Mothering on Perilous Part 18
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"What?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't rightly know. But he's turnt loose all holts on life; something to grapple him to it again is needed."
Knowing their love for each other, my first thought of course was to bring Nucky; but the terrible story could have only disastrous effects upon him at present, so that is not to be considered.
_Thursday._
The mail-carrier stopped at the gate yesterday to say, "I hear tell that Blant haint toch a morsel of vittles sence he shot Rich. Neither has the babe, sence he left it, to speak of,--the pore little creetur just whimps and pines for him continual, and won't scacely tech the food its pap gives it. Minervy Saxby's been over trying to peaceify it,--but in vain. It was allus purely silly about Blant, allowing he's its maw.
When a babe gits its mind sot thataway on a proposition, there haint no help for it but to give it what it craves. It's likely to pine away if you don't."
I did not tell Blant of this when I stopped by the jail this afternoon,--I hope it will not reach him, as it could only add to his misery. I was thankful when I arrived to find him out in the common room, where all the prisoners stay during the day, even though he sat in a corner and did not seem to see the others.
The keeper followed me out again, and talked a while on the steps, "I got Blant started on a few vittles to-day, after nine days of starving,"
he said. "The way I done it was to make out I thought he was trying to cheat the gallows. Then he called for meat and bread. 'Pears like the gallows is the onliest prospect he is able to take any comfort in, and I hold it before him constant, to sort of keep his sperrits up. Though G.o.d knows I'm a-acting the black hypocrite when I do it, when there haint the least grain of a show for him to get a death sentence. There's a strong prejudyce again' hanging in this country,--not a jury ever set in this court-house that p.r.o.nounced a death sentence,--Blant would a-knowed it if he had stopped to think. But even if the prejudyce didn't exist, why Blant haint done nothing to earn the gallows,--you might say he haint done anything for the law to take hold of. Of course everybody knows his shooting of Rich was the worst kind of accident; and as for the Cheevers he has killed and maimed, why, that war is really a family affair, which the law haint got no business to meddle with. Public sentiment is again' the law mixing up in affairs like that, and that's the reason why no great effort haint been made to arrest Blant before now. Folks has knowed he meant well, and was hard placed, and let it go at that. Now he's throwed hisself into the very jaws of the law, however, it may feel compelled to do something; but of course it won't be nothing like no death sentence. But I haven't got the heart to tell him so,--no, I really have not,--I believe he would dash his brains out again' the wall if I did."
Nucky was more insistent this afternoon when I read to him (he is sitting up now and begins to look like himself). "I know pine-blank something is wrong on Trigger, or Blant would have been here," he said, anxiously.
"Nothing is wrong there, except that the babe is ailing," I said, "the mail-carrier told me yesterday she was far from well."
_First Sunday, February._
I should be quite weighed down by the Marrs troubles if it were not for the cheerful society of the boys, whose lively and funny doings afford some escape from tragic and depressing thoughts. This morning before church, when I was making the usual round of the ears with soap and wash-rag, to my utter amazement I found Philip's clean, inside and out, behind and before. At first stricken dumb by the discovery--for I long since abandoned the hope of reforming him in the matters of chivalry and cleanliness--I finally inquired what was the matter.
"Nothing, I just kep' a-digging," was his careless reply.
To-night, however, when everybody was undressing, Hen slid noiselessly into my room, mysteriously shutting the door behind him. Half clothed, I dived into my closet, soon emerging in my wrapper. Hen himself was in trousers and unders.h.i.+rt, with dangling gallusses. Planting himself on the hearth, back to the fire, he held up first one bare foot, then the other, to the blaze, and at last spoke in a confidential tone:
"Philip lied to you this morning when he said there wa'n't nothing the matter with him. He knows what made him wash his years, and _I_ know."
"What was it?" I inquired, drawing up the rocker.
"He's a-courting, that's what's the matter."
"Courting!" I exclaimed, incredulously.
"Yes, courting, by grab! You mind Dilsey Warrick, that 'ere little tow-head come in atter Christmas, from over on Wace?"
Yes, I remembered Dilsey,--a demure dove of a child, in blue home-spun dress and red yarn stockings, with long, fair hair hanging in two plaits, and the face of an austere little saint. She is at least three years older and a head taller than Hen, but it pleases him to speak of the s.e.x in diminutives.
"You know I pack water to the big house of a morning before breakfast,"
he continued; "well, Dilsey she sweeps off the front porch over yander then, and Philip _he_ goes round and mends the fence where the hogs breaks in of a night."
I groaned an a.s.sent,--the neighborhood hogs are badly on the rampage, after our mustard-and turnip-greens, which show temptingly when the snow melts; and the fence is so frail it gives way constantly to their a.s.saults.
"Well," proceeded Hen, "that's as good a chanct as he wants, when thaint n.o.body much around but me. But I keep my eye on him,--I tip round the corner of the house right easy, and come up on 'em unexpected."
"You are certainly mistaken about Philip," I said decidedly, "why, he despises girls, has no earthly use for them, in fact."
"Dag gone _me_, he's got use enough for little Dilsey, by Ned! Gee, I never see the beat! He sot in a-courting her the day he got out from eech, and haint stopped to ketch his breath sence. Dad swinge my hide if that 'ere boy haint been nailing planks on that front fence with lee-tle-bitty fourpenny nails, so's the hogs'll root 'em off sure every night, and he'll git to work there and talk to Dilsey of a morning! I been keeping my eye peeled for him ever sence I seed him give her a'
apple one day at recess,--I knowed then something had happened to him!"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Dag gone _me_, he's got use enough for little Dilsey, by Ned!'"]
I sat speechless.
"But what made him wash his years," continued Hen, with lowered voice and another glance at the door; "one morning whilst Dilsey was a-sweeping, here come Philip along, a-swinging his hammer and nail-box.
He put his hand in his pocket and pult out a candy cane I had seed him a-eating on the night before,--one of these-here they fotch on at the store for Christmas--and poked it at Dilsey. 'Have some,' he says, 'eat it all, if you want.' Dilsey she put out her hand for it, and then she tuck a hard look at it, and then at Philip, and says she's obleeged, but she don't believe she wants any. Philip he shoved it ag'in' her face.
'Don't be afeared,' he says, 'I'd ruther you'd have it as anybody'.
Little Dilse she said no thanks, she wouldn't choose any (dag gone if she haint the ladyest girl ever I heared talk!); and Philip axed her what's the reason. But she just kep' a-sweeping, and wouldn't open her mouth. Then Philip he grabbed her by the shoulder, and says, by Heck, she's _got_ to tell. And Dilse she shuck him off proud-like, and says, 'Well, if you _bound_ to hear it, I don't crave to eat atter no boy that don't never wash his years!' Then Philip he was b'iling (dad burn if I'd take any such talk from any woman!), and he says, 'I bet they clean as yourn!'; and Dilsey she frowned and spoke up solemn, 'I'd have you know, Mister Philip Floyd, _my_ years gits washed every day I live!', and made for the door. And Philip he seed me behind the post and give me as much candy cane as I could bite off not to tell n.o.body what she said to him.
And for two days he sulled, and never come anigh her mornings, and mended the back fence. Then when his bath night come, he turnt in and pintly scrubbed the hide off his years, in and out, and went back to mending the front fence next morning; and him and Dilse made up; and he allus gives her new sticks of candy now; and don't you never let on I told you, less'n you want to see me kilt!"
XXIV
THE BABE
_Monday._
On my way to the hospital this morning, I stopped at the weaving-house to see more of the little girl who can work such wonders with Philip.
After careful scrutiny of, and conversation with the pretty, dignified child at the loom, I understood something of her power. She has the look of the ideal woman, suggesting many beautiful and elusive things, and judging from her perfect manners, might have been reared in marble halls instead of in a two-room log house on the head of Wace. She has distinctly the look of race,--and her name, how it carries one back through centuries of English history! If the magnificent earl, "proud setter-up and plucker-down of kings" were himself her ancestor, he could feel nothing but pride in this fair little shoot of his n.o.ble tree.
Before I went into the jail to see Blant after dinner, the keeper told me of a touching and remarkable thing. Old Mrs. Tarrant, Rich's mother, rode over yesterday to tell Blant that, although he had darkened the light of the sun-ball for her, she freely forgave him, and hoped he would forgive himself,--that she knew this would be Rich's message to him if he could speak. Her words should have comforted him some; and when I went in, it seemed to me that his face, though infinitely sad, was more at peace.
_Tuesday._
The nurse told me this morning that Nucky would be permitted to leave the hospital and return to the cottage to-night; and I realized that the time had come when I could no longer keep from him the sad occurrences on Trigger. So after dinner, taking his hands in mine, I told him the dreadful tale. He heard it with a white face, expressing neither joy over Todd's death, nor sorrow over Rich's (these Ma.r.r.s.es seem to have abnormal powers of emotional repression), and only said, "I'll go right down to Blant."
"Yes, do," I said, "the sight of you may be just what he needs."
On his return to the cottage after supper, "Trojan" was loudly and joyfully welcomed by the other boys; but grief and anxiety were plainly written on his face, he had little to say, and seemed much older.
_Friday._
At noon yesterday Philip came in clamoring for a patch for his elbow,--formerly he would have died rather than sew on a patch. I was not surprised to hear from Hen later that he "had heared Dilsey tell Philip at recess she couldn't abide raggeddy boys". And this morning when Philip burst into my room with the demand, "Gimme a latch-pin", and after some pondering I handed him out a safety-pin, with which he proceeded to join together his sundered gallusses and trousers, Hen, who was making my bed, contributed, "She tolt him before breakfast she never had no respects for folks that went about with their clothes a-drapping off 'em!"
Oh that all my twelve would fall in love!
_Monday._
This morning, after a brief reign, bows and spikes went out, and "stilks" came in. Geordie, who now has the stable-job, had a number of superior dogwood limbs laid away under the gear-room, ready to be sold.
Looking back, I realize that, with the exception of the old stand-by, s.h.i.+nny, not a single game has come in during the term without his connivance. Indeed, the born trader's ability in supplying a demand is exceeded only by his genius in creating it.
Mothering on Perilous Part 18
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Mothering on Perilous Part 18 summary
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