Please, mam, burn them papers!"
"Oh, I wouldn't tell her for the world if you don't want me to, Mr.
Rucker!" exclaimed Rose Mary in distress. "But I am sure she would be
proud of--"
"No, it looks like women don't take to poetry for a husband; they
prefers the hefting of a hoe and plow handles. It's hard on Mis'
Rucker that I ain't got no constitution to work with, and I feel it
right to keep all my soul-squirmings and sech outen her sight. The
other night as I was a-putting Petie to bed, while she and Bob was at
the front gate a-trying to trade on that there plowing, a mighty sweet
little verse come to me about
"'The little shoes in mother's hand
Nothing like 'em in the land,'
and the tears was in my eyes so thick 'cause I didn't have nobody to
say 'em to that one dropped down on Pete and made him think I was
a-going to wash his face, and sech another ruckus as she had to come
in to, as mad as hops! If I feel like it, I'm a-going to clean every
weed outen the garden for her next week to try and make up to her
for--"
"Aw, Mr. Rucker, M-i-s-t-e-r Rucker, come home to get ready for
supper," came in a loud, jovial voice that carried across the street
like the tocsin of a bass drum. The Rucker home sat in a clump of
sugar maples just opposite the Briars, and was square, solid and
unadorned of vine or flower. A row of bright tin buckets hung along
the picket fence that separated the yard from the store enclosure, and
rain-barrels sat under the two front gutters with stolid
practicability, in contrast to the usual relegation of such
store-houses of the rainfall to the back of the house and the planting
of ferns and water plants under the front sprouts, as was the custom
from the beginning of time in Sweetbriar.
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