This certainly has been a big day, the first one which has required two
chapters of my story. I could have put it all in one, it is true, but I
believe there exists a general preference for frequent "stopping
places," and I shall defer to this opinion, partly, perhaps, because I
heartily endorse it myself. Granf'er sighted Lessie at once, brought his
jug up and down twice at arm's length by way of recognition, and resumed
his way with the shuffling, elbow-lifting gait which usually attaches to
men advanced in years when in a hurry.
How straight the girl's young body was! Uncorseted though I knew she
must be, the lines of her figure conformed to the demands of physical
beauty. From her naturally slender waist, belted only with the band made
in her one piece frock, her back tapered up to shoulders which were
shapely even under the poorly fitting dress. Her head, held more than
ordinarily high now, as she watched Granf'er, was nobly poised on a
firm, round neck, which I am most happy to record was not at all
swan-like. I should like to add, in passing, that I have never seen a
girl with a swan-like neck. If such exist, their natural place is in a
dime museum, or a zoo. Such a monstrosity would, from the nature of her
affliction, look like either a snake or a goose, neither of which have
come down in humanity's annals as types of beauty. I must say it to the
credit of most moderns, however, that the swan-necked lady is seldom
paraded for us to admire. There were no crooks or loops in the Dryad's
neck. Like a section of column it was; smooth, perfect, swelling to
breast and shoulder.
I clambered to my feet behind her, cursing mentally the harmless,
hospitable, doddering old fellow approaching, and singing a paean of
rejoicing in my soul at the same time. Such things can be. The breeze
freshened, and began sporting with the dazzling, home-made coiffure on
the Dryad's head. She had not loosened it since she came from her bath,
and that is why I saw so plainly the classic outlines of her head and
throat. The madcap wind caught her dress, too, as she stood exposed to
its sweep down the ravine, and cunningly smoothed it over her hip and
thigh; tightly, snugly smoothed it, then took the fullness remaining and
flapped and shook it out like a flag. So I knew, again through no fault
of mine, that this girl who had never even heard of a modiste--of her
skill to make limb or bust to order--had grown up with a form which
Aphrodite might have owned. She did not know the breeze had played a
trick upon her; or knowing, thought nothing of it. The seeds of our
grosser nature sprout more readily in the hotbed of a drawing-room of
"cultured" society, than in the windsweet, sun-disinfected acres of the
out-of-doors.
She spoke.
"Granny's picklin' to-day. She's run out o' vinegar 'n' has sent
Granf'er to fin' me to go to town 'n' git some more."
"Let me go with you!" I urged.
"No," she answered, promptly; "'t wouldn't do. Don't you see?"
"I see what's in your mind," I replied, knowing that she was thinking I
would likely meet the smith again; "but I should be glad to go anyway."
"No; you mus' stay here."
Firmly she said it, and my saner judgment told me she was right. It
would have been a fool's errand for me to undertake.
"I know it is best," I assented reluctantly, "but _why_ did Granny have
to run out of vinegar this afternoon?"
Lessie threw me an amused glance over her shoulder, burst into a peal of
laughter, and began waving her pole over her head in wide circles,
taking this method to wind her line. When this was in place, she grasped
the hook between finger and thumb, and imbedded it in the stopper.
"You bring th' fish 'n' th' bait," she said, and ran along the tree,
sure-footed and nimble as a squirrel.
I picked up the can and bucket and followed. I looked at her catch as I
went, and saw that it represented some half-dozen minnows only. Granf'er
was waiting for us in the road. He had already transferred the jug to
Lessie and given her instructions when I came up and cordially shook
hands.
"How are you getting along?" was my greeting, as I wisely smothered the
impatience I felt.
"Oh! fust rate;--'cep'n' th' ketch."
He put his left hand to his side and drew a wheezy breath.
Lessie gave her fishing-pole into Granf'er's care, smiled a farewell and
started toward Hebron. It wrenched me for her to begin that lovely walk
alone. She was twenty steps away when the old man suddenly turned.
"Don't go trapes'n' in th' woods fur flow'rs 'n' sich! Granny's wait'n'
fur that air vinegyar!"
She waved her hand as a sign that she heard, but made no reply.
"A quare gal!" mused Granf'er, beginning to delve in his trousers pocket
for his twist. "Fust 'n' las', they ain't no onderstand'n' 'er. She
washes in th' woods lak a wil' Injun 'n' plays 'ith th' birds 'n' th'
beastes. Oncommin quare, by gosh!"
He opened his mouth and allowed to roll therefrom his chewed-out quid,
ran his crooked and cracked forefinger around his gums to dislodge any
particle of the leaf which might still remain in hiding, and took
another chew.
"But she is a most attractive young lady, nevertheless," I ventured,
tentatively, putting one hand in my pocket for my pipe and holding the
other out in dumb request. I remembered the guest-rite of my first
visit, and shrewdly suspected this move of mine would please the old
man. It did.
"Lak it, don't ye?" he grinned, his wrinkled face lighting with pleasure
as he eagerly thrust the tobacco into my palm. "Light Burley 't is, 'n'
skace 's' hen's teeth. Mos' craps plum' failed las' year, but I growed a
plenty fur you 'n' me--yes, fur you 'n' me!"
The expression tickled him into a creaky, croaky sort of laugh.
"It's good stuff, Granf'er," I agreed, compromising with my conscience
by supposing that it was good to chew, although to smoke, it bit my
tongue abominably and had a green flavor. "I've been intending to come
back to see you and Granny and Lessie ever since I was here last, but
one thing and another has prevented. I hope you are all well?"
I turned toward the path and moved forward a few steps, as though
assuming we would now go on up to the house. But Gran'fer's thoughts did
not run with mine.
"Well? Yes; that is to say, tol'ble." His manner was somewhat excited.
"Granny, y' know, 's pickl'n' to-day, 'n' w'en she's pickl'n' she's
turble busy, 'n' turble--turble techous.... Fine terbacker, ain't it?"
as he saw the pale blue smoke beginning to come from my lips. "Yes,
we're putty well, but Granny's ben kind o' contrairy these fo' days
pas', 'n' bein' she's pickl'n' I 'low you 'n' me 'd jes' as well set
down right here 'n' hev our chat."
He tried to speak in an ordinary way, but simulation did not abide in
his honest, open soul, and I knew he felt he was breaking hospitality's
rules in suggesting that we remain away from the house. The thought
worried him, and he could not hide it.
"All right!" I answered, heartily, donning the hypocrite's cloak with
perfect ease. (This is one of the advantages of our ultra civilized
state.) "Women are different from men, anyhow, and take notions and
ideas which we have to humor. And some people are so constituted by
nature that they must be let alone when they are busy."
"Yes! Yes! That's it! Notions 'n' idees!" Gran'fer eagerly approved. "I
don't see how yo' kin know so much 'bout wimmin if yo' 've never ben
married.... Notions 'n' idees!" He chuckled with a dry sort of rattling
sound, rubbed his leg, and thumped the ground with the butt of the
Dryad's fishing-pole. "By gosh! Notions 'n' idees!" he repeated, for the
third time, his eyes narrowed and his face broadened in a fixed
expression of unalloyed pleasure.
"Suppose we sit on the big rock here?" I said, with a gesture toward the
immense stone which formed the tip of the Point.
I walked out upon it as I spoke, and the old fellow dragged after,
doubtless still caressing in his mind that chance phrase which had
caught his fancy. The stone was a dozen yards across, and its creek side
arose perpendicularly from the water, its top being five feet or more
from the stream's surface. Here we sat, hanging our legs over as boys
would. I smoked, and Gran'fer chewed. He really didn't chew much,
because I am sure he was inherently opposed to the slightest exertion
which was unnecessary, but now and then he would defile the limpid
purity below, a fact which convinced me he was enjoying his marvelous
tobacco far more than I was.
"Wimmin _is_ curi's," began Gran'fer, when we had arranged ourselves
comfortably. He twirled his stubby, funny looking thumbs contentedly and
leisurely. The end of each was overhung with a remarkable length of
nail, black and thick. "I s'pose they's nec'sary ur th' Lord wouldn't
'a' put 'em here, but it's a plum' fac' they's no read'n' 'em, 'n' no
tell'n' whut they gunta do. S'firy 'n' me, come November twinty-fust,
nex', hev ben married forty-two year. Right there in Hebrin wuz we
married, forty-two year ago come November twinty-fust, nex'. At th'
Cath'lic chu'ch on th' hill, th' same whut's now Father John's. He
wuzn't here them days. 'Nother pries' married us. S'firy's a Cath'lic
'n' I wus n't nothin', but I wuz bornd o' Prot'st'nt parints. 'N' I made
th' fust mistake right there. Onless two people hev th' same b'lief,
they oughtn't to jine in wedlock, 'cus trouble's comin' shore 's sin."
He took off his worn, soiled, and shapeless straw hat to scratch his
head.
"I suspect you are entirely right about that. I know of a number of
unhappy marriages for that reason."
Gran'fer grunted, twice.
"S'firy's a buxom gal, ez th' sayin' goes," he continued, reminiscently.
"Purties' gal hereabout she wuz, ef I do say it, but they's allus fire
on her tongue. Jes' lak a patch o' powder her min' wuz, 'n' th' leas'
thin' 'd set it off. 'Tain't in th' natur o' young people to look ahead,
ur I never 'd 'a' tried life with S'firy. A young feller in love is th'
out 'n' out damndes' fool on airth. I'se sich.... I couldn't stan' ag'in
'er."
He shook his head slowly, and fell to combing his straggling fringe of
whiskers with his bent fingers.
I did not reply. I was not much interested in the old man's recital. I
had guessed already practically all that he was telling me. My mind was
full of other things; my thoughts were back on the Hebron road,
following the footsteps of the girl with the jug.
"I fit, though; I fit to be boss o' my own house,"--the querulous,
cracked voice broke in upon my reflections. "See here?" He drew his palm
down over his long, shaven upper lip, and looked at me craftily with his
little blue eyes. "I knowed a man onct, in them days, whut wore his
beard jes' that way, 'n' he's the w'eelhoss o' the fam'ly. Th' wimmin
wuz skeered uv 'im es a chick'n is uv a hawk. Whut he said they _done_,
'n' done 'ithout argyment. 'N' I took th' notion that if I shaved my
lip, too, 'n' looked kind o' fierce 'n' hard lak, that I c'd manage
S'firy. So one mornin' I gits my razor 'n' fixes that lip, 'n' w'en I
saw myseff I felt I c'd boss anybody, I looked that mean. So in I comes
to S'firy, 'n' tol' 'er, kind o' brash, that I wanted sich 'n' sich a
thin' done, 'n' kind o' squared myseff 'n' put my han's on my hip
j'ints, same 's I saw that other feller do, y' know.... Chris' Jesus!...
Whut happ'n'd? 'S ben a long time ago 'n' I can't ricollec' all th'
doin's. But she called me a babboon fust, 'n' then she lit into me....
Well, I kep' on shavin' my lip, 'cus I 'proved o' th' style, but I
didn't order S'firy no more, bein' 's I'm nat'rly a man o' peace."
"How many children did you have, Gran'fer?" I asked, presently.
"Jes' two. Th' fust 'n' wuz a boy whut died o' fits w'en he 's two weeks
ol'. Th' nex' 'n' wuz Ar'minty, Lessie's mammy. She died w'en Lessie 's
skacely more 'n a baby."
"What was the matter with her?" I asked.
Quick as a flash Gran'fer turned on me, an expression of alarm and anger
mingled showing on his face. What had I done? Surely my question was
simple and natural enough. He saw my surprise and astonishment, and his
feelings softened instantly.
"She jes' pined 'way lak," he replied, dropping his eyes and smoothing
the back of one hand with the palm of the other. "Didn't hev no fevers,
nur nothin'. Jes' drooped, lak a tomater plant does w'en it's fust sot
out 'n' don't git no rain. Got weaker 'n' weaker. Wouldn't eat nothin'.
Didn't try to live. Couldn't do nothin' with 'er. So she jes' wilted up
'n' died, lak a tomater plant in th' sun.... Ar'minty."
The plain, brief recital stirred me, and awoke within me a wondering
interest. Gran'fer's head was low now, so low that the hair on his chin
spread out fanlike over his faded, checked shirt. His hand had ceased
its caressing movement, and lay above the other. I could see that each
had a slight palsied motion. The little bent figure at my side struck me
as infinitely pathetic just then. Dull indeed must I have been not to
have sensed the shadow of some dire tragedy occurring in the years he
had mentioned. For a number of days past vague imaginings and sundry
conjectures had come to vex my mind with their unsatisfying presence. I
had known for some time that Lessie was not all she seemed, and now,
this moment, I stood on the borderland of enlightenment. Unfamiliar
thrills shot through me, flame tipped and eager. My heart pounded oddly,
and my eyelids were hot against the balls. Instantly a thought had
sprung full-born into existence, and it was the acceptance of this
thought which sent that tingling, vibrating current shooting throughout
my entire being. Where did Lessie get her refined features? Where the
instinct to care scrupulously for her person? Where that mute, painful
longing for something she could not name? From generation after
generation of ox-minded hill folk? Impossible! From them came her
wonderful simplicity, her extreme naturalness, her kinship with the wild
places and the things which dwelt there. But--I felt now as if a force
pump was connected with my chest, and that any moment it might burst
asunder. Dare I ask Gran'fer? Dare I, almost a total stranger, intrude
here, and seek to pry behind the veil these old people had drawn between
their grandchild and the world? I resolved to make the effort, but with
great caution, feeling my way with carefully chosen words. I did not
want to offend, but the desire to know the truth about the Dryad was all
but overpowering. It was not vulgar, idle curiosity. For I knew the
deeps were stirred; that underlying all else was the strange, full
throbbing of a new force.
So I put a hand on the old man's sagging shoulder in friendly way, and
said, speaking softly--
"And is Lessie's father--"