BANISHMENT
"As a sparrow alone upon the housetop--"--Ps. cii, 7
"Hey, Maria!"
"I'm a-comin'."
The woman rose from the door-step where she had been sitting,
adjusted her snuff dip firmly in her mouth and slouched across the
muddy door-yard to meet Peter. From his manner and expression of
countenance it was evident he was laboring under the burden of a new
idea.
"Who was a-wantin' me?" he asked gruffly as Maria approached.
"Thar hain't nobody ben hyar."
He studied her for a moment.
"Thar war somebody a-sneakin' 'roun'."
"Nobody I seen."
"She seed 'em."
With his thumb he gestured over his shoulder. Maria understood that
he referred to Mollie.
"She mought ha' saw somebody a-lookin' in th' gate."
A wry smile twisted the man's face in a grimace a little worse than
usual.
"Thar hain't a-goin' ter be no more lookin'," he declared. "I be
gwine ter fix hit right now. Fotch me them tools frum th' barn an'
th' can o' nails thets a-settin' on the beam over th' door."
Maria obeyed, without a word, as was her wont, slouching along,
barefooted, in the direction of the barn. She did not wonder or
speculate as to where the children might be. To do so would require
mental effort. Any mental effort demanded a degree of energy which
Maria did not possess.
As for Peter, he had solved his problem in mathematics. With all the
cunning of the abnormal criminal, he was planning for the future in a
manner entirely beyond her dull-witted conception, even had he been
disposed to explain.
The house stood some little distance from an old highway. The
section roundabout was a wilderness of tortuous passes, skirting
perilously near the series of formidable bogs. For years these bogs
had proved as much of a barrier between denizens of isolated
districts as any mediæval moat. Peter Grimes knew nothing of castles
nor moats. But the chance remark of the man who had placed little
Mollie in his care had resulted in his grasping the basic principle
upon which the theory that a man's house is his castle had been
founded. He proposed now to convert the old moonshiner's covert
retreat into an impenetrable castle.
From a heap of old boards back of the house he selected those best
needed for his purpose, cut himself a large chew of tobacco, then sat
down to await the return of the woman whose ancestral estate he had
so calmly appropriated.
Maria reappeared in due season, laden with saw, hammer and the can of
nails.
"Now lend me a hand with these hyar planks," ordered Peter.
Maria took hold and together they carried, one by one, some half
dozen of the long pieces of timber down to the fence.
There was no need of a fence on the side of the house where the bog
lay. No one but a plumb fool would ever attempt to get away by that
hazardous route, Peter reasoned. Not by chance had he demonstrated
the bog's resistless suction to the children that morning. He now
made a noise that might have been meant for a chuckle but which
sounded more like the grunt of an animal at the recollection of his
cleverness.
"I 'low they'll remember thet a spell," he muttered aloud, "an'
they'll tell t'others."
"Hey?" said Maria, thinking he was addressing her.
The interruption passed unheeded. Peter placed one of the boards
across a chunk of wood and bent himself to the task of sawing it the
desired length. Maria was already sitting listlessly upon the other
boards, gazing vacantly into space, her hands resting limply on her
knees. Peter raised his head as the severed end of the plank fell to
the ground.
"Git up thar," he commanded, "an' do es I tell yo'. H'ist up thet
end whilst I nail this-un in place."
Maria pulled her lean frame upright, took hold of the board and,
stretching her arms as high above her head as she was able, held it
against an upright already in place, while Peter nailed it in
position. She asked no questions. He vouchsafed no remarks. Thus
occupied, the long absence of the children was unheeded. Ambrose
ultimately joined his parents, sitting down in the dirt and amusing
himself digging a hole with a stick.
It was evident that the fence repair and extension work would not be
completed at one time. The farther the work progressed the more
grimly eager Peter became to behold the finished structure. After a
time he told Maria to go to the house and get something ready to eat.
There she came upon Mollie and Stephen, seated forlornly upon the
step. They were snuggled close together, like two motherless
kittens, as if to strengthen and encourage one another. They rose at
Maria's approach and stood aside, expectant. Mollie's little face
was strained out of its natural shape in her desperate effort to keep
back the tears which welled into her eyes as the harsh, forbidding
country woman bore down upon them. Stephen tucked the child's tiny
hand within his own, scarcely larger, and nerved himself for whatever
fate held in store for the immediate future.
To their surprise, Maria passed them without a word and entered the
house, the door of which stood open. Two chickens scurried out and
ran, cheeping and squawking, across the yard.
The next moment Maria reappeared at the door. Her initial
preoccupation had been due to her desire to replenish her snuff dip.
She was now thinking of less important things.
"Yo' Mollie," she called, "come in hyar an' lay th' table. Steve,
yo' g'wan down ter th' 'tater patch an' fetch a mess o' 'taters."
Mollie hesitated, loath to leave Stephen's protection.
"Do as she says," the boy whispered as Maria turned back toward the
cook stove. "We'll have to. They won't hurt us if we keep quiet and
mind them quick."
It was wise counsel. Mollie released her hold upon his hand and went
into the house with a step so unlike her accustomed bird-like
lightness that it was apparent the pall of the bog-lands was already
beginning its blight. Stephen started off in the direction of the
garden. He had never seen potatoes except in a store or when they
were served at a meal. He had only a vague idea as to how they grew
but he feared to ask a question. Over by the fence he could see
Peter at work. Ambrose had ceased digging a hole and was now engaged
in chasing a white butterfly. The butterfly was darting from bush to
bush, ever coming nearer to Stephen. Finally it passed him, the fat
child still in pursuit.
Stephen watched the chase until Ambrose stumbled and fell. Before
Stephen could decide as to the wisdom of his extending a helping
hand, the youngster scrambled to his feet and rushed forward straight
into the garden patch. The butterfly eluded him and disappeared amid
some high shrubbery.
Enraged, Ambrose commenced pulling up stalks of what seemed to
Stephen to be small bushes. He noticed there were bright colored
little bugs, somewhat larger than the bright-coated lady-bug,
clustered on the leaves of the strange plant. With a howl of
disappointment at having lost his winged prey, the hog-farmer's child
hurled one of the uprooted plants at Stephen. It fell at the boy's
feet. From its roots small tubers depended, some of which became
detached and rolled to one side. He stooped and examined one. A
potato! For the moment the dejected lad was honestly grateful to
Ambrose. Without his fortunate, and for Ambrose unfortunate, chase
of the butterfly Stephen realized he might have again been plunged
into difficulty.
Patiently he collected the potatoes Ambrose uprooted until he
concluded he had enough for a meal. Ambrose, sensing that his
actions were conferring a kindness, immediately desisted and entered
upon a new diversion. He ran with all his might and precipitated
himself like a battering ram against the boy who was carefully trying
to balance a goodly supply of potatoes mounted in a very shallow
receptacle that he had picked up from a refuse heap to transport them
to the house. The result was disastrous. The potatoes rolled in
divers directions, Stephen fell and Ambrose rolled over on top of him.
During the whole performance the strange child had uttered no sound.
He now bellowed lustily. No one responded. He yelled louder. Still
no response.
In the distance Peter's voice sounded.
"Maria!"
From the house the woman answered.
"I'm a-comin'."
"Go see what Ambrose es a-bellerin' about."
Both Stephen and Ambrose heard the dialogue. The former made haste
to collect the scattered potatoes. Ambrose started, still bawling,
to meet his mother.
Maria met them midway between the house and the barn. She made no
comment but, stooping, brushed enough dirt off her son to assure
herself that he was uninjured, then took him by the hand and dragged
him, protesting at every step, into the house. Stephen followed.
Maria dropped into a chair and took the crying, striking youngster up
into her lap. Little Mollie, standing on a chair, was taking cups
and spoons down from the cupboard. Stephen placed the potatoes upon
the table. Under Maria's direction he prepared them for boiling and
got them on the stove. Then, also under her orders, he made coffee.
There was no conversation, other than that required to prepare the
meal. Maria rose and fried the thick slices of salt pork herself.
Once she sent Stephen to fetch a bucket of water.
Returning with the water the little boy encountered Peter. The
latter made no reference to the episode of the morning. He paused
for a moment, looked at Stephen reflectively and delivered himself of
that upon which he had been cogitating ever since he commenced work
on the fence.
"Kin yo' climb?"
"Yes sir."
"Well, arter dinner me an' yo' es a-goin' ter finish this hyar fence,
an' I wants yo' ter holp me string bob wire on top o' hit."
"Yes sir."
"An' beginnin' ter-night yo' air a-goin' ter sleep outten th' loft in
th' barn."
"Yes sir."
"An' I'm a-goin' ter fix me a big bell on top o' this hyar gate. An'
when thet thar bell rings I wants thet yo' and thet gal Mollie, an'
ary others I fetch hyar, should git up the ladder into thet loft
lickety-split. D'y understan'?"
"Yes sir."
Peter turned again to his labor. "G'wan. Git along ter the house
with thet water," he said, shortly.
Stephen proceeded on his way.
As he neared the kitchen door Mollie came flying forth, screaming.
Behind her came Ambrose. He was chuckling with glee at seeing her
terror.
"Don't let him!--Don't let him put it on me," she cried, piteously,
dodging behind Stephen that the lumbering Ambrose might not come near
her. Stephen barred the path of the infant terror.
"Here, what are you trying to do?" he asked. There was no reply but
Stephen, looking down, saw that the loathsome object the child held
by one leg in his hand, was a huge toad. Without a thought of
consequences he struck the grewsome creature from the fat fingers
which held it and, taking Mollie's hand led her, weeping, into the
kitchen.
Ambrose's howl of rage echoed in their wake. He did not attempt to
follow them but carried his grievance to his father. Peter paid
scant attention to the incoherent utterances of his son, but after a
moment put down his tools and started for the house, the youngster,
still bawling, lumbering at his heels.
As the afternoon waned and the hens about the door-yard commenced
flapping to roost in the limbs of convenient trees, Mollie and
Stephen were conducted by Maria to the roost prepared for them in the
loft under the barn eaves.
Below them Walter, the horse, whinnied softly as he sensed their
nearness. Birds twittered in their nests about them. One or two
late comers flitted swiftly past their heads to join their feathered
families.
"I like it better than being in the house," exclaimed Mollie, much
less dismayed by the prospect of living in the barn than Stephen had
expected. "I'd rather be in a barn with God's sparrows and a horse
than with an ogre in the most beau-ti-ful castle in the world."
"So would I," said Stephen, after a moment's reflection.
The ogre who had banished the children rubbed the palms of his horny
hands together and smiled greedily as he counted his ill-gotten
money. The high, newly constructed portal to his terrible castle was
locked and barred; the warning bell was silent. The surrounding moat
gave forth a heavy, fetid odor that poisoned the breath of summer
blossoms borne on the still night air. But up in the barn loft the
two little prisoners knelt by the open window, above all sordid
things, and watched the moon rise over the tree tops while they
inhaled the pure air of heaven.