PART III
O winds of the sea, that whisper, Will you not whisper to me What the marvellous strange visions Of a little child may be? O wild rose, stirred and shaken, By the wind that ripples the stream, Why are the children dreaming, And what are the dreams they dream?
--_Beverly's Attitudes and Platitudes: A Drama._
"Them that slip out'n dreams an' stay with us!" said Mr. Sanders tohimself, as they went along. "Be jiggered ef that ain't a new one on me!I'll take it home an' chew on it when I'm lonesome."
Adelaide had just cause of complaint, she thought. "Now we can't haveany fumerl, with strange folks tip-toeing about the place, and carriagesat the door, with horses snorting and pawing the ground."
"It's jest as well," remarked Mr. Sanders. "All that sort of thing willcome along lot's quicker than we want it to."
"They come'd twice to our house--two times!" said Adelaide, in the toneof one who has a proprietary interest in such matters. "They come'd andcome'd," she went on, with the air of imparting important secretinformation, "and they peeped in all the rooms, and in the closets, andbehind the doors, and pulled out all the booro draws; yes, and some of'em looked in the safe where mother keeps her vittles!"
There was something pitiful about the child's brief recital. She hadseen and noted everything, and the report she had inadvertently made toMr. Sanders rang true to life, and almost humorously true to the resultsof Mr. Sanders's observation. His lips twitched, as they had a way ofdoing when he was in doubt whether to laugh or cry, which was often thecase.
"Well, honey," he replied, making what excuse he could for poorhumanity, "ef folks is ever gwine for to find out anything in this worldthey've got to stick the'r noses in ev'ry nook an' cranny."
"That's why I wanted to put the Boogerman in the grave-yard. Lucindy ishis mother, and we could go and look under her bed, and peep in hercubberd, and find out everything she's got, and more too."
What reply Mr. Sanders would have made to this will never be known, forthey were just going in the side gate that let them into old Jonas'sback-yard. Old Jonas himself had come out of the house, and was nowwalking about in the yard with his hat pulled well down to his ears. Theopening and shutting of the gate attracted his attention, and he turnedto see who could be trespassing on his premises. When he saw Mr. Sandersfantastically arrayed, his coat turned inside out, and his hat upsidedown, old Jonas flung both hands over his head in a gesture ofamazement.
"Why, what foolery is this? Good Lord, Sanders! have you turned lunatic?Why--why--if this kind of thing goes on much longer, I'll sue out awrit, and have you sent to the asylum; I'll do it as sure as my name isWhipple!"
"Please, sir, Nunky-Punky, let me off this time, and I'll never play wi'Miss Adelaide any more. An' the Boogerman may git you for all I keer!An' ol' Raw-Head-an'-Bloody-Bones'll crawl out from under the house wharhe lives at, an' snap his jaws an' wink his green eyes at you; an' he'llketch you an' put you in his wallet, an' chaw you up bone by bone--markmy words!"
"Sanders!" said old Jonas, with less anger and more earnestness, "whatin the name of all that's sensible, is the matter with you?"
"Not a thing in the world but pyore joy, Jonas! Climb up in the waggonand let's all take a ride. I'm dead in love wi' this little gal here;won't you j'ine me? Nan Dorrin'ton used to be my beau-lover, but Nan'stoo old, an' now Adelaide's done took her place! Slap yourself on thehams an' crow like a rooster! Jump up an' crack your heels togethertwice before you come to earth ag'in. We've ketched the Boogerman, an'was gittin' ready for to fetch him home bekaze we had him whar he couldnuther back nor squall, but jest about that time, here come Lucindy. Shewa'n't gallopin', but she give us ez purty a sample of the ginnywinebuzzard-lope as you ever laid eyes on. She grabbed the Boogerman an'give him the Putmon county witch-hug. Arter she'd smivelled an'smovelled him mighty nigh to death, she helt him off from her an'claimed him as her long-lost son; she know'd it bekaze he had aswaller-fork in one y'ear, an' a under-bit in the other, an' a wind-gallon the back of his neck. Her son, mind you! Well, when I know'd her sonthe first letter of his name was Randall Bowden, bekaze Bowden was thename of the man he belonged to--you remember him, Jonas?"
"He admitted me to the bar and came within one of frightening me todeath," responded old Jonas.
"Well, you're a lawyer, an' you know mighty well that a man an' acitizen can't change his name wi'out a special law passed by thelegislatur'. Now, ef the Boogerman was a plain nigger, it wouldn't makea bit of difference what he called hisse'f. But thar ain't no plainniggers any more; they're all sufferin' citizens. An' here he is callin'hisself Randall Holden. What do you think of that?"
Randall shifted from one foot to the other and looked, first, at Mr.Sanders, and then at all of the others in turn. "Well, suh, Mr. Sanders,I call myse'f Holden bekaze they ain't no Bowdens fer me ter be namedafter. Marster's dead, Mistiss is dead, an' Miss Betty is done gone an'changed her name by--er--gittin' married. De Holdens ain't all dead yit,an' my mistiss wuz a Holden proceedin' the day she married marster. Ifelt like I want ter be named after somebody that wuz alive."
"What have you been doing all this time?" old Jonas asked in hissharpest and curtest tone.
"Workin' hard all day, an' studyin' hard at night, suh. I laid off terbe a preacher. In four years, I reckon I has been to school about oneyear. I can read a little, an' write a little, an' maybe do some easyfiggerin'. It looks like that books git harder the more you fool with'em. That's what I find about 'em. I jest come ter see my mammy, suh,an' she come up on me while I was playin' Boogerman with the littlemistiss there."
"Doing what?" snapped old Jonas; and then Mr. Sanders had to relate thewonderful adventures that befell Adelaide and him in the Whish-WhishWoods. How he did it must be imagined, but old Jonas listened patientlyto the end, without uttering so much as the habitual "pish-tush."
"Sanders," said old Jonas, when the narrative of the expedition wasconcluded, "do you mean to stand there and tell me that you, a man oldenough to be a grandfather, got in that rig, and went trampling about inmy garden, just to give that child a little pleasure?"
"Why, no, Jonas, I can't say that I did; I sorter had the idee that Imought git my name in your will, seein' as how you're so abominably fondof Adelaide. That's why I come!"
It was at this point that Jonas's "pish-tush" did execution; he fired itat Mr. Sanders with as much energy as indignation could give.
Randall, the Boogerman, was evidently somewhat in doubt of old Jonas'sdisposition in regard to him, and so he said, with every appearance ofembarrassment: "I can't stay here long, suh, bekaze they's people inthis county that would Ku-Kluck me ef they know'd I was anywheresaround. I'm the one, suh, that knocked Mr. Tuttle in the head with myhoe-handle when he was marster's overseer. I didn't go ter do it, suh,but he pecked on me an' pecked on me twel I didn't have the sense I wasborn with. It looked like somebody had flung a red cloth over my head;ev'rything got red, an' when I come ter myse'f Mr. Tuttle was layin'there on the ground jest as still as ef he'd a' been a log of wood. Iknow'd mighty well that ef they cotch me I'd be hung, bekaze that wasthe law in them times; Miss Betty tol' me so. I got away from there, an'run home; but before I got there, I could hear white folks a-hollerin',an' then I know'd they was after me. I run right in the big house, an'went up stairs the back way, an' before I could stop myse'f I run rightin Miss Betty's room. She was in there combing her hair; she'd beenhaving a party, the first one after she come back frum college."
"Wasn't she frightened?" old Jonas inquired. "Didn't she scream andraise a row?"
"No, suh," replied Randall, the Boogerman; "she wa'n't no more skeer'dthan what you is right now. She say, 'How dast you ter come in here?'But by ther time she seed the blood runnin' down my face where Mr.Tuttle had hit me, an' time she looked ag'in, I was down on my knees,sayin' a prayer to her. I tol' her that the white folks was after me,an' begged her not ter let 'em git me. I know'd that the way to the topof the house led through h
er room, an' that was the reason I run inthere--I thought she was down stairs lookin' after her party. I beggedan' prayed so hard that she went to the door leadin' to the plunder roomunder the roof, an' flung it open with, 'Go up there, an' keep still;don't you dast to make any fuss!' Well, suh, up I went, an' I stayedthere twel I could git away. Ef any of you-all know where Miss Betty is,an' will tell me, I'll go right whar she is an' work fer her twel shegits tired of bein' worked fer."
"All dat's de naked trufe," exclaimed Lucindy, "kaze Miss Betty come outter de kitchen an' tol' me whar Randall wuz, an' gi' me de key er dedo', an' I tuck him vittles an' clean cloze plum twel he got away. I'd'a' gone wid Miss Betty, but I know'd dat boy would come back here ef hewa'n't dead, an' I stayed an' waited fer 'im twel des now. You may havede idee dat I'm quare, but Randall is my own chile."
By this time, Mr. Sanders had righted his coat and hat, and was nowregarding the negro with some curiosity. "Lucindy ain't the only onethat's been a-waitin' fer you," he said. "I reckon that old Tuttle andhis crowd have been doin' some waitin' the'rselves; an' I know mightywell that I'm one of the waiters. How much do you charge me for knockin'ol' Tuttle in sight of the Promised Land, and how much will you chargeme for hittin' him another side-wipe?"
"No, suh, Mr. Sanders! Not me! I ain't never lost my senses sence thatday in the cotton-patch; no matter what you do, I'll never see red anymore; I've done tried myself an' know. No more red fer me--not in disworld!"
"Old Tuttle!" snapped Mr. Jonas Whipple. "I wish the buzzards had him!"Then he turned to Randall. "Stay, if you want to stay. I've plenty ofwork for you to do. Sanders, can't you find a job for him at a pinch?"
"Mercy, yes!" replied Mr. Sanders; "I've got jobs that have grown graywaitin' for some un to do 'em."
"Stay! stay!" cried old Jonas, in his harsh voice, "and if old Tuttlebothers you, come to me or go to Mr. Sanders there, and we'll see whohas the longest arm!"
"Tooby shore!" assented Mr. Sanders, "an' likewise who's got the longestmoney-purse. But what's betwixt you an' Tuttle?"
"Why," said old Jonas, "he borrowed a thousand dollars from me thesecond year of the war, and after the surrender crawled under theexemption act. Now if he had come to me like a man--I'll not say like agentleman, for that is beyond him--if he had come to me and said that hefound it impossible to pay the money I had loaned him to keep thesheriff out of his yard, I'd have told him plainly to go on about hisbusiness, and pay me when he could. Now, I propose to make it as hot aspepper for him, especially since he has developed into a scalawag. Thelatest report is, that he is one of the officials of the Union League."
Old Jonas paused, and his bead-like eyes glittered maliciously."Sanders," he went on, "it isn't often I ask a man to do me a favour,but I'm going to ask one of you. It will pay you to do it," he added,observing the shadow of a doubt on Mr. Sanders's face.
Adelaide's Bishop seemed to be very serious, but there was a twinkle inhis eye. He passed his hand over his mouth, in order to drive away asmile that threatened to become insubordinate. "Would it be troublin'you too much, Jonas," he said, "ef I was to ax you to pay me inadvance?"
"Pish-tush!" exclaimed old Jonas, with a scowl; "you should get you afiddle, Sanders, or a hurdy-gurdy! What I want you to do, the firstopportunity you have, is to tell old Tuttle that the nigger that laidhim low in Judge Bowden's cotton-patch is at my house. He hates me fordoing him a favour, and he hates the nigger for striking him whenstriking a white man was a hanging offence. He pretends to be anigger-lover now because he wants office; but when you tell him thatthis boy is at my house, one of two things will happen: he'll gettogether a gang of men of his own kidney and try the Ku-Klux game, orhe'll have him arrested for assault with intent to murder."
"Bishop," said Adelaide, who had only a dim idea of the meaning of whatshe had heard, "please don't let them get my Boogerman. I killed him,you know, and he belongs to me."
"No, suh! no, suh!" protested the Boogerman. "I don't want Mr. Tuttle tolay eyes on me. I jest wanted to see my mammy, an' find out where 'boutsMiss Betty is, an' then I'll git out'n folks' way. I might stand up an'tell Mr. Tuttle the truth frum now twel next year an' he wouldn'tb'lieve a word I said. Me see Mr. Tuttle? No, suh! When Mr. Tuttle callson me, I'll be gone--done gone!"
"Yasser!" cried Lucindy; "he's tellin' you de naked trufe! You reckinI'd let my chile see ol' Tuttle? Well, not me! Maybe somebody else'd doit, but not me! not ol' Lucindy! Don't you never b'lieve dat."
"You say you can read and write?" said old Jonas to the Boogerman."Well, come into the house here, and black my shoes. Then, after thatyou may preach me a sermon."
"Yes!" exclaimed Adelaide, "Cally-Lou is awake now; I saw her at thewindow; come in, Boogerman, and let her see you. She is seven years old,and has never seen the Boogerman."
"First, let Lucindy give you something to eat," said old Jonas, "butdon't fail to come in and black my shoes!"
Old Jonas, Bishop Sanders, and Adelaide went into the house, while theBoogerman went into the kitchen with his mother, where, seated by thewindow, and as far away from the fireplace as ever, he told the tale ofhis adventures--a tale which we are not concerned with here. Mr. Sandersand old Jonas were soon absorbed in a game of checkers, but they werenot so completely lost in their surroundings that they failed to payheed to Adelaide as she went from room to room calling Cally-Lou.Presently she seemed to find her in the parlour.
"You are pouting," she said, "or you'd never be sitting in this roomwhere nobody ever comes. Why, they don't have any fires in here, andnothing to eat. Nunky-Punky says if the sun was to shine in here, thecarpet would curl up and get singed. You don't know what it is to besinged, do you? Well, it's the way Mammy Lucindy does the chicken afterall the feathers are picked off. She kindles the fire until it blazes,and then holds the chicken in it until all its whiskers are burnt off.You didn't know chickens had whiskers, did you? Well, they have. You'llnever find out anything if you mope in the house and pout like this. Ididn't know any child could be so hard-headed."
"'You are pouting,' she said, 'or you'd never be sittingin this room where nobody ever comes'"]
Old Jonas reached out his hand to make a move, and held it suspended inthe air while Adelaide was talking to Cally-Lou. "Sanders," he said,after awhile, "do you suppose the child really thinks she's talking tosome one. Can she see Cally-Lou?"
"Why not?" replied Mr. Sanders placidly. "Folks ain't half as smart whenthey grow up as they is when they're little children. They shet the'reyes to one whole side of life. Kin you fling your mind back to the timewhen your heart was soft, an' your eyes sharp enough for to see whatgrown people never seed? Tell me that, Jonas."
Old Jonas paused over a contemplated move, hesitated and sighed. "Didyou ever have little things happen to you," Mr. Sanders went on,frowning a little, "that you never told to anybody? Did you ever dreamdreams when you was young that kinder rattled you for the longest, theywas so purty and true?"
"I think you have me beat, Sanders," responded old Jonas; and no oneever knew whether he referred to the game, or to the dreams.
"You think so, maybe, but it's more; I'm a-gwine to make two more movesand wipe you off the face of the earth!" And it happened just as Mr.Sanders said it would; two more moves, and he captured four men, andswept into the royal line where they crown kings. Old Jonas frowned andpushed the men into the box where they were kept, with "I can't playto-day, Sanders; my mind isn't on the game."
"Well," said Mr. Sanders, "that's diffunt an' I don't blame you much,for ef that little gal was loose in my house, what games I played wouldbe with her."
"Sanders," said old Jonas, with some asperity, "you don't mean to saythat a little bit of a child like that would worry you!"
"Worry me!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, with as scornful a look as he couldon his bland and benevolent face. "Worry me! why, what on earth do yousuppose I'm a-doin' in this house?"
"I thought you came to play checkers with me," old Jonas responded.
"Well," Mr. Sa
nders retorted, "ef you'd put your thoughts in a bag andshake 'em up, an' then pour 'em out, you couldn't tell 'em from theseflyin' ants that was swarmin' from under your front steps awhile ago.No, Jonas! Don't le' me shatter any fond dream you've got about me, butsence Nan Dorrin'ton come into the state of Georgy by the Santy Clausroute, this little gal is the only human bein' that I ever wanted topick up an' smother wi' huggin' an' kissin'."
"Is that so, Sanders?" old Jonas inquired, straightening up, with aqueer sparkle in his little eyes. "Why, I never thought----"
"Tooby shore you didn't," Mr. Sanders interrupted. "Nobody ever thoughtthat you had any sech thoughts. Ef it was a crime to think 'em, an' youwas to git took up on sech a charge, the case'd be non-prosecuted by thetime it got in the courthouse. When it comes to that you've got themajority of folks wi' you. You'll hear 'em talk an' brag how fond theyare of children, from morning tell night, but jest let one of theyoungsters make a big fuss, an' you'll see 'em flinch like the'rfeelin's is hurt. No Jonas, don't fool yourself. This world, an' notonly this world, but this town is full of children so lonesome that whenI think about it I feel right damp; an' thar's times when I set an'think of these little things runnin' about wi' not a soul on top of theyeth for to reely understand 'em, my heart gits so full that ef some unwas to slip up behind me an' put salt on my back, I reely believe I'dmelt an' turn to water like one of these gyarden snails. It's the honestfact. Now, that child in thar--Adelaide--has allers had some un tounderstand her an' know what she was thinkin' about; allers tell shecome here. Ef I hadn't know'd her mother, I could tell jest by lookin'at Adelaide an' hearin' her talk, that she was one 'oman amongst tenthousan'."
"You put me in the wrong, Sanders, indeed you do; you may not intend it,but you certainly do me wrong."
Mr. Sanders regarded him with unfeigned astonishment: "Why, what have Isaid, Jonas? Think it over! Is it doin' you wrong for me to say thatmore than nine-tenths of the little children in the world is lonesome?Does it hurt you when I say that Cordelia, your sister, was a 'omanamong ten thousand? If these sayin's hurt you, Jonas, you must have amortal tender conscience or a mighty thin skin. I've allers had the ideethat you ain't a bit wuss than you look to be; do you want me to changemy mind? Was thar ever under the blue sky a lonesomer gal than Cordelia,or one easier to love? Did you love her as you ought? Did you treat herright ever' day in the year? Did she ever have a good time of yourmakin'? An' in spite of it, didn't she keep on gittin' nicer and nicer,an' purtier an' purtier, tell bimeby, along come a young feller--as gooda man as ever trod shoe leather--an' snatched her right from under yourwing? An' didn't William H. Sanders, late of said county, show the youngfellow how, an' when, an' whar to snatch her?"
"Did--did you do that, Sanders? Well, I'm glad I didn't know it at thetime, for I am afraid I'd have shot you."
"Shot me!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, his blue eyes beaming innocently."Well, I've seed a good many quare things in my day an' time, but I'veyit to see the gun that could go off ahead of mine--not when thar wasany needcessity. You say you'd 'a' shot me; an' what did I do? I holpCordelia to the fust an' last taste of happiness she ever had in thisworld. Did you ever do that much for her? You give her her vittles an'cloze--sech as they was--but do plain vittles an' plain cloze makeanybody happy? Ef they do, then this old ball we 're walkin' on--when weain't fallin' down--must be runnin' over wi' happiness. Why, Jonas, youwouldn't let the gal have no kind of company, male or female; shecouldn't go out, bekaze she had nobody for to take her; one littlepicnic was all the gwine out she done arter she fell in your hands. Ituck her to that an' I never was as glad of anything in my life as I waswhen she an' Dick Lumsden made up the'r little misunderstandin' that youhad been the occasion of, an' had connived at, an' nursed like it was ababy.
"Well, they run away an' got married, an' went to housekeepin' not fortyyards from your door--an' you seen 'em ever' day of the world, an' yityou done like you didn't know they was in town. An' wuss 'n that," Mr.Sanders continued, his anger rising as he stirred the embers ofrecollection--"wuss'n that, you never spoke a word to Cordelia from thatday tell the day she died--an' she your own sister! It's a mighty goodthing that Lumsden was well off while the war lasted. When it ended, hewas as poor as I was. He had land, but who kin eat land? Thar wa'n't butone reely rich man in the community, Jonas, an' that man was you.You had bought up all the gold for a hundred mile aroun', but not somuch as a thrip did Cordelia ever git out'n you.
"What I'm a-tellin' you, Jonas, you know as well as I do; but I jestwant to let you know that we-all ain't been asleep all this time.Lumsden got a good job in Atlanta, an' took his wife an' baby thar. Himan' his wife was so well suited to one another that when one died, theother thought the best thing she could do was to go an' jine him. Bothon 'em know'd mighty well that the Lord would look arter the little gal.Oh, I know what you want to say: you want to tell me that you wasafear'd Lumsden would turn out to be no 'count, bekaze he was wild whena boy--an' would have his fling now an' then; but that don't go wi' me,Jonas. You know what he turned out to be; you know what Cordelia had togo through; you know that one kind word from you would 'a' been wuthmore to her than all the money you've got in the world; an' yit, yourpride, or your venom--you kin name it an' keep it--hender'd you frommakin' that poor child as happy as she mought 'a' been. An' I'll tellyou, Jonas, jest as shore as the Lord lives an' the sun shines on atroubled world, you'll have to pay for it."
Several times during this remarkable tirade--remarkable because it wasdelivered with some vehemence, right in old Jonas's teeth--he made aneffort to interrupt Mr. Sanders, but the latter had put him down with agesture that a novel writer would call imperious. Imperious or not, itgave pause to whatever old Jonas had to say in his own behalf; and itmust have all been true, too, for the old fellow finally turned away,pulled his hat down over his eyes, and pretended to be looking atsomething interesting that he saw from the window. Mr. Sanders, when hehad concluded, was surprised to find that old Jonas seemed to be morehurt than angry; and he would have gone into the parlour where Adelaidewas still playing with Cally-Lou, but old Jonas turned around and facedhim.
"You've said a great many things, Sanders, that nobody else would havesaid, and I gather that you consider me to be a pretty mean fellow; butdid it ever occur to you that perhaps I'm not as mean as I seem to be?Did it ever occur to you that a man could be so shy and suspicious thathe was compelled to close his mind against what you call love andaffection; and, that, with his mind thus closed, he could cease tobelieve in such things? I don't suppose you follow me; but it's thesimple truth. That child in there won't be put to bed at night until shekisses me good-night, and, even then she wont go until I kiss her. Thinkof that, Sanders! No matter what you and other people may think, thechild doesn't believe that I am a mean man."
"I could tell you, Jonas, that Adelaide ain't old enough for to tell amean man ef she met him in the road. But I'll not do that, bekaze I knowmighty well that you ain't as mean as you try to make out. Thar neverwas a man on this green globe that didn't have a tender spot in hisgizzard for them that know'd jest when an' whar to tetch it. Ef I tookyou at your face value, Jonas, not only would I never put my foot inyour house, but I wouldn't speak to you on the street. I tell you thatflat an' plain."
The conversation of the two men had been carried on in a tone somethinglouder than was absolutely necessary, especially on the part of Mr.Sanders. Indeed, finical folk would have said that the rosy-facedGeorgian was actually rude; but he had found an opportunity to deliverhimself of a burden that had long been a weight on his mind, and he didit in no uncertain terms. He fully expected either to find himself inthe midst of a row, or to be ordered from old Jonas's house, and he hadprepared himself for both emergencies. But instead of offending thelonely old money-lender, he had merely set him to thinking; and histhoughts were not very pleasant ones. He heard every word that Mr.Sanders said, and it was true, but even as he listened, the wholepanorama of his past life moved before him, and he could see himself ina
narrow perspective, living his cheerless childhood, his almostfriendless youth, and his lonely manhood. In those days, long gone, hehad had his dreams, even as now Adelaide had hers, but their existencewas brief, and their date inconsiderable. He pitied the child, theyouth, and the young man, but strange to say, he had no pity for thegrown man to whom Mr. Sanders was reading one of his cornfield lectures.He knew that what he was, was the direct outgrowth and development ofall that had gone before.
His sister had never understood him, and was afraid of him. He, silentand self-contained, never sought her confidence nor gave her his. A wordfrom her, a word from him, would have made clear everything that wasdark, or doubtful, or suspicious in their attitude toward each other. Hethought that her silence spelled contempt of a certain kind, and she wassure that she had his hearty dislike. And so it went, as such matters doin this world where no one save a chosen few see more than an inchbeyond their noses.
I could fetch Adelaide on the scene just by waving my hand, but there isno need to, for the tone in which Mr. Sanders pitched his lecture wasquite sufficient. Her quick, firm steps sounded on the floor with suchemphasis, that any one acquainted with the lady would have known thatshe was indignant. But her careful training told even here, forcomposure held her irritation in check, and her refinement showed in herattitude and gestures, giving her small person a cuteness and prettinessquite out of the common.
"Why, good gracious me, Bishop! You don't know how many noises you'remaking. How can Cally-Lou sleep in the house? She sleeps a good deallately, and I'm afraid she'll be sick, poor little thing, if she wakesup quicker than she ought."
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, in a loud and an excited whisper. "Now,don't tell me that Cally-Lou has gone and drapped off to sleep ag'in!Why, at this rate, she'll turn night into day, an' vicy-versy, an' Time,old an' settled as he is, will git turned wrong-sud-out'erds, an'ever'thing'll git so tangled up that you can't tell howdy from good-bye,ner ef the clock's tickin' backerds or forrerds; we'll git so turnedaround that we can't tell grasshoppers from turkey-buzzards. I'm reelysorry she didn't see you shoot the Boogerman, be jigger'd ef I ain't.The sight of that would 'a' made her open her eyes wider than they'vebeen sence I fust know'd her."
In reply to this, Adelaide said she was afraid Cally-Lou wasn't verywell. "Won't you come in and see her, Bishop? The truly-ann Bishop usedto come to see my mother before they sent her where my papa was--theplace where people get well when they're sick. Yes! and he used to bringthings in his pocket--all sorts of goodies--gum-drops and candy kisses,and he said that if I ate them, all by myself, he wouldn't be hoarse inhis throat any more when he had to holler loud at the sinners to keepthem from goin' to the Bad Place; and once when I ate a whole heap ofthem at once, he cleared his throat, the truly-ann Bishop did, and saidhe was almost cured."
"I'll shorely try that trick ef it'll he'p me for to be a truly-annBishop, bekaze I've been so hoarse lately that I can't see my own voicein the lookin'-glass, no matter how I holler. Nothin' shows up in theglass but a little muddly mist, an' I have to wipe that off wi' my redsilk han'kcher. Speakin' of Cally-Lou, when had I oughter pay my partycall?"
"She doesn't like for anybody to see her because she isn't right white,"Adelaide explained, "but she's asleep now, and you might come in to seeher now if you'll walk easy."
Talk about burglars! Talk about thieves in the night! Talk about wildanimals with padded feet creeping and stealing on their prey! All ofthem could have taken lessons in their craftiness from Adelaide and Mr.Sanders. Yes, and for a brief moment or two from old Jonas, for hejoined the creeping procession, impelled by some mysterious motive. Theystole into the darkened parlour, Adelaide in advance, and paused whenshe waved her hand. Then she pointed to the darkest corner.
Mr. Sanders will tell you to this day that he thought he saw somethingdim and dark huddled there--some wavering shape that had no outlines;but just at the critical moment, just when they were all about to seeCally-Lou, what should old Jonas do but stumble against a chair, as hecraned his neck forward? Well, of course, with such awkwardness as thison the part of a man old enough to be Adelaide's grandfather, theirscheme was ruined. Cally-Lou heard the noise, opened her eyes, and fledfrom the room so nimbly and with such dispatch that none of them couldsee her. Even Adelaide only caught the faintest glimpse of her as shewhisked out of the room, and all she could say, was, "Did you ever seeany one so foolish?" Then she ran after Cally-Lou, pursuing her into thesitting-room and then into the library, where she seemed to have caughther, for the others heard her upbraiding and scolding her in the styleapproved by all parents who are strict disciplinarians.
"Jonas," said Mr. Sanders, "did you see anything? Didn't you noticesomethin' in the corner--it mought 'a' been nothin' an' then, ag'in, itmought 'a' been the biggest thing mortual eyes ever gazed on--didn't yousee somethin' like a shadder?"
Old Jonas's reply was very prompt. He smacked his lips as though hetasted something nice. "No, Sanders! I didn't see anything, and what'smore, I didn't expect to see anything."
Mr. Sanders opened wide his eyes and stared at old Jonas as hard as ifhe had been some rare kind of curiosity placed on exhibition for thefirst time.
"I hope you'll know me next time you see me!" exclaimed old Jonas,somewhat snappishly. "Do you want me to tell you I saw something, whenin fact I saw nothing?"
Mr. Sanders passed his hand over his face, as though the gesture wouldbetter enable him to contemplate the sorrowful condition of hiscompanion. "Jonas," he said with a sigh as heavy as if he had been asleepy cow in a big pasture, "ef you'd 'a' had your two eyes put out aquarter of an hour arter you were born, you couldn't talk any more likea blind man than you did jest then. You said you seed nothin,'an' ablind man could say the same, day or night."
The reply that old Jonas made was characteristic; he pulled his hat alittle further down over his ears, and said nothing. Fortunately for himperhaps, there was a timely diversion at that moment. Some one raisedthe big knocker on the door and let it fall again. Such a bang had notbeen heard in the house for many a long day; it set the frightenedechoes flying. Adelaide heard them, and they must have been followingher pretty close, for she ran into the sitting-room, crying:
"Good gracious, Bishop! Gracious goodness, Nunky-Punky! what was that?Did some one shoot at my Boogerman? He's already been kill'ded once, andhe ought not to be kill'ded again."
Neither of the men could give her any satisfaction, and so she ran intothe parlour and peeped through the blinds of a window that commanded aview of the piazza. Almost instantly she came running back again,pretended amazement in her eyes.
"I know who it is!" she said in a tragic whisper. "It's my wildInjun-rubber man, and, oh, my goodness! he looks vigorous and vexified!Where shall we hide?"
As a matter of fact, it had been such a long time since the knocker hadbeen used that a big fat spider had spun a silken arbour there. OldJonas hesitated so long about responding that Lucindy, who had heard thenoise in the kitchen, put her head in the back door, with the query:
"Did any er you-all turn loose a gun in dar? Seem like I sho heern a gungo off!"
Lucindy's voice seemed to have a reassuring effect on old Jonas, for hebrushed some dust specks from the front of his coat, straightenedhimself, and started for the front door which was the centre of thedisturbance. As he made his way along the hall, Mr. Sanders, inobedience to an imperious gesture from Adelaide, disappeared behind ahuge rocker, while the child concealed herself behind the door. Mr.Sanders took off his hat, whipped out his red silk handkerchief, threwit over his head and tied it under his chin. Adelaide had a partial viewof her Bishop, and the sight she saw seemed to be too much for her: shegave a gasp, and sank to the floor as though in great pain.
They heard old Jonas urging the visitor to come in, while the otherprotested that he only wanted to say a word to Mr. Sanders, which couldbe said at the door as well, if not better, than anywhere else. OldJonas called Mr. Sanders, but no one answered him. Then Adelaide and herBis
hop heard old Jonas and the visitor coming along the hallway. "Idon't want to trouble you at all, Mr. Whipple. They told me at thetavern that Mr. Sanders was here, and I just wanted to put a flea in hisear about a little matter."
"Well, just come right in," responded old Jonas, cordially. "Sanders!"he called.
Adelaide ventured to glance at Mr. Sanders again, and this time shecould not restrain herself. She gave utterance to an ear-piercingshriek, which was more than sustained by a blood-curdling yell from Mr.Sanders!