Part 15 (1/2)
”I reckon it mus' be dead by now,” he returned, musingly. ”Good many of 'em dead: what I KNOWS is dead. Yes'm, I reckon so.”
”How old were you when you were married?” William asked, with a manner of peculiar earnestness;--it was the manner of one who addresses a colleague.
”Me? Well, suh, dat 'pen's.” He seemed to search his memory. ”I rickalect I 'uz ma'ied once in Looavle,” he said.
Jane's interest still followed the first child. ”Was that where it was born, Mr. Genesis?” she asked.
He looked puzzled, and paused in his whittling to rub his deeply corrugated forehead. ”Well, suh, mus' been some bawn in Looavle.
Genesis,” he called to his industrious son, ”whaih 'uz YOU bawn?”
”Right 'n 'is town,” laughed Genesis. ”You fergit a good deal, pappy, but I notice you don' fergit come to meals!”
The old man grunted, resuming his whittling busily. ”Hain' much use,”
he complained. ”Cain' eat nuff'm 'lessen it all gruelly. Man cain' eat nuff'm 'lessen he got teef. Genesis, di'n' I hyuh you tellin' dis white gemmun take caih his teef--not bite on no i'on?”
William smiled in pity. ”I don't need to bother about that, I guess,” he said. ”I can crack nuts with my teeth.”
”Yes, suh,” said the old man. ”You kin now. Ev'y nut you crac' now goin'
cos' you a yell when you git 'long 'bout fawty an' fifty. You crack nuts now an' you'll holler den!”
”Well, I guess I won't worry myself much now about what won't happen till I'm forty or fifty,” said William. ”My teeth 'll last MY time, I guess.”
That brought a chuckle from Mr. Genesis. ”Jes' listen!” he exclaimed.
”Young man think he ain' nev' goin' be ole man. Else he think, 'Dat ole man what I'm goin' to be, dat ain' goin' be me 'tall--dat goin' be somebody else! What I caih 'bout dat ole man? I ain't a-goin' take caih o' no teef fer HIM!' Yes, suh, an' den when he GIT to be ole man, he say, 'What become o' dat young man I yoosta be? Where is dat young man agone to? He 'uz a fool, dat's what--an' _I_ ain' no fool, so he mus'
been somebody else, not me; but I do jes' wish I had him hyuh 'bout two minutes--long enough to lam him fer not takin' caih o' my teef fer me!'
Yes, suh!”
William laughed; his good humor was restored and he found the conversation of Mr. Genesis attractive. He seated himself upon an upturned bucket near the wheelbarrow, and reverted to a former theme.
”Well, I HAVE heard of people getting married even younger 'n you were,”
he said. ”You take India, for instance. Why, they get married in India when they're twelve, and even seven and eight years old.”
”They do not!” said Jane, promptly. ”Their mothers and fathers wouldn't let 'em, an' they wouldn't want to, anyway.”
”I suppose you been to India and know all about it!” William retorted.
”For the matter o' that, there was a young couple got married in Pennsylvania the other day; the girl was only fifteen, and the man was sixteen. It was in the papers, and their parents consented, and said it was a good thing. Then there was a case in Fall River, Ma.s.sachusetts, where a young man eighteen years old married a woman forty-one years old; it was in the papers, too. And I heard of another case somewhere in Iowa--a boy began shaving when he was thirteen, and shaved every day for four years, and now he's got a full beard, and he's goin' to get married this year--before he's eighteen years old. Joe Bullitt's got a cousin in Iowa that knows about this case--he knows the girl this fellow with the beard is goin' to marry, and he says he expects it 'll turn out the best thing could have happened. They're goin' to live on a farm. There's hunderds of cases like that, only you don't hear of more'n just a few of 'em. People used to get married at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen--anywhere in there--and never think anything of it at all.
Right up to about a hunderd years ago there were more people married at those ages than there were along about twenty-four and twenty-five, the way they are now. For instance, you take Shakespeare--”
William paused.
Mr. Genesis was sc.r.a.ping the hull of the miniature boat with a piece of broken gla.s.s, in lieu of sandpaper, but he seemed to be following his young friend's remarks with attention. William had mentioned Shakespeare impulsively, in the ardor of demonstrating his point; however, upon second thought he decided to withdraw the name.
”I mean, you take the olden times,” he went on; ”hardly anybody got married after they were nineteen or twenty years old, unless they were widowers, because they were all married by that time. And right here in our own county, there were eleven couples married in the last six months under twenty-one years of age. I've got a friend named Johnnie Watson; his uncle works down at the court-house and told him about it, so it can't be denied. Then there was a case I heard of over in--”
Mr. Genesis uttered a loud chuckle. ”My goo'ness!” he exclaimed. ”How you c'leck all' dem fac's? Lan' name! What puzzlin' ME is how you 'member 'em after you done c'leck 'em. Ef it uz me I couldn't c'leck 'em in de firs' place, an' ef I could, dey wouldn' be no use to me, 'cause I couldn't rickalect 'em!”
”Well, it isn't so hard,” said William, ”if you kind of get the hang of it.” Obviously pleased, he plucked a spear of gra.s.s and placed it between his teeth, adding, ”I always did have a pretty good memory.”
”Mamma says you're the most forgetful boy she ever heard of,” said Jane, calmly. ”She says you can't remember anything two minutes.”