CHAPTER XVII.
OLD MR. COLT.
Supper was over. The girls had laughingly resisted their hostess'sappeal, "Just one more fritter, with another on each side to keep itwarm,--though I don't know as they _are_ fit to eat!" and on herpositive refusal to let them help wash the dishes, had retired to theback doorstep, from which they could watch the sunset. Here they werejoined by Bubble, who had found a lodging for himself, Dr. Abernethy,and the pony, in the family of Abner Colt, the mail-carrier. He took hisplace on the doorstep with the air of one who has fairly earned hisrepose.
"Well, Bubble," said Hildegarde, "tell us how you have fared."
"Oh, very well!" answered the boy,--"very well, Miss Hilda! They're afunny set over there at Mr. Colt's, but they seem very kind, and theyhave given me a nice little room in the stable-loft, so 't I can see tothe Doctor any minute."
"How is the dear beast?" asked Rose. "I thought he went a little lame,after he got that stone in his foot."
"I have bathed the foot," said Bubble, "and it'll be all rightto-morrow. Old Mr. Colt wanted to give me three different kinds ofliniment to rub on it, but hot water is all it needs. He's a queer oldfellow, old Mr. Colt!" he added meditatively. "Seems to live on medicinechiefly."
"What do you mean?" asked the girls.
"Why," said Bubble, "he came in to supper--I hadn't seen himbefore--with a big bottle under his arm, and a box of pills in his hand.He came shuffling in in his stocking-feet, and when he saw me he gave akind of groan. 'Who's that?' says he. 'It's a boy come over fromBywood,' says Mrs. Abner, as they call her. 'He's goin' to stop hereover night, Father. Ain't you glad to see him?--Father likes young folksreal well!' she says to me. The old gentleman gave a groan, and satdown, nursing his big bottle as if it were a baby. 'D'ye ever have thedyspepsy?' he asked, looking at me. 'No, sir!' said I. 'Never hadanything that I know of, 'cept the measles.' He groaned again, andpoured something out of the bottle into a tumbler. 'You look kinder'pindlin',' says he, shaking his head. 'I think likely you've got it onye 'thout knowin' it. It's sub-tile, dyspepsy is,--dreadful sub-tile.'"
"What did he mean?--subtle?" asked Hilda, laughing.
"I suppose so!" replied the boy. "And then he took his medicine,groaning all the time and making the worst faces you ever saw. 'I reckonyou'd better take a swallow o' this, my son!' he said. 'It's apre-ventitative, as well 's a cure.'"
"Bubble," cried his sister, "you are making this up. Confess, youmonkey!"
"I'm not!" said Bubble, laughing. "It's true, every word of it. I_couldn't_ make up old Mr. Colt! 'It's a pre-ventitative!' he says, andreaches out his hand for my tumbler. Then Abner, the young man, spokeup, and told him he guessed I'd be better without it, and that 't wasn'tmeant for young people, and so on. 'What is it, Mr. Colt?' I asked,seeing that he looked real--I mean very much--disappointed. Hebrightened up at once. 'It's Vino's Vegetable Vivifier!' he said. 'It'sthe greatest thing out for dyspepsy. How many bottles have I took,Leory?' 'I believe this is the tenth, Father!' said Mrs. Abner. 'And _I_don't see as 't 's done you a mite o' good!' she said to herself, but so't I could hear. 'Thar!' says the old man, nodding at me, as proud ascould be, 'd' ye hear that? Ten bottles I've took, at a dollar a bottle.Ah! it's great stuff. Ugh!' and he groaned and took a great piece ofmince-pie on his plate. 'Oh, Father!' says the young woman, '_do_ youthink you ought to eat mince-pie, after as sick as you was yesterday?'He was just as mad as hops! 'Ef I'm to be grutched vittles,' he says, 'Iguess it's time for me to be quittin'. I've eat mince-pie seventy year,man an' boy, and I guess I ain't goin' to leave off now. I kin go overto Joel's, if so be folks begrutches me my vittles here.' 'Oh, come,Father!' says Abner; 'you know Leory didn't mean nothing like that. Efyou've got to have the pie, why, you've _got_ to have it, that's all.'The old man groaned, and pegged away at the pie like a good one. 'Ah!'he said, 'I sha'n't be here long, anyway. Nobody needn't be afraid o'_my_ eatin' up their substance. Hand me them doughnuts, Abner. Nothin'seems to have any taste to it, somehow.'"
"Did he eat nothing but pie and doughnuts?" asked Hilda. "I should beafraid he would die to-night."
"Oh," said Bubble, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you all the thingshe ate. Pickles and hot biscuit and cheese--and groaning all the time,and saying nobody knowed what dyspepsy was till they'd had it. Then,when he'd finished, he opened the pill-box, which had been close besidehis plate all the time, and took three great fat black pills. 'Have anytrouble with yer liver?' says he, turning to me again; 'there isnothin' like these pills for yer liver. You take two of these, andyou'll feel 'em all over ye in an hour's time,--all over ye!' I thought't was about time for me to go, so I said I must attend to the horse'sfoot, and went out to the stable. It was then that he brought me thethree kinds of liniment, and wanted me to rub them all on, 'so 's if onedidn't take holt, another would.'"
"What a dreadful old ghoul!" cried Hildegarde, indignantly. "I don'tthink it's safe for you to stay there, Bubble. I know he will poison youin some way."
"You're talking about Cephas Colt, _I_ know," said the voice of Mrs.Brett; and the good woman appeared with her knitting, and joined thegroup on the doorstep. "He is a caution, Cephas is,--a caution! He'sbeen dosing himself for the last thirty years, and it's a living miraclethat he is alive to-day Abner and Leory have a sight o' trouble withhim; but they're real good and patient, more so 'n I should be. Did heshow you his collection of bottles?" she added, turning to Bubble.
"No," replied the boy. "He did speak of showing me something; but I wasin a hurry to get over here, so I told him I couldn't wait."
"You'll see 'em to-morrow, then!" said the widow. "It's his delight toshow 'em to strangers. Four thousand and odd bottles he has,--all physicbottles, that have held all the stuff he and his folks have taken forthirty years."
"Four--thousand--bottles!" cried her hearers, in dismay.
"And odd!" replied the widow, with emphasis. "He's adding new ones allthe time, and hopes to make it up to five thousand before he dies. Largeones and small, of course, and lotions and all. He takes every newthing that comes along, reg'lar. He has his wife's bottles all arrangedin a shape, kind o' monument-like. They do say he wanted to set them upon her grave, but I guess that's only talk."
"How long ago did she die?" asked Rose.
"Three year ago, it is now!" said Mrs. Brett. "Dosed herself to death,we all thought. She was just like him! Folks used to say they had pillsand catnip-tea for dinner the day they was married. You know how folkswill talk! It's a fact though"--here she lowered her voice--"and I'dought not to gossip about my neighbors, nor I don't among themselvesmuch, but strangers seem different somehow,--anyhow, it _is_ a fact thathe wanted to put a scandalous inscription on her monument in thecemetery, and Abner wouldn't let him; the only time Abner ever stoodout against his father, as I know of."
"What was the inscription?" asked Hildegarde, trying hard to look asgrave as the subject required.
"Well,--you mustn't say I told you!" said the Widow Brett, lowering hervoice still more, and looking about with an air of mystery,--"'t was
'Phosphoria helped her for a spell; But Death spoke up, and all is well.'
'Sh! you mustn't laugh!" she added, as the three young people broke intopeals of laughter. "There! I'd ought not to have told. He didn't _mean_nothing improper, only to express resignation to the will o' Providence.Well, there! the tongue's an onruly member. And so you young ladiesthought you'd like to see Bixby, did ye?" she added, for the third orfourth time. "Well, I'm sure! Bixby'd oughter be proud. 'T _is_ asightly place, I've always thought. You must go over t' the cemeteryto-morrow, and see what there is to see."
"Yes, we did want to see Bixby," answered straightforward Hildegarde;"but we came still more to see you, Mrs. Brett. Indeed, we have a veryimportant message for you."
And beginning at the beginning, Hildegarde unfolded the great scheme.Mrs. Brett listened, wide-eyed, following the recital with appreciativemotions of lips and hands. When it was over, she seemed fo
r once at aloss for words.
"I--well, there!" she said; and she crumpled up her apron, and thensmoothed it out again. "I--why, I don't know what _to_ say. Well! I'mcompletely, as you may say, struck of a heap. I don't know whatMarthy's thinking of, I'm sure. It isn't _me_ you want, surely. Youwant a woman with faculty!"
"Of course we do!" cried both girls, laughing. "That is why we have cometo you."
"Sho!" said Mrs. Brett, crumpling her apron again, and trying not tolook pleased. "Why, young ladies, I couldn't do it, no way in the world.There's my chickens, you see, and my cow, let alone the house; not butwhat Joel (that's my nephew) would be glad enough to take keer of 'em.And goin' so fur away, as you may say--though 't would be pleasant to benigh Marthy--we was always friends, Marthy and me, since we wasgirls--and preserves to make, and fall cleanin' comin' on, and help soskurce as 'tis--why, I don't know what Marthy's thinkin' of, really Idon't. Children, too! why, I do love children, and I shouldn't neverthink I had things comfortable enough for 'em; not but that's a lovelyplace, pretty as ever I see. I helped Marthy clean it one spring, andsuch a fancy as I took to that kitchen,--why, there! and the little roomover it; I remember of saying to Marthy, says I, a woman might livehappy in those two rooms, let alone the back yard, with all that nicefine gravel for the chickens, I says. But there! I couldn't do it, MissGrahame, no way in the world. Why, I ain't got more'n half-a-dozenaprons to my back; so now you see!"
This last seemed such a very funny reason to give, that the three youngpeople could not help laughing heartily.
"Martha has dozens and dozens of aprons, Mrs. Brett," said Hildegarde."She has a whole bureau full of them, because she is afraid her eyes maygive out some day, and then she will not be able to make any more. Andnow, just think a moment!" She laid her hand on the good woman's arm,and continued in her most persuasive tones: "Think of living in thatpleasant house, with the pretty room for your own, and the sunnykitchen, and the laundry, all under your own management."
"Set tubs!" said Mrs. Brett, in a pathetic parenthesis. "If there's onething I've allers hankered after, more 'n another, it's a set tub!"
"And the dear little children playing about in the garden, and coming toyou with flowers, and looking to you as almost a second mother--"
"Little Joel,"--cried the widow, putting her apron to her eyes, andbeginning to rock gently to and fro--"I've allus felt that blessed childwould ha' lived, if he'd ha' been left with me. There! Joel's been agood nephew, there couldn't no one have a better; but his wife and me,we never conjingled. She took the child away, and it peaked and pinedfrom that day. Well, there! the ways are mysterious!"
"And you would take the chickens and the cow with you, of course," thisartful girl went on; "for the children must have milk and eggs, and Inever tasted more delicious milk than this of yours."
"I've no cause to be ashamed of the cow!" said the widow, still rocking."There isn't a cow equal to her round Marthy's way. I've heerd Marthysay so. Sixteen quarts she gives, and I do 'clare it's most half cream.Jersey! there isn't many Jerseys round Marthy's way."
"And then the comfort you would be to Martha and to dear Miss Bond!"Rose put in. "Martha has a good deal of rheumatism in winter, you know,and she says you are such a good nurse. She told me how you rubbed herin her rheumatic fever. She thinks you saved her life, and I am sure youdid."
"If I rubbed Marthy Ellen Banks one foot, I rubbed her a hundred miles!"said Mrs. Brett, with a faint gleam in her moist eyes. "'From hertombstun back to a well woman is a good way,' Dr. Jones says to me, 'andthat way you've rubbed Marthy Ellen, Mis' Brett!' says he. Good man Dr.Jones is,--none better! There isn't no one round Bixby can doctor mysciatica as he did when I was stayin' to Mis' Bond's last year. Mis'Bond, too,--well, there! she was a mother to me. Seemed like 't was morehome there than Bixby was, since little Joel died. Mysterious the waysis! Mr. Rawlins well?" she added, after a moment's pause.
"Mr.--Oh, Jeremiah!" cried Hildegarde, after a moment of bewilderment."Jeremiah is very well, all except a cough; and, dear me! Mrs. Brett, Ihaven't given you his message. 'Tell Mrs. Brett,' he said, almost thelast thing before we came away this morning,--'tell Mrs. Brett she'll_have_ to come, to make me a treacle-posset for my cough. Not evenMartha can make treacle-posset like hers!' Those were Jeremiah's verywords, Mrs. Brett."
A faint color stole into the widow's thin cheeks. She sat up straight,and began to smooth out her apron. "Miss Grahame," she saidemphatically, "I verily believe you could persuade a cat out of abird's-nest. If it seems I'm really needed over to Bywood--I don'thardly know how I _can_ go--but--well, there! you've come so fur, and Ido like to 'commodate; so--well, I don't really see how I can--but--Iwill!"