When Protracted Meeting time came, it was like Preaching Sunday every
day, morning and night. God willing, it would go on two full weeks,
Brother Milligan said.
Getting to put on my frilly, thin dresses and my best bloomers and two
starched underskirts and new white ribbed stockings was fun. But having
to squeeze my feet into shoes and then sit still on a church bench two
times a day was awful.
Everybody in Drake Eye Springs dressed up in Sunday clothes and came to
the meeting; that is, everybody except the Baileys and the Lawsons.
Mama said Mister Wes Bailey and Miss Lida Belle were sure making a
mistake, not bringing Addie Mae and their three boys. Everybody had
known beforehand that Ward Lawson wouldn't darken the church door or
hitch up a wagon so Miss Ophelia, their young'uns, and Miss Dink could
attend services.
During the second week of the meeting, we were late getting off to
church one night because, while Mama and Papa were getting dressed,
they whispered so long about Mister Ward. Papa was real bothered about
something Mister Ward might do. And Mama kept saying, "Jodie, please
don't you do anything drastic! You'd just make bad matters a heap
worse."
Papa slipped on his good shirt and told her, "What gets my goat is that
he's started telling all over the settlement that I didn't fight him
fair and square. Says I yelled for the baby to pour that coal oil on
him. That makes me so mad I could kill him! To hear him tell it, I
started the fight. He's hell-bent on getting revenge!"
"Shh, Jodie, don't forget who's sitting right behind you, buttoning up
her shoes."
That was me. And I was having a hard time with my shoes.
"Mama, can I go barefooted tonight? Just one time?"
"Not to Protracted Meeting!"
So I wore my squeezing shoes again.
Mama said I could get a lot out of the meeting if I'd only listen to
what was going on. I tried listening, but I didn't get a thing. I found
out, though, that at the night services, when Brother Milligan finally
got through preaching and stepped down in front of the pulpit and said,
"The doors of this church are now open," it didn't mean we could all
walk out the door and go home! It meant the time had come for the bad
sinners to go to the mourners' bench with their heads hanging down.
Everybody else would stand up and sing the song about "Poor sinner,
harden not your heart … and close thine eyes against the Light." We'd
sing it over and over for them—four or five times.
Some nights half a dozen would go up the aisle and shake the preacher's
hand. He'd ask them if they believed in Jesus and wanted to be baptized
and join the church, and each one would nod his head. They would then
sit down on the bench, and everybody except me would be glad and happy.
While we sang another song, the grownups who already belonged to the
church would line up and shake hands with the sinners. That, the
preacher said, was "giving the right hand of Christian fellowship."
Other nights nobody would even look toward the mourners' bench, no
matter how loud the preacher called them to come or how long we sang.
Those nights we got to go home early, and that made me glad and happy.
Every night I got sleepy. The last night of meeting, I tried to get
Mama to let me go lie down on the quilts where all the babies were
sleeping, but she said I was much too big to be sprawled out on the
floor by the side of the pulpit.
Yet, the very next minute, when I told her I wanted to go sit on the
mourners' bench so I could get baptized in the swimming hole down at
Rocky Head Creek, she said I was too little for that.
I decided I'd never be the right size at the right time.
Summer dragged on and on. One morning in late August, a very good thing
happened to me. Grandma Ming made a new flour-sack Dolly Dimple for me.
She was pretty—the grandest doll ever stuffed with cotton, Grandpa Thad
told me.
When I ran home to show her to Mama, I thought she would meet me out on
the front porch and say, "Ah, Bandershanks, what's your new dolly's
name?" Then, I was going to say, "Sookie Sue!"
But Mama wasn't on the porch. I hurried on into the front room. There
she was, leaning against the wall, talking on the phone. She just
reached down, patted my head, and kept on talking to Aunt Vic. She
didn't even notice Sookie Sue.
I crawled up into a rocking chair to wait.
I wished I could talk on the phone—about cotton crops, or peaches, or
just anything. It wouldn't do a speck of good though to ask Mama to let
me try it. She'd only say I was too little. But I knew exactly how to
turn the crank on the side of the phone and how to hold the ear piece.
And I could remember every ring on the line. Ours was two longs and a
short. Aunt Vic's was two longs. Aunt Lovie's was a short and a long.
And if I was going to call up Papa's store, I'd just give the phone's
crank one long twist.
I didn't dare ask Mama if I could talk. She'd tell me all that business
about telephones being for important matters and that when anybody
called us, some grownup person should answer—not me, or Wiley, or even
Mierd, who was already going on twelve years old. Then she'd say all
over again that when I heard the phone ring two longs and a short, I
was to get her or my big sister Bess or one of my big brothers—that is,
when they were at home.
They weren't ever home any more—neither Bess nor my brothers. Bess was
boarding in town so she could go to high school. And Clyde and Walker
were still off in that army camp, wherever it was, and Dorris was down
at the Caledonia Academy. I didn't know for sure where Caledonia was,
but it wasn't far away, or terrible, like being in a camp for the World
War.
Nobody was home any more, except me and Mierd and Wiley and Mama and
Papa. Grandpa Thad and Grandma Ming were nearly there because their
house was just the other side of the dying Chinaberry tree.
Finally, Mama hung up the phone, turned around, and stooped over so I
could hug her neck and she could hug mine.
"You have a Dolly Dimple!"
"She's Sookie Sue!"
"Just let me look at her!"
"Grandma saved that flour-sack doll pattern just for me."
"She's fine as silk!" Mama held my homemade doll out at arm's length,
looking first at her purple dress and the freckle dots on her face, and
then at her long, soft legs. Sookie's legs were turned up at the ends
and made black so she'd look like she had on Sunday shoes.
"Bandershanks, this is the kind of girl you want to be: one who wears
her smile all day long!" She handed Sookie Sue back to me.
Mama stood up straight again and started toward the kitchen. I followed
her.
"Me and you've got lots to do today, Bandershanks."
"What?"
"First thing is to finish working up the light-bread dough, else it
won't have time to rise once, much less twice."
"Mama, can I shake the sifter?"
"Sure. Soon as I dip the flour outta the barrel. Hon, you better lay
your doll on the bed, or you'll get her all mussed up."
I had hardly put Sookie to sleep and crawled up on the end of Mama's
cook table when the phone started ringing—two longs and a short.
"Mama, it's our ring! Lemme answer it! Lemme, Mama! Please!"
"All right. Hurry. I'll be in there soon as I wash this sticky dough
off my fingers. I can't imagine who—"
I couldn't wait for Mama to finish whatever she'd started to say. I
dropped the sifter, jumped off the table, and streaked up the hall
toward the front room. The phone kept ringing.
As soon as I could push a chair over to the wall I climbed on it and
started jerking at the cord on the ear piece. That stopped the ringing.
Then, by standing on tiptoe, I managed to yank the hearing thing all
the way off its hook.
"Hello!" I hollered up into the mouth cup.
"Hello? Hello? Who's this?"
"It's me!"
"Who?"
"Me! I mean—"
"Call your ma to the phone, honey. This is Mister Hawk Lumpkin. I gotta
tell her somethin'."
Grandpa had said lots of times that Mister Hawk couldn't hear it
thunder.
"Here's my mama," I screeched.
I handed Mama the ear thing, but she didn't put it against her head.
Mister Hawk was yelling so loud she didn't even have to hold it close.
"Hello! Mister Hawk? This is Nannie."
"Nannie? Say, Nannie, send one of your young'uns out to Thad's house
and tell him if he wants to see a automobile to get down to the road.
One just passed, headed that way! Tell Thad he'll have to make haste
'cause that fellow must be hittin' twenty or twenty-five miles a hour!"
"Yes, sir, Mister Hawk, I'll tell Pa."
He must have hung up, for Mama stopped talking.
"Run out to Grandpa's and tell him Mister Hawk called and said—"
"I heard him, Mama. I'm going."
"Don't you make a lotta racket and bother Grandma Ming. I'll go call
Wiley."
I didn't want to use the front doorsteps; it was easier to run to the
end of the porch and jump off. Besides, that put me right at the gate
between our yard and Grandpa's yard. In a second I was on his porch and
standing right by his rocking chair.
Grandpa was sitting in the hot sunshine, his hat tilted down over his
eyes and his _Gazette_ spread out across his knees. I could hear him
snoring, loud.
I eased up closer to his rocker and tapped him on the hand. "Grandpa?"
He didn't hear me.
"Grandpa?"
"Huh? What? Oh, it's you, Bandershanks." He pushed back his hat brim
and moved the newspaper. "How's my girl?"
"Grandpa, Mister Hawk said for you to get down to the road. And make
haste. It's going fast!"
"What's going fast?"
"That auto'bile coming!"
"Automobile? Oh, my! Let's go! We gotta see that! There's not many
traveling our road yet. Get me my stick there in the corner, sugar. I'm
sure proud Hawk phoned."
I had a hard time trying to catch up with Grandpa. He wasn't waiting
for me—or his walking cane. And he was almost out to the front yard
gate before I could hand it to him.
Mama was unlatching the gate.
"Nannie, where's Wiley? And Mildredge? They don't want to miss seeing a
automobile!'
Before Mama could tell Grandpa that Mildredge, as he always called
Mierd, was over at Aunt Lovie's, we saw Wiley come bounding across the
corner of our yard, heading toward the road.
Trixie was right with him, and he and that red mammy hound didn't even
look at us, or the gate. Side by side, they skirted around Mama's cape
jasmine bush and went over the fence in one big leap—like they'd been
practicing together for days, Grandpa said.
"I declare to my soul!" Mama cried. "Wiley, you tore your pants!"
Mama always said "I declare to my soul" when something went wrong. If
Papa had been there, he would have said "Great Jehoshaphat and gully
dirt!" That's what he hollered when anything bad happened—torn pants or
anything else.
Grandma Ming said the reason Papa wouldn't say nothing but Great
Jehoshaphat and gully dirt was because my mama was a preacher's
daughter, and she wouldn't stand for "poor Jodie doing no cussing."
Grandpa thought Wiley's tearing the back end of his britches on the
yard fence was all right.
"Never mind, Nannie," he was telling Mama. "It's not every day a boy
gets to see a automobile. Wonder what make it is."
I skipped on ahead so I could sit down beside the edge of the road with
Wiley and Trixie. Wiley was leaning back against a good-sized pine
sapling, dangling his feet in the gully, and trying to hold Trixie
around the neck. She twisted and turned and swished her tail. After a
bit, though, she settled down between us and stopped panting long
enough to reach over and lick Wiley square in the face.
"Quit it, Trixie! And get quiet, I'm listening for a automobile.
Bandershanks, you hear anything?"
"No, I don't hear nothing. What's it gonna sound like?"
"Like a motor, you silly goose! Hot diggity! I hear it!" With that,
Wiley jumped across the ditch and tore off down the middle of the road,
running as fast as he could sling his fat legs and bare feet. Trixie
was having a hard time keeping up with him.
"Wiley! Get outta that road, son!" Mama screamed. "You'll get run
over!" Mama started running after them, but Grandpa called her back.
"Nannie, don't fret! They'll get outta the way soon as they see it
coming!"
Wiley and Trixie, rounding the bend, disappeared behind the plum
thicket.
"Boys and dogs has both got plenty of gumption," Grandpa told Mama,
"more'n folks give 'em credit for."
Just then, we saw it!
"Look, Grandpa!"
"Yeah! There 'tis. It's a automobile all right. A one-seater. Foot
dool! I wish it wasn't coming so all-fired fast. It ain't a Ford Model
T. But hanged if I can tell what make it is." Grandpa was talking low
and quick, as much to himself as to me and Mama. "Man, man, just look
at her wheels roll! Lickety-split!"
Mama shielded her eyes against the morning sun and looked hard at the
black automobile. I put my hand up on my forehead too, and stared. The
thing sailed right by in a big whiff of dust and was gone before any of
us had a chance to get a good look at it.
Wiley and Trixie ran up in the thick of the dust cloud. He was
hollering and waving his arms; she was barking at every breath.
"Did y'all see it? Did y'all see it? What kind was it, Grandpa? Could
you tell? Didn't it have a funny gasoline tank? Mama, lem'me go to the
store! Will you? It's bound to stop, and I could see it up close. Can I
go? Can I, Mama?"
Wiley was gasping for breath as he talked.
"Son, you couldn't run all the way from here to your papa's store. It's
a mile, and you're out of wind already!"
"No'm, I got plenty of wind. And I ain't gonna run. I'll ride Dale.
Please, Mama! Please?"
"I don't think—"
"Why don't you let him go, Nannie? If I was ten years younger, I'd go
myself!"
"Well, all right."
"Hot diggity!" Wiley gave a whoop and lit out toward the barn.
"That's it, son! Light a shuck!" Grandpa called after him.
"Bandershanks, open the well-lot gate," Wiley hollered back, "and I'll
dance at your wedding!"
Grandpa said, "Come on, sugar, I'll give you a hand with that
dilapidated old gate; you couldn't budge it. Reckon I'm gonna have to
come out here and brace that thing with some two-by-fours. Jodie don't
never get time for fixing things."
With Mama's help, we got the sagging gate dragged open just in time for
Old Dale to come jogging through, with Wiley astraddle of his back.
Wiley hadn't even put on Dale's bridle, his blanket, a saddle, or
anything! He was just holding on to Dale's mane with both hands and
kicking his ribs with both feet.
"Why, son, I could've helped you get the saddle!"
"Don't need no saddle, Grandpa! Get up! Get up!"
Mama said Old Dale didn't appear the least bit interested in going to
see any automobile. But, he did strike up a trot when Wiley got him to
the foot of the hill and on the main road. Trixie barked and wanted to
follow them, but we called her back.
"I'll tell you, Nannie," Grandpa said as he fastened the sagging gate
back in place, "I got so carried away with looking at the automobile I
wasn't paying no mind to who was on it. You happen to notice who
'twas?"
"One of them was Ward Lawson, but the man holding the wheel was a total
stranger to me."
"Ward? Wonder what he's up to? I heard talk he's aiming to buy the old
Crawford place."
"He may be aiming to. But Jodie says Ward couldn't raise a dollar for a
dead man's eye! Why Jodie ever gave him credit at the store all last
year and this spring I just can't see. There's no telling how much that
man owes Jodie! 'Course I sorta pity Ophelia and all their young'uns
and Miss Dink."
"Yeah, Nannie, I know. Maybe Ward will settle up what he owes in a
month or so—soon as he sells his cotton."
"He didn't last fall. Right after he hauled his first bale to town he
let Jodie have seven dollars on account—seven dollars, mind you—and
that's the last copper Jodie collected."
"Nannie, this evening soon as Jodie gets in from the store, send me
word. I'm anxious to hear what he's gonna have to say 'bout that
automobile."
"Sure, Pa. I'll send you word."
Just at dark Mama sent the word, all right. By me. Grandpa was busy
trying to get the smut and smoke out of a lamp chimney. He couldn't go
talk to Papa about anything right then, he said. He had a dishpan full
of soapy water, and he kept sloshing the water through the chimney.
Grandma, propped up in her bed like always, was eating her supper and
watching Grandpa.
"Thad, you ought'a get a rag and wash that chimney right."
"Bandershanks, tell Jodie I'll come on as soon as I can put some oil in
these dratted lamps!"
"Quit muttering and complaining, Thad. A-body can't expect lamps to
give out a decent light if they don't keep the wicks trimmed and the
chimneys polished—and put oil in them!"
Grandpa said for me to run on back home before I heard him say what he
was thinking.
"Just tell Nannie not to wait supper on me, Bandershanks. I'll be out
there directly, though."
We did wait. All of us sat down around the supper table to wait-that
is, all except Wiley. Papa sent him back out to the hall washstand to
rewash his gritty hands.
Mama and Papa kept talking back and forth over the top of my head,
mainly about how little milk old Moolie was giving. Papa said it wasn't
time for her to go dry, 'cause she wouldn't freshen till spring. Mama
thought what Moolie really needed was a few more cotton seeds and lots
of pea-vine hay.
I couldn't hear what Mierd and Irene were saying. Aunt Lovie had let
Irene come to spend the night with Mierd, and they were over on the
bench against the wall, whispering and giggling about something. I
wished I knew what was so funny. But, there was no way to find out, for
I was way across the table, up in my high chair. Well, it wasn't
exactly mine, and it wasn't exactly high. It was a little oak chair
some old, old grandpa man had whittled out for Papa when he was a boy.
But, I always sat in it. The good thing about it was that over on the
side next to Mama's chair, the arm was missing. So, when I got sleepy,
all I had to do was lean right over into her lap. Besides that, it had
a brand new cowhide bottom with fur that sort of tickled my legs.
Mama and Papa soon quit talking about Moolie and started talking about
my big brothers.
"Nannie, quit fretting over the boys! Like as not, the war'll be over
before the army gets either one of them trained. You mustn't let it
drive you to distraction. Ah, here's Pa."
Grandpa jammed his hat on the peg next to Papa's and wiped the back of
his hand across his beard. "Whew!"
"'Evening, Pa."
"Mercy me, I thought I'd never get away from Ming tonight! Jodie, you
know how your ma is some days. She lies there in that bed, thinking up
a thousand things for a-body to do. Right at sundown she took a notion
for me to fix all three lamps."
"Yes, sir, Pa. I know. Here, take your chair."
Grandpa eased himself down at the head of the table and hooked his
walking stick on the back of his chair. Mama looked around the kitchen.
She waited a minute for Wiley to slide back into his place and for
Mierd and Irene to get quiet.
"Pa, will you return thanks?"
I wondered why Mama always asked Grandpa if he'd say grace. We all knew
he would—three times a day. He never changed it a bit. I liked that
'cause I could remember every word.
We bowed our heads and squinted our eyes shut.
Merciful Father, smile on us;
Pardon our many sins;
Make us thankful for these
And all Thy favors,
We ask in the Redeemer's name.
Amen.
"Grandpa, guess what?" Wiley blurted out before we could even raise our
heads.
"What?"
"I rode on it!"
"Naw!" Grandpa looked at Wiley as if he could hardly believe such a
thing. "Well! Now that's something to crow about!"
"Rode on what?" Irene asked.
"A automobile!"
"When did you ever ride a automobile?"
"Just this morning, up at Papa's store. All y'all just ought to 've
seen me!"
"What was it like?"
"Irene, it was sorta like being in a buggy—only smoother and a whole
lot faster! It was real, real fast!"
"Son, how'd you happen to get to ride?" Grandpa asked.
"Well, sir, that man said, 'Sonny Boy, you want to take a little spin?'
I ain't 'Sonny Boy,' but I was dying to get on that thing, and Papa
said I could. So, I did! He rode me all the way up to Doctor Elton's
and Miss Maime's house and then wheeled around and brought me back to
the store. We just went a-skimming along—like a bird!"
Wiley flung out his arms to show how a bird flies.
"Whoops!"
"Watch out, Wiley!" Mierd screeched. "Look what you've done! You've
knocked over the syrup pitcher with one clumsy hand and Irene's
buttermilk with the other!"
"Irene, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. Gee, it's running down all
over your dress."
"That's all right."
Mama rubbed the spot on Irene's skirt with a damp cloth till it looked
fine.
"What I'm waiting to hear is what make automobile that was," Grandpa
said, turning to Papa. "It wasn't one of the Ford tin lizzies, was it,
Jodie?"
"No, sir. It was a Chevrolet. It—"
_"_It was a 'Four Ninety'! That's what it was" Wiley hollered out. "It
cost four hundred and ninety dollars!"
"Hold on now a minute, son. Don't interrupt when anybody's talking.
'Specially if it's somebody a good bit older than you are. We'll let
you have your say in a few minutes."
"Yes, sir."
After that, Wiley seemed to really try to stay quiet. Papa went on
talking.
"That automobile created quite a stir. Doctor Elton had walked down to
the store, and I was out on the porch, talking to him. Old Black Idd
was sitting there peddling his shoulder sack of parched peanuts. When
that automobile pulled up nearly to the edge of the store porch, I
thought Idd would fall outta his chair! I reckon it was the first
automobile he'd ever seen so close.
"Well, the driver stepped down outta the thing and came up on the
porch. Said his name was Hicks. I told him mine, and we shook hands. I
made him acquainted with Doctor Elton. Then we passed the time of day.
I figured he must be some of Ward's kinfolks, but he wasn't. You
oughta've seen Ward. He was in his glory, all sweetness and light. He
had this fellow Hicks thinking I was his best friend. Finally, Hicks
got around to saying he was from off down in Louisiana somewhere—I
forget the name of the place. He wanted to know if I had any gasoline
for sale. 'Course I told him no, that I didn't have any calls for it.
He said he figured he could make it to the next town with what gasoline
was still in his tank. That was a real odd tank, Pa. Sorta oval shaped,
and sitting up behind the seat. First one I've seen like that."
"Yeah, I noticed that tank myself."
"This Mister Hicks tried to explain a few things about his automobile
to me and the doctor, but Ward kept running his big mouth. Then the
crowd started gathering. After that, Hicks couldn't explain nothing."
"That's when I got there, wasn't it, Papa?"
"Yes, Wiley. And Old Man Hawk drove up about that time too. Mister
Hansen was obliged to stop the gin, and Hal shut down the grist mill,
'cause every man and boy at both places had come rushing up the hill.
They swarmed around that automobile like bees! Wes Bailey and his boys
was the worst ones for questions. Then, soon as the man and Ward left,
all three boys set in hounding Wes about getting a automobile himself!"
"What'd Wes say?" Grandpa asked.
"Wes just laughed. Finally he said, 'Well, boys, I got plenty of money
and no poor kin! And I'm aiming to keep it that way.'"
Papa stopped talking long enough to pass the fried ham to Grandpa. Mama
wanted me to eat some more, but I was too stuffed.
"Before everybody left the store I found out one thing I'd been
suspecting all summer."
"What's that, Jodie?" Mama asked.
"Wes and Ward have had a big falling out and don't speak. They don't
say 'Good morning,' 'Good evening,' 'Kiss my foot,' or nothing!"
"For goodness sakes!"
"'Course Wes claims it's the feud cropped up again."
"Feud? Jodie, folks don't have feuds nowadays."
"I know, Nannie. And it would take me the balance of the night here to
explain what all Wes said, but years back they did have a bad feud
through here between the Williamses and the Parkers. It's all over now,
and most of them on both sides are long gone. But it turns out that Wes
Bailey's ma was a Parker, and Ward's grandma was right smart kin to the
Williamses. Or, that's how Wes claims him and Ward fell out. The real
trouble between them may never be told."
Mierd and Irene began talking to each other about how stupid the three
Bailey boys were at school and about all the silly, bad things Bud and
the younger boy did.
I couldn't decide whether to listen to Irene telling what happened the
day Jap Bailey slipped a dead frog into the schoolhouse spring, or
whether to listen to Papa telling more about that automobile. But just
then, Mierd said, "Come on, Irene. Let's go roll our hair," and they
asked to be excused. She and Irene went flouncing out of the kitchen,
both of them giggling again.
When I turned back around, Mama was talking to Wiley.
"If you're through eating, son, I want you to go draw a few buckets of
water. We've got to put on some to heat for baths. Wish you'd bring in
the foot tub so we can fill it and the kettle too."
"Mama, do I have to take a bath tonight? I ain't dirty."
"Wiley, it's Saturday night."
"But I bathed last Saturday."
"Son!"
Wiley went out the back door, fussing about how he hated Saturday
nights. He let the screen door bang.
Papa and Grandpa didn't even hear the door slam; they were still
talking about buying automobiles.
"Pa, you know what a loud mouth Ward is. He was telling everybody at
the store this morning that he's sure gonna get him a automobile.
'Course didn't none of us believe him; that is, nobody except Old
Mister Hawk. He got so mad I thought for a minute the old man would
whack Ward over the head with his cane! I wouldn't have much cared if
he had! I was thinking to myself: 'By hoakies, Ward Lawson, you
red-headed coot, you'd better pay your debts before you start buying
automobiles!'"
"I should say so."
"Doctor Elton must've been thinking about the same. He told me that
during all those years the Lawsons lived over at Millers Crossing, Ward
sent for him every time a young'un was born and never paid him a dime.
'Course the doctor just laughed it off. You know how he is."
"Yeah. Too easygoing. Got a heart in him big as a mule. Jodie, have you
heard any more about Ward making you-know-what?"
"No, sir. Ned told me last week he still hadn't rigged up the still.
And Doctor Elton says he didn't come across no signs last time he was
over there to see Miss Dink. If Ward had had any mash fermenting, the
doctor would've smelled it. But, I'm just waiting. I aim to call the
Law, threats or no threats! Hal Goode laughed and told me if I had
brains enough to carry me across the branch, I'd encourage Ward, help
him make some money so he'd pay me what he owes!"
"You oughta've took a mortgage on Ward's mules last year, Jodie. That's
what other storekeepers do when they're furnishing a man. Then in the
fall, if the man won't pay up, they foreclose and get a little of their
money back. You're too trusting."
"I know, Pa. Trouble is, if you take a man's mule, come the next spring
he can't make a crop! And you never would collect."
"Well, have it your way. What happened this morning that made Hawk
Lumpkin so mad at Ward?"
"It was what Ward said about the road. You see, Old Man Hawk had come
riding up in that one-horse wagon of his pretty soon after the
automobile stopped. He was mad and just a-ranting. I couldn't tell at
first if he was talking to his mule or to himself."
"Probably both, if I know Hawk. He thinks more of that old gray mule
than he does of his wife! Why, he's had that old bag of bones thirty
years!"
Papa laughed.
"The mule, Jodie! Not the wife!" Grandpa laughed too. "What was Hawk
raving about?"
"He was grumbling that a man and his mule ain't safe on the road no
more. He said that all them dad-burned automobiles come tearing
through—'course 'dad-burned' wasn't exactly the word he used—trying to
run a-body in the ditch and scaring the living daylights outta you."
"That's Hawk for you, all right. He hates automobiles."
"A few minutes later, when this Hicks man said something to Hal Goode
about the stretch of road between Union and Drake Eye Springs being
narrow and rough as a washboard, I thought Old Man Hawk would explode!
"'Oh,' he said, 'you town fellers figger we ain't got a blessed thing
to do but get out and drag the roads nice and smooth for you!'
"That set Hicks back on his heels. Ward, though, piped up, 'Why, Mister
Hawk, when I get me my automobile, I'm gonna be countin' on you to help
lay down a plank road 'fore winter rains set in. Rocky Head Bottom gets
powerful muddy!'
"Pa, that sent Old Man Hawk into such a rage he nearly swallowed his
chewing tobacco!"
"I'm here to tell you, Jodie, Ward Lawson had better not tangle with
Hawk! Get him riled, and there's no telling what he's liable to do. If
Ward was to buy himself a car, Hawk would as soon burn it up as to look
at it!"