Jeb was still in full dress. The fronts of his vest hung beneath his long arms as he walked, and he wore his white cotton shirt, somewhat the worse for its “Cote Day” experiences, it must be confessed. On his head was one of those delightfully soft straw hats which the young men of the valley buy by the dozen for fifty cents, wear until they get damp, or for some other reason droop about the face and head like a “Havelock,” and then cast aside for a new one. But a Ridger does not pay out five cents recklessly. One of these straw coverings must last him all summer. But for all that a Ridger must see, and therefore the front of the drooping brim is sacrificed to stern necessity when it can no longer be kept off of the face. The effect is unique. A soft straw crown, run to a peak; a pendant wide brim touching the back and shoulders; a few “frazzles” of straw on the forehead which tell where a brim once was; for the Ridger cuts the front out with the same scissors or knife with which he shaves, and with no more accuracy of outline. The young farmers wear these broad straw hats to protect their faces and eyes from the down-beating sun. The Ridger appears to wear them purely for ornament, since the only protection which they offer in their new shape is to the back of necks already so wrinkled and tanned that even a Virginia sun could hardly penetrate to a discomforting degree.
Jeb nodded to me. Then he took his straw ornament by the top of the peak and lifted it high above his head, so that he could bring it forward without scraping his hair, and “made his manners” to the young “’squire’s” mother. He seated himself on the upper step of the wide gallery, crossed his long legs, placed his straw ornament carefully on his knee, with the pendant portion falling toward his foot, and began a bit of diplomatic manœuvring.
“Howdy, Miss Brady, howdy. I hope yo’ health is tollible. I thes thought I’d like t’ see the young ’squire. Air he in? Hit air thes a leetle bisness matter twixt him an’ me, thes a leetle matter uv mo’ er less intrust’ t’ us both.”
But the young ’squire was not at home. His mother indicated a willingness to convey any message to him upon his return; but Jeb, always contemptuous of women, was in a state of elusive subtlety. Someone in town had lent wings to his already abnormally developed caution in the matter of the application for the appointment of the “gyardeen” for his weak-minded sister-in-law, and had hinted that he might have to swear to her mental condition if he became the sponsor for such a move. Jeb was wily. He had tasted of his brother’s wife’s wrath on more occasions than one, and whatever his opinion may have been of the strength of her mind, he entertained no doubts as to the vigor of her temper when it was aroused. Jeb wanted to be appointed her “gyardeen.” He looked upon the “proppity” as a vast and important financial trust. If he asked the judge to appoint a guardian, and Sabriny knew that he had said that she was of defective intellect—well—Jeb would face much to be allowed to handle that $134.92. (This was the “proppity” in question. It was a “back” pension and there was to be $2.11 per month henceforth.) But Jeb was not foolhardy, and he had trudged back from town without having done what the young “’squire” had advised, and Sabriny’s “proppity” was in jeopardy still.
“No,” he said, wagging his head and looking slyly at the young ’squire’s mother. “No, I thes wanted ter see the young ’squire fer a leetle private talk. I thes promised him fer ter do sompin, an’ then I never done it. Not as he’d keer; but I thes wanted ter make my part fa’r an’ squar’.”
He espied a straw that had straggled out from the ragged cut in the front of his hat. He took it firmly between thumb and finger and gave it a quick sidewise jerk, whereupon it parted company forever with its fellows. Jeb inserted this between two of his lower front teeth at their very base. When it was firmly established he continued his conversation, leaving his lower lip to struggle in vain to regain a position of horizontal dignity. The straw was tenacious, and the lip was held at bay. He did not want to tell his story to anyone but the young ’squire; but an opportunity to display his mental vigor and business acumen to the ’squire’s mother did not present itself every day, and might he not tell the tale, and yet not tell it? Could he not give an outline and still conceal his own motives and desires? Certainly. Women were very weak minded at best, and even the young ’squire’s mother would not be able to sound the depths of his subtle nature.
“The young ’squire, he tole me fer ter ast the jedge ter ’pint a gyardeen over the proppity o’ Sabriny, along o’ her beein’—thet is ter say—wimmen bein’ incompertent ter—thet is, Miss Brady, mose wimmen not havin’ the ’bility fer ter hannel a large proppity—even if they is—. I aint sayin’ that Sabriny is diff’nt fum mose wimmen, you mine. They is folks thet say her mine is—thet she aint adzackly right in her head; but lawsy, I aint sayin’ thet; an’ you mus’ know thet wimmin’ aint in no way fit fer ter manage a proppity—a large proppity—-more especial if they is any man a-tryin’ fer ter git hit away frum ’em.”
“Why, is anybody trying to get poor Sabriny’s money, Jeb?” asked the young ’squire’s mother in sympathetic wonder.
But Jeb had been warned that he would better not commit himself if he hoped for fair sailing. He turned his straw over and put the stiff end between his teeth again, glanced covertly about, concluded that the lady was not setting a trap for him, and began again.
“I aint a sayin’ as they is, an’ I aint a swarin’ thet they aint. Mebby you mout o’ heard uv Lige Tummun?”