CHAPTER II
Ann Sutherland Leighton was one of those rare religionists thatoccasionally bloom in a most unaccountable manner on a family treehaving its roots in the turf rather than clinging to Plymouth Rock.Isaac Sutherland, her father, had been knowing in horse-flesh, and wouldhave looked askance on the Reverend Orme Leighton as a suitor had he notalso been knowing in men. The truth was that in Leighton the man wasbigger than the parson, and to the conceded fact that all the worldloves a lover he added the prestige of the less-bandied truth that allthe world loves a fighter. He, also, knew horse-flesh. He finally wonAnn's father over on the day when Ike Sutherland learned to his costthat the Reverend Orme could discern through the back of his head thatdistension of the capsular ligament of the hock commonly termed a bogspavin.
Ann did not share her husband's extreme views. It was a personal loyaltythat had brought her uncomplaining to a far country, unbuoyed by theReverend Orme's dreams of a new state, but seeking with an inwardfervidness some scene of lasting peace wherewith to blot out the memoryof long years of turmoil and wholesale bereavement.
To her those first years in Consolation Cottage were long--long with theweight of six thousand miles from home. Then, with the suddeness ofanswered prayer, a light came into her darkness. He was named Shenton.Mammy's broad, homesick face broke into an undying smile. "Sho is mo'lak ole times, Mis' Ann, havin' a young Marster abeout." And when, twoyears later, on a Christmas day, Natalie was born, Mammy mixed smileswith tears and sobbed, "Oh, Mis' Ann, sho is mo' an' _mo'_ lak oletimes."
She, too, had her clinging memories of halls, now empty, that echoedonce to the cries and gurgling laughter of a race in full flower.
As Ann sat one evening on the embowered veranda looking away to thenorth, a child within the circle of each arm, the old aching in herbreast was stilled. The restless Leighton paused in his stride to gazethrough fiery, but gloomy, eyes upon his fair-haired baby daughter andhis son, pale, crowned with dark curls, and cried, with a toss of hisown dark mane: "As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man, so arechildren of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full ofthem!"
This realization of the preciousness of children in adversity paved theway for the reception of one who was to come to them from under theshadow of a family cloud, a certain mysterious personage of tenderyears, Lewis Leighton, by name.
For weeks the name of Lewis Leighton had been whispered about the house,first by the grown-ups and finally, when the Reverend Orme and his wifehad come to the great decision, by the children. The children knewnothing of the great decision nor did they know the sources of theirsudden joy. Their spirits were reaching out to clasp this new thread inlife at an age when all new threads are golden.
On the appointed day the Reverend Orme went to the nearest seaport tomeet the youthful voyager and convoy him home. As evening drew near,great was the excitement at Consolation Cottage. To Natalie and toShenton, the sudden arrival of an entirely new brother, not inswaddling-clothes, but handed down ready-made from the shelf, was anevent that loomed to unusual proportions. At last the great gate swungopen, and a cab rattled its leisurely way up the drive.
In an instant the children were on their feet, jumping up and down andclapping their hands. "Mother," shouted Shenton, "they're coming!"Little Natalie clambered in stumbling haste up the steps and clutchedMrs. Leighton's skirts. "Muvver," she cried, in an agony of ecstasy,"they're _coming!_"
"Yes, yes, dear; I see. Oh, look how you've rumpled your dress! Whatwill Lewis say to that? Come, Shenton, give mother your hand." Slowlyshe led them down the steps, her eyes fixed on the approaching cab.
The Reverend Orme sprang out and up to meet them. He kissed his wife andchildren. Shenton clung to his arm.
"O Dad," he cried, "didn't you bring him?"
"Bring him? I should say I did. Here, step out, young man."
A chubby face above a blouse, a short kilt and fat legs, appeared fromthe shadows of the cab. Grave eyes passed fearlessly over the group onthe steps until they settled on the broad black face of Mammy.
"Bad nigger!"
Mrs. Leighton gasped and arrested herself in the very movement ofwelcome. Mammy's genial face assumed a terrible scowl, her white eyesbulged, and her vast arms went suddenly akimbo.
"Wha' 's that yo' say, yo' young Marster?" she thundered.
"Go--go--_good_ nigger," stuttered the chubby face and smiled. With thathe was swept from the cab into Mrs. Leighton's arms, and Mammy, grinningfrom ear to ear, caught him by one fat leg and demanded in soft negrotones:
"Wha' fo' you call yo' mammy 'bad niggah,' young Marster? Ho! ho!'Go--go--_good_ niggah!' Did yo' hea' him, Mis' Ann?"
Shenton and Natalie jumped up and down, with, cries of "Please, Mother,"and "Muvver, oh, _please!_" Mrs. Leighton set Lewis on his feet betweenthem. Shenton held out his hand. "How d' ye."
"How do do," replied Lewis, gravely. Natalie was plucking at his arm. Heturned to her. They were almost of a size, but to Natalie he towered aninch above her. She held up her lips, and he kissed them. Then theystood and stared at each other. Natalie's short forefinger found its wayto her mouth.
"My dwess is wumpled," she said.
"I got a dog at home," declared Lewis--"a _big_ dog."