“MISS JEW-ANN”
It was not possible for Skeeter Butts to keep his mouth shut for twenty
minutes, and the young man beside him, as he watched the long sandy road
roll under the machine like a brown ribbon, was equally willing to talk.
“Is you-alls kin to de Shinnys?” Skeeter asked.
“No.”
“Gwine dar on bizzness?”
“No—yes.”
“Dar ain’t nobody at dat house to do bizzness wid excusin’ Mr. Shinny
an’ Miss Jew-ann.” No answer. “Which one am you doin’ bizzness wid,
boss?”
“Which one do you think?”
“Of co’se, I’m jes’ guessin’—but ef I wus a white man I’d shore crave to
talk bizzness wid de lady.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” the stranger laughed.
“I done got you located now, boss,” Skeeter chuckled delightedly. “You
is courtin’.”
They turned suddenly to the left and ran into a dark road which lead
through a section of the Little Moccasin Swamp. The wheels began to slip
in the mire and Skeeter gave his entire attention to his automobile to
prevent stalling in the mud. At last they reached firmer ground, and
Skeeter returned to the conversation.
“Of co’se, I ain’t axin’ you fer no job, boss, but I’s been powerful
assistance to a whole passel of young white mens dat’s come courtin’ in
dis country.”
“What special help can you render?” the stranger asked.
“Expe’unce an’ conversation,” Skeeter replied promptly. “I done courted
’bout a millyum womens my own self, an’ I knows all de funny curves dey
tries on. I gives exputt advice to all de niggers dat marries in
Tickfall. I ain’t no marrifyin’ man myse’f, but I favors it an’ he’ps it
along.”
“How can you render assistance through your conversation?” the young man
smiled.
“Gosh, white man! You ain’t never done no courtin’ in de South, is you?
Eve’y white man whut goes courtin’ hires a nigger to go wid him.”
“What for?”
“I see you don’t know nothin’,” Skeeter chuckled. “I esplains dis fack;
eve’y white lady dat is wuth courtin’ is got some nigger gal wuckin’ fer
her in de kitchen. Eve’y white man whut onderstan’s courtin’ hires a
nigger boy to go wid him an’ wait on him while he courts de lady. Now,
dat nigger boy goes into de kitchen an’ tells dat nigger gal whut a
allfired good ketch fer de white lady his boss am—an’ de nigger gal
tells dat nigger boy whut a histidious, highfalutin lady her mistiss is,
an’ dat arrangement he’ps courtin’ long an’ does a large amount of great
good.”
The young man laughed, and Skeeter bent over his wheel, watching the
road for stumps as his machine plowed through some high marsh-grass.
“Now, I always gives my white man a good recommend at de fust
off-startin’,” Skeeter continued. “I tells de nigger gal my white folks
don’t drink none, don’t gamble none, is got plenty money, owns a big
plantation, and hires plenty niggers. When us mens goes home, dat nigger
gal tells her mistiss whut I said about her gen’leman friend. Don’t you
think dat’s a good arrangement?”
“I don’t know,” the young man said dubiously, as they ran into a
clearing and stopped in front of a wide-spreading farmhouse. “I’ll wait
and see. I like to talk for myself, but I might need you yet.”
“I hope so, boss,” Skeeter smiled as he pocketed the two dollars which
the young man extended. “You want me to wait fer you?”
“No.”
“Want me to come back fer you?”
“No.”
“A’right. Ef you needs me, jes’ ax fer Skeeter Butts. I’s got a good
name ’mongst de white and de blacks.”
Miss Juan Chieniere sat upon the wide, white portico and watched, as the
white man dismounted from the machine. She watched until Skeeter had
turned and started back the way he had come. She watched the young man
turn and enter the gate. All of this with indifference, which suddenly
turned to an interest, which left her gasping with delight.
“Oh—Jim!”
The Frenchwoman makes the most fascinating sweetheart and the most
attractive wife in the world, to all except a blind man. To all the
other things which the Frenchwoman possesses in common with her sisters,
she adds the charm of manner. In other words, when she loves a man, she
shows it! The glance of the eye, the quiver of the lips, the gesture of
her hands, these things speak for her and plead for her and pray for
her!
“Oh—Jim!” she repeated.
“I told you I was coming,” was all that Jim said.
“But—how did you get here, Jim?”
“I flew through the air like a bird, just like I told you I would.”
Her hand motioned him to a seat by her side, and every posture of her
body, as she moved aside to give him space, bespoke a welcome without
words.
“Where did you get the airplane, Jim?” she questioned.
“I stole it,” Jim answered frankly. “I stole it from the government of
the United States. It’s an army airplane, designed to strafe the Huns. I
just hopped in, shot the juice to her, and flew seventy miles to see
you!”
“Holy Mother!” the girl exclaimed tragically. “What will they do to you
for that crime?”
“I should worry—they haven’t caught me yet. Besides, I’ve got a whale of
a lie fixed up to tell them.”
“Let me hear your lie, Jimmy,” the girl fluttered. “I’ll be scared to
death while you are here, unless the lie is a real good one, and will
save you if you get caught.”
Jim hesitated a moment while he reached for his cigarette-case. The girl
took the match from his fingers, struck it into flame, and held it to
his cigarette, thus lighting his face and her own in the gathering dusk.
“Whew,” he whistled, as his hungry eyes devoured the beauty of her face.
“It would have been worth it if I had stolen a whole squadron of
war-ships to come to see you in.”
“Tell me the beautiful alibi lie, Jimmy,” the girl insisted.
“You can’t appreciate the value of a lie until you know the truth,”
Jimmy began, inhaling his cigarette smoke. “The truth is this: I have
been in the aviation camp for eighteen months without a chance of
getting leave of absence to come to see you. The only chance I have ever
had to talk has been on your visits to your brother at the camp, and
those opportunities have been too few. Now, I am an expert airplane
mechanic, and in repairing machines I am permitted to try them out
before brave aviators like your brother are permitted to risk their
valuable lives in them. So this afternoon I repaired a machine and took
a trial flight which has extended for seventy miles, and which ended
just about four miles from Tickfall, and ten miles by automobile from
you. I came here to see you because I love you, and before I go back I
expect your promise to marry me!”
“Oh, how perfectly glorious!” the girl exclaimed. “That’s the truth!
Now, tell me the beautiful lie!”
“When I go back to the camp I shall tell them that I started out on a
trial flight, and had engine trouble; had to land in the heart of these
great Louisiana swamps, and lost my bearings. I shall tell them I spent
two days wandering in the wilderness like the children of Israel before
I found a human habitation. There I got help, made my repairs, and
hurried back!”
“That’s fine, Jimmy!” Juan exclaimed. “But will they believe it?”
“I don’t know. If you think it is too risky, suppose you promise to
marry me right now, and let me hurry back?”
“You’re joking, now, Jimmy,” the girl answered promptly. “You must save
your lies and jokes till you get back to camp. Maybe they’ll believe
them.”
The door opened, and a handsome gentleman stepped out upon the porch.
“Father,” the girl said, as they both rose to their feet, “this is Mr.
James Gannaway, from the aviation camp where brother is.”
“I welcome you, young man,” Mr. Chieniere exclaimed cordially. “I wish
you were my son come in from the camp.”
“I wish so, too,” Jim said simply, and his words held a meaning which
the father did not get.