"Why, Mis' Cullom, I'm real glad to see ye. Come right in," said Mrs.
Bixbee as she drew the widow into the "wing settin' room," and proceeded
to relieve her of her wraps and her bundle. "Set right here by the fire
while I take these things of your'n into the kitchen to dry 'em out.
I'll be right back"; and she bustled out of the room. When she came back
Mrs. Cullom was sitting with her hands in her lap, and there was in her
eyes an expression of smiling peace that was good to see.
Mrs. Bixbee drew up a chair, and seating herself, said: "Wa'al, I don't
know when I've seen ye to git a chance to speak to ye, an' I was real
pleased when David said you was goin' to be here to dinner. An' my! how
well, you're lookin'--more like Cynthy Sweetland than I've seen ye fer I
don't know when; an' yet," she added, looking curiously at her guest,
"you 'pear somehow as if you'd ben cryin'."
"You're real kind, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Cullom, replying to the
other's welcome and remarks _seriatim_; "I guess, though, I don't look
much like Cynthy Sweetland, if I do feel twenty years younger 'n I did a
while ago; an' I have ben cryin', I allow, but not fer sorro', Polly
Harum," she exclaimed, giving the other her maiden name. "Your brother
Dave comes putty nigh to bein' an angel!"
"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee with a twinkle, "I reckon Dave might hev to
be fixed up some afore he come out in that pertic'ler shape, but," she
added impressively, "es fur as bein' a _man_ goes, he's 'bout 's good 's
they make 'em. I know folks thinks he's a hard bargainer, an'
close-fisted, an' some on 'em that ain't fit to lick up his tracks says
more'n that. He's got his own ways, I'll allow, but down at bottom, an'
all through, I know the' ain't no better man livin'. No, ma'am, the'
ain't, an' what he's ben to me, Cynthy Cullom, nobody knows but
me--an'--an'--mebbe the Lord--though I hev seen the time," she said
tentatively, "when it seemed to me 't I knowed more about my affairs 'n
He did," and she looked doubtfully at her companion, who had been
following her with affirmative and sympathetic nods, and now drew her
chair a little closer, and said softly: "Yes, yes, I know. I ben putty
doubtful an' rebellious myself a good many times, but seems now as if He
had had me in His mercy all the time." Here Aunt Polly's sense of humor
asserted itself. "What's Dave ben up to now?" she asked.
And then the widow told her story, with tears and smiles, and the keen
enjoyment which we all have in talking about ourselves to a sympathetic
listener like Aunt Polly, whose interjections pointed and illuminated
the narrative. When it was finished she leaned forward and kissed Mrs.
Cullom on the cheek.
"I can't tell ye how glad I be for ye," she said; "but if I'd known that
David held that morgidge, I could hev told ye ye needn't hev worried
yourself a mite. He wouldn't never have taken your prop'ty, more'n he'd
rob a hen-roost. But he done the thing his own way--kind o' fetched it
round fer a Merry Chris'mus, didn't he? Curious," she said reflectively,
after a momentary pause, "how he lays up things about his childhood,"
and then, with a searching look at the Widow Cullom, "you didn't let on,
an' I didn't ask ye, but of course you've heard the things that some
folks says of him, an' natchally they got some holt on your mind.
There's that story about 'Lish, over to Whitcom--you heard somethin'
about that, didn't ye?"
"Yes," admitted the widow, "I heard somethin' of it, I s'pose."
"Wa'al," said Mrs. Bixbee, "you never heard the hull story, ner anybody
else really, but I'm goin' to tell it to ye--"
"Yes," said Mrs. Cullom assentingly.
Mrs. Bixbee sat up straight in her chair with her hands on her knees and
an air of one who would see justice done.
"'Lish Harum," she began, "wa'n't only half-brother to Dave. He was
hull-brother to me, though, but notwithstandin' that, I will say that a
meaner boy, a meaner growin' man, an' a meaner man never walked the
earth. He wa'n't satisfied to git the best piece an' the biggist
piece--he hated to hev any one else git anythin' at all. I don't believe
he ever laughed in his life, except over some kind o' suff'rin'--man or
beast--an' what'd tickle him the most was to be the means on't. He took
pertic'ler delight in abusin' an' tormentin' Dave, an' the poor little
critter was jest as 'fraid as death of him, an' good reason. Father was
awful hard, but he didn't go out of his way; but 'Lish never let no
chance slip. Wa'al, I ain't goin' to give you the hull fam'ly hist'ry,
an' I've got to go into the kitchen fer a while 'fore dinner, but what I
started out fer 's this: 'Lish fin'ly settled over to Whitcom."
"Did he ever git married?" interrupted Mrs. Cullom.
"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he got married when he was past forty.
It's curious," she remarked, in passing, "but it don't seem as if the'
was ever yit a man so mean but he c'd find some woman was fool enough to
marry him, an' she was a putty decent sort of a woman too, f'm all
accounts, an' good lookin'. Wa'al, she stood him six or seven year, an'
then she run off."
"With another man?" queried the widow in an awed voice. Aunt Polly
nodded assent with compressed lips.
"Yes'm," she went on, "she left him an' went out West somewhere, an'
that was the last of _her_; an' when her two boys got old enough to look
after themselves a little, they quit him too, an' they wa'n't no way
growed up neither. Wa'al, the long an' the short on't was that 'Lish got
goin' down hill ev'ry way, health an' all, till he hadn't nothin' left
but his disposition, an' fairly got onter the town. The' wa'n't nothin'
for it but to send him to the county house, onless somebody 'd s'port
him. Wa'al, the committee knew Dave was his brother, an' one on 'em come
to see him to see if he'd come forwud an' help out, an' he seen Dave
right here in this room, an' Dave made me stay an' hear the hull thing.
Man's name was Smith, I remember, a peaked little man with long chin
whiskers that he kep' clawin' at with his fingers. Dave let him tell
his story, an' he didn't say nothin' fer a minute or two, an' then he
says, 'What made ye come to me?' he says. 'Did he send ye?'
"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'when it was clear that he couldn't do nuthin', we
ast him if the' wa'n't nobody could put up fer him, an' he said you was
his brother, an' well off, an' hadn't ought to let him go t' the
poorhouse.'
"'He said that, did he?' says Dave.
"'Amountin' to that,' says Smith.
"'Wa'al,' says Dave, 'it's a good many years sence I see 'Lish, an'
mebbe you know him better 'n I do. You known him some time, eh?'
"'Quite a number o' years,' says Smith.
"'What sort of a feller was he,' says Dave, 'when he was somebody? Putty
good feller? good citizen? good neighber? lib'ral? kind to his fam'ly?
ev'rybody like him? gen'ally pop'lar, an' all that?'
"'Wa'al,' says Smith, wigglin' in his chair an' pullin' out his whiskers
three four hairs to a time, 'I guess he come some short of all that.'
"'E'umph!' says Dave, 'I guess he did! Now, honest,' he says, '_is_ the'
man, woman, or child in Whitcom that knows 'Lish Harum that's got a good
word fer him? or ever knowed of his doin' or sayin' anythin' that hadn't
got a mean side to it some way? Didn't he drive his wife off, out an'
out? an' didn't his two boys hev to quit him soon 's they could travel?
_An'_,' says Dave, 'if any one was to ask you to figure out a pattern of
the meanist human skunk you was capable of thinkin' of, wouldn't
it--honest, now!' Dave says, 'honest, now--wouldn't it be 's near like
'Lish Harum as one buckshot 's like another?'"
"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom. "What did Mr. Smith say to that?"
"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he didn't say nuthin' at fust, not in so
many words. He sot fer a minute clawin' away at his whiskers--an' he'd
got both hands into 'em by that time--an' then he made a move as if he
gin the hull thing up an' was goin'. Dave set lookin' at him, an' then
he says, 'You ain't goin', air ye?'
"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'feelin' 's you do, I guess my arrant here ain't
goin' t' amount to nothin', an' I may 's well.'
"'No, you set still a minute,' says Dave. 'If you'll answer my question
honest an' square, I've got sunthin' more to say to ye. Come, now,' he
says.
"'Wa'al,' says Smith, with a kind of give-it-up sort of a grin, 'I guess
you sized him up about right. I didn't come to see you on 'Lish Harum's
account. I come fer the town of Whitcom.' An' then he spunked up some
an' says, 'I don't give a darn,' he says, 'what comes of 'Lish, an' I
don't know nobody as does, fur's he's person'ly concerned; but he's got
to be a town charge less 'n you take 'm off our hands.'
"Dave turned to me an' says, jest as if he meant it, 'How 'd you like to
have him here, Polly?'
"'Dave Harum!' I says, 'what be you thinkin' of, seein' what he is, an'
alwus was, an' how he alwus treated you? Lord sakes!' I says, 'you ain't
thinkin' of it!'
"'Not much,' he says, with an ugly kind of a smile, such as I never see
in his face before, 'not much! Not under this roof, or any roof of
mine, if it wa'n't more'n my cow stable--an',' he says, turnin' to
Smith, 'this is what I want to say to you: You've done all right. I
hain't no fault to find with you. But I want you to go back an' say to
'Lish Harum that you've seen me, an' that I told you that not one cent
of my money nor one mossel o' my food would ever go to keep him alive
one minute of time; that if I had an empty hogpen I wouldn't let him
sleep in't overnight, much less to bunk in with a decent hog. You tell
him that I said the poorhouse was his proper dwellin', barrin' the jail,
an' that it 'd have to be a dum'd sight poorer house 'n I ever heard of
not to be a thousan' times too good fer him.'"
"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom again. "I can't really 'magine it of Dave."
"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "I told ye how set he is on his young
days, an' nobody knows how cruel mean 'Lish used to be to him; but I
never see it come out of him so ugly before, though I didn't blame him a
mite. But I hain't told ye the upshot: 'Now,' he says to Smith, who set
with his mouth gappin' open, 'you understand how I feel about the
feller, an' I've got good reason for it. I want you to promise me that
you'll say to him, word fer word, jest what I've said to you about him,
an' I'll do this: You folks send him to the poorhouse, an' let him git
jest what the rest on 'em gits--no more an' no less--as long 's he
lives. When he dies you git him the tightest coffin you kin buy, to keep
him f'm spilin' the earth as long as may be, an' then you send me the
hull bill. But this has got to be between you an' me only. You c'n tell
the rest of the committee what you like, _but_ if you ever tell a
livin' soul about this here understandin', an' I find it out, I'll never
pay one cent, an' you'll be to blame. I'm willin', on them terms, to
stan' between the town of Whitcom an' harm; but fer 'Lish Harum, not one
sumarkee! Is it a barg'in?' Dave says.
"'Yes, sir,' says Smith, puttin' out his hand. 'An' I guess,' he says,
'f'm all 't I c'n gather, thet you're doin' all 't we could expect, an'
more too,' an' off he put."
"How 'd it come out?" asked Mrs. Cullom.
"'Lish lived about two year," replied Aunt Polly, "an' Dave done as he
agreed, but even then when he come to settle up, he told Smith he didn't
want no more said about it 'n could be helped."
"Wa'al," said Mrs. Cullom, "it seems to me as if David did take care on
him after all, fur 's spendin' money was concerned."
"That's the way it looks to me," said Mrs. Bixbee, "but David likes to
think t'other. He meant to be awful mean, an' he was--as mean as he
could--but the fact is, he didn't reelly know how. My sakes! Cynthy
(looking at the clock), I'll hev to excuse myself fer a spell. Ef you
want to do any fixin' up 'fore dinner, jest step into my bedroom. I've
laid some things out on the bed, if you should happen to want any of
'em," and she hurried out of the room.