MIRANDY, HANK, AND SHOCKY.
Mirandy had nothing but contempt for the new master until he developed
the bulldog in his character. Mirandy fell in love with the bulldog.
Like many other girls of her class, she was greatly enamored with the
"subjection of women," and she stood ready to fall in love with any man
strong enough to be her master. Much has been said of the strong-minded
woman. I offer this psychological remark as a contribution to the
natural history of the weak-minded woman.
It was at the close of that very second day on which Ralph had achieved
his first victory over the school, and in which Mirandy had been seized
with her desperate passion for him, that she told him about it. Not in
words. We do not allow _that_ in the most civilized countries, and still
less would it be tolerated in Hoopole County. But Mirandy told the
master the fact that she was in love with him, though no word passed her
lips. She walked by him from school. She cast at him what are commonly
called sheep's-eyes. Ralph thought them more like calf's eyes. She
changed the whole tone of her voice. She whined ordinarily. Now she
whimpered. And so by ogling him, by blushing at him, by tittering at
him, by giggling at him, by snickering at him, by simpering at him, by
making herself tenfold more a fool even than nature had made her, she
managed to convey to the dismayed soul of the young teacher the
frightful intelligence that he was loved by the richest, the ugliest,
the silliest, the coarsest, and the most entirely contemptible girl in
Flat Creek district.
Ralph sat by the fire the next morning trying to read a few minutes
before school-time, while the boys were doing the chores and the bound
girl was milking the cows, with no one in the room but the old woman.
She was generally as silent as Bud, but now she seemed for some
unaccountable reason disposed to talk. She had sat down on the broad
hearth to have her usual morning smoke; the poplar table, adorned by no
cloth, stood in the middle of the floor; the unwashed blue teacups sat
in the unwashed blue saucers; the unwashed blue plates kept company with
the begrimed blue pitcher. The dirty skillets by the fire were kept in
countenance by the dirtier pots, and the ashes were drifted and strewn
over the hearth-stones in a most picturesque way.
"You see," said the old woman, knocking the residuum from her cob pipe,
and chafing some dry leaf between her withered hands preparatory to
filling it again, "you see, Mr. Hartsook, my ole man's purty well along
in the world. He's got a right smart lot of this world's plunder[11],
one way and another." And while she stuffed the tobacco into her pipe
Ralph wondered why she should mention it to him. "You see, we moved in
here nigh upon twenty-five years ago. 'Twas when my Jack, him as died
afore Bud was born, was a baby. Bud'll be twenty-one the fif' of next
June."
Here Mrs. Means stopped to rake a live coal out of the fire with her
skinny finger, and then to carry it in her skinny palm to the bowl--or
to the _hole_--of her cob pipe. When she got the smoke a-going, she
proceeded:
"You see, this yere bottom land was all Congress land[12] in them there
days, and it sold for a dollar and a quarter, and I says to my ole man,
'Jack,' says I, 'Jack, do you git a plenty while you're a-gittin'. Git a
plenty while you're a-gittin',' says I, 'fer 'twon't never be no
cheaper'n 'tis now,' and it ha'n't been; I knowed 'twouldn't," and Mrs.
Means took the pipe from her mouth to indulge in a good chuckle at the
thought of her financial shrewdness. "'Git a plenty while you're
a-gittin' says I. I could see, you know, they was a powerful sight of
money in Congress land. That's what made me say, 'Git a plenty while
you're a-gittin'.' And Jack, he's wuth lots and gobs of money, all made
out of Congress land. Jack didn't git rich by hard work. Bless you, no!
Not him. That a'n't his way. Hard work a'n't, you know. 'Twas that air
six hundred dollars he got along of me, all salted down into Flat Crick
bottoms at a dollar and a quarter a' acre, and 'twas my sayin' 'Git a
plenty while you're a gittin'' as done it." And here the old ogre
laughed, or grinned horribly, at Ralph, showing her few straggling,
discolored teeth.
Then she got up and knocked the ashes out of her pipe, and laid the pipe
away and walked round In front of Ralph. After adjusting the chunks[13]
so that the fire would burn, she turned her yellow face toward Ralph,
and scanning him closely came out with the climax of her speech in the
remark: "You see as how, Mr. Hartsook, the man what gits my Mirandy'll
do well. Flat Crick land's wuth nigt upon a hundred a' acre."
This gentle hint came near knocking Ralph down. Had Flat Creek land been
worth a hundred times a hundred dollars an acre, and had he owned five
hundred times Means's five hundred acres, he would have given it all
just at that moment to have annihilated the whole tribe of Meanses.
Except Bud. Bud was a giant, but a good-natured one. He thought he would
except Bud from the general destruction. As for the rest, he mentally
pictured to himself the pleasure of attending their funerals. There was
one thought, however, between him and despair. He felt confident that
the cordiality, the intensity, and the persistency of his dislike of Sis
Means were such that he should never inherit a foot of the Flat Creek
bottoms.
But what about Bud? What if he joined the conspiracy to marry him to
this weak-eyed, weak-headed wood-nymph, or backwoods nymph?
If Ralph felt it a misfortune to be loved by Mirandy Means, he found
himself almost equally unfortunate in having incurred the hatred of the
meanest boy in school. "Hank" Banta, low-browed, smirky, and crafty, was
the first sufferer by Ralph's determination to use corporal punishment,
and so Henry Banta, who was a compound of deceit and resentment, never
lost an opportunity to annoy the young school-master, who was obliged to
live perpetually on his guard against his tricks.
One morning, as Ralph walked toward the school-house, he met little
Shocky. What the boy's first name or last name was the teacher did not
know. He had given his name as Shocky, and all the teacher knew was that
he was commonly called Shocky, that he was an orphan, that he lived with
a family named Pearson over in Rocky Hollow, and that he was the most
faithful and affectionate child in the school. On this morning that I
speak of, Ralph had walked toward the school early to avoid the company
of Mirandy. But not caring to sustain his dignity longer than was
necessary, he loitered along the road, admiring the trunks of the
maples, and picking up a beech-nut now and then. Just as he was about
to go on toward the school, he caught sight of little Shocky running
swiftly toward him, but looking from side to side, as if afraid of being
seen.
[Illustration: BETSY SHORT]
"Well, Shocky, what is it?" and Ralph put his hand kindly on the great
bushy head of white hair from which came Shocky's nickname. Shocky had
to pant a minute.
"Why, Mr. Hartsook," he gasped, scratching his head, "they's a pond down
under the school-house," and here Shocky's breath gave out entirely for
a minute.
"Yes, Shocky, I know that. What about it? The trustees haven't come to
fill it up, have they?"
"Oh! no, sir; but Hank Banta, you know--" and Shocky took another
breathing spell, standing as dose to Ralph as he could, for poor Shocky
got all his sunshine from the master's presence.
"Has Henry fallen in and got a ducking, Shocky?"
"Oh! no, sir; he wants to git you in, you see."
"Well, I won't go in, though, Shocky."
"But, you see, he's been and gone and pulled back the board that you
have to step on to git ahind your desk; he's been and gone and pulled
back the board so as you can't help a-tippin' it up, and a-sowsin' right
in ef you step there."
"And so you came to tell me." There was a huskiness in Ralph's voice.
He had, then, one friend in Flat Creek district--poor little Shocky. He
put his arm around Shocky just a moment, and then told him to hasten
across to the other road, so as to come back to the school-house in a
direction at right angles to the master's approach. But the caution was
not needed. Shocky had taken care to leave in that way, and was
altogether too cunning to be seen coming down the road with Mr.
Hartsook. But after he got over the fence to go through the "sugar camp"
(or sugar _orchard_, as they say at the East), he stopped and turned
back once or twice, just to catch one more smile from Ralph. And then he
hied away through the tall trees, a very happy boy, kicking and
ploughing the brown leaves before him in his perfect delight, saying
over and over again: "How he looked at me! how he did look!" And when
Ralph came up to the school-house door, there was Shocky sauntering
along from the other direction, throwing bits of limestone at fence
rails, and smiling still clear down to his shoes at thought of the
master's kind words.
"What a quare boy Shocky is!" remarked Betsey Short, with a giggle. "He
just likes to wander round alone. I see him a-comin' out of the sugar
camp just now. He's been in there half an hour." And Betsey giggled
again; for Betsey Short could giggle on slighter provocation than any
other girl on Flat Creek.
When Ralph Hartsook, with the quiet, dogged tread that he was
cultivating, walked into the school-room, he took great care not to seem
to see the trap set for him; but he carelessly stepped over the board
that had been so nicely adjusted. The boys who were Hank's confidants in
the plot were very busy over their slates, and took pains not to show
their disappointment.
The morning session wore on without incident. Ralph several times caught
two people looking at him. One was Mirandy. Her weak and watery eyes
stole loving glances over the top of her spelling-book, which she would
not study. Her looks made Ralph's spirits sink to forty below zero, and
congeal.
But on one of the backless little benches that sat in the middle of the
school-room was little Shocky, who also cast many love glances at the
young master; glances as grateful to his heart as Mirandy's ogling--he
was tempted to call it ogring--was hateful.
"Look at Shocky," giggled Betsey Short, behind her slate. "He looks as
if he was a-goin' to eat the master up, body and soul."
And so the forenoon wore on as usual, and those who laid the trap had
forgotten it, themselves. The morning session was drawing to a close.
The fire in the great old fire-place had burnt low. The flames, which
seemed to Shocky to be angels, had disappeared, and now the bright
coals, which had played the part of men and women and houses in Shocky's
fancy, had taken on a white and downy covering of ashes, and the great
half-burnt back-log lay there smouldering like a giant asleep in a
snow-drift. Shocky longed to wake him up.
As for Henry Banta, he was too much bothered to get the answer to a
"sum" he was doing, to remember anything about his trap. In fact, he had
quite forgotten that half an hour ago in the all-absorbing employment of
drawing ugly pictures on his slate and coaxing Betsey Short to giggle by
showing them slyly across the school-room. Once or twice Ralph had been
attracted to Betsey's extraordinary fits of giggling, and had come so
near to catching Hank that the boy thought it best not to run any
further risk of the beech switches, four or five feet long, laid up
behind the master in sight of the school as a prophylactic. Hence his
application just now to his "sum" in long division, and hence his
puzzled look, for, idler that he was, his "sums" did not solve
themselves easily. As usual in such cases, he came up in front of the
master's desk to have the difficulty explained. He had to wait a minute
until Ralph got through with showing Betsey Short, who had been seized
with a studying fit, and who could hardly give any attention to the
teacher's explanations, she did want to giggle so much! Not at anything
in particular, but just at things in general.
While Ralph was "doing" Betsey's "sum" for her, he was solving a much
more difficult question. A plan had flashed upon him, but the punishment
seemed a severe one. He gave it up once or twice, but he remembered how
turbulent the Flat Creek elements were; and had he not inly resolved to
be as unrelenting as a bulldog? He fortified himself by recalling again
the oft-remembered remark of Bud, "Ef Bull wunst takes a holt, heaven
and yarth can't make him let go." And so he resolved to give Hank and
the whole school one good lesson.
"Just step round behind me, Henry, and you can see how I do this," said
Ralph.
Hank was entirely off his guard, and, with his eyes fixed upon the slate
on the teacher's desk, he sidled round upon the broad loose board
misplaced by his own hand, and in an instant the other end of the board
rose up in the middle of the school-room, almost striking Shocky in the
face, while Henry Banta went down into the ice-cold water beneath the
school-house.
"Why, Henry!" cried Ralph, jumping to his feet with well-feigned
surprise. "How _did_ this happen?" him by the fire.
Betsey Short giggled.
Shocky was so tickled that he could hardly keep his seat.
The boys who were in the plot looked very serious indeed.
Ralph made some remarks by way of improving the occasion. He spoke
strongly of the utter meanness of the one who could play so heartless a
trick on a schoolmate. He said that it was as much thieving to get your
fun at the expense of another as to steal his money. And while he
talked, all eyes were turned on Hank--all except the eyes of Mirandy
Means. They looked simperingly at Ralph. All the rest looked at Hank.
The fire had made his face very red. Shocky noticed that. Betsey Short
noticed it, and giggled. The master wound up with an appropriate
quotation from Scripture. He said that the person who displaced that
board had better not be encouraged by the success--he said _success_
with a curious emphasis--of the present experiment to attempt another
trick of the kind. For it was set down in the Bible that if a man dug a
pit for the feet of another he would be very likely to fall in it
himself. Which made all the pupils look solemn, except Betsey Short, who
giggled. And Shocky wanted to. And Mirandy cast an expiring look at
Ralph. And if the teacher was not love-sick, he certainly was sick of
Mirandy's love.
[Illustration: HANK BANTA'S IMPROVED PLUNGE BATH]
When school was "let out," Ralph gave Hank every caution that he could
about taking cold, and even lent him his overcoat, very much against
Hank's will. For Hank had obstinately refused to go home before the
school was dismissed.
Then the master walked out in a quiet and subdued way to spend the noon
recess in the woods, while Shocky watched his retreating footsteps with
loving admiration. And the pupils not in the secret canvassed the
question of who moved the board. Bill Means said he'd bet Hank did it,
which set Betsey Short off in an uncontrollable giggle. And Shocky
listened innocently.
But that night Bud said slyly: "Thunder and lightning! what a manager
you _air_, Mr. Hartsook!" To which Ralph returned no reply except a
friendly smile. Muscle paid tribute to brains that time.
But Ralph had no time for exultation; for just here came the
spelling-school.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 11: This word _plunder_ is probably from Pennsylvania, as it
is exactly equivalent to the German word _plunder_, in the sense of
household effects, the original meaning of the word in German. Any kind
of baggage may be called _plunder_, but the most accepted sense is
household goods. It is quite seriously used. I have seen bills of lading
on the Western waters certifying that A.B. had shipped "1 lot of
plunder;" that is, household goods. It is here used figuratively for
goods in general.]
[Footnote 12: _Congress land_ was the old designation for land owned by
the government. Under the Confederation, the Congress was the
government, and the forms of speech seem to have long retained the
notion that what belonged to the United States was the property of
Congress.]
[Footnote 13: The commonest use of the word _chunk_ in the old days was
for the ends of the sticks of cord-wood burned in the great fireplaces.
As the sticks burned in two, the chunks fell down or rolled back on the
wall side of the andirons. By putting the chunks together, a new fire
was set a-going without fresh wood. This use of the word is illustrated
in a folk-rhyme or nursery jingle of the country which has neither sense
nor elegance to recommend it:
"Old Mother Hunk
She got drunk
And fell in the fire
And kicked up a chunk."
]