Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction

by Joel Chandler Harris

CHAPTER SEVEN

Silas Tomlin Goes A-Calling

When the solemn funeral ceremonies were over, it was arranged that Nan should spend a few days with her new friend, Margaret Gaither—she was never called by the name of her father after her mother died—and Gabriel took advantage of Nan's temporary absence to pay a visit to Mrs. Absalom. He was very fond of that strong-minded woman; but since Nan had grown to be such a young lady, he had not called as often as he had been in the habit of doing. He was afraid, indeed, that some one would accuse him of a sneaking desire to see Nan, and he was also afraid of the quizzing which Nan's father was always eager to apply. But with Nan away—her absence being notorious, as you may say—Gabriel felt that he could afford to call on the genial housekeeper.

Mrs. Absalom had for years been the manager of the Dorrington household, and she retained her place even after Randolph Dorrington had taken for his second wife Zepherine Dion, who had been known as Miss Johns, and who was now called Mrs. Johnny Dorrington. In that household, indeed, Mrs. Absalom was indispensable, and it was very fortunate that she and Mrs. Johnny were very fond of each other. Her maiden name was Margaret Rorick, and she came of a family that had long been attached to the Dorringtons. In another clime, and under a different system, the Roricks would have been described as retainers. They were that and much more. They served without fee or reward. They were retainers in the highest and best sense; for, in following the bent of their affections, they retained their independence, their simple dignity and their self-respect; and in that region, which was then, and is now, the most democratic in the world, they were as well thought of as the Cloptons or the Dorringtons.

It came to pass, in the order of events, that Margaret Rorick married Mr. Absalom Goodlett, who was the manager of the Dorrington plantation. Though she was no chicken, as she said herself, Mr. Goodlett was her senior by several years. She was also, in a sense, the victim of the humour that used to run riot in Middle Georgia; for, in spite of her individuality, which was vigorous and aggressive, she lost her own name and her husband's too. At Margaret Rorick's wedding, or, rather, at the infair, which was the feast after the wedding, Mr. Uriah Lazenby, whose memory is kept green by his feats at tippling, and who combined fiddling with farming, furnished the music for the occasion. Being something of a privileged character, and having taken a thimbleful too much dram, as fiddlers will do, the world over, Mr. Lazenby rose in his place, when the company had been summoned to the feast, and remarked:

"Margaret Rorick, now that the thing's been gone and done, and can't be holp, I nominate you Mrs. Absalom, an' Mrs. Absalom it shall be herearter. Ab Goodlett, you ought to be mighty proud when you can fling your bridle on a filly like that, an' lead her home jest for the bar' sesso."

The loud laughter that followed placed the bride at a temporary disadvantage. She joined in, however, and then exclaimed: "My goodness! Old Uriah's drunk ag'in; you can't pull a stopper out'n a jug in the same house wi' him but what he'll dribble at the mouth an' git shaky in the legs."

But drunk or sober, Uriah had "nominated" Mrs. Absalom for good and all. One reason why this "nomination" was seized on so eagerly was the sudden change that had taken place in Miss Rorick's views in regard to matrimony. She was more than thirty years old when she consented to become Mrs. Absalom. Up to that time she had declared over and over again that there wasn't a man in the world she'd look at, much less marry.

Now, many a woman has said the same thing and changed her mind without attracting attention; but Mrs. Absalom's views on matrimony, and her pithy criticisms of the male sex in general, had flown about on the wings of her humour, and, in that way, had come to have wide advertisement. But her "nomination" interfered neither with her individuality, nor with her ability to indulge in pithy comments on matters and things in general. Of Mr. Lazenby, she said later: "What's the use of choosin' betwixt a fool an' a fiddler, when you can git both in the same package?"

She made no bad bargain when she married Mr. Goodlett. His irritability was all on the surface. At bottom, he was the best-natured and most patient of men—a philosopher who was so thoroughly contented with the ways of the world and the order of Providence, that he had no desire to change either—and so comfortable in his own views and opinions that he was not anxious to convert others to his way of thinking. If anything went wrong, it was like a garment turned inside out; it would "come out all right in the washin'."