CHAPTER IX.
_"One touch of nature."_--Shakespeare.
As time wore on the family had, in some sort, at least, adjusted itselfto the new order of things. The dialect of the strapping Irish-woman whopresided over the kitchen of the small but comfortable new home, andthe no less unaccustomed speech of the natives, themselves, were a neverfailing source of amusement to the children and, indeed, to Griffithhimself. His old spirits seemed to return as he would repeat, withhis hearty laugh, the village gossip, couched in the village forms ofspeech.
Each day as he opened his _Cincinnati Gazette_ he would laugh out somebit of town news which he had overheard at the post-office or on hisway home. The varying forms of penuriousness exhibited in the dealingsbetween the fanners and the villagers impressed him as most amusingof all. The haggling over a few cents, or the payment of money betweenneighbors for fruit or milk or services of a nature which he had alwayslooked upon as ordinary neighborly courtesy, filled him with mirth. Oneday, shortly after their arrival, Beverly had brought his mother a dozenpeaches from a neighbor's yard. The boy had supposed when asked if hismother would not like them that they were intended as a present. Hethanked the owner heartily and said that he was sure his mother wouldvery greatly enjoy.
"After he gave them to me," the boy said, indignantly, "'Six cents wuth,an' cheap at that!' says he, and held out his hand! Well, I couldhave fainted! Selling twelve peaches to a neighbor! Why, a mountaineerwouldn't do that! And then he had _asked_ me to take them! I had tencents in my pocket and I handed it to him and walked off. He yelledsomething to me about change, but I never looked back."
His father enjoyed the joke, as he called it, immensely. He chuckledover it again and again as he sat in the twilight.
One day late in that summer--the summer of '57--the children wereattracted by a great uproar and noise in the street. A group of schoolchildren, some street loafers, and a few mature but curious, growncitizens were gathered about an object in the middle of the street.Hoots and shouts of derision went up. A half-witted girl circled slowlyabout the outskirts of the crowd making aimless motions and passes withher hands toward the object of interest. Voices clashed with voicesin an effort to gain coherent sound and sense. Was it a bear or a handorgan? The children ran to see. Beverly followed more slowly. Beverlyseemed a young man now, so sedate and dignified was this oldest son.
"What is it?"
"Look out there! Look out there! It's going that way!"
"What? What you say? Who?"
"Who is Mosgrif? No man by that name don't live here."
"Nigger, nigger, pull a trigger, never grow an inch a bigger!"
"Get her some soap! Let's take her and give her a wash!"
"What? Who? Shut up your noise there, will you, Dave Benton. She'saskin' fer somebody--some feller she knows. Who?"
There was a pause in the progress of the procession as it reached Mr.Davenport's side gate. Beverly was craning his neck to see over theheads of the crowd. His two brothers took a surer method. They dodgedunder arms and between legs and were making straight for the center ofthe crowd where they had heard an accustomed voice.
"What I axes yo' alls is, whah's my Mos' Grif! Dey done tole me downyander dat he lib down dis a-way. Whah's my Mos' Grif's house? I got terfine my Mos' Grif!"
"Aunt Judy! Aunt Judy!" shrieked the two younger boys, in mad delight."It's Aunt Judy! Oh, Beverly, come quick! She's hurt! She's been struckwith a rock! Come quick--quick!"
LeRoy had reached the old woman, who began to tremble and cry as soonas she felt that friends were indeed near. She threw her arms about hisneck and half-sobbed with joy. Then she tried to pick up the younger boyin her arms, as of old, but her strength gave way, and she fell on herknees beside her bundle and stick. A laughing shout went up. Dave Bentonshied a small stone at her.
"How dare you! How dare you! you common loafers!" shrieked LeRoy, whitewith rage. He struck out with both fists at those who were nearest. "Howdare you throw at Aunt Judy! How dare you, you low-down--!"
Words failed him, and he was choking with rage, but both fists werefinding a mark on the visage of the prostrate Dave. His fists and theastonishment felt at the sight of white children caressing and callingthe old black creature "aunty" had served to clear a space about them.Every one had fallen back. The halfwitted girl alone remained with thecenter group, making aimless passes, with ill-regulated hands, at AuntJudy. So absorbing was this strange creature to the bewildered sensesthat not even the struggling boys on the ground at her feet served todivert her gaze from the old black face.
"His aunt's a nigger!"
"Kissed her, by gum!"
"They're the Virginia preacher's kids!"
"Never knew before that some of their kin was niggers!"
Dave Benton was now on top, and Howard was pulling at his leg in aneffort to help his brother. Suddenly Roy swirled on top and grasped thehelpless Dave by the throat.
"You let her alone, you dirty little--devil!" he ground out between histeeth, "or I'll _kill_ you!"
His rage was so intense, his face was so set and livid, that it lookedas if he might execute the threat before the astonished and half-amusedbystanders realized the danger. Beverly sprang to the rescue. He hadhustled Judy through the side gate and into the house with Howard.
"LeRoy! LeRoy! stop--stop! Get up! let go! Get up this instant!" hecommanded, loosening the boy's grasp. "Look at that blood! Father willbe so ashamed of you!"
He pushed the boy ahead of him and the door closed behind them, leavinga hooting mob outside and Dave Benton with a bleeding nose and a verysore head.
"Got a nigger fer a ant, by gosh!" exclaimed one, as they turned slowlyaway, leaving the weak-minded girl alone circling about the gate, makinginarticulate noises and movements of indirection at the house and itscurious and uncanny new occupant.
But LeRoy's blows and his taunts bore fruit in due season. A week later,Dave Benton's father, who had nursed his wrath, caused service to bemade upon Mr. Davenport to show cause why he was not infringing the lawand the State constitution by keeping in his service a free negro. Mr.Davenport explained to the court that he had not brought her into theState and was in no way responsible for her having come. Indeed, Judywould not or could not tell exactly how she had managed it herself. Thatshe had been helped forward by some one seemed evident. But Griffith'splea would not suffice. She was here. He was avowedly the cause of hercoming. She was a free negro. He was giving her employment. That wasagainst the State constitution. Clearly, she must be sent away. Griffithconsulted with a lawyer. The lawyer gravely stated, in open court, thatthe old negro was a guest, and not an employe, of the Davenport family.The judge smiled. There was no law, no constitutional provision,no statute to prevent a family from having negro guests in Indiana;provided they would give bond for the good behavior during life, andburial in case of death, of such guest!
"By gum! I reckon she _is_ kin to'em, shore'nuff!" remarked Dave'sfather, _sotto voce_. "Wonder which one's sister she is--her'n orhis'n?"
"Do' know, but it's one er t'other; fer all three o' the boys call herant, 'n' the little gal, too. She rides on her back. Seen her out in theyard t'other day."
"'Fore I'd let one o' _mine_ kiss a nigger 'n ride on her back!"
"Well, _I_ should smile!"
"Sh! What's that the jedge said?"
"Goin't' take it under 'dvisement, perviden' Davenport agrees t'bind hisself--give bon'." And so it came about, as I told you in thebeginning, that this man, who was already a lawbreaker in his nativeState, unblushingly became a law-evader in the State of his adoption;for the papers were duly drawn up and finally signed and executed. AuntJudy was officially and legally declared not to be employed by, butto be a visitor in, the family; "and, furthermore, it is declared andagreed, that, in case of her becoming indigent, or in case of her deathwhile within the borders of the State, the aforenamed Rev. GriffithDavenport binds himself, his heirs and assigns, to support while living,or bury in case of the death of
the aforenamed Judy Davenport (colored);and, furthermore, agrees that she shall in no manner whatsoever becomea charge upon the State of Indiana. The expenses of this procedure to bepaid, also, by the said Rev. Griffith Davenport."
"I reckon my conscience is getting a little tough, Katherine," said herhusband, smiling, that night as he recited the matter to the family."I signed that paper with precious little compunction--and yet it _was_evading the law, pure and simple--so far as the intent goes! Fancy AuntJudy looking upon herself as a guest of the family! Ha! ha! ha! ha!"The idea so amused him that he laughed uproariously. Five minutes laterthere floated out on to the porch, where Judy sat with the childrentelling them wonderful tales of Washington, the notes of "Joy to theworld! The Lord has come!" "De _good_ Lawd, bless my soul!" exclaimedthe old woman, listening, "I ain't heerd nothin' so good as dat soun'ter me, sense yo' alls runned away! Dat sholy do soun' like ole times!Hit sholy do!"
Rosanna, the Irish cook, sniffed. She was hanging out of the kitchenwindow listening to aunt Judy's tales of adventure. "She do talkthe quarest, schure, an' it's barely the rear av her remarks thet aChristian can understhand;" mumbled Rosanna to herself.
"Well, but how about the twins, Aunt Judy? You said you'd tell us allabout the twins just as soon as supper was over. Now, hurry, or I'llhave to go to bed,".urged Howard.
The old woman shifted around in her chair to make sure the ears ofRosanna were not too near and lowered her voice to a stage whisper.
"Honey, dem dar twins is des so spilt dat dey is gettin' tainty!"
"Bad, you mean?" asked Roy.
"Dat's wat I said, an' dat's wat I sticks to. Dey's so spilte dey'stainty. Bad! Why bad ain't no name fo' hit. Dey is mouldy. De onliestreason why dey ain't in the lock-up is kase dey ain't got ketched up widyit. Dey gwine ter git dar, sho' as yoh bawn. Dey is dat!"
"I don't believe it. I don't believe the twins are so bad. You are justmad at 'em. They--" Roy was always a partisan.
"Look a heah, honey, yoh don't know what yoh's talkin' 'bout. Dem twinsis plum spilte, I tell yoh. Jerry, he's a teamin' an' he can't watch'em,an' dey maw she's a wuckin' fo' one er dem Congressers, an' dem twins isdes plum run wile."
"Perhaps you expect too much of the morals of Washington," suggestedBeverly, winking at Roy to give the old woman full sway.
"Mo'ls! mo'ls! Why, lawsy, honey, yoh don' know what yoh talkin' 'boutno mo' dan Mos' Roy do. Dey _ain't_ no mo'ls in Washin-ton--white _ner_black. Mebby dem dar folks had some 'f o dey cum dar; but dey sholy didleave de whole lot back in de place whah dey cum fum! Dey sholy diddat. Mo'ls! In Washin'ton? Dey ain't none dar!" She shook her finger atBeverly.
Roy saw his opportunity as she started for the door to shut off furtherquestions. "Oh! go away, Aunt Judy, you don't know what morals are," hesaid, "that's all. In Washington they are government property and theykeep'em in tin cans. Of course you didn't _see_ any."
"Dey dun los' de opener t' dat can, too," she remarked, hobbling upthe steps. Many and blood-curdling had been her stories of life atthe capital. In her opinion, the seat of government had no redeemingqualities. "Stay dar? Why, dis chile wouldn't stay dar fo' no 'mount o'money, ner fer _nobody_. She's got too much self-'spect fer _dat_, degood Lawd he do know. Stay dar? No, sah!"
"Well, the others are getting along all right, I'll bet you," piped upHoward, as her foot struck the top step. She turned.
"I ain't gwine ter tell yoh no mo' to-night. I'se gwine ter bed; butwat I knows is des dis: De way dey gets 'long, dey goes t' dat dar Mr.Lawyer an' gits dat money Mos' Grif done lef. De fus' mont' dey sholydus lib high; de nex' mont' dey sorter scrabbles erlong, an' de las'mont' dey sholy is hawd times. Dey ain't no use talking, dey sholy isdat! Now I'm des' gwine in 'n take a good big jorum of pepsissiway formy stummick, 'n git erlong ter my bed, fore do rasters'gin ter crow fermawnin'." And she disappeared in the darkness, shaking her head andreiterating the refrain, as to the badness of those twins.
The story of Aunt Judy's travels, in so far as she vouchsafed to tellthem and not to resort to fiction or silence--her adventures by land andwater, by wagon and rail, in search of "Mos' Grif," spread far and wide.The old woman could not set her foot outside of the door without afollowing of boys and girls, and, as a faithful historian, it wouldlittle avail me to omit, also, of men and of women, who hooted, staredat and otherwise indicated that she was less than human and more thancurious. She was the pariah of the village, albeit LeRoy's fists haddone their perfect work in that she was no more stoned. But she wascontent--so, at least, she asserted--and not even the longing forJeny and Ellen and those badly-spoiled twins (of whom she never tiredtalking) served to convince her that there could be, on all this greenearth, any home for her except, alone, the one that sheltered "Mos' Grifan' Mis' Kath'rine an' dat blessed baby," now grown too large to be ababy longer except alone to this loving old soul, to whom, forever, shewas "my baby."
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