XVIII
SANDY SEES HIS OWN HA'NT
Having finished cleaning his clothes, Sandy went out to the kitchen forsupper, after which he found himself with nothing to do. Mr. Delamere'sabsence relieved him from attendance at the house during the evening. Hemight have smoked his pipe tranquilly in the kitchen until bedtime, hadnot the cook intimated, rather pointedly, that she expected othercompany. To a man of Sandy's tact a word was sufficient, and he resignedhimself to seeking companionship elsewhere.
Under normal circumstances, Sandy would have attended prayer-meeting onthis particular evening of the week; but being still in contumacy, andcherishing what he considered the just resentment of a man falselyaccused, he stifled the inclination which by long habit led him towardthe church, and set out for the house of a friend with whom it occurredto him that he might spend the evening pleasantly. Unfortunately, hisfriend proved to be not at home, so Sandy turned his footsteps towardthe lower part of the town, where the streets were well lighted, and onpleasant evenings quite animated. On the way he met Josh Green, whom hehad known for many years, though their paths did not often cross. In hisloneliness Sandy accepted an invitation to go with Josh and have adrink,--a single drink. When Sandy was going home about eleveno'clock, three sheets in the wind, such was the potent effect of thesingle drink and those which had followed it, he was scared almost intosoberness by a remarkable apparition. As it seemed to Sandy, he sawhimself hurrying along in front of himself toward the house. Possiblythe muddled condition of Sandy's intellect had so affected his judgmentas to vitiate any conclusion he might draw, but Sandy was quite soberenough to perceive that the figure ahead of him wore his best clothesand looked exactly like him, but seemed to be in something more of ahurry, a discrepancy which Sandy at once corrected by quickening his ownpace so as to maintain as nearly as possible an equal distance betweenhimself and his double. The situation was certainly an incomprehensibleone, and savored of the supernatural.
"Ef dat's me gwine 'long in front," mused Sandy, in vinous perplexity,"den who is dis behin' here? Dere ain' but one er me, an' my ha'nt wouldn'leave my body 'tel I wuz dead. Ef dat's me in front, den I mus' be myown ha'nt; an' whichever one of us is de ha'nt, de yuther must be deadan' don' know it. I don' know what ter make er no sech gwines-on, Idon't. Maybe it ain' me after all, but it certainly do look lack me."
When the apparition disappeared in the house by the side door, Sandystood in the yard for several minutes, under the shade of an elm-tree,before he could make up his mind to enter the house. He took courage,however, upon the reflection that perhaps, after all, it was only thebad liquor he had drunk. Bad liquor often made people see double.
He entered the house. It was dark, except for a light in Tom Delamere'sroom. Sandy tapped softly at the door.
"Who's there?" came Delamere's voice, in a somewhat startled tone, aftera momentary silence.
"It's me, suh; Sandy."
They both spoke softly. It was the rule of the house when Mr. Delamerehad retired, and though he was not at home, habit held its wonted sway.
"Just a moment, Sandy."
Sandy waited patiently in the hall until the door was opened. If theroom showed any signs of haste or disorder, Sandy was too full of hisown thoughts--and other things--to notice them.
"What do you want, Sandy," asked Tom.
"Mistuh Tom," asked Sandy solemnly, "ef I wuz in yo' place, an' you wuzin my place, an' we wuz bofe in de same place, whar would I be?"
Tom looked at Sandy keenly, with a touch of apprehension. Did Sandy meananything in particular by this enigmatical inquiry, and if so, what? ButSandy's face clearly indicated a state of mind in which consecutivethought was improbable; and after a brief glance Delamere breathed morefreely.
"I give it up, Sandy," he responded lightly. "That's too deep for me."
"'Scuse me, Mistuh Tom, but is you heared er seed anybody er anythingcome in de house fer de las' ten minutes?"
"Why, no, Sandy, I haven't heard any one. I came from the club an hourago. I had forgotten my key, and Sally got up and let me in, and thenwent back to bed. I've been sitting here reading ever since. I shouldhave heard any one who came in."
"Mistuh Tom," inquired Sandy anxiously, "would you 'low dat I'd be'ndrinkin' too much?"
"No, Sandy, I should say you were sober enough, though of course youmay have had a few drinks. Perhaps you'd like another? I've gotsomething good here."
"No, suh, Mistuh Tom, no, suh! No mo' liquor fer me, suh, never! Whenliquor kin make a man see his own ha'nt, it's 'bout time fer dat manter quit drinkin', it sho' is! Good-night, Mistuh Tom."
As Sandy turned to go, Delamere was struck by a sudden and daringthought. The creature of impulse, he acted upon it immediately.
"By the way, Sandy," he exclaimed carelessly, "I can pay you back thatmoney you were good enough to lend me this afternoon. I think I'llsleep better if I have the debt off my mind, and I shouldn't wonder ifyou would. You don't mind having it in gold, do you?"
"No, indeed, suh," replied Sandy. "I ain' seen no gol' fer so long datde sight er it'd be good fer my eyes."
Tom counted out ten five-dollar gold pieces upon the table at his elbow.
"And here's another, Sandy," he said, adding an eleventh, "as interestfor the use of it."
"Thank y', Mistuh Tom. I didn't spec' no in-trus', but I don' never'fuse gol' w'en I kin git it."
"And here," added Delamere, reaching carelessly into a bureau drawer,"is a little old silk purse that I've had since I was a boy. I'll putthe gold in it, Sandy; it will hold it very nicely."
"Thank y', Mistuh Tom. You're a gentleman, suh, an' wo'thy er de fam'lyname. Good-night, suh, an' I hope yo' dreams 'll be pleasanter 'n' mine.Ef it wa'n't fer dis gol' kinder takin' my min' off'n dat ha'nt, I don's'pose I'd be able to do much sleepin' ter-night. Good-night, suh."
"Good-night, Sandy."
Whether or not Delamere slept soundly, or was troubled by dreams,pleasant or unpleasant, it is nevertheless true that he locked his door,and sat up an hour later, looking through the drawers of his bureau, andburning several articles in the little iron stove which constituted partof the bedroom furniture.
It is also true that he rose very early, before the household wasstirring. The cook slept in a room off the kitchen, which was in anouthouse in the back yard. She was just stretching herself, preparatoryto getting up, when Tom came to her window and said that he was goingoff fishing, to be gone all day, and that he would not wait forbreakfast.
The Marrow of Tradition Page 18
