Wheat and Huckleberries Part 9

He glanced at his granddaughters as he said it, as if to suggest that their morals, if not his own, might be impaired by such language.

"Laws, Ruel," she said briskly, "I'd somehow got it into my head that that thing happened to him on the way to Damascus, and I didn't know as you or anybody else called Saul of Tarsus a saint."

She had him at a moment's disadvantage, and the thin, high, mocking laugh with which she ended put the finis.h.i.+ng touch to his irritation.

"As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of a fool,"

he said, with slow emphasis.

It should be observed in pa.s.sing that Deacon Saxon's use of the name which he had just bestowed by implication on his sister was, like the text itself, Solomonic. The person lacking, not in knowledge, but in moral sense, was the one whom the wise man called a fool, and there were moments when Katharine Saxon appeared to her brother to be so wanting in this respect as to come fairly under the t.i.tle. It was not the first time that his frankness had led him to bestow it on her.

"Hey?" she said, leaning forward suddenly, with her hand curled about her ear.

That she had not caught the words was by no means certain. It suited her humor sometimes to offset his boastfulness as to his good hearing with a certain parade of her own slight deafness, and the occasions for making him repeat himself were often cunningly chosen. For once he did not do it. Perhaps, a second time, he remembered the presence of his granddaughters.

As for the girls themselves, they caught their breath, in the silence that followed, with something like a gasp. It is safe to say that they had never been present before at such an interview between relatives.

Kate would not have minded a renewal of hostilities, but Esther, with better grace, seized the chance to effect a truce by turning the conversation into a more peaceful channel.

"Aunt Katharine," she said eagerly, "you spoke of the spinning you used to do. Have you the old wheel now? I've heard mother tell what a wonderful spinner you were, and I should so like to see the very wheel you used."

The old woman took her hand from her ear and turned toward the girl.

"No," she said, "I hain't got the old wheel now; one of Nancy's girls wanted it, and I let her carry it off. 'Twasn't any account; pretty near as much wore out as I was when it stopped running."

Evidently she felt that her pa.s.sage-at-arms with her brother was ended.

The sharpness of her expression relaxed, and she rose from her place with her ordinary manner. "I can show you a piece of linen your mother wove, if you want to see it. She'd have made a good spinner herself if she'd stuck to it, but I s'pose she forgot all about it long ago. Well, there's plenty other ways for women to use their time nowadays, and I'm glad of it."

The rest of the call ran smoothly. Miss Saxon could be even gracious when she was so disposed, and she treated her guests to a bottle of raspberry vinegar, which, in spite of the fact that she had brewed it herself, was not in the least too sharp, with fruit cake which time had brought to the most perfect mellowness. Her nieces would have left her house imagining that the "queerness," of which she had given such ample proof, was confined to the one subject which she had discussed with her brother, had it not been for a little episode at the very end of the call, and for this, as it happened, the old gentleman was again responsible.

"How are you getting along with your garden, Katharine?" he asked. "I was thinking mebbe I or' to send Tom down here to do a little weeding for you."

A peculiar smile gleamed suddenly in the eyes of his sister. "Thank ye, Ruel, I've got all the help I need jest now," she said. "Come out 'n'

take a look at my garden."

She led the way to the rear of the house, and stepped before them into the trim little garden. It was of the old-fas.h.i.+oned sort, with vegetables growing in thrifty rows, and bunches of such flowers as phlox, sweet william, and bachelor's b.u.t.tons standing at the corners of the walks. It would have seemed a model of conventional primness, but for a curious figure seated on a three-legged stool, puffing tobacco smoke from a long Dutch pipe in among the branches of a rose-bush.

He might have been upwards of sixty; a dapper little man with a s.h.i.+ning face, and a round head covered as to its top by an embroidered cap adorned with a crimson ta.s.sel. His waistcoat was of gay old-fas.h.i.+oned silk, across which was strung a huge gold chain, and a flaming topaz pin adorned the front of his calico s.h.i.+rt. At sight of the company issuing from the house he started from his seat and trotted up the walk to meet them, his hand extended and his face expressive of the most beaming cordiality.

Ruel Saxon, who was following his sister with a meekness of deportment which had sat uneasily upon him ever since the close of their discussion, started as his eye fell on this person, and threw up his head with a movement of surprise and irritation. "Good day, Solomon," he said stiffly, as they came together, Miss Saxon having stepped aside to give free course for the meeting.

"Why, how d'y' do, Deacon, how d'y' do?" exclaimed the other, seizing the old gentleman's hand, which, to tell the truth, had not been offered him, and shaking it furiously. "It's been a terrible long time since you and I met. I-I was thinkin' the other day I or' to come round and see how you was gittin' along."

The deacon did not look overjoyed at the mention of the intended honor.

"How long has Solomon been here?" he asked rather curtly, turning to his sister.

"Two weeks to-morrow," she replied, with equal curtness. Then, turning to the little man, and from him to the girls, she said with marked politeness, "Mr. Ridgeway, these are my nieces, Lucia Saxon's children.

I guess you remember her."

The little man pulled the cap from his head, revealing a crown as bald as a baby's, and bowed himself up and down with the fervor of an Oriental. "Lucia Saxon? What, her that married the doctor and went out West? Why, sartin, sartin. She was one of the nicest gals I ever see, and the prettiest spoken. I-I guess your mother must 'av' told you about me," he added eagerly. "I took her home from spellin' school once. She had spelled down everybody but me; but I was older'n she was, you know, a good deal older." The delight of the remembrance seemed to overcome him, and he hopped first on one foot, then on the other, like an excited child.

Ruel Saxon's face worked curiously while this performance lasted. "I don't see but what your garden truck is getting on all right," he said in the dryest of tones, "and I guess the girls 'n' I'd better be going."

He turned, making his way past the others, regardless of the fact that his footprints were left in the onion-bed which bordered the walk, and headed the line again toward the house.

"I shall write to mother that we have seen you," said Esther, smiling back at the little man, who still stood bowing with his cap in his hands, and Kate gave him a friendly nod, though her mouth was twitching with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Aunt Katharine said good-by to them at the front door. "If you ever feel like seeing the old woman again, come down," she said to the girls.

"'Tain't so very far across the fields, and you can follow the cow-path." Then, without waiting to see them go, she closed the door.

"Grandfather," Kate burst out when they were fairly off, "who in the world is that man, and how does he come to be at Aunt Katharine's?"

"That man," he repeated, deepening his tone with an accent of disgust, "is a poor half-witted cretur that belongs at the poorhouse. He stays there most of the time, but now 'n' then he gets a restless spell and they let him out. Then he always comes round to your Aunt Katharine's, and she takes him in."

"Well, he's the queerest acting man I ever came across," said Kate, "and how he was dressed out, with his fine flowered vest and his jewellery!"

"'Jewellery!'" grunted her grandfather. "He didn't have on any compared with what he has sometimes. Why, when he really dresses up, that cretur covers himself all over with it."

The girls looked so astonished that he apparently felt it inc.u.mbent on him to attempt some explanation of the man. "The fact is," he said, "Solomon Ridgeway is as crazy as a loon on one p'int. He thinks he's rich, though for aught I know he's got as much sense about other things as he ever had. He thinks he's terrible rich, and that the best way to keep his property, as he calls it, is in gold and jewels. He's got a trunkful of it-wo'thless stuff, of course-that he carries with him everywhere. I s'pose it's stowed away somewhere at your Aunt Katharine's now."

Kate really seemed past speaking for a moment, and Esther exclaimed in a tone of utter bewilderment, "Well, I should have thought Aunt Katharine was the last person in the world who would want such a man at her house.

What makes her do it?"

"The Lord only knows," said the old gentleman solemnly. And then he jerked the reins and urged Dobbin on his way in a tone of uncommon asperity.

The fact was, the question had a special irritation for him. That his sister, who flouted wise men and scorned the opinions of those having authority, should bear with the vagaries of a being like Solomon Ridgeway was a thing that pa.s.sed his understanding. With the man himself he _might_ have had some patience, though his form of mania was peculiarly exasperating to his own hard common sense, and somehow he could not help resenting it that "Solomon," of all names, should have lighted on so foolish a creature; but that, such as he was, he should be the object of Katharine Saxon's pointed and continuous favor was trying beyond measure to her brother. He lapsed into a silence quite unusual with him, and the girls did not disturb it again on the way home.

They were longing to talk the visit over with Stella, but she was away when they reached the house, and Aunt Elsie asked no questions beyond an inquiry for Aunt Katharine's health. It was at supper that the subject found its way into the family talk, and then Stella, who had just come in, opened it.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed your call on Aunt Katharine," she said, smiling at her cousins.

"Of course we did," said Kate, promptly. "You didn't begin to tell us how interesting she is."

"Oh, but you should have been there on a day when she and grandfather discussed things," said Stella. "That's the time when she really shows her quality." She sent a demure glance at the old gentleman as she spoke. How she had become possessed of his intention to refrain from controversy is not certain, but somehow she had it.

He glanced with obvious embarra.s.sment at his granddaughters. Then he set down his cup of tea, and faced his daughter-in-law. "Elsie," he said, in a tone whose humility was really touching, "I meant to stand by what I said to you. I certainly did; but I couldn't do it." He cleared his throat and his tone grew firmer. "I couldn't do it, and I don't know as I shall be held responsible for it, either. The Bible says, 'As much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men,'-and I s'pose that means women too,-but it don't lie in me, and it never will, to keep my mouth shut while folks are advancing such notions as Katharine did this afternoon. I did contend with her; I certainly did."

The Northmore girls could not keep straight faces, and Stella broke into a delighted giggle. "I'm sure 'twas your duty, grandpa, and I'm glad you did it," she said. "What was it this time; woman's rights, or the folly of getting married, or what?"

She glanced at her cousins as she asked the question, and Esther spoke first. "It was education partly, and the question whether women ought not to be as free as men to choose what they shall do. I must say that for my part I thought Aunt Katharine made some real good points, though of course she needn't have been quite so bitter."

"It was my speaking about Abner Sickles that stirred her up to begin with," said the old gentleman, still addressing himself in half-apologetic tone to Aunt Elsie. "That put her in mind of his sister Abigail, and how she worked herself to death helping him through college."

"I shouldn't wonder if helping Abner was the greatest comfort the poor girl had," observed Aunt Elsie.

The unemphatic way in which she sometimes made important suggestions was one of Aunt Elsie's peculiarities. No one spoke for a minute, and she turned the conversation away from Aunt Katharine by suddenly asking a question on a wholly different subject.

CHAPTER VI