The Jucklins: A Novel

by Opie Percival Read

"Now, don't put yourself to any trouble, for, really, I couldn't eat a bite; I'm not very well. Where is Mr. Jucklin?"

"Why, you must eat something. He's gone to the blacksmith shop broke the point off his plow against a rock and had to go and get it fixed. He ought to be back by now. It ain't but a little ways down the road. Are you goin' over there? Well, if you see him tell him that Guinea and I are goin' to see Mrs. Parker and won't be back till evenin'. Tell him that we'll leave everything on the table."

Down the road I went, looking for the blacksmith shop, and I had not gone far before I saw the old man coming, with his plow on his shoulder. He was talking to himself and did not see me until I spoke to him. "Let me take that plow," I said. "Give it to me. I'm stronger than you."

"I reckon you are right," he replied, looking up at me with a grin, "but I can tote it all right enough."

But I took the plow from him, and walked along with it on my shoulder, waiting for him to say something.

"You haven't seen Alf this mornin', have you?" he asked.

"No; I was asleep when he got up. Why?"

"Well, jest wanted to know. Alf takes some strange notions into his head once in a long while, and he had one this mornin'. Told me to tell you suthin' that very few folks know. Don't know why, unless he thinks more of you than he does of any other young man. Never saw him take to a person as he has to you. And I reckon I better tell you. But I hate to talk about it."

We walked on in silence, and in my impatience I shifted the plow from one shoulder to the other. "I'll take it when you git tired of it," he said. "Now, it may be putty hard for you to understand the situation, and I'm free to say that I can't make it so very plain, but I'll do the best I can. One day, a long time ago, old General Lundsford came to me—long after I had wallowed him, you understand. And now as to that wallowin', why, he could have killed me if he had wanted to. He's game. Well, he came to me, and about as nearly as I can ricollect said this: 'My son Chydister, strong-headed little rascal that he is, vows an' declares that when he grows up he is goin' to marry your daughter Guinea. I'll be frank with you and tell you that I didn't approve of it, and I scouted the idea, not that your daughter ain't as good as any girl, but because I don't mind tellin' you, I've got a family name to keep up. I told him this, but he was so young and so headstrong that he swore that it made no difference to him. You know they have played together, up and down the branch, and he thinks there aint nobody like her. Well, sir, he kept on talkin about it until I knowed that he was set, and that there wasn't any use to try to turn him, so I began to think it over seriously. That boy is my life's blood, and I want to please him in every way I can, and I don't want him to marry beneath him. I'm goin' to make a doctor out of him, the very best that can be made, and his companion must be an educated woman. They are goin' to marry when they grow up in spite of anything we can do, and now I've got a request to make of you. I know that you wouldn't let me give you a cent of money, but as an honest man you can't refuse to let me lend you enough money to send your daughter to school along with my own daughter; and whenever you think that you are able to pay me back, all right, and if you never are able, it will still be all right.'"

The old man paused, and now I walked, along carrying the plow in front of me, stumbling, seeing no road, caring not whither my feet might wander. "I'll take it now," he said, reaching for the plow. "You don't know how to tote it, nohow."