CHAPTER X
AT MILKING-TIME
As if by mutual consent the owners of the rejected cattle slowlydeparted. They had awaited the outcome of the Sands-Chester transactionrather from curiosity than any doubt as to the result.
Oliver Sands was an upright Friend. He was, also, locally known as a"slick trader." What he set out to do he generally did. Moreover, thoughhe dwelt in a plainly furnished farmhouse, his farm comprised therichest acres of the table-land crowning the mountain, and his flocksand herds were the largest in the county. His flour mill did a thrivingbusiness. Some said that its thrift was due, in part, to the amount oftoll extracted from his neighbors' grists; but this, of course, was aheresy unproved. Nor did many of even these disgruntled folk grumbleopenly. They dared not. Oliver "held them in his hand," as the sayingwent, having mortgages upon almost all the smaller farms adjacent to hisown--intent upon sometime adding them to his, at that dreaded day whenhe should see fit to "foreclose."
With the miller's departure from the scene the horse-owners had theirchance, and took it promptly; but the prices asked for the severalsteeds which were now "put through their paces" were far and away beyondthe balance left in the Chesters' power to pay. Therefore, short workwas made of this part of the memorable sale and the grounds were rapidlydeserted of nearly all.
Bill Barry lingered to the last, and finding himself still unsuccessful,relieved his disappointment by a parting fling:
"Well, neighbor, after all I dunno as you will _need_ a hoss--ary kindof one, seein's you've got Hannah! That creatur's a repytation for speed'at puts my sorrel here out of the runnin'. Lively, Hannah is, an' nomistake. Old Olly's head's leveler than this mountain-side, even if hismouth is mealier 'n his own flour bags. Well, good-day. If youshouldn't get suited, lemme know. I'll drive right up."
The silence that fell upon Skyrie then seemed intense, but mostdelightful; and for a few moments all its household felt the need ofrest. They sat without speaking, for a time, till a low from thebarnyard reminded them that their "family" had increased and might needattention. Who was to give it?
With a smile, half of vexation, mother Martha suddenly exclaimed:
"We've begun at the wrong end of things! 'Put the cart before thehorse.' We needed a pig, a cow, a horse, and a man. Well, the man shouldhave been our first to secure. Then he could have looked after the otherthings. Oh! hum! What a day this has been!"
"Yes. Country life _does_ seem to be rather exciting," agreed Mr.Chester, idly poking the end of his crutch among the weeds along thewide stone where his chair had been placed. "A lawsuit, a stock-sale,and an introduction to 'Society'--all in one morning."
"But we didn't get the horse!" said Dorothy C., who liked matters to becompletely finished, once they had been undertaken; and whose fancy hadbeen unduly stirred by the sight of Bucephalus. She had then and theredecided that she, too, would become a finished equestrian as soon aspossible; though she had seen none among the horses just exhibited thatcompared with Herbert's mount.
"The horse can wait," returned Mrs. Chester, in a tone of relief. "Yet,for your sake, John, it should have been our first purchase."
"After that necessary 'man,' my dear!"
But Mrs. Chester was in no mood for joking. The reaction from excitementhad set in, and she let her husband's jest fall to the ground where itbelonged. If only that unfortunate advertisement had done the same! Theywould not then have been so annoyed by an overflow of traders nor beenrendered the laughing-stock of the community. Besides it was now pastnoon and dinner must be prepared; so she rose to go indoors, suggestingto Dorothy:
"It might be well to see if Hannah and the calf need water. You can takethat old pail I use to scrub from and carry them a drink. Take but ahalf-pailful at a time. You're too young to lift heavy things, yet."
"All right: but, mother, that generous old man didn't say what thecalf's name was. And isn't Hannah the oddest for--a cow? Real Quakerishit sounds to me. What shall you name your dear little pig? May I call mydarling calf Jewel? Just to think! I never, never dreamed I should havea real live little calf for my very, very own!"
"May your Jewel prove a diamond of the first water!" cried father John,always sympathetic.
But mother Martha was carefully counting the contents of her depletedpocket-book and her tone was rather sharp as she answered:
"It's a poor pig that can't live without a name: and--I'm afraid thatold Quaker gentleman was not--was not quite so generous as he seemed. Acalf requires milk. A calf that 'runs with its mother' generally getsit; and----" She paused so long that her husband added:
"What becomes of the family that owns the calf? Is that what you werethinking, my dear? No matter! So long as that lowing mother and childwere not cruelly 'separated' everything is right. May I come and peelthe potatoes for you?"
For helpless to do great things for his household the crippled man hadinsisted upon his right to do small ones; but it always hurt his wife'spride to see her once stalwart husband doing "woman's work," so he neverattempted it without permission.
This time she nodded consent, and promptly brought him a basin of them,while she sat down to shell a measure of pease procured that morningfrom a passing huckster. She felt that they could talk as they worked,and indeed there was much to discuss. Until her return everything hadbeen absorbed by Dorothy's fortunes; and even still it was thought ofDorothy which lay closest to both their hearts.
"But Dolly brought down to a real bread-and-butter basis! We arecompelled to make our living and hers out of this run-down farm. Now,how to begin? Shall I sit by the roadside and ask every man who passesby if he wants to hire himself out 'on shares'? Or will you riskanother advertisement, compounded by yourself?" inquired Mr. Chester."Help we must have."
"Yes, we must. If I could only get hold of some of the strong, idle,colored men loafing the streets of Baltimore! They, or he, would be justwhat we need."
"Maybe not, my dear. In any case we haven't one, nor time to import one.Probably he would be discontented if we got one. We'll have to depend on'local talent' and--hear that cow 'Moo!' Sounds as if she werehomesick."
"Poor thing! probably she is. I am--a little, myself," returned motherMartha, rising to put her vegetables on to boil. "Also, I consider thatwe have accomplished sufficient for one morning. Let's rest on it andwait what may turn up; fortunately Hannah can live upon grass--the wholefarm is grass, or weeds----"
"And the calf can live upon Hannah! My dear, country life is making youa philosopher: and here comes our girl as ready for her dinner as I am.I'll take a bit of a nap while she sets the table, and the sooner I'mcalled to it the better. No trouble with our appetites since we came toSkyrie," rejoined the ex-postman, crossing to the lounge and settlinghimself, not for the "nap" he had mentioned but to best consider thatfarming question, almost a hopeless one to him.
The afternoon passed quietly, varied by frequent visits on the part ofmother Martha and Dorothy to their respective possessions of live stock,tethered by the barn. All seemed going well. Hannah had ceased to lowand lay upon the grass contentedly chewing her cud, while her festiveoffspring gamboled around as far as its rope-length would permit.
As for the unnamed pig, it had rooted for itself a soft muddy bed, andfrom having been well fed, earlier in the day, was contented to lie andslumber in the sunshine.
Contemplation of the creatures gave Martha great pleasure, till Dorothysuddenly propounded the question:
"Who's going to milk Hannah? That nice Quaker man said 'twice a day,'and 'ten quarts at a time.'"
For a moment Mrs. Chester did not answer; then she looked up and, as ifin reply to her own perplexity, beheld Jim Barlow.
"O my lad! Never anybody more welcome. You can milk, of course?"
"Yes, ma'am, I should say so. Mis' Calvert she sent me over to see ifyou needed anything. She said as how none your folks was used to farmin'and she's got a right smart o' curiosity over how you came out with youradvertisement. More'n that, here's a letter she had
Ephraim fetchup-mounting, when he druv down for her mail. She said I was to tell you't all your letters could be put with her'n if you wanted; so's to saveyou or Dorothy walking way to the office."
"All our letters won't be many and she is very kind. Please thank herfor us and tell her that--that--Jim, would you like to change 'bosses'and come to work for us at Skyrie?" asked Mrs. Chester with suddeninspiration.
"No, ma'am, I wouldn't," answered the lad, with unflattering promptness."I mean--you know----"
"Oh! don't try to smooth that over, pray. It was a mere thought of mine,knowing how fond you were, or seemed to be, of our girl. But, ofcourse, you wouldn't. The comforts and conveniences of our little homecan't compare with Deerhurst. Only----" said the lady, somewhatsarcastically, and on the point of adding: "It's better than MirandaStott's." But she left her sentence unfinished and it was kinder so.
Poor Jim saw that he had offended. Even Dorothy's brown eyes hadflashed, perceiving her mother's discomfiture, but though his faceflushed to find himself thus misunderstood he did not alter, nor soften,his decision. He merely stated the case as he regarded it:
"If I could make two of myself I'd be glad to. I'd just admire to takehold this job an' clear the weeds an' rubbidge offen Skyrie. Not 't Ithink it'll ever be wuth shucks--for farmin': the land's all run tomullein an' stun. But I could make it a sight better 'n it is an' itmight grow plenty of them posies Dorothy's so tickled with. If it couldbe stocked now--Mis' Stott used to say that keepin' lots o' cattle wasto be looked at both ways; what they leave on the land in manure fetchesit up, an' what they eat offen it fetches it down. She kep' more calvesan' yearlin's than 'peared like she'd ought to, but she raised a powerof stuff for market, 'count of 'em. If I was you folks I'd put my moneyinto yearlin's fust thing," said this young farmer, rendered talkativeby his novel position as adviser.
Dorothy was disgusted. This didn't seem like the old, subservient Jimshe was familiar with and she disliked his plainness of speech. Sheimproved the occasion by calling his attention to Jewel:
"See my calf? That's my very own! She was a present to me this very day,Jim Barlow, and I've named her Jewel. Maybe, though, I'll change that to'Daisy.' I've read stories where cows were called 'Daisies,' and she'llbe a cow sometime, and I shall sell her milk to get money."
"Pshaw! Looks like good stock, that calf does; 's if 't might make anice steer, but 'twon't never be a _cow_ to give milk. 'Tain't that kindof a calf; and after all, raisin' young cattle is a power of work. Theyrun over fences an' fall into hollers, an' Mis' Stott she used to say,sometimes, she didn't know but they did eat their own heads off;meanin' their keep cost more than they was wuth--time they was ready forkillin'. If I was you, Dorothy, I'd fat that calf up, quick's I could,then sell him to the butcher for veal," further advised this practicalyouth.
"O you horrid boy! You--you--I never saw anybody who could dash coldwater on people's happiness as you can! You--you're as hateful as youcan be!" cried Dorothy, venting all her disappointment in anger againsthim.
Now it happened that that same morning, at Seth Winters's office, theuntutored farm boy had seen and envied the ease of manner with whichhandsome Herbert Montaigne had won his way into the favor of Mrs.Calvert and had instantly made friends with Dorothy. Then and there,something sharp and bitter had stolen into Jim's big heart and had senthim speeding out of sight--eager to hide himself and his uncouthnessfrom these more fortunate folk, whose contrast to himself was sopainful. Dorothy--why, even Dorothy--had, apparently, been captivated bythe dashing Herbert to the utter neglect of her former friend; and,maybe, that was what had hurt the most. Incipient jealousy had stungJim's nobler nature and now made him say with unconscious wistfulness:
"I'm sorry, girlie. You--you didn't think so--always."
The girl had turned her back upon him, in her indignation, but at thealtered tone she faced about, while a swift recollection of all that sheowed to him sent the tears to her eyes and her to clasp her arms abouthis neck and kiss him soundly, begging:
"O Jim! forgive me! I didn't mean--I forgot. _You_ never can be horridto me. I don't like to have my things made fun of--I never was given acalf before--I--Kiss me, Jim Barlow, and say you do!"
To the bashful lad this outburst was more painful than jealousy. Hisface grew intensely red and he did not return the kiss. On the contraryhe very promptly removed her clinging arms, with his protesting:
"Pshaw! What ails you, Dorothy?"
Then he forced himself to look towards Mrs. Chester and to return to thereal business of the moment. Fortunately, that lady was not evensmiling. She was too accustomed to her child's impulsiveness to heed it,and she had resolved to act upon the principle that "half a loaf isbetter than no bread." In other words, she would improve this chance ofgetting some fit quarters for the pig, which had roused and begun tomake its presence evident. She scarcely even heard Jim's attemptedexplanation:
"You see, Mis' Chester, 'twas Mis' Calvert that took me up an' set outto make a man of me. I disappointed her fust time she trusted me, andI've got to stay long enough to show I ain't so wuthless as I seemed._I've got to._ More'n that, the gardener she's had so long is so old an'sot in his ways he don't get more'n half out the soil 't he'd ought to.I'm goin' to show him what Maryland folks can do! That truck o' his'n?Why, bless your heart, he couldn't sell it to Lexington Market, try hisdarnedest: nor Hollins', nor Richmond, nor even Ma'sh Market--where poorfolks buy. Huh! No, I can't leave. But I'll come work for you-all everyminute I can get, without neglectin' Mis' Calvert."
"O Jim! That's lovely of you, but you mustn't do that. It would be toogreat a sacrifice. You planned to study every minute you were notworking or sleeping, and you must. It's your chance. You must, Jim dear.You know you're to be President--or something big--and you're to make mevery, very proud of you. Some way, somebody will be found,--to farm poorSkyrie!" returned Dorothy, eagerly, yet unable to resist the lastreproach.
"Now, Mis' Chester, I can, an' ought, to get that pig into a pen 'foredark. Is there any old lumber 'round, 't you can spare?" asked the lad,rolling up his blouse sleeves, preparatory to labor.
"There's an old dog-churn in the cellar, that Alfaretta Babcock knockedto pieces the time----"
"Speaking of Babcock, ma'am, that is my name: and I've come to hireout," said a queer unknown voice, so near and so suddenly that motherMartha screamed; then having whirled about to see whence the voice came,screamed again.