CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
_Rhody Has Something to Say_
Now, all this time, while the mother was engaged with Silas, Eugenia,the daughter, was having an experience of her own. When Rhody, SilasTomlin's cook and housekeeper, discovered that Paul had left the housein a fit of anger, she knew at once that something unusual had occurred,and her indignation against Silas Tomlin rose high. She was familiarwith every peculiarity of Paul's character, and she was well aware ofthe fact that behind his calm and cool bearing, which nothing everseemed to ruffle, was a heart as sensitive and as tender as that of awoman, and a temper hot, obstinate and unreasonable when aroused.
So, without taking time to serve Silas's supper, she went in search ofPaul. She went to the store where he was the chief clerk, but the doorswere closed; she went to the tavern, but he was not to be seen; and shewalked along the principal streets, where sometimes the young menstrolled after tea. There she met a negro woman, who suggested that hemight be at the Gaither Place. "Humph!" snorted Rhody, "how come datain't cross my mind? But ef he's dar dis night, ef he run ter dat galwhen he in trouble, I better be layin' off ter cook some weddin'doin's."
There wasn't a backyard in the town that Rhody didn't know as well asshe knew her own, and she stood on no ceremony in entering any of them.She went to the Gaither Place, swung back the gate, shutting it afterher with a bang, and stalked into the kitchen as though it belonged toher. At the moment there was no one in sight but Mandy, the house-girl,a bright and good-looking mulatto.
"Why, howdy, Miss Rhody!" she exclaimed, in a voice that sounded like aflute. "What wind blowed you in here?"
"Put down dem dishes an' wipe yo' han's," said Rhody, by way of reply.The girl silently complied, expressing no surprise and betraying nocuriosity. "Now, den, go in de house, an' ax ef Paul Tomlin is in dar,"commanded Rhody. "Ef he is des tell 'im dat Mammy Rhody want ter see'im."
"I hope dey ain't nobody dead," suggested Mandy with a musical laugh."I'm lookin' out for all sorts er trouble, because I've had mighty funnydreams for three nights han'-runnin'. Look like I can see blood. I wakeup, I do, cryin' an' feelin' tired out like de witches been ridin' me.Then I drop off to sleep, an' there's the blood, plain as my han'."
She went on in the house and Rhody followed close at her heels. She wasdetermined to see Paul if she could. She was very willing for SilasTomlin to be drawn through a hackle; she was willing to see murder doneif the whites were to be the victims; but Paul--well, according to herview, Paul was one of a thousand. She had given him suck; she hadfretted and worried about him for twenty years; and she couldn't breakoff her old habits all at once. She had listened to and indorsed theincendiary doctrines of the radical emissary who pretended to berepresenting the government; she had wept and shouted over the strenuouspleadings of the Rev. Jeremiah; but all these things were wholly apartfrom Paul. And if she had had the remotest idea that they affected hisinterests or his future, she would have risen in the church anddenounced the carpet-bagger and his scalawag associates, and likewisethe Rev. Jeremiah.
When Mandy, closely followed by Rhody, went into the house, she heardvoices in the parlour, but Eugenia was in the sitting-room reading bythe light of a lamp.
"Miss Genia," said the girl, "is Mr. Paul here?"
"Why do you ask?" inquired Eugenia.
"They-all cook wanter speak with him." At this moment, Eugenia saw thesomewhat grim face of Rhody peering over the girl's shoulder.
"Paul isn't here," said the young lady, rising with a vague feeling ofalarm. "What is the matter?" And then, feeling that if there was anytrouble, Rhody would feel freer to speak when they were alone together,Eugenia dismissed Mandy, and followed to see that the girl went out."Now, what _is_ the trouble, Rhody? Mr. Silas Tomlin is in the parlourtalking to mother."
Rhody opened her eyes wide at this. "_He_ in dar? What de name ergoodness he doin' here?" Eugenia didn't know, of course, and said so."Well, he ain't atter no good," Rhody went on; "you kin put dat down inblack an' white. Dat man is sho' ter leave a smutty track wharsomever hewalk at. You better watch 'im; you better keep yo' eye on 'im. Is heyever loant yo' ma any money?"
"Why, no," replied Eugenia, laughing at the absurdity of the question."What put that idea in your head?"
"Bekaze dat's his business--loanin' out a little dab er money here an' alittle dab dar, an' gittin' back double de dab he loant," said Rhody."Deyer folks in dis county, which he loant um money, an' now he got allde prop'ty dey yever had; an' deyer folks right here in dis town, whichhe loant um dat ar Conferick money when it want wuff much mo danshavin's, an' now dey got ter pay 'im back sho nuff money. I hear 'imsesso. Oh, dat's him! dat's Silas Tomlin up an' down. You kin take athrip an' squeeze it in yo' han' tell it leave a print, an' hol' it upwhar folks kin see it, an' dar you got his pictur'; all it'll need willbe a frame. He done druv Paul 'way fum home."
She spoke with some heat, and really went further than she intended, butshe was swept away by her indignation. She was certain, knowing Paul aswell as she did, that he had left the house in a fit of anger atsomething his father had said or done and she was equally as certainthat he would have to be coaxed back.
"Surely you are mistaken," said Eugenia. "It is too ridiculous. Why,Paul--Mr. Paul is----" She paused and stood there blushing.
"Go on, chile: say it out; don't be shame er me. Nobody can't saynothin' good 'bout dat boy but what I kin put a lots mo' on what dey ertellin'. Silas Tomlin done tol' me out'n his own mouf dat Paul went fumde house vowin' he'd never come back."
Eugenia was so sure that Rhody (after her kind and colour) wasexaggerating, that she refused to be disturbed by the statement. "Whydid you come here hunting for Paul?" the young lady asked.
"Oh, go away, Miss Genia!" exclaimed Rhody, laughing. "'Tain't no needser my answerin' dat, kaze you know lots better'n I does."
"Are you very fond of him?" Eugenia inquired.
"Who--_me_? Why, honey, I raised 'im. Sick er well, I nussed 'im ferlong years. I helt 'im in deze arms nights an' nights, when all he hadter do fer ter leave dis vale wuz ter fetch one gasp an' go. Ef hisdaddy had done all dat, he wouldn't 'a' druv de boy fum home."
Alas! how could Rhody, in her ignorance and blindness, probe therecesses of a soul as reticent as that of Silas Tomlin?
"Oh, don't say he was driven from home!" cried Eugenia, rising andplacing a hand on Rhody's arm. "If you talk that way, other people willtake it up, and it won't be pleasant for Paul."
"Dat sho is a mighty purty han'," exclaimed Rhody enthusiastically,ignoring the grave advice of the young woman. "I'm gwine ter showsomebody de place whar you laid it, an' I bet you he'll wanter cut decloff out an' put it in his alvum."
Eugenia made a pretence of pushing Rhody out of the room, but she wasblushing and smiling. "Well'm, he ain't here, sho, an' here's whar heoughter be; but I'll fin' 'im dis night an' ef he ain't gwine back home,I ain't gwine back--you kin put dat down." With that, she bade the younglady good-night, and went out.
As Rhody passed through the back gate, she chanced to glance towardPulaski Tomlin's house, and saw a light shining from the library window."Ah-yi!" she exclaimed, "he's dar, an' dey ain't no better place fer'im. Dey's mo' home fer 'im right dar den dey yever wus er yever will bewhar he live at."
So saying, she turned her steps in the direction of Neighbour Tomlin's.In the kitchen, she asked if Paul was in the house. The cook didn'tknow, but when the house-girl came out, she said that Mr. Paul wasthere, and had been for some time. "Deyer holdin' a reg'lar expeuncemeetin' in dar," she said. "Miss Fanny sho is a plum sight!"
The house-girl went in again to say that Rhody would like to speak withhim, and Rhody, as was her custom, followed at her heels.
"Come in, Rhody," said Miss Fanny. "I know you are there. You alwayssend a message, and then go along with it to see if it is deliveredcorrectly. 'Twould save a great deal of trouble if the rest of us wereto adopt your plan."
"I hope you all is well," remarked Rhody, as she made her ap
pearance."I declar', Miss Fanny, you look good enough to eat."
"Well, I do eat," responded Miss Fanny, teasingly.
"I mean you look good enough ter be etted," said Rhody, correctingherself.
"Now, that is what I call a nice compliment," Miss Fanny observedcomplacently. "Brother Pulaski, if I am ever 'etted' you won't have toraise a monument to my memory."
"No wonder you look young," laughed Rhody. "Anybody what kin git funout'n a graveyard is bleeze ter look young."
Paul was lying on the wide lounge that was one of the features of thelibrary. His eyes were closed, and his Aunt Fanny was gently strokinghis hair. Pulaski Tomlin leaned back in an easy chair, lazily enjoying acigar, the delicate flavour of which filled the room. There wassomething serene and restful in the group, in the furniture, in all theaccessories and surroundings. The negro woman turned around and lookedat everything in the room, as if trying to discover what produced theeffect of perfect repose.
It is the rule that everything beautiful and precious in this worldshould have mystery attached to it. There is the enduring mystery ofart, the mystery that endows plain flesh and blood with genius. A littlechild draws you by its beauty; there is mystery unfathomable in itseyes. You enter a home, no matter how fine, no matter how humble; it maybe built of logs, and its furnishings may be of the poorest; but if itis a home, a real home, you will know it unmistakably the moment youstep across the threshold. Some subtle essence, as mysterious as thoughtitself, will find its way to your mind and enlighten your instinct. Youwill know, however fine the dwelling, whether the spirit of home dwellsthere.
Rhody, as she looked around in the vain effort to get a clew to thesecret, wondered why she always felt so comfortable in this house. Shesighed as she seated herself on the floor at the foot of the lounge onwhich Paul lay. This was her privilege. If Miss Fanny could sit at hishead, Rhody could sit at his feet.
"You wanted to speak to Paul," suggested Miss Fanny.
"Yes'm; he lef' de house in a huff, an' I wanter know ef he gwineback--kaze ef he ain't, I'm gwineter move way fum dar. He ain't taketime fer ter git his supper."
"Why, Paul!" exclaimed Miss Fanny.
"I couldn't eat a mouthful to save my life," said Paul.
"Whar Miss Margaret?" Rhody inquired; and she seemed pleased to hearthat the young lady was spending the night with Nan Dorrington. "Honey,"she said to Paul, "how come yo' pa went ter de Gaither Place ter-night?What business he got dar?"
This was news to Paul, and he could make no reply to Rhody's question.He reflected over the matter a little while. "Was he really there?" heasked finally.
"I hear 'im talkin' in de parlour, an' Miss Genia say it's him."
"What were _you_ doing there?" inquired Miss Fanny, pushing her jauntygrey curls behind her ears.
"A coloured 'oman recommen' me ter go dar ef I wan' ter fin' dat chile."
"Why, Paul! And is the wind really blowing in that quarter?" cried MissFanny, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead.
"Now, Mammy Rhody, why did you do that?" Paul asked with considerableirritation. "What will Miss Eugenia and her mother think?" He sat boltupright on the sofa.
"Well, her ma ain't see me, an' Miss Genia look like she wuz sorry Icouldn't fin' you dar."
Miss Fanny laughed, but Rhody was perfectly serious. "Miss Fanny," shesaid, turning to the lady, "how come dat chile lef' home?"
"Shall I tell her, Paul? I may as well." Whereupon she told the negrowoman the cause of Paul's anger, and ended by saying that she didn'tblame him for showing the spirit of a Southern gentleman.
"Well, he'll never j'ine de 'Publican Party in dis county," Rhodydeclared emphatically.
"He will if he has made up his mind to do so. You don't know Silas,"said Miss Fanny.
"Who--me? Me not know dat man? Huh! I know 'im better'n he know hisse'f;an' I know some yuther folks, too. I tell you right now, he'll neverj'ine; an' ef you don't believe me, you wait an' see. Time I git thoowid his kaycter, de 'Publicans won't tetch 'im wid a ten-foot pole."
"I hope you are right," said Pulaski Tomlin, speaking for the firsttime. "There's enough trouble in the land without having a scalawag inthe Tomlin family."
"Well, you nee'nter worry 'bout dat, kaze I'll sho put a stop ter demkinder doin's. Honey," Rhody went on, addressing Paul, "you come on homewhen you git sleepy; I'm gwineter set up fer you, an' ef you don't come,yo' pa'll hatter cook his own vittles ter-morrer mornin'."
"Good-night, Rhody, and pleasant dreams," said Miss Fanny, as the negrowoman started out.
"I dunner how anybody kin have pleasin' drams ef dey sleep in de samelot wid Marse Silas," replied Rhody. "Good-night all."
Now, the cook at the Tomlin Place was the wife of the Rev. Jeremiah. Shewas a tall, thin woman, some years older than her husband, and she ruledhim with a rod of iron. The new conditions, combined with the insidiousflattery of the white radicals, had made her vicious against the whites.Rhody knew this, and from the "big house," she went into the kitchen,where Mrs. Jeremiah was cleaning up for the night. Her name was Patsy.
"You gittin' mighty thick wid de white folks, Sis' Rhody," said Patsy,pausing in her work, as the other entered the door.
For answer, Rhody fell into a chair, held both hands high above herhead, and then let them drop in her lap. The gesture was effective for adozen interpretations. "Well!" she exclaimed, and then paused, Patsywatching her narrowly the while. "I dunner how 'tis wid you, Sis' Patsy,but wid me, it's live an' l'arn--live an' l'arn. An' I'm a-larnin',mon, spite er de fack dat de white folks think niggers ain't got nosense."
"Dey does! Dey does!" exclaimed Patsy. "Dey got de idee dat we all ain'tgot no mo' sense dan a passel er fryin'-size chickens. But dey'll fin'out better, an' den--Ah-h-h!" This last exclamation was a hoarsegutteral cry of triumph.
"You sho is talkin' now!" cried Rhody, with an admiring smile. "I knowsit ter-night, ef I never is know'd it befo'."
Patsy knew that some disclosure was coming, and she invited it byputting Rhody on the defensive. "It's de trufe," she declared. "Dat whatmake me feel so quare, Sis' Rhody, when I see you so ready fer tercollogue wid de white folks. I wuz talkin' wid Jerry 'bout it nolonger'n las' night. Yes'm, I wuz. I say, 'Jerry, what de matter widSis' Rhody?' He say, 'Which away, Pidgin?'--desso; he allers call mePidgin," explained Patsy, with a smile of pride. "I say, 'By de way shecolloguin' wid de white folks.'"
"What Br'er Jerry say ter dat?" inquired Rhody.
"He des shuck his head an' groan," was the reply.
Rhody leaned forward with a frown that was almost tragic in itsheaviness, and spoke in a deep, unnatural tone that added immensely tothe emphasis of her words. "'Oman, lemme tell you: I done it, an' I'mglad I done it; an' you'll be glad I done it; an' he'll be glad I doneit." Patsy was drying the dish-pan with a towel, but suspendedoperations the better to hear what Rhody had to say. "Dey done got itfixt up fer ol' Silas ter j'ine in wid de 'Publican Party. He gwineterj'ine so he kin fin' out all der doin's, an' all der comin's an' dergwines, so he kin tell de yuthers."
"Huh! Oh, yes--yes, yes, yes! Oh, yes! We er fools; we ain't got nosense!" cackled Patsy viciously.
"He des gwineter make out he's a 'Publican," Rhody went on; "dey got itall planned. He gwineter j'ine de Nunion League, an' git all de names.Dey talk 'bout it, Sis' Patsy, right befo' my face an' eyes. Dey mus'take me fer a start-natchel fool."
"Dey does--dey does!" cried Patsy; "dey takes us all fer fools. Butwon't dey be a wakin' up when de time come?"
Then and there was given the death-blow to Silas Tomlin's ambition tobecome a Republican politician. The Rev. Jeremiah was apprised of theplan, which so far as Rhody was concerned, was a pure invention. Wordwent round, and when Silas put in his application to become a member ofthe Union League, he was informed that orders had come from Atlanta thatno more members were to be enrolled.
When Rhody went out into the street, after her talk with Patsy, apasser-by would have said that her actions were very queer. She lean
edagainst the fence and went into convulsions of silent laughter. "Oh, Iwish I wuz some'rs whar I could holler," she said aloud between gasps."He calls her 'Pidgin!' Pidgin! Ef she's a pidgin, I'd like ter knowwhat gone wid de cranes!"
She recurred to this name some weeks afterward, when the Rev. Jeremiahinformed her confidentially that his wife had discovered Silas Tomlin'splan to unearth the secrets of the Union League. Rhody's commentsomewhat surprised the Rev. Jeremiah. "I allers thought," she said witha laugh, "dat Pidgin had sump'n else in her craw 'sides corn."
Rhody waited in the kitchen that night until Paul returned, and then shewent to bed. Silas and his son were up earlier than usual the nextmorning, but they found breakfast ready and waiting. The attitude offather and son toward each other was constrained and reserved. Silasfelt that he must certainly say something to Paul about EugeniaClaiborne. He hardly knew how to begin, but at last he plunged into thesubject with the same shivering sense of fear displayed by a small boywho is about to jump into a pond of cold water--dreading it, and yetdetermined to take a header.
"I hear, Paul," he began, "that you are very attentive to EugeniaClaiborne."
"I call on her occasionally," said Paul. "She is a very agreeable younglady." He spoke coolly, but the blood mounted to his face.
"So I hear--so I hear," remarked Silas in a business-like way. "Still, Ihope you won't carry matters too far."
"What do you mean?" Paul inquired.
"I wish I could go into particulars; I wish I could tell you exactlywhat I mean, but I can't," said Silas. "All I can say is that it wouldbe impossible for you to marry the young woman. My Lord!" he exclaimed,as he saw Paul close his jaws together. "Ain't there no other woman inthe world?"
"Do you know anything against the young lady's character?" the sonasked.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing," was the response.
"Well," said Paul, "I hadn't considered the question of marriage at all,but since you've brought the subject up, we may as well discuss it. Yousay it will be impossible for me to marry this young lady, and yourefuse to tell me why. Don't you think I am old enough to be trusted?"
"Why, certainly, Paul--of course; but there are some things--" Silaspaused, and caught his breath, and then went on. "Honestly, Paul, if Icould tell you, I would; I'd be glad to tell you; but this is a matterin which you will have to depend on my judgment. Can't you trust me?"
"Just as far as you can trust me, but no farther," was the reply. "I'mnot a child. In a few months I'll be of age. But if I were only tenyears old, and knew the young lady as well as I know her now, youcouldn't turn me against her by insinuations." He rose, shook himself,walked the length of the room and back again, and stood close to hisfather. "You've already settled the question of marriage. I asked youlast night about the report that you intended to act with the radicals,and you refused to give me a direct answer. That means that the reportis true. Do you suppose that Eugenia Claiborne, or any other decentwoman would marry the son of a scalawag?" he asked with a voice full ofpassion. "Why, she'd spit in his face, and I wouldn't blame her."
The young man went out, leaving Silas sitting at the table. "Lord! Ihate to hurt him, but he'd better be dead than to marry that girl."
Rhody, who was standing in the entryway leading from the dining-room tothe kitchen, and who had overheard every word that passed between fatherand son, entered the room at this moment, exclaiming:
"Well, you des ez well call 'im dead den, kaze marry her he will, an' Idon't blame 'im; an' mo'n dat I'll he'p 'im all I can."
"You don't know what you are talking about," said Silas, wiping hislips, which were as dry as a bone.
"Maybe I does, an' maybe I don't," replied Rhody. "But what I does know,I knows des ez good ez anybody. You say dat boy sha'n't marry de gal;but how come you courtin' de mammy?"
"Doing what?" cried Silas, pushing his chair back from the table.
"Courtin' de mammy," answered Rhody, in a loud voice. "You wuz dar las'night, an' fer all I know you wuz dar de night befo', an' de night 'fo'dat. You may fool some folks, but you can't fool me."
"Courting! Why you blasted idiot! I went to see her on business."
Rhody laughed so heartily that few would have detected the mockery init. "Business! Yasser; it's business, an' mighty funny business. Well,ef you kin git her, you take her. Ef she don't lead you a dance, I ain'tname Rhody."
"I believe you've lost what little sense you used to have," said Silaswith angry contempt.
"I notice dat nobody roun' here ain't foun' it," remarked Rhody,retiring to the kitchen with a waiter full of dishes.
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