Vesty of the Basins Part 19

"He will be a great man," she said: "he is already famous, that _is_ to be great."

"As Christ went down the Lonesome Road,"

sang Uncle Benny, who was voluntary housekeeper at Vesty's during some hours of the day, while the father and boys were away at the fis.h.i.+ng:

"As Christ went down the Lonesome Road-- Sail away to Galilee.

He left the Crown and He took the Cross!

Sail away to Galilee.

Sail away to Galilee-- Oh, He left the Crown and He took the Cross-- Sail away to Galilee!"

He came forward to take the baby, who had awakened before he began to sing. The Basin matrons ran in very much, but there was no "Vesty" to enter and take the continued care, in this case, until the young mother should be strong again.

"You can sweep up, major," said Uncle Benny, cheerfully pointing me to the broom.

"Sail away to Galilee, Sail away to Galilee--"

he sang, walking so proudly with the infant that his gait was most innocently jaunty and affected.

Vesty laughed and shook her head at me, but I had the broom and was hobbling about at work with it, pleased to find that Uncle Benny had rather neglected this humble office for the more important one of minding the baby.

He next set me to was.h.i.+ng the dishes and turning the churn; he would not trust me with the child, and wisely. That he held in his own strong arms, but he sat down beside me after my work was done and gently commiserated me.

"Nature has not done so much for you as she has for some, you know," he said.

"No, indeed," I murmured.

At that he took off his blue necktie and held it toward me, with a tear of pity in his eye.

I took it and tied it simply around my neck above the collar.

"It improves you--some," he said, but his look only too plainly indicated that there was still much to be desired.

We were sitting thus on the doorstep, Uncle Benny with the baby, and I peeling the potatoes, with his blue ribbon tied around my neck, when I heard a half-familiar little scream and laugh, and, looking up, beheld a fas.h.i.+onable company.

"We hailed Gurdon, off Reef Island, and he said we might come and see the son and heir--hurrah!"

Notely spoke in his gay voice, but the look he gave Vesty's child--Vesty's sweet self in that form--leaped with a pa.s.sionate pain.

There was a small, brilliant-looking woman beside him, with eye-gla.s.ses. "O you divine infant!" she exclaimed, regarding the child. "Where is the Madonna?"

Now, I was purposely gathering up the potato peelings very slowly from the doorway, so that the "Madonna" might have time to take down a certain blue sack from the bedpost at hand, and put it on, and give those little finger-touches to the hair that women covet; so I stumbled over the peelings and got mixed up with them, until even Uncle Benny felt called upon to apologize for me.

"He looks some better," he said dubiously, touching his neck: "but," he continued, in a very soft and confidential tone, "Nature has not done so much for him as she has for some, you know."

All the party had the air of having just had a very merry luncheon on board the yacht.

By the side of Notely's bride was one of the handsomest young athletes, almost as handsome as Fluke and Gurdon Rafe.

"What-th--what-th the admithion?" he whispered to Grace, plunging his hand in among the coin in his pockets; "ith--ith there any more of the thame kind inthide?"

"Hus.h.!.+" said she quickly, for she knew that I had heard. She lifted a hand impulsively toward his mouth: he caught her hand and looked as though he would have held it; she drew it away, blus.h.i.+ng sweetly, and sighed, as she had sighed at Notely.

Vesty saw that, as they entered; saw Notely enter with his easy, un.o.bservant swagger, lest the unexpected visit of this fas.h.i.+onable company should embarra.s.s her. He walked across the room, humming an air, to his old violin.

He touched a strain or two. "Do you remember, Vesty," he said airily, drawing nearer, "this?--and this? You have such a beautiful little boy, Vesty! I am so glad!--so glad! And this?--do you remember?" He played as though he could play away the pallor from that tender face upon the pillows; the pitiful, fine little blue sack added to it. I had left the dust-pan loaded with its spoils, the ragged handle, as I now perceived, not quite hidden behind the door: it caught on to the skirts of the brilliant lady with the eye-gla.s.ses, and went trailing loudly after her along the floor. As I stooped down to detach it, sheltered behind those fine draperies, I gave Vesty such a side glance that a smile and color came over her face in spite of herself.

"Such power of attraction!" said Notely, turning to the lady his laughing eyes, with that unconscious pathos which a lovely woman never failed to discover in them; "even the dust-pans"--he swept the strings of the violin--"even the dust-pans become attached to you."

"On the contrary," said she, giving him a sharp glance which he relished from her very bright though near-sighted eyes; "it is not often that I have become attached to anything so useful."

He laughed with mettlesome good-nature.

The bride, with her attendant brave, had gone up to Uncle Benny and the baby.

"Let me take him," she said, holding up her beautiful arms.

Uncle Benny smiled at her, half remembering her--it was an old joke, his becoming engaged to every pretty woman he met--but shook his head.

"It 's a particular trust," he said, in his very soft, sweet voice; "from Jesus Christ and mother. What if somebody should drop him, or hurt him? I have to be very careful, for it 's a trust.

"'There 's a tree I see in Paradise--'"

he suddenly broke into the song again in a loud and perfectly unembarra.s.sed tone:

"'Sail away to Galilee.

It 's the beautiful, waiting Tree of Life-- Sail away to Galilee.

Sail away to Galilee.'"

"Good gwaciouth!" said the young man, fumbling the coin in his pockets and listening in a dazed state of appreciation at the unexpected resources of this menagerie.

"Doctor!" cried Notely--and that address delighted Uncle Benny--"Dr.

Spearmint, let me make you acquainted with Mrs. Forrester"--some wailing strains from the violin--"she could get a divorce from her present consort, I suppose--ahem!--if there were encouragement enough from some one sufficiently endowed by nature."

"It is better to be simple than to be wicked," instantly retorted the bright little woman, regarding Uncle Benny humorously and not without compa.s.sion.

But Uncle Benny was not to be disturbed again; he had his cue.

"Oh, thank you!" he murmured; "but I couldn't think of it, anyway.

I've got so many trusts. There 's Vesty's baby, and there 's the little children I take to school every day and go to fetch them. I'm very careful, because they're trusts, you see;" and he marched on gladly with the baby, singing.

"You ought to be ashamed, all of you!" said Mrs. Forrester; and sat down by Vesty with friendly advice and prattle about her own babies.

Notely dreamed away on his violin: that made it easy for the rest. His bride and the handsome young man flirted with ardor, yet quite transparently: there was a smile wholly devoid of bitterness on Notely's lips.