CHAPTER IVGETTING ACQUAINTED
The two girls had been sitting on the edge of the bridge, but MaryLouise now rose and took Ingua's arm in her own, leading the reluctantchild gently toward the path. It wasn't far to the old cottage and whenthey reached the yard Ingua laughed again at the scene of disorder.
"It's a'most a pity Gran'dad can't see it," she chuckled. "He'd be socrazy he'd hev them claws o' his'n 'round my throat in a jiffy."
Mary Louise drew back, startled.
"Did he ever do that?" she asked.
"Only once; but that time near ended me. It were a long time ago, an'he was sorry, I guess, 'cause he bought me a new dress nex' day--an'new shoes! I ain't had any since," she added disconsolately, "so theother day I asked him wasn't it about time he choked me ag'in."
"What did he say to that?"
"Jes' growled at me. Gran'dad's got a awful temper when he's good an'riled, but usual' he's still as a mouse. Don't say a word to me ferdays together, sometimes. Once I saw him--"
She suddenly checked herself and cast an uneasy, sidelong glance at hercompanion. Mary Louise was rolling the washtub back to the stoop.
"The only thing that will bother us, Ingua," she said, "is thosedishes. Let us try to count the broken ones. Do you know how many therewere?"
"Sure I do," answered the girl, removing the battered dishpan from theheap of crockery. "Two plates, two cups-'n'-saucers, a oatmeal dish, abread plate an' the pork platter. Gee! what a smash. One cup's whole--an' the oatmeal dish. The rest is gone-up."
"I'm going to dig a hole and bury the broken pieces," said Mary Louise."Have you a spade?"
"There's an ol' shovel. But it won't do no good to bury of 'em.Gran'dad he counts ev'ry piece ev'ry day. He counts ev'ry thing, fromthe grains of salt to the chickens. Say, once I tried to play a trickon him. I'd got so hungry fer meat I jes' couldn't stand it, so one dayI killed a chick'n, thinkin' he wouldn't miss it. My--my! Wha' d'yes'pose? Say, ye never told me yer name yit."
"I am Mary Louise Burrows."
"Highflyin' name, ain't it? Well, I killed thet chick'n, an' cut it upan' fried it, an' et jes' a leg an' a wing, an' hid the rest under mybed in the peak up there, where Ol' Swallertail never goes. All thefeathers an' the head I buried, an' I cleaned up the hatchet an' thefry-in'-pan so's there wasn't a smitch of anything left to prove I'dmurdered one o' them chicks. I was feelin' kinder chirky when Gran'dadcome home, 'cause I thought he'd never find out. But what did the ol'vill'n do but begin to sniff aroun'; an' he sniffed an' he sniffed tillhe says: 'Ingua, what chick'n did ye kill, an' why did ye kill it?'
"'Yer crazy,' says I. 'What're ye talkin' 'bout?'
"Then he gives me one sour look an' marches out to count the chick'ns,an' when he comes back he says: 'It's the brown pullet with white onthe wings. It were worth forty cents, an' forty cents'll buy ten poundso' oatmeal. Where's the chick'n, girl?' 'Et up,' says I. 'Yer lyin','says he. 'Go git it! Hustle!'
"Well, I saw his claws beginnin' to work an' it scared me stiff. So Igoes to my room an' brings down the chick'n, an' he eyes it quiet-likefer a long time an' then eats some fer his supper. The rest he locks upin the cupboard that he allus carries the key to. Say, Mary Louise, Inever got another taste o' that chick'n as long as it lasted! Ol'Swallertail et it all himself, an' took a week to do it."
During this recital the broom and mop and scrubbing-brush had beenpicked up and restored to their proper places. Then the two girls gotout the old shovel and buried the broken dishes in a far corner of theyard, among high weeds. Mary Louise tried to get the dents out of theold dishpan, but succeeded only indifferently. It was so batteredthrough long use, however, that Ingua thought the "jams" would not benoticed.
"Next," said Mary Louise, "we must replace the broken pieces. I supposethey sell dishes at the village store, do they not?"
"That's where these come from--long ago," replied Ingua; "but dishescost money."
"I've a little money in my purse; enough for that, I'm sure. Will yougo to town with me?"
Ingua stared at her as if bewildered. The proposition was wholly beyondher understanding. But she replied to her new friend's question, sayingslowly:
"No; I won't go. Ol' Swallertail'd skin me alive if he caught me in thevillage."
"Then I'll go alone; and I'll soon be back, though I must run over tomy own house first, to get my purse and my hat. Let me have one of thecups for a sample, Ingua."
She left the child sitting on the plank runway and looking rathersolemn and thoughtful. Mary Louise was somewhat fearful that she mightrun away in her absence, so she hurried home and from there walked intothe village, a tramp easily accomplished in ten minutes.
The store was the biggest building in town, but not very big at that.It was "clapboarded" and two stories in height, the upper floor beingused by Sol Jerrems, the storekeeper, as a residence, except for twolittle front rooms which he rented, one to Miss Huckins, the dressmakerand milliner, who slept and ate in her shop, and the other to Mr.Cragg. A high platform had been built in front of the store, for theconvenience of farmer customers in muddy weather, and there were stepsat either end of the platform for the use of pedestrians.
When Mary Louise entered the store, which was cluttered with all sortsof goods, not arranged in very orderly manner, there were severalfarmers present. But old Sol had his eye on her in an instant andshuffled forward to wait upon her.
"I want some crockery, please," she said.
He looked at the sample cup and led her to a corner of the room where ajumble of dishes crowded a single shelf.
"I take it you're one o' them new folks at the Kenton Place," heremarked.
"Yes," said she.
"Thought ther' was plenty o' dishes in that place," continued Mr.Jerrems, in a friendly tone. "But p'r'aps ye don't want the black folkst' eat off'n the same things ye do yerselves."
Mary Louise ignored this speech and selected the dishes she wanted. Shehad measured the broken platter and found another of the same size. OldSol wouldn't sell a saucer without a cup, explaining that the twoalways went together: "the cup to hold the stuff an' the saucer todrink it out'n." Without argument, however, the girl purchased what shewanted. It was heavy, cheap ware of the commonest kind, but she darednot substitute anything better for it.
Then she went to the grocery counter and after considering what Inguamight safely hide and eat in secret she bought a tin of cooked cornedbeef, another of chipped beef, one of deviled ham and three tins ofsardines. Also she bought a basket to carry her purchases in andalthough old Sol constantly sought to "pump" her concerning her pastlife, present history and future prospects, she managed to evadesuccessfully his thirst for information. No doubt the fellow was agreat gossip, as old Eben had declared, but Mary Louise knew betterthan to cater to this dangerous talent.
The proprietor accompanied her to the door and she drew back,hesitating, as she observed an old man in a bottle-blue swallowtailcoat pace in deliberate, dignified manner along the opposite side ofthe street.
"Who is that?" she asked, as an excuse for not going out until Ingua'sgrandfather had passed from sight.
"That? Why, that's Ol' Swallertail, otherwise Hezekiah Cragg, one o'our most interestin' citizens," replied Sol, glad of the chance totalk.
"Does he own Cragg's Crossing?" asked Mary Louise.
"Mercy, no! He owned a lot of it once, though, but that were afore mytime. Sold it out an' squandered the money, I guess, for he lives likea rat in a hole. Mebbe, though, he's got some hid away; that's whatsome o' the folks here whispers--folks that's likely to know. But, ifthat's a fact, he's got a streak o' miser in him, for he don't spendmore'n the law allows."
"He may have lost the money in speculations," suggested the girl.
"Say, ye've hit the nail square on the head!" he exclaimed admiringly."Them's my own opinions to a T. I've told the boys so a hunderd times,but they can't git it. Wasn't Ol' Swal-lertail hand-in-glove wi' thatslick Mister Joselyn, who they say has run away an' left hi
s pore wifein the lurch? That's how you got a chance to rent the Kenton house.Joselyn were slick as butter, an' high-strung. Wouldn't hobnob with anyo' us but Ol' Swallertail, an' that's why I think Cragg was investin'money with him. Joselyn he came down here three year ago, havin'married Annabel Kenton in the winter, an' the way he swelled aroun'were a caution to snakes. But the pore devil run his rope an' lit out.Where he skipped to, I dunno. Nobuddy seems to know, not even his wife.But they say she didn't hev enough money left to count, an' by the glumlooks o' Ol' Swallertail I'm guessin' he got nipped too."
"How long ago was that?" asked Mary Louise.
"Some time 'bout last Christmas, they say. Anyhow, that's when his wifemissed him an' set up a hunt that didn't do no good. She came down herewith red eyes an' tramped 'round in the deep snow askin' questions.But, sakes, Ned Joselyn wouldn't 'a' come to an out-o'-the-way placelike this; we didn't never suit his style, ye see; so poor Ann Kenton--whose misfortun' made her Mrs. Ned Joselyn--cried an' wailed fer a dayer two an' then crep' back to the city like a whipped dog. Funny howwomen'll care fer a wuthless, ne'er-do-well chap that happens to begood-lookin', ain't it?"
Mary Louise nodded rather absently. However distorted the story mightbe, it was curious what had become of Mr. Joselyn. But her thoughtsreverted to another theme and she asked:
"Hasn't Mr. Cragg a granddaughter?"
"Oh, ye've seen little Ingua Scammel, hev ye? Or mebbe just heard tellof her. She's the cussedest little coal o' fire in seven counties!Keeps Ol' Swallertail guessin' all the time, they say, jes' like hermom, Nan Cragg, did afore her. Gosh, what a woman her mom were! Shedidn't stay 'round here much, but whenever she run out o' cash an'didn't hev a square meal comin' to her, she camped on Ol' Swallertailan' made him board her. Las' time she come she left her young-un--that's Ingua, ye know--an' the kid's been here ever since; sort of athorn in the side of ol' Hezekiah, we folks think, though he don'tnever complain. She ain't more'n twelve or thirteen year old, thetIngua, but she keeps house fer her gran'dad--what they is to keep,which ain't much. I won't let the kid 'round my store, nohow, 'causeshe swipes ev'rything, from dried apples to peanuts, thet she kin layher hands on."
"Perhaps she is hungry," said Mary Louise, defending her new friend.
"Like enough. But I ain't feedin' starvin' kids, 'Tain't my business.If Ol' Swallertail don't feed her enough, thet's _his_ lookout. I'vewarned him if she sets foot in this store I'll charge him ten cents,jes' fer safety, so he keeps her out. He's slick, Ol' Swallertail is,an' silent-like an' secret in all he does an' says; but he's got to gitup earlier in the mornin' to git the best o' Sol Jerrems, he er hiskid, either one."
As Mr. Cragg had now vanished from sight up the street, Mary Louiseventured out and after a brisk walk deposited her basket on the stoopof the Cragg cottage, where Ingua still sat, swinging her feetpensively, as if she had not stirred since Mary Louise had left her.
Mary Louise in the Country Page 4
