Part 10 (2/2)
”'Ceppin' me an' the ole 'oman,” said Abe, ”Babe is the best-lookin' one er the famerly.”
The girl reddened a little, and laughed lightly with the air of one who is accustomed to give and take jokes, but said nothing.
”I heard of Miss Babe last night,” said Chichester, ”and I've got a message for her.”
”Wait!” exclaimed Abe triumphantly; ”I'll bet a hoss I kin call the name 'thout movin' out'n my cheer. Hold on!” he continued. ”I'll bet another hoss I kin relate the message word for word.”
Babe blushed violently, but laughed good-humoredly. Chichester adjusted himself at once to this unexpected informality, and allowed himself to become involved in it.
”Come, now!” he cried, ”I'll take the bet.”
”I declare!” said Mrs. Hightower, laughing, ”you all oughtn' to pester Babe that away.”
”Wait!” said Abe. ”The name er the man what sont the word is Tuck Peevy, an' when he know'd you was a-comin' here, he sort er sidled up an' ast you for to please be so good as to tell Miss Babe he'd drap in nex'
Sunday, an' see what her mammy is a-gwine ter have for dinner.”
”Well, I have won the bet,” said Chichester. ”Mr. Peevy simply asked me to tell Miss Babe that there would be a singing at Philadelphia camp-ground Sunday. I hardly know what to do with two horses.”
”Maybe you'll feel better,” said Abe, ”when somebody tells you that my hoss is a mule. Well, well, well!” he went on. ”Tuck didn't say he was comin', but I be boun' he comes, an' more'n that, I be boun' a whole pa.s.sel er gals an' boys'll foller Babe home.”
”In giner'lly,” said Grandsir Hightower, ”I hate for to make remarks 'bout folks when they hain't settin' whar they kin hear me, but that ar Tuck Peevy is got a mighty bad eye. I hearn 'im a-quollin' wi' one er them Simmons boys las' Sunday gone wuz a week, an' I tell you he's got the Ole Boy in 'im. An' his appet.i.te's wuss'n his eye.”
”Well,” said Mrs. Hightower, ”n.o.body 'roun' here don't begrudge him his vittles, I reckon.”
”Oh, by no means--by no manner er means,” said the old man, suddenly remembering the presence of Chichester. ”Yit they oughter be reason in all things; that's what I say--reason in all things, espeshually when hit comes to gormandizin'.”
The evident seriousness of the old man was very comical. He seemed to be possessed by the unreasonable economy that not infrequently seizes on old age.
”They hain't no begrudgin' 'roun' here,” he went on. ”Lord! ef I'd 'a'
bin a-begrudgin' I'd 'a' thes natchally bin e't up wi' begrudges. What wer' the word the poor creetur sent to Babe?”
Chichester repeated the brief and apparently uninteresting message, and Grandsir Hightower groaned dismally.
”I dunner what sot him so ag'in' Tuck Peevy,” said Abe, laughing.
”Tuck's e'en about the peartest chap in the settlement, an' a mighty handy man, put him whar you will.”
”Why, Aberham!” exclaimed the old man, ”you go on like a man what's done gone an' took leave of his sev'm senses. You dunner what sot me ag'in'
the poor creetur? Why, time an' time ag'in I've tol' you it's his onG.o.dly hankerin' atter the flesh-pots. The Bible's ag'in' it, an' I'm ag'in' it. Wharbouts is it put down that a man is ever foun' grace in the cubberd?”
”Well, I lay a man that works is boun' ter eat,” said Abe.
”Oh, _I_ hain't no 'count--_I_ can't work,” said the old man, his wrath, which had been wrought to a high pitch, suddenly taking the shape of plaintive humility. ”Yit 'tain't for long. _I'll_ soon be out'n the way, Aberham.”
”Shoo!” said Abe, placing his hand affectionately on the old man's shoulder. ”You er mighty nigh as spry as a kitten. Babe, honey, fill your grandsir's pipe. He's a-missin' his mornin' smoke.”
Soothed by his pipe, the old man seemed to forget the existence of Tuck Peevy, and his name came up for discussion no more.
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