Part 14 (1/2)
”But _why_ are they trash, B'lindy? What do they do? Webb says they're an old family, that they've been here as long as the Leavitts.”
B'lindy snorted. ”Webb's tongue's tied in the middle and wags both ends and I guess most of the time at the wrong end! Mebbe they are old--you can't kill off folks same's you can a strain of cattle. They don't do nothin', Miss Anne, that's it--they don't do nothin'. They're just s.h.i.+ftless, no-good folks. Old Dan'l don't work--never did, and his pa before him. And that Eric--he was worst of all!”
”Who was Eric?” begged Nancy.
”Old Dan'l's son and as bad a boy as ever tormented a neighborhood.
But no one knew he'd be anything but no-good, and he wasn't. Ran off to sea. Folks never heard much 'bout him, but they knew they wouldn't hear anything good, anyway. Then, sudden-like, he turns up with two young 'uns. Brought 'em to old Dan'l to keep. One was a girl and the other, a baby in his arms, was a boy.”
Freedom folks had never lost their enjoyment in this episode of Eric Hopworth's adventurous life. B'lindy, happy now in her tale, made the most of it.
”I guess there were a lot of stories 'bout them young uns, but old Dan'l never made a sign 'bout which was true. And Eric Hopworth went off's suddenly as he come, leavin' those two more Hopworth's for old Dan'l to feed and bring up, and for the folks 'round here to watch, unless they wanted all their apples stolen and their chickens killed!
Mis' Tubbs told Mis' Sniggs that she _see_ a marriage certificate and that the mother'd been one of them actor-women down in New York and she thought like's not the woman died when the boy was born. Mis' Jenkins sez _she'd_ heard other stories over in North Hero! Anyways old Dan'l's as close-mouthed as a stature!”
”And who's Liz?” asked Nancy.
”Old Dan'l's half-sister. He brought her over from Bend after the young 'uns came, to do for 'em.”
Nancy mused for a moment. There was not much use in telling B'lindy that she was going to call upon Liz--it would take days and days of argument to overcome the heritage of prejudice in B'lindy's mind.
Perhaps, for the present, she had better keep Nonie in the orchard.
It had not needed B'lindy's description for Nancy to recognize the Hopworth dwelling, if by such a name could be called the four weather-beaten walls hanging crazily together as though by a last nail.
A litter of debris cluttered the bare ground around the house and between the shed and the unused barn. Back of the shed an old man slouched in the sun.
The door sagged on its one hinge, partly open. When Nancy knocked a gaunt, slatternly woman, in the room within, turned with a scowl.
As Nancy's eyes, sweeping over the dirty, crowded room, came back to the hard face before her, she sickened at the thought of little Nonie, with her ”dreams,” growing in this environment. Then, as Liz' scowl gave place to a sullen indifference, Nancy realized that the most marked thing about the woman was a resigned hopelessness.
Nancy, choosing her words carefully, introduced herself. As Liz'
unfriendliness discouraged any advances, Nancy plunged straight to the point. She had taken a fancy to the children, she explained--would Miss Hopworth permit Nonie and sometimes Davy, to come often to Happy House? She, Nancy, found it a little lonesome at Happy House and she would enjoy their company.
Liz dropped a pan with a bang. ”I'll tell you just's I tell her--there ain't goin' to be any more traipsing 'way from her work all the time like with the schoolmar'm either to Happy House nor nowhere. All them notions is settin' the girl loony goin' on with her lies and things 'bout things bein' differunt. She'll stay _right_ to home!”
And to prevent further argument Liz' head bent meaningly toward the door.
But at that moment a shadow crossed it. Mrs. Sniggs, very gingerly, thrust a head inside. Under her arm she carried a kettle. Once in a while old Dan'l mended the village kettles.
”How d'do,” snapped Liz.
But Mrs. Sniggs, with an uplift of her nose that said plainly: ”I don't even _see_ you,” put her kettle near the door without a word and turned to depart. At which Liz, in a loud tone, exclaimed: ”Most _certainly_, Miss Leavitt, we're _delighted_! Our Nonie can visit you up to Happy House real often!”
Liz knew and Nancy knew, by the tell-tale shadow that lingered across the threshold that Mrs. Sniggs had heard; Nancy blessed the good fortune that had brought the woman there at that moment!
Walking homeward, her mind full of plans of all she wanted to do for Nonie and Davy, Nancy with a shudder recalled the Hopworth home--and Liz. Something in the tired eyes haunted her. ”Maybe,” she thought with a pang of pity, ”maybe she's as--starved--as Nonie!”
CHAPTER XIII
THE FOURTH OF JULY