.
That the darky was without a hat and in his shirt-sleeves, and it
winter--the middle of January, really--the only warm thing about him
being the green baize apron tied about his waist, his customary livery
when attending to his