Part 24 (2/2)
They rose and went to the window, Gerald looking over the shoulder of his shorter companion.
A superannuated gray mule hitched to a heavy cart had come to a standstill in the middle of the street, and a group of excited negroes were vainly trying to induce him to move on. With one ear c.o.c.ked forward, and his forefeet firmly planted, the decrepit animal dumbly made his declaration of independence, taking the blows that rained upon his back with the dogged heroism of one who has resolved to die rather than surrender.
”By Jupiter, if those c.o.o.ns aren't fixing to build a fire under him!”
exclaimed Decker. ”They'd rather fool with a balking mule than eat watermelon! Let's go out to see the sport.”
When Decker reached the porch, having left Gerald at the hall mirror, inspecting his face with minute solicitude, a new figure had appeared on the scene. It was a girl dressed in white, standing in the Queeringtons'
yard, and as he looked he saw her suddenly dart out of the gate and into the street as if she had been shot from a cannon.
”Stop pulling his head like that!” she demanded. ”Don't you dare to strike him again. Take that fire away!”
The negroes fell back somewhat astonished, and the driver arrested his whip in the air.
”I'll show you how to make him go,” she went on; ”put mud in his mouth.
Yes, mud, a big lump of mud. There, that'll do; make it into a ball, and put it in. Yes, you can! Oh, dear! Give it to me!”
She seized the mule's lower jaw with her thumb and forefinger, and with a deft movement succeeded in getting the unwelcome substance between the animal's teeth.
The mule evinced surprise, then curiosity. His fore feet relaxed, his eye lost its fire, and when a gentle pressure fell upon his halter, he was too engrossed in the new sensation to resist it.
”Bravo, Miss Lady!” called Gerald, sauntering forward to meet her. ”I told you you were irresistible. What did you whisper in his ear?”
”Lots of things!” she said, accepting his immaculate handkerchief to wipe the mud from her hands, ”but of course the mud helped. Uncle Jimpson taught me that trick. He says a mule has room in his head for only one thought at a time, and all you have to do is to change his balking thought for some other and he'll go.”
”I hope you will never have to put mud in my mouth,” said Gerald, looking at her with no attempt to conceal his admiration. ”Can't you come over and see mother for a bit? She'd love to give you a cup of tea.”
”I don't like tea in the afternoon; it spoils my supper.”
”Well, then, come over to see me. There's a friend of mine I want you to meet. I've been telling him about you.”
”I can't. I'm drawing pictures for Bertie. He'll be disappointed.”
”So will I. So will Decker.”
”Decker?” Miss Lady flashed a glance at him. ”You don't mean Cropsie Decker?”
”Yes, I do; the special correspondent for the _Herald-Post_. Is that sufficient inducement?”
Miss Lady looked at him rather strangely. ”I'll come,” she said after a moment's hesitation.
They did not return to the parlor but to the music-room, a large room on the opposite side of the hall, which Mrs. Ivy, a firm believer in the psychological effect of color, had fitted out in blue to induce a contemplative mood in the occupants. On the mantel and tables were the same miscellaneous collection of bric-a-brac that characterized the parlor. Several pictures of Gerald adorned the walls, the most imposing of which presented him seated at the piano, with his mother standing beside him, a rapt expression on her elevated profile.
Miss Lady flitted about from object to object, asking questions, not waiting for answers, seeing everything, commenting on everything while the two young men stood side by side on the hearth rug and watched her.
She was like a humming-bird afraid to light.
”Please, Mrs. Queerington,” Gerald begged at last. ”You know you don't care for those old kodaks. I'll show them to you another time. I want you to talk to Decker. Sit down here in this big chair and I'll sit at your feet, where I belong, and Cropsie'll sit anywhere he likes and tell us about his adventures.”
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