CHAPTER XXIII
THE HAVERLEY FINANCES AND MRS. ROBINSON
"It bothers the head off of me," said Molly Tooney to Mike, as she sateating her supper in the Cobhurst kitchen, "to try to foind out what thimtwo upstairs is loike, anyway, 'specially her. I've been here nigh ontotwo weeks, now, and I don't know her no betther than when I fust come.For the life of me I can't make out whether she's a gal woman or a womangal. Sometimes she's one and sometimes t'other. And then there's he. Whydidn't he marry and settle before he took a house to himself? And in thetwo Sundays I've been here, nather of thim's been to church. If theyknowed what was becomin' to thim, they'd behave like Christians, if theyare heretics."
Mike sat at a little table in the corner of the kitchen with his back toMolly, eating his supper. He had enough of the Southern negro in him tomake him dislike to eat with white people or to turn his face towardanybody while partaking of his meals. But he also had enough of a son ofErin in him to make him willing to talk whenever he had a chance. Turninghis head a little, he asked, "Now look a here, Molly; if a man's aheretic, how can he be a Christian?"
"There's two kinds of heretics," said Molly, filling her great tea-cupfor the fourth time, and holding the teapot so that the last drop of thestrong decoction should trickle into the cup; "Christian heretics andhaythen heretics. You're one of the last koind yoursilf, Mike, for younever go nigh a church, except to whitewash the walls of it. And you'llnever git no benefit to your own sowl, from Phoebe's boardin' theminister, nather. Take my word for that, Mike."
Mike allowed himself a sort of froggy laugh. "There's nobody gets no goodout of that, but him," said he; "but you've got it crooked about theirnot goin' to church. They did go reg'lar at fust, but the gig's at thewheelwright's gettin' new shaf's."
"Gig, indeed!" ejaculated Molly. "No kirridge, but an auld gig! There'snot much quality about thim two. I wouldn't be here working for the likeso' thim, if it was not for me wish to oblige Miss Panney, poor old womanas she's gittin' to be."
Mike shrewdly believed that it was due to Miss Panney's knowledge ofsome of Molly's misdeeds, and not to any desire to please the old lady,that the commands of the latter were law to the Irishwoman, but he wouldnot say so.
"Kerridge or no kerridge," said he, "they're good 'nough quality for me,and I reckon I knows what quality is. They hain't got much money, that'ssure, but there's lots of quality that ain't got money; and he's gotsense, and that's better than money. When he fust come here, I jes' goesto him, and ses I, 'How's you goin' to run this farm, sir,--ramshackle orreg'lar?' He looked at me kinder bothered, and then I 'splained. 'Well,'said he, 'reg'lar will cost more money than I've got, and I reckon we'llhave to run it ramshackle.' That's what we did, and we're gittin' alongfust rate. He works and I work, and what we ain't got no time to do, welet stand jes' thar till we git time to 'tend to it. That's ramshackle.We don't spend no time on fancy fixin's, and not much money on nuthin'."
"That's jes' what I've been thinkin' mesilf," said Molly. "I don'tsee no signs of money bein' spint on this place nather for one thingor anuther."
"You don't always have to spend money to get craps," said Mike; "look atour corn and pertaters. They is fust rate, and when we sends our craps tomarket, there won't be much to take for 'spenses out of what we git."
"Craps!" said Molly, with a sneer. "If you hauls your weeds to market,it'll take more wagons than you can hire in this country, and thim's theonly craps my oi has lit on yit."
This made Mike angry. He was, in general, a good-natured man, but he hada high opinion of himself as a farm manager, and on this point hisfeelings were very sensitive. As was usual with him when he lost histemper, he got up without a word and went out.
"Bedad!" said Molly, looking about her, "I wouldn't have sid that to himif I'd seed there wasn't no kindlin' sphlit."
As Mike walked toward his own house, he was surprised to see, entering alittle-used gateway near the barn, a horse and carriage. It was now sodark he could not see who occupied it, and he stood wondering why itshould enter that gateway, instead of coming by the main entrance. As hestood there, the equipage came slowly on, and presently stopped in frontof his little house. By the time he reached it, Phoebe, his wife, hadalighted, and was waiting for him.
"Reckon you is surprised to see me," said she, and then turning to thenegro man who drove the shabby hired vehicle, she told him that he mightgo over to the barn and tie his horse, for she would not be ready to goback for some time. She then entered the house with Mike, and, a candlehaving been lighted, she explained her unexpected appearance. She had metMiss Dora Bannister, and that young lady had engaged her to go toCobhurst and take a note to Miss Miriam.
"She tole me," said Phoebe, "that she had wrote two times already to MissMiriam, and then, havin' suspected somethin', had gone to thepos'-office and found they was still dar. Don't your boss ever sen' tothe pos'-office, Mike?"
"He went hisself every now an' then, till the gig was broke," said Mike,"but I don't believe he ever got nuthin', and I reckon they thought itwas no use botherin' about sendin' me, special, in the wagon."
"Well, they're uncommon queer folks," said Phoebe. "I reckon they've gotnobody to write to, or git letters from. Anyway, Miss Dora wanted herletter to git here, and so she says to me that if I'd take it, she'd paythe hire of a hack, and so, as I wanted to see you anyway, Mike, I 'greedquick enough."
Before delivering the letter with which she had been entrusted, Phoebeproceeded to attend to some personal business, which was to ask herhusband to lend her five dollars.
"Bless my soul," said Mike, "I ain't got no five dollars. I ain't askedfor no wages yit, and don't expect to, till the craps is sold."
"I can't wait for that!" exclaimed Phoebe; "I's got to have money tocarry on the house."
"Whar's the money the preacher pays you?" asked her husband.
"Dat's a comin'," said Phoebe, "dat's a comin' all right. Thar's to be aspecial c'lection next Sunday mornin', and the money's goin' to pay theminister's board. I'm to git every cent what's owin' to me, and I reckonit'll take it all."
"He ain't paid you nuthin' yit, thin?"
"Not yit; there was another special c'lection had to be tuk up fust, butthe next one's for me. Can't you go ask your boss for five dollars?"
"Oh, yes," said Mike, "he'll give it to me if I ask him. Look here,Phoebe, we might's well git all the good we kin out of five dollars, andI reckon I'll come to chu'ch next Sunday, and put the five dollars in thec'lection. I'll git the credit of givin' a big lot of money, and that'llset me up a long time wid the congregation, and you git the five dollarsall the same."
"Mike," said Phoebe, solemnly, "don't you go and do dat; mind, I tellyou, don't you do dat. You give me them five dollars, and jes' let thatc'lection alone. No use you wearin' youself out a walkin' to chu'ch, andall the feedin' and milkin' to do besides."
Mike laughed. "I reckon you think five dollars in th' pahm of th' hand isbetter than a whole c'lection in the bush. I'll see th' boss before yougo, and if he's got the money, he'll let me have it."
Satisfied on this point, Phoebe now declared that she must go and deliverher letter; but she first inquired how her husband was getting on, andhow he was treated by Molly Tooney.
"I ain't got no use for that woman;" and he proceeded to tell his wife ofthe insult that had been passed on his crops.
"That's brazen impidence," said Phoebe, "and jes' like her. But lookhere, Mike, don't you quarrel with the cook. No matter what happens,don't you quarrel with the cook."
"I ain't goin' to quarrel with nobody," said Mike; "but if that Molly'spects me to grease her wagon wheels for her, she's got hold of thewrong man. If she likes green wood for the kitchen fire, and fotchin' itmos' times for herself, that's her business, not mine."
"If you do that, Mike, she'll leave," said Phoebe.
Mike gave himself a general shrug.
"She can't leave," said he, "till Miss Panney tells her she kin."
Phoebe laughed and
rose.
"Reckon I'll go in and see Miss Miriam," she said, "and while I'm doin'that you'd better ask the boss about the money."
Having delivered the letter, and having, with much suavity, inquired intothe health and general condition of the Cobhurst family since she hadwalked off and left it to its own resources, and having given Miriamvarious points of information in regard to the Bannister and theTolbridge families, Phoebe gracefully took leave of the young mistress ofthe house and proceeded to call upon the cook.
"Hi, Phoebe!" cried Molly, who was engaged in washing dishes, "how didyou git here at this time o' night?"
"I'd have you know," said the visitor, with lofty dignity, "that my nameis Mrs. Robinson, and if you want to know how I got here, I came in akerridge."
"I didn't hear no kirridge drive up," said Molly.
"Humph!" said Mrs. Robinson, "I reckon I know which gate is proper for mykerridge to come in, and which gate is proper for the Bannister coachmanto drive in. I suppose there is cooks that would drive up to the frontdoor if the governor's kerridge was standin' there."
Molly looked at the colored woman, with a grin.
"You're on your high hoss, Mrs. Robinson," said she. "That's what comeso' boardin' the minister. That's lofty business, Mrs. Robinson, an' Iexpect you're afther gittin' rich. Is it the gilt-edged butter you givehim for his ash-cakes?"
"A pusson that's pious," said Phoebe, "don't want to get rich onter aminister of the gospel--"
"Which would be wearin' on their hopes if they did," interrupted Molly.
"But I can tell you this," continued Phoebe, more sharply, "that it isn'tas if I was a Catholic and boardin' a priest, and had to go on Wednesdaysand confess back to him all the money he paid me on Tuesdays."
Molly laughed aloud. "We don't confess money, Mrs. Robinson, we confesssins; but perhaps you think money is a sin, and if that's so, this houseis the innocentest place I ever lived in. Sit down, Mrs. Robinson, and befriendly. I want to ax you a question. Has thim two, upstairs, got anymoney? What made you pop off so sudden? Didn't they pay your wages?"
Phoebe seated herself on the edge of a chair, and sat up very straight.She felt that the answer to this question was a very important one. Sheherself cared nothing for the Haverleys, but Mike lived with them, andwas their head man, and it was not consistent with her position amongthe members of the congregation and in the various societies to which shebelonged, that her husband should be in the employ of poor andconsequently unrespected people.
"My wages was paid, every cent," she said, "and as to their money, I cantell you one thing, that I heard him say to his sister with my own ears,that he was goin' to build a town on them meaders, with streets andchu'ches, and stores on the corners of the block, and a libr'y and abank, and she said she wouldn't object if he left the trees standin'between the house and the meaders, so that they could see the steeplesand nothin' else. And more than that, I can tell you," said Phoebe,warming as she spoke, "the Bannister family isn't and never was intimatewith needy and no-count families, and nobody could be more sociable andfriendly with this family than Miss Dora is, writin' to her four or fivetimes a week, and as I said to Mike, not ten minutes ago, if Mr. Haverleyand Miss Dora should git married, her money and his money would make thisthe finest place in the county, and I tol' him to mind an' play his cardswell and stay here as butler or coachman--I didn't care which; and hesaid he would like coachman best, as he was used to hosses."
Now, considering that the patience of her own coachman must be prettynearly worn out, and believing that what she had said would inure to herown reputation, and probably to Mike's benefit as well, and that itsforce might be impaired by any further discussion of the subject, Phoebearose and took a dignified leave.
Molly stood some moments in reflection.
"Bedad," she said aloud, "to-morrer I'll clane thim lamp-chimbleys andswape the bidrooms."
The Girl at Cobhurst Page 23
