AT THE COURT OF DAME NATURE
"Well, Rose Mary," said Uncle Tucker as he appeared in the doorway of
the milk-house and framed himself against an entrancing,
mist-wreathed, sun-up aspect of Sweetbriar with a stretch of
Providence Road winding away to the Nob and bending caressingly around
red-roofed Providence as it passed over the Ridge, "there are
forty-seven new babies out in the barn for you this morning. Better
come on over and see 'em!" Uncle Tucker's big eyes were bright with
excitement, his gray lavender muffler, which always formed a part of
his early morning costume, flew at loose ends, and a rampant, grizzly
lock stuck out through the slit in the old gray hat.
"Gracious me, Uncle Tuck, who now?" demanded Rose Mary over a crock
of milk she was expertly skimming with a thin, old, silver ladle.
"Old White has hatched out a brood of sixteen, assorted black and
white, that foolish bronze turkey hen just come out from under the
woodpile with thirteen little pesters, Sniffer has got five
pups--three spots and two solids--and Mrs. Butter has twin calves,
assorted sex this time. They are spry and hungry and you'd better come
on over!"
"Lovely," laughed Rose Mary with the delight in her blue eyes matching
that in Uncle Tucker's pair of mystic gray. "I'll come just as soon as
I get the skimming done. We'll want some corn meal and millet seed for
the chirp-babies, but the others we can leave to the maternal
ministrations. I'm so full of welcome I don't see how I'm going to
keep it from bubbling over."
"That's jest like you, Rose Mary, a-welcoming a whole passel of
pesters that have deluged down on you at one time," said Uncle Tucker
with a dubiously appreciative smile at Rose Mary's hospitable
enthusiasm. "Looks to me like a girl tending three old folks, one
rampage of a boy, a mollycuddle of a strange man, and a whole petting
spoiled village has got enough on her shoulders without this
four-foot, two-foot landslide."
"But it's in my heart I carry you all, old Sweetie," answered Rose
Mary with a flirt of her long lashes up at Uncle Tucker. "A woman can
carry things as a blessing in her heart that might be an awful burden
on her shoulders. Don't you know I don't allow you out before the sun
is up good without your muffler tied up tight? There; please go on
back to the barn and take this crock of skimmed milk to Mrs.
Sniffie--wait, I'll pour back some of the cream! And in just a few
minutes I'll be ready to--"
"Rose Mary, Rose Mary," came a wild, enthusiastic shout from up the
path toward the Briars and in a moment the General appeared around the
row of lilac bushes through which the milk-house trail led down under
the hill to Rose Mary's sanctum of the golden treasure. Stonie had
taken time before leaving the seclusion of his apartment to plunge
into his short blue jeans trousers, but he was holding them up with
one hand and struggling with his gingham shirt, the tail of which
bellowed out like a sail in the morning breeze as he sped along. And
in his wake came Tobe with a pan in one hand and a cup in the other.
"It's two calves, Tobe says, with just Mrs. Butter for the mother and
Sniffie beat her with three more puppies than two calves. It's sixteen
chickens and a passel of turkeys and we waked up Mr. Mark to tell him
and he said--" Stonie paused in the rapid fire of his announcement of
the morning news and then added in judicial tone of voice, as if
giving the aroused sleeper his modicum of fair play: "Well, he didn't
quite say it before he swallowed, but he throwed a pillow at Tobe and
pulled the sheet over his head and groaned awful. Aunt Viney was
saying her prayers when I went to tell her, and Aunt Mandy was taking
down her frizzles, but she stopped and gave Tobe some corn-bread for
the chickens and some pot-licker with meat in it for Sniffie. Can't
you come with me to see 'em now, Rose Mary? It won't be any fun until
you see em!" The General had by this time lined up in the doorway with
Uncle Tucker, and Tobe's black head and keen face peered over his
shoulder. The expression in all three pairs of eyes fixed on hers was
the same--the wild desire to make her presentation at the interesting
court Dame Nature was holding in the barn. A most natural masculine
instinct for feminine interpretive companionship when face to face
with the miracle of maternity.
"Just one more crock of milk to skim and I can go," answered Rose Mary
as she poised the skimmer over the last yellow surface down the line
of huge, brown, earthen bowls that in Harpeth Valley were known as
crocks. The milk-house was cool and clean and smelled of the fresh
cream lifted from the milk into the stone jars to be clabbered for the
to-morrow churning. And Rose Mary herself was a fresh, fragrant
incarnation of the spirit of a spring sun-dawn that had come over the
Ridge from Old Harpeth. Her merry voice floated out over the hillside
as she followed in the wake of Uncle Tucker, Stonie and Tobe, with the
provender for the new arrivals, and it made its way as a faint echo of
a dream through one of the vine-covered, gable windows of the Briars
and the effect thereof was well-nigh instantaneous.
Everett, after a hasty and almost as incomplete toilet as the one made
by the General in his excitement, arrived on the scene of action just
in time to witness the congratulatory interview between Mrs. Sniffie
and the mistress of her undying affections. The long-eared, plumy,
young setter-mother stood licking the back of Rose Mary's neck as she
sat on the barn floor with all five of the young tumblers in her lap,
with Tobe and Stonie hanging rapturously over her and them, while
Uncle Tucker was expatiating on some points that had made themselves
evident even at this very early stage of the existence of the little
dog babies.
"They ain't not a single stub nose in the bunch, Uncle Tuck, not a one
and everybody's of thems toes stick way apart," exclaimed the General,
his cheeks red with joyous pride.
"Watch 'em, Miss Ro' Mary; watch 'em smell Sniffie when I call her
over here," exclaimed Tobe as he held out the pan to Mrs. Sniffer and
thus coaxed her from the side of Rose Mary and the small family. And,
sure enough, around squirmed every little white and yellow bunch and
up went every little new-born nose as it sniffed at the recession of
the maternal fount. One little precocious even went so far as to
attempt to set his wee fore paddies against Rose Mary's knee and to
stiffen a tiny plume of a tail, with a plain instinct to point the
direction of the shifting base of supplies. Rose Mary gave a cry of
delight and hugged the whole talented family to her breast, while
Stonie and Tobe yelled and danced as Uncle Tucker turned with evident
emotion to Everett to claim his congratulations.
"Never saw anything like it in my life," Everett assured him with the
greatest enthusiasm, and, as he spoke, he laughed down into Rose
Mary's lifted blue eyes that were positively tender with pride over
the puppies in her arms. "It's a sight worth losing the tale of a
dream for--taken all together."
"And all the others--I'll show you," and, gathering her skirts
basketwise, Rose Mary rose to her feet and led the way across the
barn, with Sniffer snuffing along at the squirming bundle in her
skirts, that swung against the white petticoat ruffling around her
slim ankles. With the utmost care she deposited the puppies in an
overturned barrel, nicely lined with hay, that Stonie and Tobe had
been preparing. "They are lovely, Sniffie," she said softly to the
young mother, who jumped in and huddled down beside the babies as her
mistress turned to leave them with the greatest reluctance.
And it was well that the strata of Everett's enthusiasm lay near the
surface and was easily workable, for in the next half-hour there was a
great demand of continuous output. Mrs. Butter stood switching her
tail and chewing at a wisp of hay with an air of triumphant pride
tinged with mild surprise as she turned occasionally to glance at the
offspring huddled against her side and found eight wobbly legs instead
of the four her former experiences had led her to expect, and felt two
little nuzzling noses instead of one.
"Which one do you guess was the surprise calf to her, Rose Mamie?"
demanded the General.
"Shoo!" said Tobe in answer to the General's question. "Old Butter
have had them two calfs to purpose, boy and girl, one to keep and one
to kill. She got mixed about whether Mr. Tuck keeps heifers or bulls
and jest had both kinds so as to keep one sure."
"Well, Aunt Viney read in her book of a place they kills girls and
keeps boys. At this place they jest gits it mixed up with the cows and
it's no use to tell 'em," answered the General in a disgusted tone of
voice, and with a stem glance at Uncle Tucker, as he and Tobe passed
on over to the feed-room door, to lead the way to the display of the
little turks and cheeps for Everett's further edification.
And just as the introductions were all completed two deep notes of the
mellow old farm bell sounded over the hill in a hospitable and
reverent summons to prayers and breakfast ensuing. On the instant two
pairs of pink heels were shown to the company as Stonie and Tobe
raced up the walk, which were quickly followed by Uncle Tucker, intent
on being on hand promptly for the assembling of his household. More
slowly Rose Mary and Everett followed, walking side by side along the
narrow path.
"Rose Mary, have you let me sleep through such exciting scenes as this
every morning for a month?" demanded Everett quizzically. "What time
do you get up--or is it that the sun waits for your summons or--"
"No, not my summons--old lame Shanghi's. I believe he is of French
extraction from his elaborate manner with the hens," answered Rose
Mary, quickly applying his plagiarized compliment. "Let's hurry or
I'll be late for prayers. Would you like--will you come in to-day, as
you are already up?" The color rose in Rose Mary's cheeks up under her
long lashes and she gave him just one shy glance that had a tinge of
roguishness in it.
"Thank you, I--I would like to. That is, if I may--if I won't be in
the way or--or--or--will you hold my hand so I won't go wrong?" he
finished in laughing confusion as the color came under the tan of his
cheeks to match that in hers and the young look lay for a moment in
his eyes. "It'll be my début at family worship," he added quickly to
cover his confusion.
"Don't worry, Uncle Tucker leads it," answered Rose Mary as they
ascended the front steps and came across the front porch to the
doorway of the wide hall, which was the living-room, as well as the
artery of the Briars.
And a decorous and seemly scene they stepped in upon. Uncle Tucker sat
back of a small table, which was placed at one side of the wide open
fireplace, in which crackled a bit of fragrant, spring fire. His Bible
and a couple of hymn-books rested in front of him, his gray forelock
had been meekly plastered down and the jocund lavender scarf had been
laid aside to display a straight white collar and clerical black bow
tie. His eyes were bent on the book before him as he sought for the
text for the morning lesson. Aunt Viney sat close beside him as if
anxious to be as near to the source of worship as possible, though the
strain of refraining from directing Uncle Tucker in the conducting
thereof was very great. The tradition which forced silence upon women
in places of public worship had held with Miss Lavinia only by the
exercising of the sternest and most rigorous self-suppression, which
at any time might have been broken except for the curbing of her iron
will.
But even though silent she was still dominant, and over her glasses
her eyes shot glances of stern rebuke at two offenders in a distant
corner, while Uncle Tucker fluttered the leaves of his hymn-book,
oblivious to the unseemly contention. The General and Tobe, who came
as near to living and having his being at the Briars as was possible
in consideration of the fact that he was supposed to have his bed and
board under his own paternal roof, were kneeling demurely beside a
small rocking-chair, but a battle royal was going on as to who would
possess the low seat on which to bow the head of reverence.
Little Miss Amanda from across the room, in terror of what might
befall her favorites at the hands of Miss Lavinia in a later hour of
reckoning, was making beseeching gestures of alarm, warning and
reproof that were entirely inadequate to the situation, which was fast
becoming acute, when the two tardy members arrived on the scene of
action. It took Rose Mary one second to grasp the situation, and,
motioning Everett to a chair beside the rocker, she seated herself
quickly in the very midst of the scuffle. In a half-second Tobe's head
was bowed in triumph on the arm of her chair, while the General's was
ducked with equal triumph upon her knee as Uncle Tucker's sweet old
voice rose in the first words of his prayer.
But after a few minutes of most becoming reverence Stonie's eyes
opened and revealed his surprise at Everett's presence as he knelt by
the chair across from Tobe and almost as close to Rose Mary's
protective presence as either of the two combatants. With a welcoming
smile the General slipped the little brown hand of fellowship into the
stranger's, thereby offering a material support to the latter's agony
of embarrassment, which only very slowly receded from face and
demeanor as the services proceeded.
Then as across the crackle of the fire came the confident word of
David the Singer: "_The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof;
the world and they that dwell therein_," intoned in the old man's
reverent voice, something led Everett's glance out through the open
door to see the bit of divine dominion that spread before him with new
eyes and a newer understanding. Harpeth Valley lay like the tender
palm of a huge master hand with the knuckles of rough blue hills
knotted around it, and dotted over the fostering meadows were
comfortable homes, each with its morning altar fire sending up opal
wreaths of mist smoke from the red brick or stone chimneys. Long creek
lines marked their way across the fields which were growing tender
green with the upbringing of the spring grain.
"_Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand_," droned
Uncle Tucker. "_The hollow of His hand_," assented Everett's
conscience in artistic appreciation of the simile.
"_And stretched out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out
as a tent to dwell in_," came as another line of interpretation of the
picture spread before the strangely unshackled eyes of the bowed man
with the little boy kneeling beside him. Quickly he turned toward Rose
Mary with almost a startled glance and found in her eyes the fact that
she had been faring forth over Harpeth Valley on the wings of Uncle
Tucker's supplication as had he. The wonder of it rose in his eyes,
which were about to lay bare to her depths never before stirred, when
a fervent "Amen! I beat you that time, Tobe!" fairly exploded at his
ear as the General took the final word out of Uncle Tucker's very
mouth in rival to his worshipping opponent.
"I said it first, but it got blowed into Miss Ro' Mary's sleeve,"
avowed Tobe with a flaunt at his competitor.
"If nobody he'r'n it, it don't count," decided the General with
emphasis. And in friendly dispute he escorted his rival down the front
walk, while Uncle Tucker, as was his custom, busied himself
straightening hymn-book and Bible, so leaving the family altar in
readiness for the beginning of a new day. And thus the primitive
ceremonial, the dread of which had kept Everett late in bed every
morning for a month, had resolved itself into what seemed to him but
the embrace of a tender, whimsical brotherhood in which the old mystic
both assumed and accounted for a stewardship in behalf of the others
assembled under his roof-tree.
But in the eyes of Miss Lavinia all forms of service were the
marshalling of the hosts in battle array and at all times she was
enlisted in the ranks of the church militant, and upon this occasion
she bore down upon Everett with banners unfurled.
"We are mighty gratified to welcome you at last in the circle of
family worship, young man," she declaimed, as reproach and cordiality
vied in her voice. "I have been a-laying off to ask you what church
you belonged to in New York, and have a little talk with you over some
of our sacred duties that young people of this generation are apt--"
"Rose Mary," came Miss Amanda's cheery little voice from the doorway
just in time to save Everett from the wish, if not even a vain
attempt, to sink through the floor, "bring Mr. Mark right on in to
breakfast before the waffles set. Sister Viney, your coffee is
a-getting cold." Little Miss Amanda had seen and guessed at his
plight and the coffee threat to Miss Lavinia had been one of the
nimble manoeuvers that she daily, almost hourly, employed in the
management of her sister's ponderosity. Thus she had saved this day,
but Everett knew that there were others to come, and in the dim
distance he discerned his Waterloo.
And as he worked carefully with his examining pick over beyond the
north pasture through the soft spring-warm afternoon, he occasionally
smiled to himself as the morning scene of worship, etched deep on his
consciousness by its strangeness to his tenets of life, rose again and
again to his mind's eye. They were a wonderful people, these Valley
folk, descendants of the Huguenots and Cavaliers who had taken the
wilderness trail across the mountains and settled here "in the hollow"
of old Harpeth's hand. They were as interesting scientifically from a
philosophical standpoint as were the geological formations which lay
beneath their blue-grass and clover fields. They built altars to what
seemed to him a primitive God, and yet their codes were in many cases
not only ethically but economically and democratically sound. The men
he had found shrewd and as a whole more interested and versed in
statescraft than would seem possible, considering their shut-in
location in regard to the places where the world wheels seem to
revolve. But were there larger wheels revolving, silently, slowly, but
just as relentlessly, out here where the heavens were stretched "_as a
curtain_," and "_as a tent to dwell in_?"
"_'The earth and the fullness thereof,'_" he mused as he raised his
eyes to the sky; "it's theirs, certainly, and they dedicate it to
their God. I wonder--" Suddenly the picture of the woman in the barn
rose to his mind, strong and gracious and wonderful, with the young
"fullness" pressing around her, teeming with--force. What force--and
what source? Suddenly he dropped his pick behind a convenient bush,
shouldered his kit of rocks and sand, climbed the fence and tramped
away down Providence Road to Sweetbriar, Rose Mary and her cold milk
crocks, thither impelled by deep--thirsts.
And under the hospitable eaves of the milk-house he found Rose Mary
and her cooling draft--also Mrs. Caleb Rucker, with small Pete in tow.
"Howdy, Mr. Mark," the visiting neighbor answered in response to his
forcedly cordial greeting. If a man has walked a mile and a half with
a picture of a woman handing him a glass of cool milk with a certain
lift of black lashes from over deep, black blue eyes it
is--disconcerting to have her do it in the presence of another.
"I just come over to get a bucket of buttermilk for Granny
Satterwhite," he found Mrs. Rucker saying as he forced his attention.
"She won't touch mine if there's any of Rose Mary's handy. Looks like
she thinks she's drinking some of Rose Mary's petting with every
gulp."
Everett had just raised the glass Rose Mary had handed him, to his
lips, as Mrs. Rucker spoke, and over its edge he regarded the roses
that suddenly blushed out in her cheeks, but she refused to raise her
lashes the fraction of an inch and went calmly on pressing the milk
from the butter she had just taken from the churn.
"Granny knows that love can be sent just as well in a glass of
buttermilk as in a valentine," she finally said, and as she spoke a
roguish smile coaxed at the comer of her mouth. "Don't you suppose a
piece of hemp twine would turn into a gold cord if you tied it around
a bundle of true love?" she ventured further in a spirit of daring,
still with her eyes on the butter.
"Now that's something in meaning like my first husband, Mr.
Satterwhite, said when we was married," assented Mrs. Rucker with
hearty appreciation of the practicality in Rose Mary's sentiment. "He
gave me two sows, each with a litter of pigs, for a wedding present
and said they'd be a heap more to me than any kind of jimcracks he
could er bought for half the money they'd bring. And they was, for, in
due course of time, I sold all them hogs and bought the plush
furniture in the front room, melojeon and all. Now Mr. Rucker, he give
me a ring with a blue set and 'darling' printed inside it that cost
fifty cents extra, and Jennie Rucker swallowed that ring before she
was a year old. I guess she has got it growed up inside her, for all I
know of it, and her Paw is a-setting on Mr. Satterwhite's furniture at
present, speaking still. Sometimes it makes me feel sad to think of
Mr. Satterwhite when Cal Rucker spells out, _Shall we meet beyond the
river_ with two fingers on that melojeon. But then I even up my
feelings by remembering how Cal let me name Pete for Mr. Satterwhite,
which is a second-husband compliment they don't many men pass; and it
pleased Granny so."
"Mr. Rucker is always nice to Granny Satterwhite," said Rose Mary with
the evident intention of extolling the present incumbent of the
husband office to her friend. But at the mention of his name a moment
earlier, young Peter, the bond between the past and present, had
sidled out the door and proceeded to sit calmly down on the rippling
surface of the spring branch. His rescue and retirement necessitated
his mother's departure and Everett was left in command of the
two-alone situation he desired.
"Hasn't this been a lovely, long day?" asked Rose Mary as she turned
the butter into a large jar and pressed a white cloth close over it
with a stone top. "To-night is the full April moon and I've got a
surprise for you, if you don't find it out too soon. Will you walk
over to Tilting Rock, beyond the barn-lot, with me after supper and
let me show you?"
"Will I cross the fields of Elysium to gaze over the pearly ramparts?"
demanded Everett with boyish enthusiasm, if not a wholly accurate use
of mythological metaphor. "Let's cut supper and go on now! What do you
say? Why wait?"
"I'm afraid," laughed Rose Mary as she prepared to close up the wide
window and leave everything in shipshape for the night. "A woman
oughtn't to risk feeding a hungry man cold moonbeams instead of hot
hoecake. Besides, I have to see everybody safely tucked in before I
can leave. Aren't they all a precious houseful of early-to-bed
chickens? The old Sweeties have forgotten there is such a thing as the
moon and Stonie hasn't--found it out--yet." And with a mischievous
backward glance, Rose Mary led the way up the lilac path to the Briars
on top of the hill just as the old bell sounded two wobbly notes,
their uncertainty caused by the rivalry of the General and Tobe over
the pulling of the ropes.
And it was quite two hours later that she and Everett made their way
across the barn-lot over to the broad, moss-covered Tilting Rock that
jutted out from a little hackberry-covered knoll at the far end of the
pasture.
"Now look--and smell in deep!" exclaimed Rose Mary excitedly as she
pointed back to the Briars.
"Why--why!" exclaimed Everett under his breath, "it's enchantment!
It's a dream--am I awake?"
And indeed a very vision spread itself out before the wondering man.
The low roof and wide wings of the Briars, with the delicate traceries
of vines over the walls and gables, shone a soft, old-brick pink in
the glow of moonlight, and over and around it all gushed a very shower
of shimmering white blossoms, surrounding the house like a mist around
an early blooming rose. And as he looked, wave on wave of fragrance
beat against Everett's face and poured over his head.
"What is it?" he demanded breathlessly, as if dizzy from a too deep
drinking of the perfume.
"Don't you know? It's the locust trees that have bloomed out since
sunset!" exclaimed Rose Mary in as breathless a tone as his own. "For
a week I have been watching and hoping they would be out in the full
moon. They are so delicate that the least little cold wind sets them
back days or destroys them altogether. I wanted them so very much this
year for you, and I was so afraid you would notice them before we got
over here where you could get the full effect. I promised you lilacs
for being good, but this is just because--because--"
"Because what?" asked Everett quietly.
"Because I felt you would appreciate it," answered Rose Mary, as she
sank down on the stone that still held a trace of the warmth from the
sun, and made room for Everett beside her with one of her ever-ready,
gracious little gestures. "And it's lovely to have you here to look at
it with me," she added. "So many times I have sat here alone with the
miracle, and my heart has ached for the whole world to get the vision
of it at least. I've tried sending my love of it out in little locust
prayers to folks over the Ridge. Did you ever happen to get one any
spring?"
"Last April I turned down a commission for a false test for the
biggest squeeze-out copper people in the world, fifty thousand in it
to me. I thought it was moral courage, but I know now it was just on
account of the locusts blooming in Harpeth Valley at Sweetbriar. Do
you get any connection?" he demanded lightly, if a bit unevenly.
"To think that would be worth all the loneliness," answered Rose Mary
gently. "Things were very hard for me the first year I had to come
back from college. I used to sit here by the hour and watch Providence
Road wind away over the Ridge and nothing ever seemed to come or go
for me. But that was only for a little while, and now I never get the
time to breathe between the things that happen along Providence Road
for me to attend to. I came back to Sweetbriar like an empty crock,
with just dregs of disappointment at the bottom, and now I'm all ready
every morning to have five gallons of lovely folks-happenings poured
into a two-and-a-half-gallon capacity. I wish I were twins or twice as
much me."
"Why, you have never told me before, Rose Mary, that you belong to the
new-woman persuasion, with a college hall-mark and suffragist
leanings. I have made the mistake of putting you in the home-guard
brigade and classing you fifty years behind your times. Don't tell me
you have an M.A. I can't stand it to-night."
"No, I haven't got one," answered Rose Mary with both a smile and a
longing in her voice. "I came home in the winter of my junior year.
My father was one of the Harpeth Valley boys who went out into the
world, and he came back to die under the roof where his fathers had
fought off the Indians, and he brought poor little motherless me to
leave with the aunts and Uncle Tucker. They loved me and cared for me
just as they did Uncle Tucker's son, who was motherless, too, and a
few years after he went out into the world to seek the fortune he felt
so sure of, I was given my chance at college. In my senior year his
tragedy came and I hurried back to find Uncle Tucker broken and old
with the horror of it, and with the place practically sold to avoid
open disgrace. His son died that year and left--left--some day I will
tell you the rest of it. I might have gone back into the world and
made a success of things and helped them in that way, from a
distance--but what they needed was--was me. And so I sat here many
sunset hours of loneliness and looked along Providence Road
until--until I think the Master must have passed this way and left me
His peace, though my mortal eyes didn't see Him. And now there lies my
home nest swung in a bower of blossoms full of the old sweetie birds,
the boy, the calf, puppy babies, pester chickens and--and I'm going to
take a large, gray, prowling night-bird back and tuck him away for
fear his cheeks will look hollow in the morning. I'm the mother bird,
and while I know He watches with me all through the night, sometimes I
sing in the dark because I and my nesties are close to Him and I'm not
the least bit afraid."
[Illustration: "I hope you feel easy in your mind now"]