The Tobacco Tiller Part 8

"Now, Aunt July, let your head-rag alone! Eph says he can tell when hit's comin' winter by _my head_. I take to wearin' a rag on my head in the house then!"

"Ef yoah foots and skeerts is done dry," remarked the old negress, breaking a half pod of pepper from the string suspended from the end of her mantel, "I'll set you a bite on de table."

She lifted the lid of the boiling pot and dropped in the pepper pod with a chuckle. "Heah my honeys, cool yoah moufs wid dis."

"Man alive, Aunt July!" Mrs. Doggett's face a.s.sumed a look of horror.

"Ef you are a fortune-teller, you hain't tuck to eatin' cooked snakes, have you?"

"Mussy, no!" laughed Aunt July. "Them's chit'lin's--hog guts. Ain't you never et none? I's plumb ashamed o' my poah eatin's, Mis' Ann," she went on when she had spread the table with a piece of embroidered damask, and set on a steaming bowl of the chitterlings, a pone of brown cornbread from the oven, a pitcher of b.u.t.termilk, and a jar of blackberry jam from the cupboard, and had poured coffee from a little pipkin: "but I ain't got no flour this week. I got mighty little use for wheat-bread, myse'f, but I loves to have hit for company! Set up, dough, and eat: hit'll take de aidge offen yoah honger, and lay yoah stomach 'tel you git home: I'll go corn de beasties."

While she was engaged in feeding Big Money and the pigs, the mistress of the house heard a shriek from within. Blowing like a scared sow, she rushed to her guest. Mrs. Doggett stood in her stocking feet on the stool.

"I've put my foot on a snake!" she screeched: "hit's under the table! I feel like I'm bit!"

Aunt July reached under the table and, grinning, lifted out an enormous brown toad. "Hit's Jeremiah, my pet," she explained soothingly: "Jeremiah, hain't you 'shamed yo'se'f, skeerin' de lady!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Hit's Jeremiah, my pet," she explained soothingly.]

"Did you 'broider this cloth, Aunt July?" asked Mrs. Doggett when the old negress was folding the cloth.

"Naw'm, I wuz a field gal in de ole times: I nuvver larnt much o' de needle. Dis heah kiver," she said oracularly, "_come_ to me! Hit used to belong to a town lady what allus has a pa.s.sel o' gal company a hankerin'

after dey fortunes!"

"_I_ used to do 'broidery and all sech," sighed Mrs. Doggett. "I made ever' thread o' my onderclothes 'broidered; but, after I married and got to havin' chillern, I quit all nice work!"

"You's had yoah sheer o' hard times wid work and young uns, ain't you?"

commiserated the old negress, with her eyes on Mrs. Doggett's long slender hands, with their big veins, and curved thumbs.

"Hain't I, though!" agreed Mrs. Doggett: "not two years between none o'

'em. I'd 'a' ruther had five pairs o' twins than ten chillern so clost together, but I didn't have my ruthers. I used to have to put the bed post on the baby's dress when I went to the spreng, to keep hit from crawlin' in the fire, and lead the next youngest one with me! Law, hain't chillern warryin' on a woman!

"They plague a body worse'n the each a gittin' in thengs! 'Ma,' I'd say when I used to go to my mother's, and she'd have to put up her aigs and ever' theng out'n the way o' the chillern: 'Ma, I'd give anytheng ef my chillern wuz all grown! I'd have so much more pleasure a visitin' you!'

And Ma'd say: 'Aw hush, Ann, they're a trompin' on your toes now, but after a while they'll be a trompin' on your heart!'

"But 'tain't turned out that way altogether with me. My boys hain't got no education, nary un but Joey, and he used to slip off to school, and learnt some. They all spent their school days in the terbaccer. I used to bag Eph a many a time to quit raisin' hit, and let the chillern git some schoolin', but he wouldn't, and ef I hadn't jest spread out and nigh killed myse'f, a doin' all the work at the house myse'f, so's the girls could go to school in the falls, they'd 'a' been like the boys.

"Eph, he never insisted on the girls workin' none in the terbaccer like a heap does, but pore Callie, she wuz the oldest of our chillern, and she wanted to holp her pap when the others wuz little, and she'd work in the patch in the summers, and after she quit goin' to school. And gittin' wet all over ever' mornin' after the terbaccer got up, a wormin'

and a suckerin' while the dew wuz on, wuz the startin' o' the consumption that killed her--I know hit wuz.

"I used to say when she come in, sengin', makin' like she wuzn't tired ner warried, so's not to pester me,--'Callie, child, I'm afeerd fer you to git wet this away,'--but she'd jest say, 'Ma, I don't reckon hit'll hurt me, and maybe ef we have a good crop this year I can save enough from hirin' to git us a new sewin'-machine!' But we never have got able to git no new machine yit, and Callie, my little Callie--"

Mrs. Doggett's lips quivered and the tears streamed down her face.

"Doan' grieve, Mis' Ann, honey, doan' grieve," besought old July, laying a soothing hand on Mrs. Doggett's slender shaking shoulder,--a tear of sympathy standing on each withered cheek: "de chile ain' seein' no moah hard times, nuvver no moah."

Mrs. Doggett wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Callie wuz my best child, but my chillern are all good chillern, and," she added, a little pathetic note of defiance as to the world's opinion in her voice, "they've got pride about their clothes, and they know how to behave in comp'ny, ef they hain't got schoolin',--though some the boys is learnin'

some sence they married: their wives is a teachin' 'em a little."

"Well, anyway," broke in Aunt July, "dey's de mannerest boys I knows.

'Scuse me for sayin' so, Mis' Ann, 'foah you, but most dem ole 'baccer folks, dey don't teach dey young uns _nothin'_. De old uns ain't got a speck o' manners deyselves. Sometimes I pa.s.ses 'em out on de road, and dey'll be drunk, reelin' and a fallin' in fence corners. Dey'll holler at me disrespectful like, 'How are you, honey? Hi da', granny!' I nuvver 'turns 'em no answer--jest looks t'other way.

"But ef one yoah boys is out anywha' and don't see no moah o' me dan my coat-tail, he'll holler at hit, and speak and axe me how I comes on, and lif' his hat when he goes on, as respectful as you please; and de gals is jest de same. How is de gals gittin' along now, Mis' Ann?"

"The best kind, both of 'em!" replied Mrs. Doggett. "Johnny, Hattie's man, he's a clerkin' in a store now, and gits her a heap o' new thengs.

Don't you thenk, he's got her a new orgin! Got hit cheap on account o'

one o' the peddlers bein' a little out o' prepare; but 'tain't one o'

them cheap orgins that don't sound no better'n a hog rubbin' agin a splinter! Hattie can't play on hit, but then company can, and an orgin's nice furnichur anyway."

"Yes, 'tis dat!" agreed Aunt July. "I seed one when I wuz on my trip. I reckon you ain't heerd 'bout me bein' on a trip 'foah Christmas? I rid'

on de cyar-train for de fust time!"

"O mercy goodness, you know you didn't!" Mrs. Doggett gaped incredulously. "Did you go to see your gran'chillern in Indianopolus?"

A look of the liveliest scorn enveloped Aunt July.

"What'd I go to see dem black rapscallions for? _Dey_ don't keer nothin'

for dey folks now,--done gone off after style and fast livin'! Last spreng when dey pap, my Jimmy, wuz sick in town wid de typhoot fever, I had a letter son't 'em, and Jimmy mout 'a' died and been th'owed to de buzzards for all dem ciderette-smokin' clothes hosses keered. Dey nuvver son't de scratch o' a pen p'int _den_ nor _sence_ to esquire about his edition!

"Naw'm! I went to see Bru'h. Bru'h, he'd been desistin' on me comin' for a long time, but I wuz feerd--feerd de cyar-train. Dat big storm dey had down da' las' Februray wuz a year, blowed down de meetin'-house,--de ole one wha' Bru'h kep' his membership--plumb demoralized hit, hit bein' on a hill top, and when dey got de shengles on dey new meetin'-house, Bru'h writ me be shoah to come down, dey wuz gwine offer dey new church to de Lawd, and gwine hold a big 'traction meetin' right after de des'cration--and son't me a ticklet to come on. Jimmy--he desisted so, I give up and went."

"I do thenk!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Doggett.

"Yes'm," continued Aunt July: "my cousin what sweeps at de depot-house, he offered resist me on de cyar-train, bein's I's sorter stove up wid de rheumaty, and can't clamb extry. When de cyar-train kim a steamin', a tootin', and a cavortin' up, I looked 'round for de conductor man he said would holp him resist me in de cyar-train; but I didn't see n.o.body but a big soldier man and atween 'em, dey resisted me to climb de steps, and den de Gineral, he toted in my cyarpet satchel.

"Lawd, I wuz so skeered! My laigs give way and I sunk down on one de red cordumeroy sofys, limber as a piece o' rennet what's been in soak. When de startin'-out pull kim, I cotched hold dem wooden arms of de divan and held on like a bull-dog to a hog's hind leg. Den de conductor man (him I mistook for a Brigadier Gineral) axed me for my ticklet.

"'Gineral,' I managed to sorter gasp out, dough my dry tongue wuz stuck to de ruff o' my mouf, '_you_ kin look in my cyarpet-satchel, I dast resk lettin' go!'

"Den he say when we git to de next stop, he'll come back and I kin git hit out myse'f. O mortal man, how I suffered in my mind whilst we wuz flyin' along! Ever' onct in a while, I'd look out'n de winder and ef you'll believe me, Mis' Ann, de cabbage heads in folks' patches we pa.s.sed didn't pear no bigger dan good-sizes marbles! De train run 'long all right 'bout fifteen minutes, and my top insides 'gun to sorter ease down out'n my swallow, when we kim to a bridge; den I seed a little thread o' water 'way down below de trussle works.

"Den a young man who had been doin' a power o' laughin' and talkin' to a young gal settin' 'longside him on de sofy behind me, he axed de gal didn't she know de bridge we wuz on been condemned as dangerous. I 'lowed ef dat wuz de trufe, we wuz gone den, shoah. I give one sque'l, 'good-bye, world!' Den I let go de sofy arms and slid down on de floah and hid my head onder de sofy.

"Terrectly de conductor man teched me on de shoulder. 'Aunty, are you skeered?' he said. I wuz so bad off in my feelin's, I couldn't answer.

Den a nice white lady on de settee in front (she had on sech elegant clo'se, I know she must 'a' been de richest woman dat ever wore a dress!) she kim 'round and told me da' wouldn't nothin' hurt me, and 'suaded me to git upon de divan ag'in: den she tuck some lemon pie out'n a little basket (de best pie I ever wrapped lip around), and I kindah come to myse'f and wiped my eyes. And befoah I knowed hit, de sun wuz nigh down, de conductor wuz a hollerin' out 'Mansfield!' and we wuz da'!

"I wuz so happy I blowed out real hard, and I wuz mighty oneasy for fear I'd busted de band o' my cashmere skeert, but de st.i.tches helt tight. De fust theng I done after I sot my foots on de firm groun' wuz to set my cyarpet satchel down on de platform and feel o' my arms and laigs to see ef dey wuz all da after dat forty miles churnin'.

"'Thank de lawd, I's all heah!' I says sorter loud like, and den sich a t.i.tterin' as come from dem cyar-train winders from dem young folks what sot behind me, I nuvver heerd. I says, 'Missy be shamed! Who gwine b'leeve but what de fust time _you_ rid' on de cyar-train, you felt to see ef you wuz all da too!' And, ef you will b'leeve me Mis' Ann, de tightness o' his skin wuz all dat kept dat young man settin by her from bustin' hisse'f!"

"The onmannerly theng!" scoffed Mrs. Doggett, sympathetically. "Some them town folks is mighty biggety."

The subject on her mind was pressing, and she hastened to lead up to it by a judicious question.

"Have any them town gals been out lately to find out about their futures, Aunt July?"

"Dat gal o' de widow Russell's--she wuz de last one out. Da's a new young man what's come to de town, and she's got acquainted wid him at one dem church s'ciety meetin's. I nuvver kin call de name right, so I jest gives. .h.i.t de _sound_, and lets. .h.i.t go at dat--de Christian devil s'ciety. I could see she'd be willin' to give all de shoes in her shop for him. Her high-steppin' ma, dough, she said 'foah she'd see her gal married to a poor man like him, she'd ruther see her dead, and buried in de colored folks' graveyard, wid only one mouner to foller her to de grave and dat one her mother, on foot a walkin'!"

"Did the young lady go home satisfied with what she heerd from you?"

queried Mrs. Doggett.