With a consciousness born of innocence, "Al-f-u-r-d" pulled himself up
to his full height, running his thumbs under his first pair of elastic
suspenders, a present from Cousin Charley, who had remarked as he
adjusted them: "None of my relations will run around here with one
gallus when I've got money."
"Yes, sir," chirped "Al-f-u-r-d," "we was out to your house but you
weren't at home. Cousin Charley went after his pertaters. He wanted to
bring mother hers and Jane McCune and Tommy Ryan."
The Captain was nodding his head approvingly at "Al-f-u-r-d,"
encouraging him to go on. The father was so confused he could not listen
longer, and casting a look at "Al-f-u-r-d" that boded him no good, the
mother and Lin were called into the room, and the Captain, in a half
apologetic manner explained:
"Charley came to me with a long story about his father driving him from
home and telling him he would have to go out and dig for himself. He
used the phrase, 'dig for himself' so often that I, in a half joking
way, arranged with Charley to dig potatoes on shares. He dug one day. I
don't know how many potatoes he dug as me and my folks were visiting the
Lenhearts. Afore we got home last night, Charley came out there with
your horse and wagon and hauled away all the potatoes he dug during the
day and all my boys had dug and sacked the past week. I don't know how
many he took but old man Bedler at the toll gate said the boys had on a
full load."
Then "Al-f-u-r-d" counting on his fingers, said: "Yes, mother got seven
bushels, Tommy Ryan got eight bushels and he's to get two more bushels
tomorrow night, and Jim Bench five bushels and will take all Cousin
Charley kin bring him. And Jane McCune got five bushels and she didn't
have the money. But Charley says if she don't pay him he'll steal her
dog."
The Captain was laughing heartily but politely. The father and mother
looked as if they had been convicted of larceny.
Lin jerked out: "Well, ef that don't beat the bugs. A-stealin'
pertaters. I'd as soon be ketched stealin' sheep. I tell ye now, that
Charley's headed fer the pinitentiary."
This speech seemed to crush the father and mother. They felt somehow as
if they were implicated. But Captain Abrams apologized in every way for
annoying them. They all seated themselves, the blinds pulled down and a
solemn compact entered into that the matter never be referred to again.
The father paid for the potatoes, taking "Al-f-u-r-d's" figures.
"Al-f-u-r-d" was warned if he ever mentioned the affair outside of home
that he would be sent to the House of Refuge.
The family felt that they were everlastingly disgraced. The mother felt
it most keenly. The father was half disposed to hold "Al-f-u-r-d" partly
responsible and a trip to the cellar was strongly threatened. But Lin
interfered by saying:
"Why, his mother and me is wus than 'Al-f-u-r-d'. Any grown body'd
knowed Charley couldn't dig that many pertaters in a week, let alone a
day."
Time wore on and the potato episode was seemingly forgotten. The family
felt that the disgrace had been lived down and all were thankful the
matter had not become the talk of the town.
Uncle Bill, Charley's father, was a good talker, fond of argument and
usually the center of a group, particularly when political or religious
subjects were under discussion. A long bench in front of Bill Isler's
tin shop, ranged close up to the building. The town pump stood across
the ten feet wide sidewalk opposite.
It was a pleasing sight to look upon this gathering of inequality of
rank and property and equality of intellect discussing all questions,
the affairs of their neighbors in particular.
[Illustration: Uncle Bill and the Boys]
There was a full bench: Joe Gibbons, Barney Barnhart, Jase Baker, Billy
Graham, Birney Wilkins, and George Muckle Fee. Fee was a peculiar
character, with an unusual deformity, since his neck was bent like a
huge bow, not unlike a limb with the knee bent, his face looking to the
ground. To look to either side he must turn his entire body. The only
human being he ever thought kindly of was his wife, Susan. He always
spoke of her respectfully. Some people he hated more intensely than
others. Uncle Bill was an especial mark of his vituperation. When they
passed on the street George would turn his body half way around to
mutter and curse him--however, not that Uncle Bill could hear.
George's usual position at the gathering in the evening was back against
the old pump facing those seated on the bench, with lowered face and
upturned eyes, looking from one speaker to another, scowling or smiling
as the remarks met with his approval or otherwise.
The subject under discussion was "boys." A number of boys of the town,
almost grown men, had been apprehended stealing scrap iron.
Uncle Bill, as usual, had the center of the stage. He had about
concluded a lengthy discourse as to the management of boys, bad boys in
particular, and as usual concluded by relating for the hundredth time,
how he managed his boys.
"I just called 'em up and says: 'Boys, I've raised you up to what you
are and I've done for you all a parent could do. You're strong and able
to do for yourselves and don't depend on me longer. Go out in the world
and dig for yourselves.'"
Fee, squirting a flood of tobacco juice with the words, said: "Yes, and
ef they'd all dig like Charley did, you'd had purtaters to last you a
life time."
The roars of laughter that went up were convincing proof that there are
no secrets sacred in a small town.