“We’ll come back some day, I reckon,” said Mrs. Panther to Miss Pace, looking about her at the bare room with its broken fireplace and dingy walls. “Seems like I wouldn’t know how to live nowhere else.”
“If Mr. Panther gets well, maybe you’ll be glad to come back,” faltered Aunt Zillah, trying to say the kind thing, but thinking in her wise heart that these people were perishing, soul and body, for lack of mixing with their kind. But there was really too much to do to spend time sighing over the breaking up. Even the one remaining hog and the thirty odd chickens had to be planned for. It was decided finally that Paralee was to drive the hog, and that such of the chickens as were not eaten that night for supper, were to be put in panniers fastened to the saddles and carried to the McEvoys for safe keeping.
Miss Zillah wanted to help Mrs. Panther pack her clothes, but she was not quite sure that there was anything to pack; and indeed there was no more than could be put in a couple of old melon-shaped baskets.
“Clothes ain’t come into my reckoning,” said Mrs. Panther quaintly, growing more sociable as she felt the influence of Miss Zillah’s genial atmosphere. “And, anyway, there wa’n’t nobody to see what we had on.”
Meantime, Mr. Thompson and Keefe had, with the aid of Paralee, been giving their attention to the hammock in which the sick man was to be carried. The house contained one good blanket of wool homespun, strong yet flexible. This, doubled, was stretched upon poles, and since no stout rope could be found about the place, heavy braided warp was fastened to these poles. This improvised rope was to be slung over the shoulders of the carriers. Azalea and Carin braided the rope and found it a pleasant task. Indeed, they both were very happy.
“It warms me all up,” said Azalea, “to think of getting this poor man out of here and giving him a chance, and I’m just as glad for his wife as I am for him. Talk of paralysis; Mrs. Panther has paralysis of the soul, don’t you think?”
“Isn’t Paralee changed?” Carin cried, not bothering to answer Azalea’s question. “She’s actually tidying up things. I saw her straightening out the mess under the house with her one poor hand. She wants the Panther house to fall to ruins decently. That’s going a good way—for Paralee.”
“Oh, you never can tell a thing about these mountain people,” said Azalea. “Very likely, a few generations back these silly Panthers, who ought to have called themselves Marr, had no end of self-respect. Many, many generations back, they may have been fine people. Marr certainly is the name of one of the greatest of families.”
“Perhaps it meant the same as Panther in the beginning,” surmised Carin. “Mars is the god of war, and maybe the Marrs and the Panthers all got their names because they were such good fighters.”
The sick man had been carried out of doors by Mr. Thompson and Keefe, and placed where he could watch the preparations that were being made for his journey. And while he looked, not more than half-understanding, his great wild eyes rolling in their sockets, his wife mixed hoe-cake, using the last meal she possessed, and cooked it on the coals. Chickens had been prepared with dispatch, and were boiling in the pot, and Aunt Zillah, having given all necessary attention to affairs within the house, was now gathering dewberries and getting a fine bowl of them.