Part 20 (1/2)
”Charity? Huh! I'll take a pinch of snuff instead. That's a warnin', Prudence! _A-choon!_”
Not until the second Sunday after the _Seamew_ had brought Ida May from Boston did Big Wreck Cove folk in general get a ”good slant,”
as they expressed it, at the b.a.l.l.s' visitor. There was an ancient carryall in the barn, and on the Sat.u.r.day previous little John-Ed was caught and made to clean this vehicle, rub up the green-molded harness, and give the Queen of Sheba more than ”a lick and a promise” with the currycomb and brush.
At ten o'clock on Sunday morning Sheila herself backed the gray mare out of her stable and harnessed her into the shafts of the carryall.
”For a city gal, you are the handiest creature!” sighed Prudence, marveling.
The girl only smiled. She was now used to such comments. They did not make her heart flutter as had any reference to her past life at first.
The bell in the steeple of the green-blinded, white-painted church on the farther edge of the port was tinkling tinnily as the girl drove the old mare down the hill, with Cap'n Ira and Prudence in the rear seat of the carriage.
”We ain't felt we could undertake churchgoing for months, Ida May,”
the old woman said. ”And I miss Elder Minnett's sermons.”
”So do I,” agreed her husband, with his usual caustic turn of speech. ”I swan! I can sleep better under the elder's preaching than I can to home.”
”If you go to sleep to-day, Ira, I shall step on your foot,” warned his wife.
”You'd better take care which one you step on,” rejoined Cap'n Ira.
”I got a corn on one that jumps like an ulcerated tooth. If you touch that I shall likely surprise you more'n I do when I take snuff.”
The Portygees had a chapel devoted to their faith. The carriage pa.s.sed that on the way to the Congregational Church. A girl, very dark as to features, very red as to lips, and dressed in very gay colors in spite of her destination, was mounting the chapel steps.
She halted to stare particularly at the quietly dressed girl driving the gray mare.
”Ain't that Pareta's girl, Ira?” asked Prudence.
”I cal'late.”
”What a bold-looking thing she's grown to be! But she's pretty.”
”As a piney,” agreed Cap'n Ira. ”I reckon she sets all these Portygee boys by the ears. I hear tell two of 'em had a knife fight over her in Luiz's fish house some time ago. She'll raise real trouble in the town 'fore she's well and safely married.”
”That is awful,” murmured the old woman, casting another glance back at the girl and wondering why Eunez Pareta scowled so hatefully after them.
Following service, as usual, there was social intercourse on the steps of the church and at the horse sheds back of it. Particularly did the women gather about Aunt Prudence and Sheila. As for the men, both young and old, the newcomer's city ways and unmistakable beauty gave them much to gossip about. Several of the younger masculine members of Elder Minnett's congregation came almost to blows over the settlement of who should take the fly cloth off Queenie, back her around, and lead her out to the front of the church when the time came to drive back to the Head.
In addition, Cap'n Ira found himself as popular with the young men as he was wont to be in the old days when he was making up his crew at the port for the _Susan Gatskill_.
”Prudence,” he said to his wife, but quite loud enough for the girl to hear as they drove sedately homeward, ”I cal'late I shall have to buy me some shot and powder and load up the old gun I put away in the attic, thinking I wouldn't never go hunting no more.”
”Goodness gracious gallop!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed his wife. ”What for? I cal'late you _won't_ go hunting at your time of life!”
”I dunno. I may be forced to load it up for protection. But maybe rock salt will do instead of shot,” said Cap'n Ira, still with soberness. ”A feller has got a right to protect himself and his family.”
”Against what, I want to know?”
”I can see the Ball place is about to be overrun with a pa.s.sel of young sculpins that are going to be more annoying than a dose of snuff in your eye. That's right.”