Part 3 (2/2)

”And now about the bee tree?”

”Frale, he nevah let on like he know'd thar war a bee tree, an' then this fall he took me with him, an' we made a big fire, an' then we cut down th' tree, an' we stayed thar th' hull day, too, an' eat thar an'

had ros'n ears by th' fire, too.”

”I say, you know. There seem to be a lot of things you will have to enlighten me about. After you get through with the bee tree you must tell me what 'ros'n ears' are. And then what did you do?”

”Thar war a heap o' honey. That tree, hit war nigh-about plumb full o'

honey, and th' bees war that mad you couldn't let 'em come nigh ye 'thout they'd sting you. They stung me, an' I nevah hollered. Frale, he 'lowed ef you hollered, you wa'n't good fer nothin', goin' bee hunt'n'.”

”Is Frale your brother?”

”Yas. He c'n do a heap o' things, Frale can. They war a heap o' honey in that thar tree, 'bout a bar'l full, er more'n that. We hev a hull tub o'

honey out thar in th' loom shed yet, an' maw done sont all th' rest to th' neighbors, 'cause maw said they wa'n't no use in humans bein' fool hogs like th' bees war, a-keepin' more'n they could eat jes' fer therselves.”

”Yas,” called the mother from her corner, where she had been admiringly listening; ”they is a heap like that-a-way, but hit ain't our way here in th' mountains. Let th' doctah tell you suthin' now, Hoyle,--ye mount larn a heap if ye'd hark to him right smart, 'thout talkin' th' hull time youse'f.”

”I has to tell him 'bouts th' ros'n ears--he said so. Thar they be.” He pointed to a bunch of Indian corn. ”You wrop 'em up in ther shucks, whilst ther green an' sof', and kiver 'em up in th' ashes whar hit's right hot, and then when ther rosted, eat 'em so. Now, what do you know?”

”Why, he knows a heap, son. Don't ax that-a-way.”

”In my country, away across the ocean--” began David.

”Tell 'bout th' ocean, how hit look.”

”In my country we don't have Indian corn nor bee trees, nor wild cat holes, but we have the ocean all around us, and we see the s.h.i.+ps and--”

”Like that thar one whar th' boy stood whilst hit war on fire?”

”Something like, yes.” Then he told about the sea and the s.h.i.+ps and the great fishes, and was interrupted with the query:--

”Reckon you done seed that thar fish what swallered the man in th' Bible an' then th'ow'd him up agin?”

”Why no, son, you know that thar fish war dade long 'fore we-uns war born. You mustn't ax fool questions, honey.”

Old Sally sat crouched by the hearth intently listening and asking as nave questions as the child, whose pallid face grew pink and animated, and whose eyes grew larger as he strove to see with inward vision the things Thryng described. It was a happy evening for little Hoyle.

Leaning confidingly against David, he sighed with repletion of joy. He was not eager for his sister to return--not he. He could lean forever against this wonderful man and listen to his tales. But the doctor's weariness was growing heavier, and he bethought himself that the girl had not eaten with them, and feared she was taking trouble to prepare quarters for him, when if she only knew how gladly he would bunk down anywhere,--only to sleep while this blessed and delicious drowsiness was overpowering him.

”Where is your sister, Hoyle? Don't you reckon it's time you and I were abed?” he asked, adopting the child's vernacular.

”She's makin' yer bed ready in th' loom shed, likely,” said the mother, ever alert. With her pale, prematurely wrinkled face and uncannily bright and watchful eyes, she seemed the controlling, all-pervading spirit of the place. ”Run, child, an' see what's keepin' her so long.”

”Hit's dark out thar,” said the boy, stirring himself slowly.

”Run, honey, you hain't afeared, kin drive a team all by you'se'f. Dark hain't nothin'; I ben all ovah these heah mountains when thar wa'n't one star o' light. Maybe you kin he'p her.”

At that moment she entered, holding the candle high to light her way through what seemed to be a dark pa.s.sage, her still, sweet face a bit flushed and stray taches of white cotton down clinging to her blue homespun dress. ”The doctah's mos' dade fer sleep, Ca.s.s.”

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