The Late Mrs. Null Part 14

rid up to de house."

"Dat so?" cried Letty, dropping into her lap the knife and the potato she was peeling. "Well, truly, when things does happen in dis worl' dey comes all in a lump. None ob de fam'ly been nigh de house for ebber so long; an' den, 'long comes Mahs' Junius hisse'f, an' Miss Annie dat's been away sence she was a chile, an' ole Mr Brandon, wot Uncle Isham say ain't been h'yar fur years and years, an' now Miss Annie's husband comes kitin' up! An' dar's ole Aun' Patsy wot says dat if dat gemman ebber come h'yar she want to know it fus' thing. She was dreffle p'inted about dat. An' now, look h'yar, you Plez, jus' you cut round to your Aun'

Patsy's, an' tell her Miss Annie's husband's done come."

"Whar ole Miss?" inquired Plez. "She 'sleep?"

"No, she mighty wide awake," said Letty. "But you take dem knives an'

dat board an' brick, an' run down to de branch to clean 'em. An', when you gits dar, you jus' slip along, 'hind de bushes, till you's got ter de cohn fiel', an' den you cut 'cross dar to Aun' Patsy's. An' don' you stop no time dar, fur if ole Miss finds you's done gone, she'll chop you up wid dem knives."

Plez was quite ready for a reckless dash of this kind, and in less than twenty minutes old Patsy was informed that Mr Null had arrived. The old woman was much affected by the information. She was uneasy and restless, and talked a good deal to herself, occasionally throwing out a moan or a lament in the direction of her "son Tom's yaller boy Bob's chile." The crazy quilt, which was not yet finished, though several pieces had been added since we last saw it, was laid aside; and by the help of the above mentioned great granddaughter the old hair trunk was hauled out and opened. Over this h.o.a.rd of treasures, Aunt Patsy spent nearly two hours, slowly taking up the various articles it contained, turning them over, mumbling over them, and mentally referring many of them to periods which had become historic. At length she pulled out from one of the corners of the trunk a pair of very little blue morocco shoes tied together by their strings. These she took into her lap, and, shortly afterward, had the trunk locked, and pushed back into its place. The shoes, having been thoroughly examined through her great iron-bound spectacles, were thrust under the mattress of her bed.

That evening, Uncle Isham stepped in to see the old woman, who was counteracting the effects of the cool evening air by sitting as close as possible to the remains of the fire which had cooked the supper. She was very glad to see him. She wanted somebody to whom she could unburden her mind. "Wot you got to say 'bout Miss Annie's husband," she asked, "wot done come to-day?"

"Was dat him?" exclaimed the old man. "n.o.body tole me dat."

This was true, for the good-natured Letty, having discovered the mistake that had been made, had concluded to say nothing about it and to keep away from Aunt Patsy's for a few days, until the matter should be forgotten.

"Well, I spec Miss Annie's mighty glad to git him back agin," continued the old man, after a moment's reflection. "He's right much of a nice lookin' gemman. I seed him this ebenin' a ridin' wid Mahs' Junius."

"P'raps Miss Annie is glad," said the ole woman, "coz she don' know. But I ain't."

"Wot's de reason fur dat?" inquired Isham.

"It's a pow'ful dreffle thing dat Miss Annie's husband's done come down h'yar. He don' know ole miss."

"Wot's de matter wid ole miss?" asked Isham, in a quick tone.

"She done talk to me 'bout him," said the old woman. "She done tole me jus' wot she think of him. She hate him from he heel up. I dunno wot she'll do to him now she got him. Mighty great pity fur pore Miss Annie dat he ever come h'yar."

"Ole miss ain't gwine ter do nuffin' to him," said Isham, in a gruff and troubled tone.

"Don' you b'lieve dat," said Aunt Patsy. "When ole miss don' like a pusson, dat pusson had better look out. But I ain't gwine to be sottin'

h'yar an' see mis'ry comin' to Miss Annie."

"Wot you gwine to do?" asked Isham.

"I's gwine ter speak my min' to ole miss. I's gwine to tell her not to do no kunjerin' to Miss Annie's husban'. She gwine to hurt dat little gal more'n she hurt anybody else."

Old Isham sat looking into the fire with a very worried and anxious expression on his face. He was intensely loyal to his mistress, aware as he was of her short-comings, or rather her long-goings. Although he felt a good deal of fear that there might be some truth in Aunt Patsy's words, he was very sure that if she took it upon herself to give warning or reproof to old Mrs Keswick, a storm would ensue; and where the lightning would strike he did not know. "You better look out, Aun'

Patsy," he said. "You an' ole miss been mighty good fren's fur a pow'ful long time, an' now don' you go gittin' yourse'f in no fraction wid her, jus' as you' bout to die."

"Ain't gwine to die," said the old woman, "till I done tole her wot's on my min'."

"Aun' Patsy," said Uncle Isham, after gazing silently in the fire for a minute or two, "dar was a brudder wot come up from 'Melia County to de las' big preachin', an' he tole in his sarment a par'ble wot I b'lieve will 'ply fus rate to dis 'casion. I's gwine to tell you dat."

"Go 'long wid it," said Aunt Patsy.

"Well, den," said Isham, "dar was once a cullud angel wot went up to de gate ob heaben to git in. He didn't know nuffin' 'bout de ways ob de place, bein' a strahnger, an' when he see all de white angels a crowdin'

in at de gate where Sent Peter was a settin', he sorter looked round to see if dar warn't no gate wot he might go in at. Den ole Sent Peter he sings out: 'Look h'yar, uncle, whar you gwine? Dar ain't no cullud gal'ry in dis 'stablishment. You's got to come in dis same gate wid de udder folks.' So de cullud angel he come up to de gate, but he kin' a hung back till de udders had got in. Jus' den 'long comes a white angel on hossback, wot was in a dreffle hurry to git in to de gate. De cullud angel, he mighty p'lite, an' he went up an' tuk de hoss, an' when de white angel had got down an' gone in, he went roun' lookin' fur a tree to hitch him to. But when he went back agin to de gate, Sent Peter had jus' shet it, and was lockin' it up wid a big padlock. He jus' looks ober de gate at de cullud angel an' he says: 'No 'mittance ahfter six o'clock.' An' den he go in to his supper."

"An' wot dat cullud angel do den?" asked Eliza, who had been listening breathlessly to this narrative.

"Dunno," said Isham, "but I reckin de debbil come 'long in de night an'

tuk him off. Dar's a lesson in dis h'yar par'ble wot 'ud do you good to clap to your heart, Aun' Patsy. Don' you be gwine roun' tryin' to help udder people jus' as you is all ready to go inter de gate ob heaben. Ef you try any ob dat dar foolishness, de fus' thing you know you'll find dat gate shet."

"Is dat your 'Melia County par'ble?" asked the old woman.

"Dat's it," answered Isham.

"Reckon dat country's better fur 'bacca dan fur par'bles," grunted Aunt Patsy.

CHAPTER XIII.

Lawrence Croft had no idea of leaving the neighborhood of Howlett's until Keswick had made up his mind what he was going to do, and until he had had a private talk with Mrs Null; and, as it was quite evident that the family would be offended if a visitor to them should lodge at Peckett's store, he accepted the invitation to spend the night at the Keswick house; and in the afternoon Junius rode with him to Howlett's, where he got his valise, and paid his account.

But no opportunity occurred that day for a _tete-a-tete_ with Mrs Null.

Keswick was with him nearly all the afternoon; and in the evening the family sat together in the parlor, where the conversation was a general one, occasionally very much brightened by some of the caustic remarks of the old lady in regard to particular men and women, as well as society at large. Of course he had many opportunities of judging, to the best of his capacity, of certain phases of character appertaining to Mr Candy's cas.h.i.+er; and, among other things, he came to the conclusion that probably she was a young woman who would get up early in the morning, and he, therefore, determined to do that thing himself, and see if he could not have a talk with her before the rest of the family were astir.

Early rising was not one of Croft's accustomed habits, but the next morning he arose a good hour before breakfast time. He found the lower part of the house quite deserted, and when he went out on the porch he was glad to b.u.t.ton up his coat, for the morning air was very cool. While walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, and looking in at the front door every time he pa.s.sed it, in hopes that he might see Mrs Null coming down the stairs, he was greeted with a cheery "good morning," by a voice in the front yard. Turning hastily, he beheld Mrs Keswick, wearing her purple sun-bonnet, but without her umbrella.

"Glad you like to be up betimes, sir," said she. "That's my way, and I find it pays. n.o.body works as well, and I don't believe the plants and stock grow as well, while we are asleep."

Lawrence replied that in the city he did not get up so early, but that the morning air in the country was very fine.

"And pretty sharp, too," said Mrs Keswick. "Come down here in the suns.h.i.+ne, and you will find it pleasanter. Step back a little this way, sir," she said, when Lawrence had joined her, "and give me your opinion of that locust tree by the corner of the porch. I am thinking of having it cut down. Locusts are very apt to get diseased inside, and break off, and I am afraid that one will blow over some day and fall on the house."

Lawrence said he thought it looked like a very good tree, and it would be a pity to lose the shade it made.

"I might plant one of another sort," said the old lady, "but trees grow too slow for old people, though plenty fast enough for young ones. I reckon I'll let it stand awhile yet. You were talking last night of Midbranch, sir. There used to be fine trees there, though it's many years since I've seen them. Have you been long acquainted with the family there?"

Lawrence replied that he had known Miss March a good while, having met her in New York.

"She is said to be a right smart young lady," said Mrs Keswick, "well educated, and has travelled in Europe. I am told that she is not only a regular town lady, but that she makes a first-rate house-keeper when she is down here in the country."

Lawrence replied that he had no doubt that all this was very true.

"I have never seen her," continued the old lady, "for there has not been much communication between the two families of late years, although they used to be intimate enough. But my nephew and niece have been away a great deal, and old people can't be expected to do much in the way of visiting. But I have a notion," she said, after gazing a few moments in a reflective way at the corner of the house, "that it would be well now to be a little more sociable again. My niece has no company here of her own s.e.x, except me, and I think it would do her good to know a young lady like Miss March. Mr Brandon has asked me to let Annie come there, but I think it would be a great deal better for his niece to visit us.

Mrs Null is the latest comer."

Lawrence, speaking much more earnestly than when discussing the locust tree, replied that he thought this would be quite proper.

"I think I may invite her to come here next week," said Mrs Keswick, still meditatively and without apparent regard to the presence of Croft, "probably on Friday, and ask her to spend a week. And, by the way, sir," she said, turning to her companion, "if you are still in this part of the country I would be glad to have you ride over and stay a day or two while Miss March is here. I will have a little party of young folks in honor of Mrs Null. I have done nothing of the kind for her, so far."

Lawrence said he had no doubt that he would stay at the Green Sulphur a week or two longer, and that he would be most happy to accept Mrs Keswick's kind invitation.

They then moved toward the house, but, suddenly stopping, as if she had just thought of something, Mrs Keswick remarked: "I shall be obliged to you, sir, if you will not say anything about this little plan of mine, just now. I have not spoken of it to any one, having scarcely made up my mind to it, and I suppose I should not have mentioned it to you if we had not been talking about Midbranch. There is nothing I hate so much as to have people hear I am going to give them an invitation, or that I am going to do anything, in fact, before I have fully made up my mind about it."