Part 5 (1/2)
”We won't need to git no watch dog to foller Janey,” said Barnabas, as the children started down the path.
”David,” called M'ri, ”stop at Miss Rhody's on your way back and find out whether my waist is finished.”
With proudly protective air, David walked beside the stiffly starched little girl, who had placed her hand trustfully in his. They had gone but a short distance when they were overtaken by Joe Forbes, mounted on a s.h.i.+ning black horse. He reined up and looked down on them good-humoredly.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”_With proudly protective air, David walked beside the stiffly starched little girl_”]
”Going to school, children?”
”I am. Davey's just going to carry my things for me,” explained Janey.
”Well, I can do that and carry you into the bargain. Help her up, David.”
Janey cried out in delight at the prospect of a ride. David lifted her up, and Joe settled her comfortably in the saddle, encircling her with his arm. Then he looked down whimsically into David's disappointed eyes.
”I know it's a mean trick, Dave, to take your little sweetheart from you.”
”She's not my sweetheart; she's my sister.”
”Has she promised to be that already? Get up, Firefly.”
They were off over the smooth country road, Forbes shouting a bantering good-by and Janey waving a triumphant dinner pail, while David, trudging on his way, experienced the desolate feeling of the one who is left behind. Across fields he came to the tiny, thatched cottage of Miss Rhody Crabbe, who stood on the crumbling doorstep feeding some little turkeys.
”Come in, David. I suppose you're after M'ri's waist. Thar's jest a few st.i.tches to take, and I'll hev it done in no time.”
He followed her into the little house, which consisted of a sitting room ”with bedroom off,” and a kitchen whose floor was sand scoured; the few pieces of tinware could be used as mirrors. Miss Rhody seated herself by the open window and began to ply her needle. She did not sew swiftly and smoothly, in feminine fas.h.i.+on, but drew her long-threaded needle through the fabric in abrupt and forceful jerks.
A light breeze fluttered in through the window, but it could not ruffle the wisp-locked hair that showed traces of a water-dipped comb and was strained back so taut that a little mound of flesh encircled each root. Her eyes were bead bright and swift moving. Everything about her, to the aggressively prominent knuckles, betokened energy and industry. She was attired in a blue calico shortened by many was.h.i.+ngs, but scrupulously clean and conscientiously starched. Her face shone with soap and serenity.
Miss Rhody's one diversion in a busy but monotonous life was news. She was wretched if she did not receive the latest bulletins; but it was to her credit that she never repeated anything that might work harm or mischief. David was one of her chosen confidants. He was a safe repository of secrets, a sympathetic listener, and a wise suggester.
”I'm glad M'ri's hevin' a blue waist. She looks so sweet in blue. I've made her clo'es fer years. My, how I hoped fer to make her weddin'
clo'es onct! It wuz a shame to hev sech a good match spiled. It wuz too bad she hed to hev them two chillern on her hands--”
”And now she has a third,” was what David thought he read in her eyes, and he hastened to a.s.sert: ”I am going to help all I can, and I'll soon be old enough to take care of myself.”
”Land sakes, David, you'd be wuth more'n yer keep to any one. I wonder,” she said ruminatingly, ”if Martin Thorne will wait for her till Janey's growed up.”
”Martin Thorne!” exclaimed David excitedly. ”Judge Thorne? Why, was he the one--”
”He spent his Sunday evenings with her,” she a.s.serted solemnly.
In the country code of courts.h.i.+ps this procedure was conclusive proof, and David accepted it as such.
”He wuz jest plain Lawyer Thorne when he wuz keepin' company with M'ri, but we all knew Mart wuz a comin' man, and M'ri wuz jest proud of him. You could see that, and he wuz sot on her.”
Her work momentarily neglected, Rhody was making little reminiscent stabs at s.p.a.ce with her needle as she spoke.
”'T wuz seven years ago. M'ri wuz twenty-eight and Mart ten years older. It would hev ben a match as sure as preachin', but Eliza died and M'ri, she done her duty as she seen it. Sometimes I think folks is near-sighted about their duty. There is others as is queer-sighted.
Bein' crossed hain't spiled M'ri though. She's kep' sweet through it all, but when a man don't git his own way, he's apt to curdle. Mart got sort of tart-tongued and cold feelin'. There wa'n't no reason why they couldn't a kep' on bein' friends, but Mart must go and make a fool vow that he'd never speak to M'ri until she sent him word she'd changed her mind, so he hez ben a-spitin' of his face ever sence. It's wonderful how some folks do git in their own way, but, my sakes, I must git to work so you kin take this waist home.”