At Scatter the next morning Serena and I waited for the up-train
to Beebread. A little mother and her big son were waiting for the
down-train going east. Serena went over to the mother, who was Ann
Lindsay, and they chatted softly. I kept aside, not precipitating an
introduction. Was she not a nugatory survival, who, by all laws of
fitness, ought to have been on the hill ’longside the others? But the
“others” would have removed their dusty skirts; and Bake had said that
Jenny would be good to her. That expectation was apparent, I thought,
in her quiet assurance. And suddenly, unreasonably, I felt that her
departure was a desertion.
I recalled the futile Angie Sue, the innocuous Herb and Sam, the
negligible Rosie, and thought of Nathe with all his vital insistence
buried so “proper” in an untended grave. Then I looked at big Bake,
whose resolute posterity would shoulder through, undoubtedly, to the
end of a needy world. Here, for the breath-time of earth, at least,
Uncle Nathe might hold oblivion in check.
The whistle of the east-bound train blew, a mile away. I had overheard
enough to know that Bake and his mother would leave the train at
Carson and motor over the new highway, out and down to their lowland
home--that highway, monstrously magical, so rapidly obliterating the
Unakasia of my intimate care and delight. Within a few years, the ways
and customs of Atlantis would not be more dim in time.
While the whistle of the train was still keen in the air, Elmer Jenkins
walked on to the platform. He spied Baker Lindsay, and went to him at
once.
“I saw you at the funeral yesterday,” he said.
“I saw you too,” said Bake, his smile implying that no one could have
missed the master of ceremonies. Mr. Jenkins was pleased, and his
glance of response included the pretty, white-haired woman at Bake’s
side. When he was introduced, the lawyer would have offered his hand,
but Ann, unfledged in new air, was too timid to note the gesture.
“I suppose you were out yesterday, Mrs. Lindsay,” he said, and she
dropped a soft negative.
“Too bad you missed the ceremony! It was unusual in a district so
remotely rural. I was glad to be instrumental in getting a good
turn-out from the Carson lodge, though Mr. Ponder had not been
in attendance for some years. These fine old mountaineers are
passing--passing. It was a very interesting funeral. Very.”
“I reckon it was,” said Ann, as Bake, gently dominant, lifted her to
the train.