[Illustration: 'H']
Here's the doctor, now! Hello, Doc, come right in! Here's yo' patient,
settin' up on the po'ch, big ez life; but when we sent for you this
mornin' it seemed thess hit an' miss whether he'd come thoo or not.
Thess the same sort o' spells he's had all along, doctor,--seems you
can't never see 'im in one,--all brought on by us a-crossin' 'im. His
gran'ma insisted on hidin' the clock when he wanted it; but I reckon
she'll hardly resk it ag'in, she's that skeert. He's been settin' on the
flo' there thess the way you see 'im now, with that clock in his lap,
all mornin'.
Of co'se it thess took him about ten minutes to bu'st all the little
things his gran'ma give him to play with, 'n' then he nachelly called
for the clock; 'n' when she wasn't forthcomin' _immejate_, why, he thess
stiffened out in a spell.
Of co'se we put the timepiece into his hands quick ez we could onclinch
'em, an' sent for you. But quick ez he see the clock, he come thoo. But
you was already gone for, then.
His gran'ma she got considerable fretted because he's broke off the long
han' o' the clock; but I don't see much out o' the way about that. Ef a
person thess remembers thet the long han' is the short han'--why, 't
ain't no trouble.
An' she does make 'im _so_ contented an' happy! Thess look at his face,
now! What is the face-vally of a clock, I like to know, compared to
that?
[Illustration: "Quick ez he see the clock, he come thoo."]
But of co'se the ol' lady she's gettin' on in years, and then she's
my wife's mother, which makes her my _di_rec' mother-in-law; an' so
I'm slow to conterdic' anything she says, an' I guess her idees o'
regulatin' childern--not to say clocks--is sort o' diff'rent to wife's
an' mine. She goes in for reg'lar dis_cip_line, same ez she got an'
survived in her day; an' of co'se, ez Sonny come to her ez gran'son the
same day he was born to us ez plain son, we never like to lift our
voices ag'in anything she says.
She loves him thess ez well ez we do, only on a diff'rent plan. She give
him the only spankin' he's ever had--an' the only silver cup.
Even wife an' me we had diff'rent idees on the subjec' o' Sonny's
raisin'; but somehow, in all our ca'culations, we never seemed to
realize that _he'd_ have idees.
Why, that two-year-old boy settin' there regulatin' that clock warn't no
mo' 'n to say a pink spot on the piller 'fo' he commenced to set fo'th
his idees, and he ain't never backed down on no principle thet he set
fo'th, to this day.
For example, wife an' me, why, we argued back an' fo'th consider'ble on
the subjec' of his meal-hours, ez you might say, she contendin' for
promiskyus refreshment an' me for schedule time.
This, of co'se, was thess _proj_eckin' 'fo' the new boa'der ac-chilly
arrived, He not bein' here yet, we didn't have much to do _but_
speculate about him. Lookin' back'ards now, it seems to me we
couldn't'a' had nothin' to do, day or night, 'fo' he come.
But, ez I was sayin', she was for meals at all hours, an' I was for the
twenty-minutes-for-refreshment plan, an' we discussed it consider'ble,
me always knowin', but never lettin' on, thet of co'se she, havin' what
you might call a molopoly on the restaurant, could easy have things her
own way, ef she'd choose.
But, sir, from the time he looked over that bill o' fare an' put his
finger on what he'd have, _an' when_, that boy ain't never failed to
call for it, an' get it, day 'r night.
But, talkin' 'bout the clock, it did seem funny for him to keep her
goin' 'thout no key.
But somehow he'd work it thet that alarm 'd go off in the dead hours o'
night, key or no key, an' her an' me we'd jump out o' bed like ez ef we
was shot; and do you b'lieve thet that baby, not able to talk, an'
havin' on'y half 'is teeth, he ain't never failed to wake up an' roa'
out a-laughin' ever' time that clock 'd go off in the night!
Why, sir, it's worked on me so, sometimes, thet I've broke out in a col'
sweat, an' set up the balance o' the night--an' I ain't to say
high-strung, neither.
No, sir, we ain't never named 'im yet. Somehow, we don't seem to be able
to confine ourselves to no three or four names for 'im, for so we thess
decided to let it run along so--he thess goin' by the name o' "Sonny"
tell sech a time ez he sees fit to name 'isself.
Of co'se I sort o' ca'culate on him takin' the "Junior," an' lettin' me
tack a capital "S" an' a little "r" to my name 'fo' I die; which would
nachelly call attention to him _di_rec' eve'y time I'd sign my
signature.
Deuteronomy Jones ain't to say a purty name, maybe; but it's
scriptu'al--so far ez my parents could make it. Of co'se the
Jones--well, they couldn't help that no mo' 'n I can help it, or Sonny,
_or his junior_, thet, of co'se, may never be called on to appear in the
flesh, Sonny not bein' quite thoo with his stomach-teeth yet, an' bein'
subject to croup, both of which has snapped off many a fam'ly tree fore
to-day. But I reckon the Joneses ain't suffered much that a-way. I doubt
ef any of 'em has ever left 'thout passin' the name on--not knowin'
positive, but thess _jedgin'_. None o' mine ain't, I _know_, leastwise
none of my _di_rec' ancestors--they couldn't have, an' me here, an'
Sonny.
_Don't_ jump, doctor! That's the supper-bell. 'Tis purty loud, but
that's on account o' my mother-in-law. She's stone-deef--can't hear
thunder; but I told wife thet I thought we owed it to her to do the best
we could to reach her, and I had that bell made a-purpose.
Now, some men they'd slight a mother-in-law like that, an' maybe ring a
dummy at her; but that's thess where I differ. I don't forget where I
get my benefits, an' ef it hadn't 'a' been for her, the family circle o'
Deuteronomy Jones would be quite diff'rent to what it is. She's handed
down some of Sonny's best traits to him, too.
I don't say she give him his hearin', less'n she give 'm all she
had--which, of co'se, I'm thess a-jokin', which is a sin, an' her
stone-deef, and Sonny thess come thoo a death-spell!
Me havin' that extry sized bell made thess out of respects to her
tickled her mightily.
Come along, Sonny! He heerd the bell, an' he knows what it means. That's
right--fetch the clock along.
Sonny's cheer is toler'ble low, an' he's took a notion to set on the
clock mealtimes. I thess lay 'er face down'ards in his cheer, 'n' I
don't know ez it hurts her any; 'n' then it saves the dictionary, too.
She did strike that a-way one day, and Sonny was so tickled he purty
near choked on a batter-cake, he laughed so. He has broke sev'ral
casters tryin' to jostle her into doin' it again, but somehow she won't.
Seem like a clock kin be about ez contrary ez anything else, once't git
her back up.
He got so worked up over her not strikin' that a-way one day thet he
stiffened out in a spell, then an' there.
You say they ain't apt to be fatal, doctor--them spells!
Well--but you ain't never saw him in one yet. They're reg'lar
death-spells, doctor.
Tell you the truth, they was the 'casion of us j'inin' the church, them
spells was.
Says I to wife--standin' beside him one day, and he black in the
face--says I, "Wife," says I, "I reckon you an' me better try to live
mo' righteously 'n what we've been doin', or he'll be took from us."
An', sir, the very nex' communion we both up an' perfessed. An' I
started sayin' grace at table, an' lef' off the on'y cuss-word I ever
did use, which was "durn." An', maybe I oughtn't to say it, but I miss
that word yet. I didn't often call on it, but I always knowed 't was
there when needed, and it backed me up, somehow--thess the way knowin' I
had a frock-coat in the press has helped me wear out ol' clo'es. I ain't
never had on that frock-coat sence I was married in it seventeen year
ago; but, sir, ever sence I've knew the moths had chawed it up, th'
ain't been a day but I've felt shabby.
[Illustration: "She does make 'im _so_ contented an' happy."]
Sir? Yas, sir; we've waited a long time. It's seventeen year, come this
spring, sence we married. Our first child could easy 'a' been sixteen
year ol', 'stid o' two, ef Sonny'd come on time, but he ain't never been
known to hurry hisself. But it does look like, with seventeen year for
reflection, an' nothin' to do but study up other folks's mistakes with
their childern, we ought to be able to raise him right. Wife an' me we
fully agree upon one p'int, 'n' that is, thet mo' childern 'r' sp'iled
thoo bein' crossed an' hindered 'n any other way. Why, sir, them we 've
see' grow up roun' this country hev been fed on daily rations of
"dont's!" an' "stops!" an' "quits!"--an' most of 'em brought up by hand
at that!
An' so, ez I say, we don't never cross Sonny, useless. Of co'se when
he's been sick we have helt his little nose an' insisted on things; but
I reckon we 've made it up to him afterwards, so's he wouldn't take it
amiss.
Oh, yas, sir; he called me "daddy" hisself, 'n' I never learned it to
him, neither. I _was_ layin' out to learn 'im to say "papa" to me, in
time; but I 'lowed I 'd hol' back tell he called _her_ name first.
Seemed like that was her right, somehow, after all thet had passed
'twixt him an' her; an' in all her baby-talk to him I took notice she'd
bring the "mama" in constant.
So of co'se I laid low, hopin' some day he 'd ketch it--an' he did. He
wasn't no mo' 'n 'bout three months ol' when he said it; 'n' then, 'fo'
I could ketch my breath, hardly, an put in my claim, what does he do but
square aroun', an', lookin' at me direc', say "dada!" thess like that.
There's the secon' bell, doctor. 'Sh! _Don't_ ring no mo', Dicey! We're
a-comin'!
At the first bell the roller-towel an' basin gen'ally holds a reception;
but to-day bein' Sunday--
What? Can't stay? But you _must_. Quick ez Sonny come thoo this mornin',
wife took to the kitchen, 'cause, she says, says she, "Likely ez not the
doctor 'll miss his dinner on the road, 'n' I 'll turn in with Dicey an'
see thet he makes it up on supper."
"Eat an' run?" Why not, I like to know? Come on out. Wife's at the
roller-towel now, and she 'll be here in a minute.
Come on, Sonny. Let "dada" tote the clock for you. No? Wants to tote 'er
hisself? Well, he shall, too.
But befo' we go out, doc, say that over ag'in, please.
Yas, I understan'. Quick ez he's took with a spell, you say, th'ow col'
water in his face, an' "never min' ef he cries"!
I'll try it, doctor; but, 'twixt me an' you, I doubt ef anybody on the
lot'll have the courage to douse 'im. Maybe we might call in somebody
passin', an' git them to do it. But for the rest,--the bath an' the
mustard,--of co'se it shall be did correct. You see, the trouble hez
always been thet befo' we could git any physic measured out, he come
thoo.
Many's the time that horse hez been saddled to sen' for you befo'
to-day. He thess happened to get out o' sight to-day when Sonny seemed
to feel the clock in his hands, an' he come thoo 'thout us givin' him
anything _but_ the clock--an' it external.
Walk out, doctor.