Part 9 (1/2)

He glanced at his granddaughters as he said it, as if to suggest that their morals, if not his own, might be impaired by such language.

”Laws, Ruel,” she said briskly, ”I'd somehow got it into my head that that thing happened to him on the way to Damascus, and I didn't know as you or anybody else called Saul of Tarsus a saint.”

She had him at a moment's disadvantage, and the thin, high, mocking laugh with which she ended put the finis.h.i.+ng touch to his irritation.

”As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of a fool,”

he said, with slow emphasis.

It should be observed in pa.s.sing that Deacon Saxon's use of the name which he had just bestowed by implication on his sister was, like the text itself, Solomonic. The person lacking, not in knowledge, but in moral sense, was the one whom the wise man called a fool, and there were moments when Katharine Saxon appeared to her brother to be so wanting in this respect as to come fairly under the t.i.tle. It was not the first time that his frankness had led him to bestow it on her.

”Hey?” she said, leaning forward suddenly, with her hand curled about her ear.

That she had not caught the words was by no means certain. It suited her humor sometimes to offset his boastfulness as to his good hearing with a certain parade of her own slight deafness, and the occasions for making him repeat himself were often cunningly chosen. For once he did not do it. Perhaps, a second time, he remembered the presence of his granddaughters.

As for the girls themselves, they caught their breath, in the silence that followed, with something like a gasp. It is safe to say that they had never been present before at such an interview between relatives.

Kate would not have minded a renewal of hostilities, but Esther, with better grace, seized the chance to effect a truce by turning the conversation into a more peaceful channel.

”Aunt Katharine,” she said eagerly, ”you spoke of the spinning you used to do. Have you the old wheel now? I've heard mother tell what a wonderful spinner you were, and I should so like to see the very wheel you used.”

The old woman took her hand from her ear and turned toward the girl.

”No,” she said, ”I hain't got the old wheel now; one of Nancy's girls wanted it, and I let her carry it off. 'Twasn't any account; pretty near as much wore out as I was when it stopped running.”

Evidently she felt that her pa.s.sage-at-arms with her brother was ended.

The sharpness of her expression relaxed, and she rose from her place with her ordinary manner. ”I can show you a piece of linen your mother wove, if you want to see it. She'd have made a good spinner herself if she'd stuck to it, but I s'pose she forgot all about it long ago. Well, there's plenty other ways for women to use their time nowadays, and I'm glad of it.”

The rest of the call ran smoothly. Miss Saxon could be even gracious when she was so disposed, and she treated her guests to a bottle of raspberry vinegar, which, in spite of the fact that she had brewed it herself, was not in the least too sharp, with fruit cake which time had brought to the most perfect mellowness. Her nieces would have left her house imagining that the ”queerness,” of which she had given such ample proof, was confined to the one subject which she had discussed with her brother, had it not been for a little episode at the very end of the call, and for this, as it happened, the old gentleman was again responsible.

”How are you getting along with your garden, Katharine?” he asked. ”I was thinking mebbe I or' to send Tom down here to do a little weeding for you.”

A peculiar smile gleamed suddenly in the eyes of his sister. ”Thank ye, Ruel, I've got all the help I need jest now,” she said. ”Come out 'n'

take a look at my garden.”

She led the way to the rear of the house, and stepped before them into the trim little garden. It was of the old-fas.h.i.+oned sort, with vegetables growing in thrifty rows, and bunches of such flowers as phlox, sweet william, and bachelor's b.u.t.tons standing at the corners of the walks. It would have seemed a model of conventional primness, but for a curious figure seated on a three-legged stool, puffing tobacco smoke from a long Dutch pipe in among the branches of a rose-bush.

He might have been upwards of sixty; a dapper little man with a s.h.i.+ning face, and a round head covered as to its top by an embroidered cap adorned with a crimson ta.s.sel. His waistcoat was of gay old-fas.h.i.+oned silk, across which was strung a huge gold chain, and a flaming topaz pin adorned the front of his calico s.h.i.+rt. At sight of the company issuing from the house he started from his seat and trotted up the walk to meet them, his hand extended and his face expressive of the most beaming cordiality.

Ruel Saxon, who was following his sister with a meekness of deportment which had sat uneasily upon him ever since the close of their discussion, started as his eye fell on this person, and threw up his head with a movement of surprise and irritation. ”Good day, Solomon,” he said stiffly, as they came together, Miss Saxon having stepped aside to give free course for the meeting.

”Why, how d'y' do, Deacon, how d'y' do?” exclaimed the other, seizing the old gentleman's hand, which, to tell the truth, had not been offered him, and shaking it furiously. ”It's been a terrible long time since you and I met. I-I was thinkin' the other day I or' to come round and see how you was gittin' along.”

The deacon did not look overjoyed at the mention of the intended honor.

”How long has Solomon been here?” he asked rather curtly, turning to his sister.

”Two weeks to-morrow,” she replied, with equal curtness. Then, turning to the little man, and from him to the girls, she said with marked politeness, ”Mr. Ridgeway, these are my nieces, Lucia Saxon's children.

I guess you remember her.”