Part 2 (1/2)
”Barnaby lives with a dog and does for himself, but he's hardly ever in his store. People go there to buy things and find the door propped open with a brick, and a sign says to come in and take what you want.
The price of everything is marked good and plain, and another sign says to put the money in the drawer and make your own change. The blacksmith was at him for doing business so s.h.i.+ftless, and Barnaby laughed and said that if anybody wanted anything he had bad enough to steal it, whoever it was, he was good and welcome to it. That just shows how crazy he is. Most of the time he's roaming around the country, with his yellow dog at his heels, making outlandish noises on some kind of a flute. He can't play a tune, but he keeps trying.
Folks around here call him Piper Tom.
”Of course I wouldn't want Mrs. Allen to know, but I've thought that sometime when he was away and there was n.o.body there to see, I'd just step in for a few minutes and take a look at his goods. Elmiry Jones says his calico is beautiful, and that for her part, she's going to trade there instead of at Allen's. I suppose it is a temptation. I might do it myself, if 't want for my principles.”
The speaker paused for breath, but Miss Evelina still sat silently in her chair. ”What was it?” thought Miss. .h.i.tty. ”I was here, and I knew at the time, but what happened? How did I come to forget? I must be getting old!”
She searched her memory without result. Her house was situated at the crossroads, and, being on higher ground, commanded a good view of the village below. Gradually, her dooryard had become a sort of clearing house for neighbourhood gossip. Travellers going and coming stopped at Miss. .h.i.tty's to drink from the moss-grown well, give their bit of news, and receive, in return, the scandal of the countryside. Had it not been for the faithful and industrious Miss Mehitable, the town might have needed a daily paper.
”Strange I can't think,” she said to herself. ”I don't doubt it'll come to me, though. Something happened to Evelina, and she went away, and her mother went with her to take care of her, and then her mother died, all at once, of heart failure. It happened the same week old Mis' Hicks had a doctor from the city for an operation, and the Millerses barn was struck by lightning and burnt up, and so I s'pose it's no wonder I've sorter lost track of it.”
Miss Evelina's veiled face was wholly averted now, and Miss. .h.i.tty studied her shrewdly. She noted that the black gown was well-worn, and had, indeed, been patched in several places. The shoes which tapped impatiently on the floor were undeniably shabby, though they had been carefully blacked. Against the unrelieved sombreness of her gown.
Miss Evelina's hands were singularly frail and transparent. Every line of her body was eloquent of weakness and well-nigh insupportable grief.
”Well,” said Miss. .h.i.tty, again, though she felt that the words were flat; ”I'm glad you've come back. It seems like old times for us to be settin' here, talkin', and--” here she laughed shrilly--”we've both been spared marriage.”
A small, slender hand clutched convulsively at the arm of the haircloth chair, but Miss Evelina did not speak.
”I see,” went on Miss. .h.i.tty, not unkindly, ”that you're still in mourning for your mother. You mustn't take it so hard. Sometimes folks get to feeling so sorry about something that they can't never get over it, and they keep on going round and round all the time like a squirrel in a wheel, and keep on getting weaker till it gets to be a kind of disease there ain't no cure for. Leastwise, that's what Doctor Dexter says.”
”Doctor Dexter!” With a cry, Miss Evelina sprang to her feet, her hands tightly pressed to her heart.
”The same,” nodded Miss. .h.i.tty, overjoyed to discover that at last her hostess was interested. ”Doctor Anthony Dexter, our old schoolmate, as had just graduated when you lived here before. He went away for a year and then he came back, bringing a pretty young wife. She's dead, but he has a son, Ralph, who's away studying to be a doctor. He'll graduate this Spring and then he's coming here to help his father with his practice. Doctor Dexter's getting old, like the rest of us, and he don't like the night work. Some folks is inconsiderate enough to get sick in the night. They orter have regular hours for it, same as a doctor has hours for business. Things would fit better.
”Well, I must be going, for I left soup on the stove, and Araminta's likely as not to let it burn. I'm going to send your supper over to you, and next week, if the weather's favourable, we'll clean this house. Goodness knows it needs it. I'd just as soon send over all your meals till you get settled--'t wouldn't be any trouble. Or, you can come over to my house if you wouldn't mind eating with the minister. It seems queer to set down to the table with a man, and not altogether natural, but I'm beginning to get used to it, and it gives us the advantage of a blessing, and, anyway, ministers don't count.
Come over when you can. Goodbye!”
With a rustle of stiffly starched garments Miss Mehitable took her departure, carefully closing the door and avoiding the appearance of haste. This was an effort, for every fibre of her being ached to get back to the clearing house, where she might speculate upon Evelina's return. It was her desire, also, to hunt up the oldest inhabitant before nightfall and correct her pitiful lapse of memory.
At the same time, she was planning to send Araminta over with a nice hot supper, for Miss Evelina seemed to be far from strong, and, even to one lacking in discernment, acutely unhappy.
Down the road she went, her head bowed in deep and fruitless thought.
Swiftly, as in a lightning flash, and without premonition, she remembered.
”Evelina was burnt,” she said to herself, triumphantly, ”over to Doctor Dexter's, and they took her on the train to the hospital. I guess she wears that veil all the time.”
Then Miss. .h.i.tty stopped at her own gate, catching her breath quickly.
”She must have been burnt awful,” she thought. ”Poor soul!” she murmured, her sharp eyes softening with tears. ”Poor soul!”
III
The Pearls
A rap at the door roused Miss Evelina from a deadly stupor which seemed stabbed through with daggers of pain. She sat quite still, determined not to open the door. Presently, she heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and was rea.s.sured. Then she saw a bit of folded paper which had been slipped under the door, and, mechanically, she picked it up.
”Here's your supper,” the note read, briefly. ”When you get done, leave the tray outside. I'll come and get it. I would like to have you come over if you want to.--Mehitable Smith.”
Touched by the unexpected kindness, Miss Evelina took in the tray.