CHAPTER VII
FLORA MAY
Soon after this, Pippin took the road, sober at first, walking slowlywith bent head, thinking hard; but as the morning got into his blood itbegan to tingle, his eyes began to shine, and up went his head.
"Green grass!" he said. "That sure was a nice place, and nice folks.Most of 'em, I would say; Old Man Blossom is a mite yaller sure, butsome of the others are white enough to make up for him. Mr. and Mis'Bailey, now, I declare! They are as like as--as peas--to Pa and Ma, thatI thought up to myself along back. How do, Pa? How be you, Ma? Don't yougo back on me! Gee! and think of that young feller goin' back on themtwo! If I was him--green grass! wouldn't it have been great if I was! Itell you I'd make things hum to that nice place. I'd make them twoforget I wasn't their own son, and twins at that. And them old ladies!Why, all they need is a little humorin'. Real friendly they was to me!And Mr. Brand! He is a peach, sure thing! I expect he could do more forme, blind, than I could for him, seein'. But I'd be--call it a nevy--tohim, if I had the chance. And that poor sweet pretty creatur, if Iwouldn't be a brother to her, send me back over There and put me insolitary! Try and learn her little things, try and make her eyes look amite different. Not but they've tried, them good folks, but bein'nearer her age, and she taken with my singin' and like that--why, anangel wouldn't be no handsomer than what she would be if she had hermind. Take and learn her--"
Pippin stopped dead. Something was rustling in the bushes. The dreamlight faded from his face; he stiffened to attention like a pointer, hiseyes fixed on the fringe of woods on his left. Something in there! Acritter, or--?
The rustling grew nearer, louder; the bushes crackled, parted; a figurecame out, timidly, eagerly, ran forward, fell down before him, seizedhis hand and looked up with dumb, imploring eyes. Flora May!
There are two men in every one of us. I used to think there were ten inPippin, but for one instant all ten were paralyzed, looking helplesslyinto the blue eyes that burned into his; then one of them woke, the onewho would have been a physician if Pippin had been reared in a homeinstead of a cellar.
He took the girl's wrists, and, holding them firmly, raised her to herfeet.
"Why, Miss Flora May!" he said cheerfully. "Don't ever tell me this isyou! Did you come all this way just to say good-by? Now, if that wasn'tpretty of you! I'm just as much obliged as I can be, young lady; andI'll walk back a piece with you, I will so. This wood lot is a mitelonely, 'pears to me."
The girl tried to fling herself down again, but he held her tight. "Iwouldn't do that!" His voice was kind, but he spoke with authority. "Getyour nice clean dress all dirty! What would Mis' Bailey say? Why, she'llbe lookin' for you, I expect. She thought you was 'tendin' to the hens,and all the time--what say?"
"Take me with you!" cried the girl. "I want you! I won't go back. Takeme with you!"
"Now what a way that is to talk! You wouldn't leave Mr. and Mis' Bailey,good and kind as they be--"
"I want you!" wailed the girl, and again she would have flung herselfdown, had not those firm hands held her fast. "Take me with you! Sing tome! Love me! I belong to you!"
Pippin's face had been full of perplexity, but now it lightened.
"Sing to you! Why, sure I will! There's a song you'll just admire tohear, Miss Flora May. We'll walk along and I'll sing as we go. No, Iwon't let go both your hands; I'll hold this one so--so we can keep steptogether. Now let's step out lively!"
The girl drew back, her eyes narrowing.
"This isn't the way you were going!" she said sullenly. "I won't goback. I'm a big girl, and they treat me like I was a kid. I won't goback! If you won't take me, I'll drown myself!"
"We'll go along! 'Along' isn't 'back,' is it now? Along, you know:matches up with song, don't you see? Green grass! see those prettyyaller flowers! They're along, too, just a piece! Let's we gather some,see if they're sweet as they are pretty!"
Still holding her wrist in that firm grasp, rambling on about theflowers, he stooped to pluck them, and managed to turn back in thedirection of Cyrus.
"Now we'll come along!" he proclaimed. "Here's a good clear stretch ofroad, and I'll sing--you just listen!"
Never before, it seemed to Pippin, had he let his voice out to its fullpower. He felt it fly like a bird before him; it must reach all the way,it _must_!
"When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies,
("He'll hear that sure! he'll sense it in a minute, and know it's allright!")
"I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes!
"So we will, Miss Flora May, won't we? You sing, too, that's a dandygirl! Let her go, Gallagher!"
Two hundred yards away, a man was driving through the woods at top speedof his lumbering horse. Brows bent, lips compressed, deadly fear at hisheart, he sat unseeing, silent, save when he urged the clumsy beast tostill further effort. Fear at his heart, and anger, and bewilderment;but struggling with all these something that said dazedly over and over,
"I don't believe it! He wasn't that kind! I don't believe it!"
Suddenly he checked the horse and threw up his head, listening. Throughthe trees, down the wood road, a voice came flying like a bird, ringinglike a trumpet, crying like a great wind in his ears:
"I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes!"
"Lord, forgive me!" cried Jacob Bailey. "Lord, have mercy on me, andnever let him know!"
A glint of blue among the trees, the jingle of a little bell that hungbeside the wheel; next moment they came in sight, Pippin first, chin inair, mouth open, singing as a bird sings, with every fibre of his being;the girl hanging back a little, held close by that strong hand, butsinging, too, in a sweet, broken voice.
"Let cares like a wild deluge come, And storms of sorrow fall, May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all!"
"Why, if here isn't our Mr. Bailey, this minute of time!" cried Pippin."Why--why, Miss Flora May, he's cryin'! Mr. Bailey, you sick, sir? MissFlora May, you climb right in the wagon, and comfort him up pretty!"
* * * * *
"That was a close call!"
Pippin stood rubbing his head with his file, gazing after the retreatingwagon. His cheek had blanched under the tan, and his breath came quickand short. Pippin had been frightened, a thing that had hardly happenedsince the days when fear was his yokefellow, day and night.
"That," he repeated, "was a close call, as close as I want in mine.S'pose I'd got further off, so's he couldn't catch me up. What would heha' thought? Poor innocent gal! Gee! The Lord stood by me good thattime! But--gorry! S'pose I'd ben--Gives me the cold shivers to think ofit. Now--now--I wonder--"
Pippin stood fingering his file absently, deep in thought. How to help aperson like that? He had wanted to help her, sure thing, andnow--'peared like all he had done was to hender. He expected 'twas hisbeing a new person, breakin' in, like that, when she was used to havin'things quiet and all of a piece, so to say. He sighed, and replaced thefile. Best leave it, after all, to them dandy folks; they was used tohandlin' her and they knowed how. Best he keep away, till he had foundthe little gal, what say? Yes--but--now a doctor might know things thateven Mr. and Mrs. Bailey wouldn't. Then he laughed, in spite of histrouble.
Now! How come he to think of that just now, of all times? Alongback--way along back--they'd say White Patter over a person that waslike that, not to say crazy, but a little wantin'. Old White Patter!They would, sure! Kind of an old charm; couldn't call it a prayer, butmebbe as nigh one as Granny Faa could manage to come. Pippin had triedto say it late times, but he couldn't seem to fetch it: now--now--
He lifted his head; it was coming back, the age-long jargon. Word byword, dropping into his mind from some limbo of things forgotten; wordby word, he said it over aloud, standing in the wood road, the treesarching over his head, the moss curling round his feet.
White paternoster, St. Peter's brother, What hast 'ou i' the l
eft hand? White-book leaves! What hast 'ou i' the right hand? Heaven-gate keys! Open heaven-gate and steek hell-gate! White paternoster, amen!
Back in the cellar! Darkness, foul air, fumes of liquor. Some onesinging in drunken tones snatches of song vile as the liquor. The child,on his huddle of rags in the corner, shrinks and shudders, he knows notwhy. The old woman rises; there is a cuff, a curse, a maudlin whimper;she makes her way to the corner and bends over the child. "When he getssingin'," she whispers, "don't 'ee listen, Pippin! Stop your ears andsay White Patter! Hark now, till I larn it 'ee!"
Bending lower, she recites the charm over and over, till the child withfaltering lips can say it after her. "That'll keep 'ee safe!" saysGranny Faa, and hobbles back to the spark of fire that keeps her oldbones alive.
"'Twas all the prayer she knew!" said Pippin. "Green grass! But yet Iexpect the Lord understood. There's Amen to it, you see."
Joy of the road on a June morning! Who could taste it as Pippin did? Itstood to reason that no one who had not been behind the bars couldreally know what it meant. Blue sky overhead--not a little square patch,but all you wanted, all there was--clear, deep, stainless, from rim torim of the horizon. That would be enough just itself, wouldn't it, afterthree years of gray-white walls? But there was all the rest beside;trees still in their young, exquisite green, birds not in cages butflitting from branch to branch, singing, singing--
Flowers along the road: buttercups, Pippin's own flower that the Lordgave him that day; daisies, too; beautiful, wicked orange hawkweed, andgood honest dandelions, each one a broad gold piece of Summer's coinage.Grass, too--gorry! 'twas in There ("There" was Shoreham) he got thehabit of saying "Green grass!" It did him good just to think of it, andit filled the mouth full as good as swearin', for all he could see. Heused to think about it; used to wonder, on breathless days when thegray-white walls radiated heat--and other things than heat--how it wouldfeel to lie down and roll in grass, cool, moist, fragrant.
Ah! and now here it was under his feet, an elastic, emerald carpet. Allhe wanted of that, too! Were ever such uncountable riches as Pippin'sthis June morning?
He was to have yet more, Croesus that he was. On the left of the road aglint of rosy purple showed against the black tree trunks. He steppedaside and parted the branches. A little ferny hollow, with a tiny streambabbling through: beside the stream masses of purple blossoms, delicate,glowing, exquisite.
"Green grass!" said Pippin. He stood for some time gazing; asking noquestions of Rhodora, being no critic, but taking his fill of delight insimple thankfulness. "Gee!" he murmured, as he let the branches droopagain over the enchanted place. "And that's right here, by the side ofthe road, a reg'lar flower show, and no charge for admission. Now whatdo you think of that for a world to live in? I tell you, Paradise hasgot to toe the mark to get ahead of that. What say?"
The trees grew thinner, fell away to a fringe; the road grew broader andmore even. Presently a house or two came in sight. Yes, this was theKingdom road; he remembered that white house. He would be back in timefor dinner; then he'd put in two three days--or a week, mebbe--findingthat boy, and finding--yes, he sure would--the grace of God in him. Takea boy like that, and he could be no more than egged over with sin, likeyou do coffee cake: it hadn't had time to grime into him. And--come toget him all clean and nice and steppin' the Lord's way again, what wasto hender his steppin' right into his, Pippin's, shoes and bein' handyman to Mr. Baxter? Green grass! Pippin had planned lays before now, buthe never planned a prettier one than what this would be if it worked outgood--and it would! And then it was the city, and to find that littlegal. He had never meant to go back to the city, chaplain had told himnot to; but if he knew how things was, he would say go, he sure would,Elder Hadley would. Yes, sir! And when he found her--well! After all,the Old Man was her father, and he wouldn't be lasting long anyhow, andif she was a good gal she wouldn't grudge him a portion of time. Mebbeeven she'd be fond of him: you never could tell what a woman wouldn't befond of. Why, Sheeny's wife was fond of him. Used to come over Thereonce a month reg'lar and cry over him 'cause he was in for a long jolt;now you'd thought, knowin' Sheeny, she'd cry if he wasn't. And, gee!there was the meetin'-house, and if Pippin wasn't holler for his dinner,believe _him_!
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