Then Mis' Poteet she cried the top of Shoofly's head so soaking wet it
give her a sneeze, and we all had to laugh. But she never answered me
what they was a-going to do, and you know, Cal Rucker, I ain't slept
nights thinking about 'em, and where they'll move, have I?"
"Naw, you shore ain't--nor let me neither," answered the poet in a
depressed tone of voice.
"I mighter known that Miss Viney woulder taken it up-headed and
a-lined it out in the scriptures to suit herself until she wasn't deep
in the grieving no more, but little Mis' Amandy's a-going to break my
heart, as tough as it is, if she don't git comfort soon," continued
Mrs. Rucker with a half sob. "Last night in the new moonlight I got up
to go see if I hadn't left my blue waist out in the dew, which mighter
faded it, and I saw something white over in the Briar's yard. I went
across to see if they had left any wash out that hadn't oughter be in
the dew, and there I found her in her little, short old nightgown and
big slippers with the little wored-out gray shawl 'round her shoulders
a-digging around the Maiden Blush rose-bush, putting in new dirt and
just a-crying soft to herself, all trembling and hurt. I went in and
set down by her on the damp grass, me and my rheumatism and all, took
her in my arms like she were Petie, and me and her had it out. It's
the graves she's a-grieving over, we all a-knowing that she's leaving
buried what she have never had in life, and I tried to tell her that
no matter who had the place they would let her come and--"
"Oh, durn him, durn him! I'm a-going clear to the city to git old Gid
and beat the liver outen him!" exclaimed young Bob, while his
sunburned face worked with emotion and his gruff young voice broke as
he rose and walked to the door.
Pages:
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165