Southern Lights and Shadows Part 9

"Well, mother, it's but sildom that I ever knowed yer ter set with folded han's," remarked her son, with proud tenderness.

"Maybe, Jeems Henry; but I never tuck no consait ter myself fer workin', because I jest nachally loved it. Yer pappy use ter say I was er born worker, 'n' how he did use ter praise me fer bein' smart! 'n' that was sich er help! Somehow I've minded me of 'im all day ter-day--of th' time when he logged Whitcombe's mill down on Fallin' Crick. 'Twas--lemme see! Jeems Henry, ye're how ole?"

"Fifty-two my las' birthday."

"Well, that was fifty-one year ergo. You was all th' one I had then, 'n'

yer pappy was erway from home all th' week, 'cept from Sat'day evenin' tell 'fore day Monday monrin'. Melindy White staid wi' me; she was Zekle's great-aunt, 'n' er ole maid, 'n' people did say she was monst'ous cross 'n'

crabbed, but she warn't never cross ter me. I mind me of er Sat'day, 'n'

I'd be spectin' of yer pappy home. I'd git up at th' fust c.o.c.k-crow, 'n' go wake Melindy, 'n' she'd grumble 'n' laff all in er breath, 'n' say: 'Ann Elisabeth Tyler, ye're th' most onreasonablest creeter that I ever seed!

What in natur' do ye want ter git up 'fore day fer? Jest ter make th' time that much longer 'fore Jim Tyler comes? I know ef I was married ter th'

President I wouldn't be es big er fool es ye air.' But, la! she'd git up jest ter pleasure me, 'n' then sich cleanin' up, 'n' sich cookin' o' pies 'n' cakes 'n' chickens, 'n' gittin' ready fer yer pappy ter come!" And the placid old face fairly glowed with the remembrance. "'N' I mind me," she crooned on, "of th' time when ye fust begun ter talk; I was er whole week er-teachin' yer ter say two words; I didn't do much else. Melindy allowed that I'd gone clean daft; 'n' when Sat'day come, 'long erbout milkin'-time, I put on er pink caliker frock. I 'member it jest es well! it had little white specks on the pink; he bought it at Miggs's Crossroads, 'n' said I allers looked like er rose in it. I tuck ye in my arms 'n' went down ter th' bars, where I allers stood ter watch fer 'im; he come in er boat ter th' little landin' 'n' walked home, erbout er mile; 'n' when I seed 'im comin', 'n' he'd got nigh ernuff, I whispered ter ye, 'n' ye clapped yer little han's, 'n' fairly shouted out, 'Pappy's tumin'! pappy's tumin'!'

Dearie me, dearie me; I kin see 'im now so plain! He broke inter er run, 'n' I stepped over th' bars ter meet 'im, 'n' he gethered us both in his arms, like es of he'd never turn loose; then he car'ied ye up to th' house on one arm, the other one roun' my wais', 'n' he made ye say it over 'n'

over--'Pappy's tumin', pappy's tumin';' 'n' Melindy 'lowed we wer' 'th'

biggest pair o' geese'; but we was mighty happy geese jest th' same."

There was a pause. They were all listening. Then she went on. "Somehow ter-day I felt like I use ter of er Sat'-day then, kinder spectin' 'n'

light-hearted. I dun'no' why; I ain't never felt so befo' in all these years sence he died--forty-one on 'em; 'n' fifteen sence th' Lord shet down th' dark over my eyes, day 'n' night erlike. Well, well; I've had er heap ter be thankful fer; th' Lord has been good ter me; fer no mother ever had er better son than ye've allers ben, Jeems Henry; 'n' of Malviny had er ben my own darter, she couldn't er ben more like one; I've alleys ben tuck keer on, 'n' waited on, 'n' 'ain't never ben sat erside fer no one. Ya'as, th'

Lord's ben good ter me." She began to fumble for her handkerchief.

"But, mother, ye don't say nothin' o' what er blessin' ye've ben to us,"

said her son. "Ye've teached us many er lesson by yer patience in yer blindness."

"Ya'as, but, Jeems Henry, I had no call ter be nothin' else but patient; I had no call ter be onreasonable 'n' fret 'n' worry 'n' say that th' Lord had forsakened me when He hadn't. I knowed I'd only ter bide my time, 'n'

I'm now near seventy-two year old. Dear, dear, how th' time goes! Seems like only th' other day when I was married! Was that nine the clock struck?"

"Ya'as, 'm."

"Well, I b'lieve I'll git ter bed."

"Wait, mother, let me help yer," said her daughter, hastily throwing aside her knitting.

"We'll both help ye, mother," said her son, putting one arm gently around her as she arose from her chair.

"Well, well," she laughed, with soft content. "I sh'll be well waited on with two children 'stid er one; but none too many--none too many."

Zekle White had made brave progress from the chair by the door to the other rocker, drawn closely beside that of Mandy Calline; and he was saying, in tones that suggested an effort: "I've seed other young ladies which may be better-lookin' in other folkses' eyes, 'n' they may be more suiterbler ter marry, but not fer me. Thar ain't but one gurl in this roun' worl' that I'd ask ter be my wife, 'n', Mandy Calline, I've ben keepin' comp'ny wi' you long ernuff fer ye ter know that ye air th' one." He swallowed, and went on: "I've got my house nigh erbout done. Ter be sho', 'tain't es fine es this un, nor es big; but I kin add ter it, 'n' jest es soon es it is done I want ter put my wife in it. Now, Mandy Calline, what yer say--will yer be my wife?"

Mandy Calline looked shy--much like a young colt when it is going to break out of harness. She rocked back and forth with short spasmodic jerks, and twisted her handkerchief into all conceivable shapes.

"Yer don't know how sot on it I am," he went on; "'n' all day long I'm er-thinkin' how nice it 'll be when I'm er-workin', ploughin' maybe, up one row 'n' down ernuther, 'n' watchin' th' sun go down, 'n' lookin' forerd ter goin' ter th' house 'n' hev er nice little wife ter meet me, wi' everything tidied up 'n' cheerful 'n' comf'ble." Mandy Calline simply drooped her head lower, and twisted her handkerchief tighter. "Mandy Calline, don't yer say 'no,'" he said. "I love yer too well ter give yer up easy; 'n' I swear ef ye don't say 'yes,' I'll set fire 'n' burn up th' new house, fer no other 'oman sha'n't never live there. I'm er-waitin', Mandy Calline, 'n' don't, don't tell me no."

"Well, Zekle," she began, with much hesitation, "bein' es how I don't see no use in burnin' up er right new house, 'n' it not even finished, I guess es how--maybe--in erbout two or three years--"

"Two or three thunderations!" he cried out, ecstatically, seizing both her hands in his. "Yer mean two or three weeks! Mandy Calline, do ye mean ya'as, ye'll marry me? I want ter hear ye say it."

"Ya'as, Zekle," she said, shyly. "Whoopee! I feel like I'd like ter jump up 'n' knock my heels tergether 'n' yell!"

"Yer'd better try it er spell." she said, smiling at him shyly, "'n' jest see how soon ye'd ha' th' hull fambly er-rus.h.i.+n' in ter see what was the matter."

Hereupon came the ominous sound of Father Tyler winding the clock in the sitting-room; Zekle knew 'twas a signal for him to depart.

"Well," slowly rising, "I guess I got ter go, but I do mortally hate ter.

Come ter th' door wi' me, Mandy Calline"; and taking her hand, he drew her up beside him, but she stood off a bit skittishly, and he knew that it would be useless to ask the question which was trembling on his lips, so, quick as a flash, he dropped one arm around her waist, tipped up her chin with the other hand, and kissed her square on the mouth before she fairly knew what he was about.

"You Zekle White!" she cried out, s.n.a.t.c.hing herself from his arm and bestowing a rousing slap on his face.

"I knowed ye wouldn't give me one, so I tuck it jest so. Good-night tell ter-morrer, Mandy Calline; I'm goin' home 'n' dream erbout ye."

The next morning dawned bright and soft. A perfect September morning.

Father Tyler and the boys were at the lot feeding and milking. Mandy Calline was cleaning up the house, her comely face aglow with her new-found happiness. Susan Jane attended to the baby, while Ann Elisabeth helped her mother "get breakfast."

"Gra'mammy was sleepin' so nice when I got up," said the girl, "that I crep' out 'n' didn't wake 'er. Had I better go see of she's erwake now, mar? Breakfus is nigh erbout done."

"Not yet. Go tell Mandy Calline ter git th' milk-pitcher 'n' go to the cow-pen 'n' fetch some milk fer breakfus. No tellin' when they'll git thoo out there. Then you hurry back 'n' finish fryin' that pan o' pertaters. No need ter 'sturb gra'mammy till breakfus is ready ter put on th' table; 'n'

yer pappy 'n' th' boys'll ha' ter wash when they come from th' lot." And Mother Tyler opened the stove door and put in a generous pan of biscuits to bake.

Mandy Calline, with the milk-pitcher in her hand, hurried out to the cow-pen, which adjoined the stable lot. Her father was milking, Jim holding the calves. Zachariah was in the lot feeding the horse and pigs. She had just stepped over the bars into the pen, when who should appear, sauntering up, but Zeke White! He a.s.sumed a brave front, and with hands thrust in his pantaloons pockets, came up, whistling softly.

"Good-mornin', Zekle," greeted Father Tyler, rising from his stooping position.

"Good-mornin', Mr. Tyler. Fine mornin'."

"Ya'as; but I'm erfeared we're goin' ter hev rain in er day er two. I feel ruther rheumaticky this mornin', er mighty sh.o.r.e sign that rain ain't fur off. Want milk fer breakfus, Mandy Calline? Well, fetch here yer pitcher."

A shy "good-mornin"' had pa.s.sed between Mandy Calline and Zekle, and he sauntered up beside her, taking the pitcher, and as they stepped over the bars Father Tyler, hospitably inclined, said: "Take breakfus with us, Zekle? I lay Malviny 'll hev ernuff cooked ter give yer er bite."

With a.s.sumed hesitation Zekle accepted the invitation, and he and Mandy Calline pa.s.sed on to the house, he carefully carrying the pitcher of milk.

He cleared his throat a time or two, and remarked again on the beauty of the morning, to which she rather nervously a.s.sented; then suddenly, the words seemingly shot out of him: "Mandy Calline, I'm goin' ter ask th' ole folks ter-day. What yer say?"

Mandy Calline was red as a turkey-c.o.c.k, to which was now added a nervous confusion which bade fair to overwhelm her.

"It's too soon, Zekle. Whyn't yer wait er while?" she replied, tremblingly.

"No, 'tain't too soon," he answered, promptly. "I want it all done 'n' over with, then I sh'll feel mo' like ye b'long ter me. I'm goin' ter ask 'em ter-day; yer needn't say not. I know you're erfeared o' th' teasin'. But ye needn't min' that; ye won't hev ter put up wi' it long; fer th' way I mean ter work on that house ter git it done--well, 'twon't be long befo' it 'll be ready ter put my wife in it."

"Well, Zekle," said the girl, hesitatingly, "ef ye'd ruther ask 'em ter-day, why--I guess es how--ye mought es well do it. But let's go 'n'

tell gra'mammy now; somehow I'd ruther she knowed it fust."

"We will," replied Zekle, promptly.

Mother Tyler was putting breakfast on the table. She suddenly paused and listened. Something was the matter. There were cries that betokened trouble. She hastened to the house, followed her husband and the boys on to gra'mammy's room, and there on the bed, in peaceful contrast to all this wailing and sorrow, lay dear old gra'mammy, dead. The happiest smile glorified the kind old withered face, and the wrinkled hands lay crossed and still on her breast. She had truly met the husband of her youth, and G.o.d had opened in death the eyes so darkened in life.

My Fifth in Mammy