Part 6 (1/2)

Vine put on no mourning in her widowhood, for such a thing as crepe was unattainable in those days. The girls in the neighborhood came and stayed with her by turns, and did all they could to divert her mind from her loss.

In a short time even punctilious Miss Eliza rejoiced to perceive some return of Vine's former cheerfulness. She said it was sad enough and bad enough to have a horrible war raging and ravaging over the country, without insisting that a delicate young thing like Lavinia should go on forever moping herself to death in unavailing grief. There was no need of anything of the kind. While wis.h.i.+ng her niece to avoid ”getting herself talked about,” Miss Eliza yet thought it needful, right and proper that she should take some diversion and some healthy amus.e.m.e.nt. So it came to pa.s.s after awhile that one day all the officers and soldiers who were temporarily at home, and all the young ladies living on the river, were invited to dine together at Beechwood.

The day was cool and delightful, with just a tinge of winter in the air.

Extensive fields, where hundreds of bales of cotton and thousands of barrels of corn had been grown annually, were now given up to weeds, briars and snakes. Here and there in protected nooks and corners cl.u.s.ters of tall golden-rod or blue and purple wild asters waved their heads. Only one small patch of ripened corn near the dwelling indicated that the inhabitants had not entirely forgotten seed-time and might possibly have hope of even a tiny harvest later on.

It was eleven o'clock before Vine had finished the work of decorating her parlors. She felt weary from the unusual exertion, but remembering her duties to her expected guests, she ran to the window overlooking the kitchen and called, ”Becky, Becky, you know who are to be here; now do have everything all right for dinner; and, Becky, please keep the children quiet, for I should like to take a nap before I dress.”

”Y'as'm,” said the woman, while a shade of care came into her honest face, as she regarded the two children playing in the corner of the kitchen. ”I 'clar to Gawd, dat's jes' like Miss Vine, she's done got in de bed dis minit and lef' me wid bofe dese chillun on my han's, en she knows, mitey well, dat um got a heap to tend ter, dis day. She tole me dat she wus gwine to he'p me, she did, en it's de Gawd's trufe dat she ain't done er spec of er blessed thing ceppin gether dem bushes and flowers, en Captain Prince he hope her at dat. Now, ef she had put her han' to de vegables, dat would er ben sumpin. Flowers will do for purty and niceness, but you cayent eat 'em, en you cayent drink 'em. Dey're des here to-day and gone all to pieces to-morrow; whut good is dey anyhow? a whole kyart load of um don't mount ter er hill er beans. Well,” she continued, ”I jes' won't blame de young creetur, but Gawd ermitey only knows when all dem white folks will set down ter dat ar dinner Miss Vine done 'vited 'em ter come here en eat! Here, Beth,” said she kindly to the little girl, ”clam up on dis stool, honey, by dis table; um gwine ter fix yo a nice roas' tater in a minit. Yo, Dan,” she called out sharply to the boy, ”yo jes' stop mas.h.i.+n' dat cat's tail wid dat cheer 'fo' he scratch yo to deff! Min', I tell yer! It jes' looks like Miss Vine wouldn't keer ef I bust my brains er wukin'; but I ain't er gwine to do dat fer n.o.body. Well, not fer _strange_ white folks, anyhow.”

Here Beth with a mouthful of sweet potato asked for water. Becky promptly dipped a gourd full and held it to her lips grumbling all the while, ”Lamb O' Gawd, how in de name er goodness is I gwine ter wait on dese chillun, wash up dese dishes, put on dinner, en fetch all de wood from de wood pile?” As she stood contemplating her manifold duties, she heard the clock in the house striking the hour. ”Lord, Gawd,” said she, ”ef it ain't twelve o'clock er 'ready, en sh.o.r.e nuff here comes all dem white folks jes' a gallopin' up de big road. Eh--eh--eh--well, dey'll wait twell em ready fur 'em, dat's all. But I does wish Miss Vine was mo' like her mar.

Ole Mis' wouldn't never dremped 'bout 'viten a whole pasel er folks here, widout havin' pigs, and po'try, pies and cakes, en sich, all ready, de day befo'. She had plenty on all sides an' plenty ter do de work too. Now here's Miss Vine she's after havin' her own fun. Well, she's right, you hear me, n.i.g.g.ahs!”

”You ain't talkin' to me, Aunt Becky,” said Beth; ”I ain't no n.i.g.g.e.r.” The woman laughed, dropped her dishcloth on the unswept floor, grasped the child and tossed her up several times over her head. ”Gawd bless dis smart chile! no, dat yo ain't! yo is a sweet, little, white angel outen heaben, you is dat, you purty little white pig!”

In the height of this performance Monroe came to the door and thrust in an enormous turkey just killed. Seeing what was going on he exclaimed: ”Why, Aunt Becky, yo better stop playing wid dat white chile en pick dis turkey 'fo' Miss Eliza happen 'long here en ketch yer.”

”Shet yo mouf, en git out o' dis kitchen, boy; you cayent skeer me; I can give you as good es you can sen' any day. De white folks knows I ain't got but two han's and can't do a hundred things in a minit.” She put the child down, however, and resumed her dish was.h.i.+ng.

The girls in the meantime had retouched their disheveled curls and joined the young men in the parlor, where for a time music, songs and dances made the hours fly. Let us play ”Straw,” said Nelly Jones.

”No, let Captain Prince lead and choose the game,” said Arabella.

So the captain seated the company in line. ”Now,” said he, ”not one of you must crack a smile on pain of forfeit, and when I say prepare to pucker, you must all do so,”--drawing out as he spoke the extraordinary aperture in his own good-natured face, extending his lips into an automatic, gigantic, wooden smirk reaching almost from ear to ear. Everybody giggled of course, but he went on: ”I shall call out 'Pucker,' and you must instantly face about with your mouths fixed this way”--and he drew up his wonderful feature small enough to dine with the stork out of a jar. The company shouted, but the game was never played, for reproof and entreaty, joined to the captain's word of command, failed to get them beyond a preparatory attempt which ended always in screams of laughter.

The sun was getting low in the west when another want began to appeal to the inner consciousness of these young persons. Some of them had ridden for miles in the morning air; since then they had sung and danced and laughed in unlimited fas.h.i.+on. Now they began to think of some other refreshment. Arabella ventured to request that Captain Prince be sent to the kitchen to reconnoiter and bring in a report from the commissary department. The captain responded amiably, and said she was a sensible young lady. ”Vine, ain't you hungry?” asked Arabella. ”Oh, I took some luncheon before you came,” replied she; ”if you will go up-stairs and look in the basket under my dressing table, you will find some sandwiches, but not enough for all.” The girl flew up-stairs.

When Captain Prince returned the girls rushed forward and overpowered him with questions. He threw up his hands deprecatingly and waved off his noisy a.s.sailants. ”Stop, stop, young ladies, I will make my report. I went round to the kitchen and found Aunt Becky behind the chimney ripping off the feathers of a turkey so big” (holding his hands nearly a yard apart).

”I got a coal o' fire to light my pipe, then I made a memorandum.” Here he pulled out an old empty pocketbook and pretended to read--”Item 1st, 'Fowl picking at three o'clock,' that means dinner at six. Can you wait that long?”

”Never!” cried the girls.

”Well, we must then go into an election for a new housekeeper who will go in person or send a strong committee who will whoop up the cook and expedite the meal which is to refresh these fair ladies and brave men,”--and he began to count them.

”Don't number me in your impolite crowd,” said Arabella, ”for I am content to wait until dinner is ready.” Vine gave her a meaning smile and went up pleadingly to the captain, rolling her fine eyes in the innocent, sweet way characteristic of some of the most fascinating of her s.e.x, and begging him to continue to be the life and soul of her party, as he always was everywhere he went: she said if he would ”start something diverting,” she would go and stir Becky up and have dinner right off--she would, ”honest Indian.”

These girls were not sufficiently polite to keep up a pleased appearance when bored. Such little artificialities of society belonged to the days of peace. They flatly refused to dance, saying they were tired. One avowed that she was sorry she had persuaded her mother to let her come to such a poky affair, and another declared that she had never been anywhere in her whole lifetime before where there was not cake, fruit, candy, popcorn, pindars, or something handed round when dinner was as late as this. ”Oh,”

said Nelly Jones, ”I wish I had a good stalk of sugar-cane.” In fact a cloud seemed to settle down in the parlors like smoke in murky weather.

Captain Prince stroked his blond goatee affectionately and looked serious, but brightening up in a moment he crossed the wide hall and entered the library where Major Bee was writing. He captured the major, brought him and introduced him to the ladies, and then seated him in a capacious arm-chair, while he held a whispering conference with Nelly Jones. Nelly's wardrobe was the envy and admiration of all the girls on the river. Being the daughter of a cotton speculator, she wore that rare article, a new dress. Unlike Arabella, whose jacket was cut from the best part of an old piano cover, she was arrayed in fine purple cashmere trimmed with velvet and gold b.u.t.tons, and was otherwise ornamented with a heavy gold chain and a little watch set with diamonds. Nelly took the captain's arm and made a low bow to Major Bee, and the girls were once more on the _qui vive_ when they heard the captain say in slow and measured tones, ”I have come with the free and full consent of this young lady to ask you to join us for life in the bonds of matrimony.” The amiable old major seemed ready to take part in this dangerous pastime, for gentle dulness ever loves a joke.

”Bring me a prayer book,” said he, ”if you please.”

”I lent my mother's prayer book,” said Vine, ”to old Mrs. Simpson two years ago, and she never returned it--the mean old thing!”

The major next asked for a broom which he held down before the couple saying, ”Jump over.”

”Hold it lower,” said Nelly, and they stepped over in a business-like manner.

”Now,” said Major Bee, ”I solemnly p.r.o.nounce you husband and wife, and I hope and trust that you will dwell together lovingly and peacefully until you die. I have at your request tied this matrimonial knot as tight as I possibly could, under the circ.u.mstances, and I hope you will neither of you ever cause me to regret that I have had the pleasure of taking part in this highly dignified and honorable ceremony.”

Then the old major kissed the bride, whom he had always petted from childhood, and shook hands with Captain Prince, whom Nelly refused the privilege accorded the major, for said she, ”there was no kissing in the bargain.” The company crowded around with noisy congratulations; a sofa was drawn forward, and the mock bridal couple sat in state and entertained their guests.