AUNT ALVIRAH'S BACK AND BONES
Ruth came to the kitchen door and found that the lower half was
closed; but she could see over the upper panel that had been flung
wide to let in the sweet Spring air and sunlight. A little old woman
was stooping to brush the rag carpet with a whisk broom and dustpan,
and as she hobbled around the big stove and around the table, which
was already set neatly for dinner, she was crooning to herself:
"Oh, my back and oh, my bones! Oh, my back and oh, my bones!"
She was a very neat-looking old lady, with a kerchief crossed on her
breast in the style of the old-fashioned Quakeresses. She was not much
taller than Ruth herself, for when she stood upright--or as upright
as she could stand--her eyes were just about on a level with Ruth's
eyes looking in over the half door.
But the face of the old lady seemed, to the lonely, tear-filled girl,
almost the gentlest, sweetest face she had ever seen, as it slowly
smiled upon her. Aunt Alviry's welcome was like the daybreak.
"Bless us and save us!" ejaculated she, rising upright by degrees with
her hand upon the back she had been apostrophizing. "If here isn't a
pretty little creeter come to see her Aunt Alviry. How-de-do, girl?"
Ruth had set down her bag. Now she opened the door and stepped in. The
smile of the old lady broke down every bit of fortitude the girl had
left and she walked directly into Aunt Alviry's arms and burst into
tears.
"There! there! Deary, deary me!" murmured the little old lady, patting
her shoulder. "Somebody has been treating you badly, I know. And
you've come right to your Aunt Alviry for comfort. And you've come to
the right place, my pretty girl, for I've got tons of comfort for ye."
She found a chair and lowered herself into it, not without the formula
which Ruth had heard before, of "Oh, my back and oh, my bones!" Ruth
dropped on her knees before her, hid her face in the old lady's lap,
and had her cry out. Meanwhile Aunt Alvirah seemed to have taken in
several things about her guest that were significant. She touched the
stuff of which Ruth's gown was made, and nodded; even the black
hair-ribbon did not go unnoticed.
"Now," said Ruth, rising after a few moments, "I guess that's all of
that foolishness. I--I don't usually cry, Aunt Alvirah."
"Pshaw, now! I could tell that," said the old lady, comfortably.
"I am going right to work to help you," said the girl. "I can stoop
better than you can."
"I expect you can, you pretty creeter," admitted the old lady.
Ruth had already taken the brush and pan and was at work upon the
floor. The lady said: "You ain't familiar to me, child. You've lost
some folks lately, I see. Do you live 'round here?"
The little girl stopped and looked up at her in surprise. "Why, don't
you know about it?" she cried.
"Know about what, child?"
"Didn't you know I had come here to live with you?"
"Bless us and save us!" ejaculated Aunt Alvirah. "How did that
happen?"
"Didn't my uncle tell you?" cried Ruth, much more surprised than the
old lady.
"Who's your uncle, child?"
"Why, Mr. Potter--Uncle Jabez."
So astonished did the old lady appear to be that she started from her
chair and her ejaculation was changed to a moan of pain as she
murmured her old formula: "Oh, my back and oh, my bones!"
"Jabez ain't said a word to me about it. Why should he take anybody to
help me? Is he struck with the fear o' his latter end?"
She said this in no cross-grained way, but because she was so amazed.
She likewise stared harder and harder at her visitor.
"You ain't come from the poor farm, child?" she asked, finally.
The flush upon Ruth's cheek and the expression which came into her
face told Aunt Alviry that she was wrong there.
"Not that you look like poorhouse breed--not at all. You're too
pretty dressed and you're too well fed. I know what they be there, for
I have been there myself. Yes, ma'am! Jabez Potter came after me to
the poor farm. I was sickly, too. There's them that said he went to
Doctor Davison first to find out if I was goin' to git well before he
come arter me; but Jabez ain't never treated me noways but kind. Starn
he is--by natur and by practice; an' clost he is in money matters.
But he's been good to an old woman without a home who warn't neither
kith nor kin to him."
Ruth listened to the first good word she had heard of Uncle Jabez, and
the speech comforted her somewhat. Perhaps there was something better
within the rough husk of Uncle Jabez, after all.
"I did not live near here," Ruth said, quietly. "But my papa and mama
did. I came from Darrowtown."
Aunt Alviry opened wide her bright brown eyes, and still stared in
wonder.
"My mother's name was Mary Potter, and she was Mr. Potter's niece. So
he is my great-uncle."
"Bless us and save us!" ejaculated Aunt Alviry, again, shaking her
head. "I never heard a word of it--never! I 'member Mary Potter, and
a sweet, pretty child she was. But Jabez never had no fondness for any
of his kin. You--you are all alone in the world, child?"
"All alone save for Uncle Jabez."
She had come near to the old woman again. As she dropped quietly on
her knees Aunt Alviry gathered her head close to her bosom; but Ruth
did not weep any more. She only said:
"I know I shall love you very, very much, dear Aunt Alvirah. And I
hope I shall help your back and your bones a great deal, too!"