CHAPTER XXII
AS PERRY SAW IT
One by one the days passed, and there came from the anxious watchers atDavid's bedside only the words, "There's very little change." OftenJack Gurnsey went to the farmhouse to inquire for the boy. Often, too,he saw Perry Larson; and Perry was never loath to talk of David. It wasfrom Perry, indeed, that Gurnsey began to learn some things of Davidthat he had never known before.
"It does beat all," Perry Larson said to him one day, "how many folksasks me how that boy is--folks that you'd never think knew him, anyhow,ter say nothin' of carin' whether he lived or died. Now, there's oldMis' Somers, fur instance. YOU know what she is--sour as a lemon an'puckery as a chokecherry. Well, if she didn't give me yesterday a greatbo-kay o' posies she'd growed herself, an' said they was fur him--thatthey berlonged ter him, anyhow.
"'Course, I didn't exactly sense what she meant by that, so I asked herstraight out; an' it seems that somehow, when the boy first come, hestruck her place one day an' spied a great big red rose on one of herbushes. It seems he had his fiddle, an' he, played it,--that rosea-growin' (you know his way!), an' she heard an' spoke up pretty sharpan' asked him what in time he was doin'. Well, most kids would 'a'run,--knowin' her temper as they does,--but not much David. He standsup as pert as ye please, an' tells her how happy that red rose must beter make all that dreary garden look so pretty; an' then he goes on,merry as a lark, a-playin' down the hill.
"Well, Mis' Somers owned up ter me that she was pretty mad at the time,'cause her garden did look like tunket, an' she knew it. She said shehadn't cared ter do a thing with it since her Bessie died that thoughtso much of it. But after what David had said, even mad as she was, thething kind o' got on her nerves, an' she couldn't see a thing, day ornight, but that red rose a-growin' there so pert an' courageous-like,until at last, jest ter quiet herself, she fairly had ter set to an'slick that garden up! She said she raked an' weeded, an' fixed up allthe plants there was, in good shape, an' then she sent down to theJunction fur some all growed in pots, 'cause 't was too late ter plantseeds. An, now it's doin' beautiful, so she jest could n't help sendin'them posies ter David. When I told Mis' Holly, she said she was glad ithappened, 'cause what Mis' Somers needed was somethin' ter git her outof herself--an' I'm free ter say she did look better-natured, an' nomistake,--kind o' like a chokecherry in blossom, ye might say."
"An' then there's the Widder Glaspell," continued Perry, after a pause."'Course, any one would expect she'd feel bad, seein' as how good Davidwas ter her boy--teachin' him ter play, ye know. But Mis' Glaspell saysJoe jest does take on somethin' turrible, an' he won't tech the fiddle,though he was plum carried away with it when David was well an'teachin' of him. An' there's the Clark kid. He's lame, ye know, an' hethought the world an' all of David's playin'.
"'Course, there's you an' Miss Holbrook, always askin' an' sendin'things--but that ain't so strange, 'cause you was 'specially hisfriends. But it's them others what beats me. Why, some days it's 'mostev'ry soul I meet, jest askin' how he is, an' sayin' they hopes he'llgit well. Sometimes it's kids that he's played to, an' I'll betriggered if one of 'em one day didn't have no excuse to offer exceptthat David had fit him--'bout a cat, or somethin'--an' that ever sincethen he'd thought a heap of him--though he guessed David didn't knowit. Listen ter that, will ye!
"An' once a woman held me up, an' took on turrible, but all I could gitfrom her was that he'd sat on her doorstep an' played ter her baby onceor twice;--as if that was anythin'! But one of the derndest funny oneswas the woman who said she could wash her dishes a sight easier aftershe'd a-seen him go by playin'. There was Bill Dowd, too. You know hereally HAS got a screw loose in his head somewheres, an' there ain'tany one but what says he's the town fool, all right. Well, what do yethink HE said?"
Mr. Jack shook his head.
"Well, he said he did hope as how nothin' would happen ter that boycause he did so like ter see him smile, an' that he always did smileevery time he met him! There, what do ye think o' that?"
"Well, I think, Perry," returned Mr. Jack soberly, "that Bill Dowdwasn't playing the fool, when he said that, quite so much as hesometimes is, perhaps."
"Hm-m, maybe not," murmured Perry Larson perplexedly. "Still, I'm freeter say I do think 't was kind o' queer." He paused, then slapped hisknee suddenly. "Say, did I tell ye about Streeter--Old Bill Streeteran' the pear tree?"
Again Mr. Jack shook his head.
"Well, then, I'm goin' to," declared the other, with gleeful emphasis."An', say, I don't believe even YOU can explain this--I don't! Well,you know Streeter--ev'ry one does, so I ain't sayin' nothin'sland'rous. He was cut on a bias, an' that bias runs ter money everytime. You know as well as I do that he won't lift his finger unlessthere's a dollar stickin' to it, an' that he hain't no use fur anythin'nor anybody unless there's money in it for him. I'm blamed if I don'tthink that if he ever gits ter heaven, he'll pluck his own wings an'sell the feathers fur what they'll bring."
"Oh, Perry!" remonstrated Mr. Jack, in a half-stifled voice.
Perry Larson only grinned and went on imperturbably.
"Well, seein' as we both understand what he is, I'll tell ye what heDONE. He called me up ter his fence one day, big as life, an' says he,'How's the boy?' An' you could 'a' knocked me down with a feather.Streeter--a-askin' how a boy was that was sick! An' he seemed ter care,too. I hain't seen him look so longfaced since--since he was paid up ona sartin note I knows of, jest as he was smackin' his lips over a nicefat farm that was comin' to him!
"Well, I was that plum puzzled that I meant ter find out why Streeterwas takin' sech notice, if I hung fur it. So I set to on a littledetective work of my own, knowin', of course, that 't wa'n't no useaskin' of him himself. Well, an' what do you s'pose I found out? Ifthat little scamp of a boy hadn't even got round him--Streeter, theskinflint! He had--an' he went there often, the neighbors said; an'Streeter doted on him. They declared that actually he give him a centonce--though THAT part I ain't swallerin' yet.
"They said--the neighbors did--that it all started from the peartree--that big one ter the left of his house. Maybe you remember it.Well, anyhow, it seems that it's old, an' through bearin' any fruit,though it still blossoms fit ter kill, every year, only a little late'most always, an' the blossoms stay on longer'n common, as if they knewthere wa'n't nothin' doin' later. Well, old Streeter said it had gotter come down. I reckon he suspected it of swipin' some of thesunshine, or maybe a little rain that belonged ter the tree t'otherside of the road what did bear fruit an' was worth somethin'! Anyhow,he got his man an' his axe, an' was plum ready ter start in when hesees David an' David sees him.
"'T was when the boy first come. He'd gone ter walk an' had struck thispear tree, all in bloom,--an' 'course, YOU know how the boy wouldact--a pear tree, bloomin', is a likely sight, I'll own. He danced andlaughed and clapped his hands,--he didn't have his fiddle withhim,--an' carried on like all possessed. Then he sees the man with theaxe, an' Streeter an' Streeter sees him.
"They said it was rich then--Bill Warner heard it all from t'other sideof the fence. He said that David, when he found out what was goin' terhappen, went clean crazy, an' rampaged on at such a rate that oldStreeter couldn't do nothin' but stand an' stare, until he finallymanaged ter growl out: 'But I tell ye, boy, the tree ain't no use nomore!'
"Bill says the boy flew all to pieces then. 'No use--no use!' he cries;'such a perfectly beautiful thing as that no use! Why, it don't haveter be any use when it's so pretty. It's jest ter look at an' love, an'be happy with!' Fancy sayin' that ter old Streeter! I'd like ter seenhis face. But Bill says that wa'n't half what the boy said. He declaredthat 't was God's present, anyhow, that trees was; an' that the thingsHe give us ter look at was jest as much use as the things He give uster eat; an' that the stars an' the sunsets an' the snowflakes an' thelittle white cloud-boats, an' I don't know what-all, was jest asimportant in the Orchestra of Life as turnips an' squashes. An' then,Billy says, he ended by jest flingin' himself on ter Streeter an
'beggin' him ter wait till he could go back an' git his fiddle so hecould tell him what a beautiful thing that tree was.
"Well, if you'll believe it, old Streeter was so plum befuzzled he sentthe man an' the axe away--an' that tree's a-livin' ter-day--'t is!" hefinished; then, with a sudden gloom on his face, Larson added, huskily:"An' I only hope I'll be sayin' the same thing of that boy--come nextmonth at this time!"
"We'll hope you will," sighed the other fervently.
And so one by one the days passed, while the whole town waited andwhile in the great airy "parlor bedroom" of the Holly farmhouse onesmall boy fought his battle for life. Then came the blackest day andnight of all when the town could only wait and watch--it had lost itshope; when the doctors shook their heads and refused to meet Mrs.Holly's eyes; when the pulse in the slim wrist outside the coverletplayed hide-and-seek with the cool, persistent fingers that sought soearnestly for it; when Perry Larson sat for uncounted sleepless hoursby the kitchen stove, and fearfully listened for a step crossing thehallway; when Mr. Jack on his porch, and Miss Holbrook in her towerwidow, went with David down into the dark valley, and came so near therushing river that life, with its petty prides and prejudices, couldnever seem quite the same to them again.
Then, after that blackest day and night, came the dawn--as the dawns docome after the blackest of days and nights. In the slender wristoutside the coverlet the pulse gained and steadied. On the foreheadbeneath the nurse's fingers, a moisture came. The doctors nodded theirheads now, and looked every one straight in the eye. "He will live,"they said. "The crisis is passed." Out by the kitchen stove PerryLarson heard the step cross the hall and sprang upright; but at thefirst glimpse of Mrs. Holly's tear-wet, yet radiant face, he collapsedlimply.
"Gosh!" he muttered. "Say, do you know, I didn't s'pose I did care somuch! I reckon I'll go an' tell Mr. Jack. He'll want ter hear."
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