The Bishop and the Boogerman Part 9

"So did I," said the young man, with a laugh, "and you are quite excusable." Adelaide said to herself that he was making fun of her, but she did not fail to see, in the midst of her vexation and confusion, that he was very pleasant looking. In short he had a clear eye and a strong face. Having seen this much, she gathered her skirts free of her feet, and went running to the house. She couldn't resist the temptation to stop in the kitchen and give Lucindy the story of her exciting adventure, and in the midst of it, she paused to say how handsome the young man was. When the narrative was concluded, Adelaide asked Lucindy what she thought of it all. The old negro woman must have had very deep thoughts, judging from her silence. She asked no questions and merely nodded her head while Adelaide was talking; and then, while the excited young woman was waiting for her to make some comment, the little-used knocker on the front door fell with a tremendous whack.

"Whosomever it mought be," remarked Lucindy, "it look like dey er bleedze ter git in, kaze dey er breakin' de door down!"

"Oh, I believe it's the young man I tried to shoot!" cried Adelaide in distress, "and I wouldn't meet him again for the world! I wonder where Uncle Jonas is--and why he don't have a bell placed on the door?" Then the young woman asked with some indignation, "Mammy Lucindy, do you suppose that young man is knocking at the door because I made a goose of myself in the garden?"

"Lawsy, honey," said Lucindy, soothingly, "don't git ter frettin'; I'm gwine ter de door--yit I lay ef you had been up ter yo' neck in de flour-bairl, I wouldn't let you run ter de front door an' grin at whomsomever mought be dar! I lay dat much."

"But, Mammy! I'm afraid the person at the door is the young man I was rude to when he was pa.s.sing the garden. Oh, I wish Uncle Jonas would hire a housemaid; I can't be running to the front door all the time."

"I ain't seed you run much, honey, kaze dat's de fust time dat door-knocker is bangded in many's de long day. You want a house-gal, does you? Well, you better not fetch no gal in dis house fer ter make moufs at me right 'fo' my face. She sho' won't last long; I tell you dat right now!"

Lucindy prepared to answer the summons, but before she could wipe the flour from her hands, Adelaide changed her mind. She said she would answer the knock herself, and, as she went into the house, Randall came around the corner and went into the kitchen. He was somewhat excited, and Lucindy inquired if he was ill. "Mammy," he said, "does you know who that is knockin' at the door? Well, it aint n.o.body in the roun' worl'

but ol' Marster's grandson; it's Miss Betty's boy. Of all people on top of the ground, that's who it is."

Lucindy leaned on the kitchen table, and gazed at Randall in speechless surprise. "De Lord he'p my soul!" she exclaimed when she could find her voice. "What he been up ter dat he ain't never is been here befo'? He sholy can't be much mo' dan knee-high ter a puddle-duck." She persisted in thinking of her young mistress as she had known her a quarter of a century before. Randall could tell her little beyond the fact that he had "know'd the favour," and had spoken to the young man on the street, asking if he were not kin to the Bowdens.

This simple question developed into a long conversation, with the result that Randall was as enthusiastic about Miss Betty's boy as he was about Miss Betty, who had saved his life. "He sho' have got the blood in 'im.

He don't look strong, like all de balance of the Bowdens, but he's got their ways. He walks an' holds his head jest like Miss Betty."

When Adelaide opened the door, and saw standing there the young man at whom she had aimed her cornstalk gun, she was surprised to find that she was not at all embarra.s.sed. She had no idea that this particular meeting had been arranged and provided for long ages ago. But she wondered why she should feel so cool and collected, when she should be confused and blus.h.i.+ng. This is the way young women act in story books, and Adelaide had often longed for the opportunity to stammer and blush when a strange but n.o.ble young man appeared before her; but now that the young man had come, she felt as if she had known him a long, long time. He was the embarra.s.sed one, while she observed that he had nice brown eyes, to light up his handsome countenance, and these brown eyes seemed to be trying to apologise for something or other; and all the time the young man was thinking that he had never seen such beautiful blue eyes as those that were shyly glancing at him from under their long lashes. It was a desperate moment for all concerned, but Providence was there, and laid its calm, cool hand on the situation. The young man asked for Mr.

Whipple, but Providence had been before him, and Mr. Whipple was not to be found in the house, though Adelaide tried hard to find him, not knowing that if her uncle could have been found just at that particular time, a great many possibilities would have been destroyed. Adelaide inquired if the brown eyes wouldn't come in and wait for Uncle Jonas, who was to be expected at any moment, and the brown eyes softly admitted that nothing would please them better if such an arrangement were perfectly agreeable to everybody, otherwise not for the world would they intrude--and then, as a matter of course, the blue eyes were compelled to see to it that the time of waiting would be made perfectly pleasant.

After awhile the sound of footsteps was heard on the veranda, and Adelaide, with a secret regret, declared that Uncle Jonas must be coming. But Providence was looking out for the interests of the young fellow with a keener eye, for the footsteps they heard were those of Mr.

Sanders. He came in without knocking, as usual, and Adelaide ran to meet him, just as she always did. "You look as fl.u.s.trated as ef you had man company," Mr. Sanders remarked, as she greeted him. She slapped him lightly on the arm by way of warning and rebuke. "An' I'll lay I kin guess his name: it's Winters." Adelaide was very red in the face as she shook her head. "Then it's Somers," he declared; "I know'd it was one of the seasons that had dropped in on you out'n season. But it happens to be the very chap I'm arter." He stalked in to the sitting-room, and shook hands with young Somers, calling him Jonah, though his name was John.

Then he casually inquired as to the whereabouts of Mr. Jonas Whipple, in spite of the fact that he already knew. "You see how it is," he remarked to the young man; "you thought you wanted to see Jonas, but it wasn't Jonas you wanted to see at all." Mr. Sanders pursed his mouth, and stared at the ceiling. The remark he had made was interpreted by Adelaide in a way he had not intended, but she was quite equal to the emergency.

"Well, Mr. Sanders," she inquired with great dignity, "whom did Mr.

Somers desire to see?"

He turned a bland and child-like smile upon her. "Why, he wanted to see me, of course. Who else could it 'a' been?" Adelaide's dignity was not made of the strongest stuff, and she was compelled to laugh. "I understood him to inquire for Uncle Jonas," she said simply, "but I may have been mistaken."

"No; I really want to see Mr. Whipple," the young man insisted. "That is my business here."

Mr. Sanders beamed upon him with a smile that was as broad and sweet as a slice of pie. "I've allers took notice," he remarked, "that wimmen an'

children, an' young folks in gener'l, will ax for the identical things they ought not to have. They're made that-a-way, I reckon."

In a little while the young man bowed himself out, followed by Mr.

Sanders. "You young fellers worry me no little," remarked the Sage of Shady Dale, as they went along the street together. "I happen to know about the business that fetched you here, an' I mighty nigh swallered my goozle when I seed you makin' for Jonas's."

"Well, I really thought Mr. Whipple was the proper person to see. I was told that he held the key to the situation," young Somers replied.

Mr. Sanders smiled benignly. "Old Jonas has been seed an' he's been saw'd," said the elder man so drolly that Somers laughed outright. "I reckon you've been to college, ain't you? I 'lowed as much. The trainin'

is all right, but you'll have to fergit a heap you've l'arned ef you want travellin' for to be easy. Old as I am, I wish I had some of your knowledge, but if you was to put it all in a hamper basket an' gi' me the right to paw it over, you'd be surprised at what I'd pick out. My experience is that when a feller gits through college, an' begins for to face the hard propositions that he ain't never thought about, he allers takes a notion that somethin's wrong somewhar.

"I reckon maybe you've got the idee that argyment, ef it's got all the facts behind it, is the thing that's bound for to win, an' you'll have to git b.u.mped by a barnyard full of billy-goats before you find out that nineteen-hundred squar' miles on 'em ain't wuth one little inch of persuasion. It's all right in the books, whar they l'arn you how to think an' put up a nice article of argyment, but it don't work in reel life. You can't carry none of your p'ints wi'out doin' some mighty purty dancin' on t'other side of the line. Now I've saved you from one of the wust b.u.mpin's that a young feller ever had, and the beauty about it is you'll never have a suspicion of it ontel you're old enough for to have grandchildren. It'll not hurt you for to hit some of the rough places as you go slidin' through this vale of tears, but it'll never do you any reel good for to climb four flights of sta'rs an' then jump out'n the top window when you want to come down."

"I should think that even a fool would know that," the young man declared.

"Well, some on 'em don't," responded Mr. Sanders. "Thar's diffunt kinds of fools, an' diffunt kinds of houses, an' heap higher jumps, an' you'd 'a' had the experience of it ef you'd 'a' found old Jonas at home. The next time you go thar don't ax for him. Call for Adelaide--call for Lucindy the cook (she use' to belong to your Gran'daddy Bowden)--call for Randall--call for any an' ever'body but old Jonas."

"But what am I to do?" the young man inquired somewhat impatiently. "It seems that I may as well go back to Malvern or Atlanta; and when I do that, I'll have to hunt for another job."

Mr. Sanders hummed a tune, and apparently paid no attention to the young man's last remark. "Old Jonas is mighty quar'," he said after a pause.

"When his sister died up thar in Atlanta, you couldn't 'a' told from the motions he made that he'd hearn the mournful news; but sence he's had for to take keer of Adelaide, her daughter, his gizzard has kinder softened up. Why, that man thinks that the sun rises an' sets whar Adelaide lives at."

"Well," said the young fellow, "she certainly is charming; I don't think I ever met a young lady that so impressed me."

"Forty years from now you'll be able for to say the same thing,"

remarked Mr. Sanders. "Well, as I was a-tellin' you, old Jonas ain't nigh as mean as he looks to be, but when I found out that he reely had a heart, you mought 'a' knocked me down wi' a feather. It was the time your gran'daddy died. Why, Jonas walked the floor all night long. That much I know bekaze I seed it wi' my own eyes. An' then thar's that n.i.g.g.e.r Randall--thar ain't no tellin' how much Jonas has done for him, nor how much he will do. But when it comes to makin' a fuss, Jonas ain't in it. He's too hard-headed for to let people know him as he is. Now, don't think I'm doin' any obiturary work, bekaze the fact is old Jonas ain't a bit better than he ought to be. I reckon, he is too hard-headed for to let people know him as he is, but the fact is that old Jonas is human; he ain't a bit better than the rest on us--an' he may be wuss in some spots. Ef you've ever took notice, the people between the best man in the world an' the wust, make a purty fa'r average. I reckon," Mr.

Sanders went on, regarding Somers with a child-like smile, "I reckon you ain't never played poker as a habit?"

"Not as a habit," replied the young man, laughing.

"Well, the hand I've dealt to you is known as a royal straight flush, an' it sweeps ever'thing before it. Look it over when you git time, an'

ef anybody calls you, jes spread out the kyards on the table, an' ax 'em what they think of the lay-out."

"I don't think I know what you mean," said the young man, with some show of embarra.s.sment.

"Maybe not," replied Mr. Sanders, "but I leave it to you ef that's my fault; I've dealt you the hand, an' ef you dunno how to play it, you can't blame me. I see Tidwell across yander, an' I want to have a talk wi' him; maybe he'll loan me his pocket-han'kcher. So-long!"

Young Somers went to his room in the tavern and pondered long over the problem that Mr. Sanders had presented with confident smiles. He tried to think it out, but, somehow, he could think of nothing but a laughing face, dimpled and sweet, blue eyes and golden hair, and lovely white hands lifted in eloquent gesture. He could concentrate all the powers of his mind on these, and he could think a little, just a little, of the wonderful personality of Mr. Sanders, who had persisted in remaining a boy, in spite of his years and large experience, but so far as puzzles and problems were concerned, his mind refused to work.

It was the same the next day, and the next. He walked about the little town by way of recreation, but by far the largest part of his time was spent in his room at the tavern. On the morning of the third day of his stay in Shady Dale, he concluded to visit the old place where his grandfather had lived, and where his mother was born. Of the whereabouts of the place he had not the slightest idea, though he knew it was about a mile from the centre of the town. While he was debating whether or no he should wander about and try to find it for himself, or whether he should make inquiries as to the direction, he heard the rustle of skirts behind him. Turning he beheld his vision of blue eyes and golden hair.

This, however, was the reality. The young fellow had a queer notion, momentary but vivid, that somewhere or somehow, in some dim, mysterious region under the stars, he had come suddenly upon this same experience, under precisely the same conditions--and the thought gave him a thrill the like of which he had never felt before--the kind of thrill that, as Mr. Sanders once suggested, makes you think that you've clerked in a dry-goods store in some other world.

Blue eyes and dimples were very gracious. "You left too soon the other day," they declared; "Uncle Jonas came in shortly after you went away, and you were hardly out of the house before one of your mother's old servants came in to see you. It was Mammy Lucindy, our cook, and she was very much disappointed to find you had gone."

"I'm sorry," the young fellow said, and he was so emphatic, and so serious, that Adelaide laughed. "I have heard my mother speak of Lucindy and her son Randall."

"When Uncle Jonas came in," remarked Adelaide, "I told him you had called. He frowned and said he supposed you wanted to see him on business; but I suggested that perhaps you had called because you were Judge Bowden's grandson. He declared you had never thought of such a thing; but the possibility that you might have had such a thought pleased him greatly. I don't know when I have seen him in such high good humour."

They were walking along as they talked, and the young man made a mental note of old Jonas's pleasure. The sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly, the air was fresh and cool, the jay-birds in the China trees were hilarious, and, somehow or other, the two young people felt very happy as they walked along. They had no particular reason for their happiness, but they seemed to be in the atmosphere in which happiness arises like the sparkling dew of early morning. A deaf old lady sitting on her piazza, on the opposite side of the street, smiled sweetly at Adelaide, and held her trumpet to her ear, as if, by means of its echoing depths, she could hear what the laughing young woman was saying. Adelaide did have something to say, evidently--something that an ear-trumpet could not interpret across the wide street, for she made a little gesture with her head, which her companion failed to see, and she sent some signal whirling through the air by means of a fluttering white hand. This signal he did see, but he was unfamiliar with the code that prevails among women-kind the world over: yet he had no difficulty in taking it to be an ordinary salutation, especially as the smiling old lady waved the trumpet around her head with an air of triumph. Still there was something in it all that seemed to be a trifle beyond him--and from the feminine point of view it was a neat and pretty piece of work.

He had small opportunity to give the matter any thought, for Adelaide, laughing, turned toward him, and began to speak of the affection her Uncle Jonas had felt for Judge Bowden, and the high esteem in which he held the judge's memory. She acknowledged that it was very queer that a man long dead should play a living part in her uncle's thoughts, but she explained that people had wrong ideas about her uncle. "They seem to think," she declared, "that Uncle Jonas is very mean and stingy, and hard-hearted; but if they knew him as well as I do, they would think differently."

The young fellow would have protested, but Adelaide stopped him with a dignified wave of her versatile white hand. "I know what people say,"

she insisted. "Mr. Sanders tells me, and so does Randall, whose life was saved by your mother; they tell me everything that is said about Uncle Jonas. And I always tell him about it, but he doesn't seem to care; he laughs as if it were a good joke, and declares that people have more sense than he has been willing to credit them with. Really, I believe he likes it, but it is not at all agreeable to me."

Young Somers hardly knew what to say; he had heard old Jonas described as the meanest man in twenty states, and the promoters of the railway enterprise who had sent him to Shady Dale were not at all backward in expressing their opinion of the man who was causing them so much unnecessary trouble and delay. So he walked on in silence for awhile.

Then: "Speaking of my grandfather, I was just on the point of inquiring about the old place, but when you made your appearance just now, dropping out of the sky, I forgot all about it. I should like very much to see the home where my mother was born, and where my grandfather was born and died. I have heard my mother talk about Shady Dale and about the old home-place ever since I could understand what she said. I remember, when I was a child, that I had a queer idea that the town was shaped like a bowl or saucer; all the good people that chanced to come by stumbled and fell in, there to remain, and all the bad people crawled over the rim and fell out; and I couldn't help having a feeling of disappointment when I found that Shady Dale is very much like other towns."

"Now, don't say that!" protested Adelaide. "I have seen a great many towns, but never one like this--not one as pretty."

"Why, in North Carolina----" the young fellow began, but Adelaide interrupted him with a laugh so genuine and unaffected that it was delightful to hear. Yet, in spite of the fact that he enjoyed the rippling sound, he felt his face turning red. "You think North Carolina is a joke," he went on, "but you would be surprised to know what a great state it is."

"I was laughing at one of Mr. Sanders's jokes," said Adelaide, still smiling. "Once there was a tobacco peddler came here driving a big covered waggon. Mr. Sanders discovered he was from North Carolina, and shook hands with him very cordially, and asked about a great many people he never heard of. The tobacco man said they must have moved away, but Mr. Sanders said he thought not, for the reason that the only three North Carolinians he ever saw that were able to settle at the toll-gates and ferries, made their way straight to Alabama, and formed a business firm. He said the name of this firm was 'Tar, Pitch, and Turkentime'--that's the way he p.r.o.nounced the names. The tobacco man didn't get angry; he laughed as loudly as anybody, and Uncle Jonas says that was because he wasn't conceited."