Part 6 (1/2)
”How often?”
”Isn't once enough?”
”Yes, but I've struck it a hundred times. I've been kept on the bounce, like a ball.”
”That's all right, but do you feel thankful for it?”
”Well, my heart isn't bursting with grat.i.tude, but it might have been worse--I might have stuck to the ceiling. When you throw a dog into the water, he always shakes himself when he comes out. It's a determination to be dry again. And that's the way a man ought to do--shake himself every time he's thrown.”
”I don't know but you're right. What are you doing here, anyway?”
”Rooting like a hog for something to eat. And I've not only failed in nearly everything I undertook, but I've been a fool besides. But I've got sense enough to know that it has all been my own fault. I believe that, if a man's in good health, it's always his own fault if he don't succeed. I could sit down and growl at the world; I could wish I had it under my heel to grind the life out of it; and the truth is, we all have a part of it under our heels, and if we keep on grinding we'll make an impression. I am what you might call a national egotist. I believe that nearly everything lies within the range of an American. He may do wrong--he does do wrong. Sometimes he does a great wrong, but nine times out of ten he tries to make it right. I believe that the Yankee has more conscience than other men. He may keep it well sheathed, but after a while the edge eats through the scabbard and cuts him. He works with an object. They say it is to make money. That's true, but the money is to serve a purpose, a heart, a conscience.”
George turned about in his chair, and looked with keen interest at the laboring man. ”Look here, you are a man of brains. Why do you stay here and dig? You are fitted for something better.”
Milford smiled at him. ”How often that's said of a man who's not fitted for anything. As I remarked to your wife, I'm a crank. But I've got an object--there's something that must be done, and I'm going to do it or broil out my life in that field.”
”You are a brave man. Not all of us are so nervy. But you may not have to broil out your life.”
”Hope,” said Milford. ”And what a muscle it is, hardening with each stroke. Now, it's not my place to say anything to you, but don't fool along with affairs that are hopelessly tangled. Strike at something else. Perhaps that wasn't the business you were fitted for, anyway.”
”Can't tell. But I wasn't stuck on it, that's a fact. What line have you failed in, mostly?” he asked, laughing; and his wife's thin shoulders shook as if she were seized with a sudden physical gladness.
”Oh I've been a sort of bounty jumper of occupations.”
”But we know,” said Mrs. Blakemore, ”that your work was always honest.”
”Well,” he replied, his white teeth showing through the dark of his beard, ”I never squatted on the distress of an old soldier to discount his pension.”
”That's not bad. Louise,” he added, playfully touching his wife's hand, ”how is it you took to me when you have a knack of finding such interesting fellows?”
”Why, you were one of the most interesting fellows I ever found. Is that Bobbie crying? Yes. I must go to him. Good-night, Mr. Milford. I'm ever so glad you came over this evening.” She gave him a grateful look, and hastened away, crying out, ”Mamma's coming,” as she ran up the stairs.
And now Mrs. Stuvic's voice arose from the outlying darkness of the road. ”Well,” she shouted at some one, ”you tell him that if he ever leaves my gate open again I'll fill his hide so full of shot he'll look like a woodp.e.c.k.e.r'd pecked him. A man that's too lazy to shut a gate ought to be made to wear a yoke like a breachy cow. Yes, you bet!” she said over and again as she came toward the veranda. ”Like a breachy cow.
And here's Bill, bigger than life! Why, the way I saw you pounding them clods over yonder, I didn't think you could move at night. This is Mr.--What-his-name? I never could think of it. Are you still mopin'
about? Bah, why don't you get down to somethin'? Suppose the women was to mope that way? Do you reckon anythin' would be done. No, you bet!
There's no time for them to mope. I saw Eldridge hauling a load of folks from the station to-day. And I know 'em--the Bostics, out here last year, and went off without payin' their board. Well, he can have 'em, for all of me. Stuck up. 'Please do this,' and 'Please do that,' and 'How do you feel this mornin', dear mamma?' 'Bah!' I said, 'why don't dear mammy get out and stir around?' Bill, I want you to come over here to dinner to-morrow--settin' about readin' all day Sunday. You come over here and get somethin' to eat. But don't let Mitch.e.l.l come. I had a chance to hire him, and didn't do it, and now I haven't got any too much use for him. The rascal deceived me. I didn't know he was half as good a worker as he is. But you be sure to come,” and leaning over, she added in a whisper: ”I've got the putties gal here you ever saw in your life.”
”But that's not the question. Will you have anything to eat?”
”Better than you've had for many a day, sir, I can tell you that.”
”I'll be here,” he replied, getting up.
”Going?” said George. ”I'll walk out a piece with you.”
And talking knavishly of the old woman and the wives who pretended to be so glad to see their husbands, they walked out into the hickory grove.
”The old lady whispered to you about a pretty girl,” said George. ”Might just as well have shouted it. But she is a stunner! I hunted deer up in the mountains once, and I never saw one, but I imagined what one ought to look like, stepping around in the tangle; and when I saw that girl out here in the woods to-day, I thought of the deer that I didn't see.