J. D. Matthews spread his supper upon a log. He had delicacies whichcreated a very cheerful feeling in the party, such as always risesaround the thanksgiving board.
Zene sat at one side of the log by J. D. Matthews. Opposite them thegrandmother and her children, camped on chunks covered with shawlsand horse-blankets Seeing what an accomplished cook this singularpedler was, how much at home he appeared in the woods, and what amuseum he could make of his cart, Zene respectfully kept fromlaughing at him, except in an indulgent way as the children did.
"I guess we'll stay just where we are until morning," said GrandmaPadgett. "The night's pleasant and warm, and there are just as fewmosquitoes here as in the tavern. I didn't sleep last night." Shefelt stimulated by the tea, and sufficiently recovered from thelanguor which follows extreme anxiety, to linger up watching thefire, allowing the children to linger also, while J. D. Matthews puthis cupboard to rights after supper.
It was funny to see his fat hands dabbling in dishwater; he laughedas much about--it as aunt Corinne did.
Grandma Padgett removed the sleeping child from his cart, and aftertrying vainly to make her eat or arouse herself, put her in the bedin the tent, attired in one of aunt Corinne's gowns.
"She was just as helpless as a young baby," said Grandma Padgett,sitting down again by the fire. "I'll have a doctor look at thatchild when we go through Richmond. She acts like she'd been drugged."
J. D. Matthews having finished--his dishwashing, sat down in theshadow some distance from the outspoken woman in spectacles, and herfamily.
"Now come up here," urged aunt Corinne, "and sing it all over--whatyou was singing before Ma Padgett came."
J. D. ducked his head and chuckled, but remained in his shadow.
"Awh-come on," urged Robert Day "Zene'll sing 'Barb'ry Allen' ifyou'll sing your song again."
Zene glanced uneasily at Grandma Padgett, and said he must look atthe horses. "Barb'ry Allen" was a ballad he had indulged the childrenwith when at a distance from her ears.
But the tea and the hour, and her Virginia memories through whichthat old sing-song ran like the murmur of bees, made Grandma Padgettpropitious, and she laid her gracious commands on Zene first, and J.D. Matthews afterwards. So that not only "Barb'ry Allen" was sung,but J. D.'s ditty, into which he plunged with nasal twanging and muchpersonal enjoyment.
"It's why he didn't ever get married," explained aunt Corinne,constituting herself prologue.
"I should think he needn't make any excuses for that," remarkedGrandma Padgett, smiling.
J. D. sawed back and forth on a log, his silly face rosy withpleasure over the tale of his own woes:
O, I went to a friend's house, The friend says "Come in. Take a hot cup of coffee, O where have you been?"
It's down to the Squi-er's With a license I went, And my good Sunday clothes on, To marry intent.
"O where is the lady?" The good Squi-er, says he. "O she's gone with a wed'wer That is not poor J. D."
"It's now you surprise me," The friend says a-sigh'n, "J. D. Matthews not married, The sun will not shine!"
"Well, I think she was simple!" exclaimed aunt Corinne in epilogue,"when she might have had a man that washed the dishes and talkedpoetry all the time."