Part 28 (1/2)
Just as they reached the kitchen door, where Mother Bab was looking for them, the hail came.
”It's hail, Mommie,” David said. The three words held all the worry and pain of his heart.
”Never mind”--the little mother patted his shoulder. ”It's hail for more people than we know, perhaps for some who are much poorer than we are.”
”But the tobacco----” He stood by the window, impotent and weak, while the devastating hail pounded and rattled and smote the broad leaves of his tobacco and rendered it almost worthless.
”Won't new leaves grow again?” Phbe tried to cheer him.
”Not this late in the summer. My tobacco was almost ready to be cut; it was unusually early this year.”
”Well,” spoke up the preacher, ”I can't see why you always plant tobacco. Smoking and chewing tobacco are filthy habits. I can't see why so many people of this section plant the weed when the soil could be used to produce some useful grain or vegetable.”
”Yes”--David turned and addressed his cousin fiercely--”it's easy enough for you to talk! You with your big farm and orchards and every crop a success! Your bank account is so fat that you don't need to care whether your acres bring in a big return or a lean one. But when you have just a few acres you plant the thing that will be likely to bring in the most money. You know many poor people plant tobacco for that reason, and that is why I plant it.”
”Davie,” the mother said, ”Davie!”
”I know,” he said bitterly. ”I'm a beast when my temper gets beyond control, but Phares can be so confounded irritating, he rubs salt in your cuts every time.”
”Just for healing,” the mother said gently.
”David,” said Phbe, ”I guess the temper is a little bit of that Irish showing up.”
At that David smiled, then laughed.
”Phbe,” he said, ”you know how to rub people the right way. If ever I have the blues you are just the right medicine.”
”I don't want to be called medicine,” she said with a shake of her head.
”Not even a sugar pill?” asked Mother Bab.
”No. I don't like the sound of _pill_.”
David looked across at the preacher, who stood silent and helpless in the swift tide of conversation. ”You may be right, Phares. It may be the wrath of Providence upon the tobacco. I'll try alfalfa in that field next and then I'll rub Aladdin's lamp. I'll make some money then!”
”Where do you find Aladdin's lamp?” asked Phbe.
”I can't tell you now. But I know I'm tired of slaving and having nothing for my work, so I am going after the magic lamp.”
CHAPTER XIV
ALADDIN'S LAMP
THE morning after the hail storm dawned fair and suns.h.i.+ny. David went out and stood at the edge of his tobacco field. All about him the hail had wrought its destruction. Where yesterday broad, thick leaves of green tobacco had stood out strong and vigorous there hung only limp shreds, punctured and torn into worthlessness.
”All wasted, my summer's work. I'll rub that magic lamp now. Fool that I was, not to do it sooner!”
A little later, as he walked down the road to town, his lips were closed in a resolute line, his shoulders squared in soldierly fas.h.i.+on. ”I hope Caleb Warner is in his office,” he thought.
Caleb Warner was in; he greeted David cordially.