CHAPTER III.
GETTING ACQUAINTED.
In came Mrs. Mayfield and her nephew, with Jim, the preacher, following them. Margaret began industriously to dust a rocking chair. She bade them come in, if it were not too warm, "Mammy has been ironing but the fire's dyin' down. And I do hope she irons yo' clothes to suit you, Miz Mayfield," she added.
"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Mayfield, glancing round at the preacher who with hat in hand sat on the melodeon stool, gazing at her. "I am not hard to please," she continued, speaking to Margaret. "I have passed that stage."
Margaret bowed to her. "Well, I'm mighty glad to hear it. So many folks are hard to please. There come a woman from away off yander sometime ago and took up over at Fetterson's and they couldn't do a thing to please her—grumbled all the time; the water wasn't even good, when heaven knows we've got the best water on the yeth. So I am glad you ain't hard to please."
"Oh, I should indeed be finical to find fault with anything in this delicious air," said Mrs. Mayfield, smiling at Lou, "this new life, among these God-worshipping hills, these—"
"Oh, auntie brought her romance with her," Tom broke in, and Lou gave him a look of tender reproof.
"Oh, let her talk, please. I like to hear her." And standing beside Mrs. Mayfield's chair she said: "You told me you were something. What was it?"
"An echo from the world," the city woman answered.
Lou looked at her mother who in turn gave her a look in which the girl read an ignorance as profound as her own. "Well, is sounds mighty putty," she said, "but what do you mean by it. I don't understand."
"Why Lou!" exclaimed her mother. "You musn't talk that way."
"Oh, let her go ahead," Tom spoke up. "The fact is auntie says a good many things I'd like to have explained to me."
"Tom," she said, "please don't be any more wayward than you can help."
At this moment old Jasper's voice was heard without. "Git down from here. Got less sense than any dog I ever seed, come a jumpin' on me with yo' muddy feet. Howdy everybody, howdy," he greeted them as he entered, with a set of harness on his arm. Every one spoke to him and after surveying the party he drew a chair out from the table, sat down and began to tug at the harness, pulling hard against the resistance of a rusty buckle. "Whar's that luther string?" he inquired of his wife.
"What luther string?"
"The one I told you to put away for me some time last fall—mebby fall a year ago. Whar is it?"
"Gracious alive Jasper, I don't know. What did you bring that gear in here for? Can't you fix it at the stable?"
"Yes, could. Could also sleep and eat out thar, but I don't want to."
"Now what on the yeth do you want to talk that way fur?"
Jasper chuckled. "Wall, a man ain't hardly responsible for what he says when he's talkin' to a woman."
"Then you don't believe, Mr. Starbuck, that woman inspires truth," said Mrs. Mayfield, and Jim leaned forward, still gazing at her.
"Oh, yes, all the putty truths," Jasper replied, and Tom who, with Lou, was standing over near the fire-place, sang out: "There, auntie, he is meeting you on your own ground."
Jim's countenance flared and he struck in: "Yes, in the shade where the soft air is stirring."
Mrs. Mayfield turned to him. "Oh, thank you Mr.—I shall have to call you Mr. Reverend."
He gave her a smile and then as if afraid of too much light shut it off; but he had the courage to reply: "Anything you call me, ma'm, will be music."
"Oh, I tell you," said Jasper, tugging at the buckle, "Jim ain't been preachin' ten years fur nothin'. Wall, mighty fur nothin', too; for I ricolleck that one winter all he got was a pa'r of blue jeens britches an' fo' pa'r of wool socks. And if I don't cuss this thing in a minit more I'll be about fitten to preach."
"Mr. Starbuck," Mrs. Mayfield inquired, "was that you shooting so early this morning?"
"Yes'm, killin' them squirrels we had fur breakfus'."
"And you saw the sun rise?"
He left off working with his gear and looked at her. "Ah, hah. Ever see the sun rise?"
"I have seen the moon set," she said, half musing.
"And so have I," said Jasper. "I have seen the moon set and hatch out the stars."
And still musing, Mrs. Mayfield replied: "Yes, and they peeped at one another in their heavenly nest until the sun, man-like, came and spoiled it all."
"THEM WHAT HAIN'T HAD TROUBLE 'AIN'T HAD NO CAUSE TO LOOK FUR THE LORD."
Jasper and his wife looked at each other, knowingly in the eye; and then the old man said: "I beg yo' pardon, ma'm, but you must have had trouble. But don't let it bother you any mo' than you kin help, fur my experience teaches me that them what hain't had trouble ain't had no cause to look fur the Lord."
"Why, Jasper Starbuck," Margaret spoke up, "ain't you ashamed of yo'se'f to talk about the Lord thatter way?"
"I ain't said a word ag'in Him. Leave it to the preacher thar. Have I, Jim?"
"No, Uncle Jasper."
"Much obleeged to you, Jim; and instead of stayin' five weeks with us as you said you 'lowed to, I wush you'd stay longer. I need you to prove things by. Couldn't make it five months, could you, Jim?"
"No, Uncle Jasper, I must get back to my mountain-side flock. There's many a poor old man tottering along that needs me to help him walk."
"That's a fact," said Starbuck, and turning to Mrs. Mayfield he continued: "He settles nearly all their troubles, ma'm; he's not only their church but their cou't house. I've seed him preach the gospel with one hand and with the other one tear up a lawsuit."
Lou, standing on a chair, had taken down an old gun which rested upon deer horns above the fire place, and was exhibiting it to Tom. "My great grandfather carried it at the battle of New Orleans," she said; and reverently the young man took the gun and pressed the butt to his shoulder, taking aim. "No wonder our country has a spirit that can't be crushed," he remarked, lowering the ancient war hound and looking into its black mouth.
"When we've got such guns?" she said, smiling down upon him, still standing on the chair.
"No, not such guns but men who do such deeds and women who are proud of them."
Jasper looked round and saw that the young man in his carelessness had the gun pointed at him. "Here," he called, "turn that thing tuther way."
"Why it isn't loaded, is it?" Tom asked, returning the gun to Lou.
"No, but them's the sort that usually goes off and kills folks. Thar's an old sayin', ma'm," he said to Mrs. Mayfield, "that thar's danger in a gun without lock, stock, or barrel—you kin w'ar a feller out with the ram-rod."
Lou replaced the gun and sat down. Tom stood over her, slily showing her some verses. Mrs. Mayfield, glancing round, understood that it was a "poetic situation," and remarked to Jasper. "Just now we were speaking of trouble. Heart-hunger is the real poetry of life—heart-hunger and heart-ache; our pleasures are but jingling rhymes."
Jasper and his wife exchanged glances, and the old man said: "Husband dead, ma'm?"
"Worse than that, Mr. Starbuck."
"Why, ain't that awful," Margaret declared.
Jasper studied for a few moments and then inquired: "Wan't hung, was he?"
She shook her head, sighed and made answer: "We were divorced."
Then the old man thought to be consoling. "Well, let us hope that you won't marry him over ag'in."
"No, his heart is black."
"There is a fountain where it may be made white," said the preacher.
Sadly she smiled at him and replied: "To that fountain he would never go."
Old Jasper jingled and clanked the iron of his harness. "I don't know much about fountains," said he, "but I know a good deal about men, and I never seed one with a black heart that ever had it washed out clean. I never knowd a scoundrel that wan't allus a scoundrel, and the Book don't say that the Savior died for scoundrels—died for sinners. A sinner kin be a fust-rate feller, full o' that weakness that helps a wretch outen trouble. The Savior knowed that and died for him."
Margaret slammed her pan of turnips down upon the table. "Oh, sometimes I'm so put out with you."
"Yes," drawled the old man, "and old Miz Eve was put out with Adam, too, but atter all the best thing she could do, was to stick to him and go whar he went."
"Oh, of course," said Margaret. "The only use a man ever has for the Bible is to hit a woman with it." She went over to a safe, looking back at her husband who stood watching her, his droll countenance lighted with a humorous grin; she began to mix meal in a pan, stirring vigorously to make up corn pone, throwing in water with a dash. Tom and Lou were still engaged with the verses.
"What is this line?" she asked.
"'Her eye a star of heart's most gleaming hope,'" he read, and she purred like a kitten.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"Why, er—it means all sorts of things."
"It sounds like things you find in a book, but this is in writin', isn't it? And—and it smells like a violet in the woods."
"What have they got thar, a mortgage?" Jasper inquired of Mrs. Mayfield.
"The beginning of many a mortgage, Mr. Starbuck; some verses."
"Huh," grunted the old man, "I don't reckon they are like some verses I had not long ago. Had a lawsuit befo' a jestice of the peace and they called it Starbuck verses Brown."
Margaret ceased her work of mixing corn pone and looked round at him. "Jasper, anybody to hear you talk would think you don't know nuthin'."
"Well," Starbuck replied, "that's the way to find out that a man don't know nuthin'—by hearin' him talk. Feller over the mountains had a son that was deef and dumb for twenty-odd year. Everybody lowed he was the smartest one of the fam'ly. But finally a doctor teached him how to talk and then they found out that he wan't nuthin' but a damned fool."
The profane twist of the old man's defense amused Mrs. Mayfield. And Jim smiled. It was not only in keeping with the old man's half innocent character—it was the honest spurt of sinful Adam, remaining with the most of us—which the devout preacher may deplore for the sake of example and yet inwardly accept because he is human. I am told that there are languages that hold no profanity and we know that there are tongues too delicate for philosophy and too gentle for blank verse.
"Now what do you want to pester a body thatter way for?" Margaret rejoined, thankful that Mrs. Mayfield had not been shocked. "I never seed a body that could be so aggrivatin'. Miz Mayfield, don't pay no 'tention to him when he talks thatter way, fur when he wants to he kin be right bright.
"Oh, I understand him, Mrs. Starbuck," and then of Jasper she inquired: "How far is it to the post office?"
"A little the rise of three mile. As soon as I git this gear in shape I'll have Kintchin hitch up and drive a passel of you over thar. I reckon we've got one of the smartest post-masters in the country. I've seed him rip open many a man's letter an' read it off just like print. Here, Kintchin! Kintchin! That nigger's asleep somewhar. One of these days somebody will fill him so full of lead you couldn't turn him over with a hand spike." Kintchin appeared at the door, stretching himself and rubbing his eyes. "What have you been doin'?"
"Who, me?"
"Yes, you."
"Wall, suh, I ain't been ersleep ef dat whut you means."
"Then why didn't you answer me?"
"W'y, suh, I had my min' flung down on er 'ligious subjeck an' it wuz all I coul' do ter t'ar it off."
"Ah, thought I hearn suthin' rip like a piece of tent cloth," and giving Kintchin the harness he continued: "Here, hitch up old Dick and drive these folks over to the post office."
"Yas, suh."
"And when you come back you can break that young steer."
"Yas, suh, break de steer."
"And when you get the steer broke," said Margaret, "I want you to make me an ash hopper."
"Yas'm," replied the old negro, looking at her and then at Starbuck.
"And then," said Jasper, "I want you to hive the bees."
"And then," Margaret spoke up, "you may fix the loom."
"Yas'm, fix de loom."
"When that is done," said Starbuck, "you may rive some clap-boards to cover the spring house."
"Yas, suh, ter kiver de spring house;" and scratching his head he stood for a moment as if in deep thought. "An' look yere, Mr. Starbuck, while I'se gone to the pos' office don't you reckon you kin think up suthin' fur me ter do?"
"How willing he is to work," Mrs. Mayfield sympathetically remarked.
Kintchin ducked his head at her. "W'y, Lawd bless yo' life, honey, I doan know nuthin' else. One time not long ergo I foun' o' er mawnin' dat I wuz monst'us tired, an' den I come ter fin' out dat I been er gittin' up an' er workin' in my sleep. Yas'm."
He looked at Jasper, expecting something, and it came: "Was that the time they found the ham under yo' bed?"
"Mr. Starbuck, whut you all de time come er talkin' datter way fur? Ain't dar nuthin' in dis life ter talk erbout 'cept politics? Doan you know you got er soul ter save? Doan you know dat de Lawd frown on slander? I doan care fur myse'f but I hate ter see er good man fling erway his chances o' de salvation. An' suthin' gwine happen ter you ef you keeps on 'sposin' yo'se'f."
Starbuck good naturedly drove him out, clucking at him as if he were a horse. Lou slowly folded the paper which she had been gazing at during all this time and said: "Oh, you must let me keep this."
"It amounts to nothing," replied Tom, making a pretense of taking the paper but permitting her to retain it. "I will write you something prettier."
"No, I want this."
"She is beginning early to mistrust promises," remarked Mrs. Mayfield.
"Oh, she knows the world," said Mrs. Starbuck. "She went to school for two years over at Dry Fork. That's where she l'arned to play that melogian."
"Yes," Jasper spoke up, "and the fust time I hearn it I thought a tree had fell on one of the calves. Why, helloa, mammy, come in. Lookin' fur suthin'?"
"I must er lef' my old pipe yere summers," said the old negro woman, coming into the room.
"Here it is," said Jasper taking a cob pipe from the mantle-piece and giving it to her. "Won't you sit down, mammy? You look so tired."
"No, Mars Jasper, I hain't hardly got time." She looked at the company, bade every one good morning, with a heart-felt "God bless you;" and looking at Mrs. Mayfield, slowly advanced toward her, gazing at her hand. "W'y, honey, I neber seed de like o' putty rings you's got on. Da's like de speret o' light er wrappin' round yo' fingers."
"Mammy, they are but glittering memories."
"Yas'm, da do shine might'ly ef dat whut you means."
Tom and Lou were going out. "Don't stray off," said Mrs. Mayfield. "We are going to the post office, you know."
"Yes, if that fetch-taked nigger ever gits the hoss hitched up," Margaret spoke up.
Jasper snatched up his hat. "Oh, he'd hitch up a hoss to the fou'th of July jest about in time to drive up to the front door of Christmas. I'll go and see about it myse'f. Slowest nigger I ever seed," and muttering he went out. Old mammy, still looking at the city woman's rings, began softly to croon: "I neber seed er po' ole nigger dat didn't like rings. I had er whole lot o' 'em once, but da turned green, an' da'd pizen me ef I teched 'em wid my mouf. But one time Mars Jasper gib me one dat didn't turn green, an' I lost it. You allus loses de best, you know. Honey, Mars Jasper is allus doin' suthin' fur me. I nussed him w'en he wuz er chile an' he dun paid me back mo' den er hunnud times; an' w'en I got ole an' wuz down wid de rheumatiz, an' couldn't sleep in de night w'en de lonesome cow er lowin' on de hill-side, he sot up wid me an' spell out de words o' de Lawd, fur he kain't read right quick. He couldn't been mo' tender wid his mudder, an' I gwine ter tell de Lawd w'en I goes home, an' it won't be long—no'm it won't. An' on de wall by my bed I dun made chalk marks o' de things I gwine tell de Lawd, an' dar ain't hardly no mo' room fur new marks, da all been so good ter me; but I gwine make one fur you, honey, caze you looked kind at me. Yas'm, I is. But I must be gwine. Lawd bless you all; an' you too, strange lady." And as this old creature walked out she still muttered blessings upon them; this endeared old link, tenderly binding some of us to one of the sweetest memories of the past. She is passing over the threshold into the "big house" of eternity, this mother of love and charity, who sang the little children to sleep, whose ebon fingers bound the wounds of youth. She knew enough of God to be all love—of Christ to forgive all wrongs.
"The wagon's ready," Jasper called, and Mrs. Mayfield turned to Jim. "Won't you come too?"
He scrambled up, as if stung into action, grabbed his hat, went boldly close to her and said: "If I thought yo' wish was in yo' invitation, Satan couldn't hold me back, and the Lord wouldn't."
"What a strange compliment."
"Ma'm, I don't know how to speak compliments."