Bishop and the Boogerman Read online

  PART V

  When the gales of peace shall scatter War's wild, red rubbish like chaff, When the mills shall renew their clatter Then all the people will laugh.

  --_Tunison's Industrial Hymns._

  Randall celebrated his release by retiring to Lucindy's house, where heshut himself in and remained for more than an hour. He filled the littleroom with thanksgiving in the shape of song and prayer, all of whichcould be heard for a considerable distance. A great burden had beenlifted from his simple mind, and he celebrated the fact in a simple andnatural way. Lucindy understood his feelings, for she shared them. WhileRandall was praying and singing in her house, she was in the kitchenwith Adelaide. Even while the tears of gratitude and thankfulness wererunning down her cheeks, and threatening to fall in the things she wascooking (as the child saw), she made light of the whole matter. "Idunner what he mean by gwine 'way off dat-a-way, an' holdin' apray'r-meetin' by hisself. He'll have de whole town a-stan'in' 'roun' inde yard ef he keep on doin' like dat."

  "Well, Mammy Lucindy, you are crying yourself."

  "My eyes weak, honey, an' dey feels like I done stuck a splinter in bofeun um. You des wait. When you git ol' ez what I is, I lay yo' eyes willrun water, too."

  The idea of Adelaide growing old! Nobody would have thought of such athing but Lucindy, and the thought only came to her as a means of hidingher own feelings. But it is a fact that the child was about to growolder. For shortly after Randall's trouble, all of us took the road forEighteen-Hundred-and-Eighty-Five. We thought it was a long road, too,and yet, somehow, it was neither long nor rough. But it was a verypeculiar thoroughfare. For though all of us tried to walk side by side,it seemed that some of us were toiling up-hill, while others werewalking down-hill. It was so peculiar that on several occasions, I wason the point of asking Adelaide what she thought of a road that could beup-hill and down-hill in the same place, and at the same time; but thechild had so many quaint and beautiful thoughts of her own that Ihesitated to disturb her mind.

  Moreover, she was growing so fast, and getting along so well, that I hadno real desire to put new ideas in her head. Mr. Sanders declared thatshe was running up like a weed. This attracted the attention of oldJonas, who fixed his small glittering eyes on the old humourist.

  "Like a weed, Sanders?" Mr. Whipple inquired.

  "Well," replied Mr. Sanders, "call the weed a sunflower, ef it suitsyou; but I dunner what's the matter with a weed--the Lord made it."

  Old Jonas, looking off into space, nodded his head, with "Yes, I reckonmaybe He did."

  As we went along this road I have been telling you of, I thought thatperhaps old Jonas would stop to rest in a fence corner, but the furtherwe went, we found that he was as lively as any of the rest, thoughperhaps not so nimble. As for Adelaide, she simply grew; there was noother change in her. She carried her child nature along with her, andshe carried Cally-Lou. Not much was said of Cally-Lou, but all of usfelt that she was in hiding in that wide, clear space that is just aninch or so beyond the short reach of our vision; and, somehow, we wereall glad to have the company of the little dream-child who was "notquite white." I think she kept Adelaide from taking on the airs andposes of growing girls. And this was just as well. Adelaide took inknowledge, as though she had learned it somewhere before. When she beganto study at school (as we went along) she declared that the books causedher to remember things that she had forgotten. Mr. Sanders said thatthere never was such a scholar, and Mr. Tidwell agreed with him. OldJonas said nothing; his face simply wore a satisfied frown.

  None of us forgot Randall, or could afford to forget him, for we werejourneying along together. His evolution was out of the usual order.Adelaide merely fulfilled the promises of her childhood, and theexpectations of those who were in love with her; whereas, Randall outranprophecy itself. The Boogerman developed into a full-fledged minister ofthe Methodist Church, and, in the course of that development, became acomplete engine of modern industry. He went so far and so fast that hehad an abundance of time to devote to the religious enthusiasm that kepthim inwardly inflamed; and such was the power of his rude eloquence thathe attracted the admiration of whites as well as blacks. He wasignorant, but he had a gift that education has never been able toproduce in a human being--he had the gift of eloquence. When he was inthe pulpit his rough words, his simple gestures, the play of hisfeatures, the poise of his body, his whole attitude, were as far beyondthe compass of education as it is possible for the mind to conceive.This gift, or power, became so well known that he had a real taste ofwhat is called reputation in this world. He was a pattern, a model, forthe men of his race, and, indeed, for the men of any race, for therenever was a moment when he was idle after he discovered that an honestand industrious man can make and save money. All that he made, he gaveto old Jonas Whipple to keep for him. The more Randall worked the morehe learned how to work, so that in the course of a year or two, therewas nothing in the way of work that he couldn't do well. His credit atthe little bank was as good as that of most white men, and his simpleword was as good as a bond.

  The men of his race watched him with a curious kind of awe. When one ofthem asked him how he managed to accomplish the results that were plainto every one, his reply was: "Good gracious, man! I jest goes ahead anddoes it, that's how." He had a great knack of meeting opportunity beforeshe knocked at his door--of meeting her and hitching her to his shack ofa buggy, where she served the purpose of a family horse. He had theconfidence and sympathy of all the white people who knew him. He beganto buy tracts of land, and one of his purchases included High Falls,where the children and grown people had their picnic grounds. Manythought this a wild investment, especially old Jonas, who rated himsoundly for throwing away his hard-earned money; but Mr. Sanders, who,with all his humour and nonsense, was by all odds the shrewdest businessman in all that region, declared that the time would come when the moneythat Randall had paid for it would be smothered by the money he couldsell it for. Randall explained to old Jonas the reason why he had boughtthis remarkable water-power; it was because the water came so free andfell so far.

  All this, by the way, as we were journeying along. We began to try toforget Eighteen-Hundred-and-Sixty-Eight; we knew right were it was, but,as we got farther and farther away from it, it seemed to lose some ofits importance; and, sometimes, when we couldn't help but remember it,it came back to us as though it was the memory of a bad dream. Peoplebegan to look up and stir about, Progress, hand-in-hand with BetterConditions, crawled out of the woods, where they had been hiding, andbegan to pay visits to their old friends. Mr. Sanders said it gave him akind of Christmas feeling to see the hard times vanishing. Old Jonasfelt better, too. At any rate, he seemed to take more interest inAdelaide, who, by this time, had developed into a wonderfully charmingyoung woman--just how charming, I leave you to imagine; for she was ayoung woman and still a child. It is given to few people in this worldto have this combination and to be able to manage it as it should bemanaged. I don't know whether to call it the art of living, or theinstinct that makes Everybody feel as though he were Somebody. I nevercould understand the secret of it, and, indeed, I never tried, until oneday a scientist came along peddling his ideas and theories. He declaredthat there was an explanation somewhere in one of his books, but so far,I have been unable to find it. There was nothing in his dull books aboutAdelaide and her individuality. It should be borne in mind that Adelaidehad, in the course of seventeen years, developed into Something that wasquite beyond art and education. Her inimitable personality, which washers from the first, and quite beyond the contingencies of chance orchange, continued to be inimitable. She had received all the advantagesthat money could buy; but this fact only emphasised her native charm.She was a child as well as a young woman, with the sweet unconsciousnessof the one and the dazzling loveliness of the other.

  Mean as he was said to be, it was a well-known fact that old Jonas'smoney would go as far as that of any man; and when it came to a questionof Adelaide, it was as free as
the money of some of our modernmillionaires when they desire to advertise their benevolence. He wasdetermined, he said, that his niece should have all the polish theschools could furnish. He called it polish for the reason that he hadmany a hot argument with Mr. Sanders and Lawyer Tidwell with respect tothe benefits of education--the education furnished by our modern systemof public schools. He didn't believe in it; there was always too muchfor some people, and not enough for others; there was no discriminationin the scheme. Moreover, it put false ideas in some people's heads, andmade them lazy and vicious. But he had never said a word in oppositionto polish, and when he sent Adelaide to one of the most expensiveschools, it was not to educate her, he said, but to give her the"polish" that would elevate her above ordinary people.

  Adelaide received the polish, but refused to be elevated, and when shereturned home, unchanged and unspoiled, old Jonas Whipple said tohimself that his money had been spent in vain. He wanted to see her puton airs and hold herself above people, but this she never did; and shewould have laughed heartily at old Jonas's thoughts if she had knownwhat they were. Mr. Whipple seemed to have an idea that culture andrefinement are things that you can put your fingers on and feel of, andhe was sure that dignity and personal pride are their accompaniments.Yet he gave no outward sign of his disappointment if he really had any,and he swallowed such regrets as possessed him with a straight face; forhe saw, with a secret pride and pleasure that no one suspected, thatAdelaide was the most charming young girl in all that neighbourhood. Itfilled him with pride for which he could not account when he observedthat she could hold her own in any company, and that, wherever she went,she was the centre of admiration and interest.

  Now, it was not long before the promoters of a railway line from Atlantato Malvern came knocking at the doors of Shady Dale. Mr. Sanders and anumber of others were inclined to be more than hospitable to theenterprise, but old Jonas Whipple was opposed to it tooth-and-nail. Hisarguments in opposition to the enterprise will be thought amusing andridiculous in this day and time, but it is notorious, the world over,that any man with money can have a substantial following withoutresorting to bribery, and there were many in Shady Dale, who, basingtheir admiration on the fact that he had been very successful as amoney-maker, in the face of the most adverse conditions, were ready toendorse anything that old Jonas said; he was an oracle because he knewhow to make money, though it is well known that the making of money doesnot depend on a very high order of intelligence. Old Jonas's objectionsto a railway were not amenable to reason or argument; it was sufficientthat they were satisfactory to him. He had them all catalogued andnumbered. There were six of them, and they ran about as follows:

  1. A railroad would add to the racket and riot of the neighbourhood,when, even as things were, it was a difficult matter for decent peopleto sleep in peace. 2. (This objection was impressive on account of itsoriginality; no one had ever thought of it). The passing of railwaytrains would produce concussion, and this concussion, repeated atregular intervals, would cause the blossoms of the fruit trees to dropuntimely off, and would no doubt have a disastrous effect on gardenvegetables. 3. The railroad would not stop in Shady Dale, but would goon to Atlanta, thus making the little town a way-station, and drain thewhole county of its labour at a time when everybody was trying to adjusthimself to the new conditions. 4. Instead of patronising home industriesand enterprises, people would scramble for seats on the cars, and gogadding about, spending anywhere but at home the little money they had.5. Every business and all forms of industry in the whole sectionadjacent to the line would be at the mercy of the road and its managers;and, 6. What did people want with railroads, when a majority of theloudest talkers had earned no more than three dollars apiece since thewar?

  Mr. Sanders tried hard to destroy these objections by means of timelyand appropriate jokes. But jokes had no effect on Mr. Whipple. Moreover,there was one fact that no jokes could change: a great body of landbelonging to old Jonas lay right across the face of the railway survey,and there was no way to avoid it except by making a detour so wide thatShady Dale would be left far to one side. You would think, of course,that it was an easy matter to condemn a right of way through old Jonas'sland, and so it would have been but for one fact that could not beignored. There was a bitter controversy going on between the people andthe roads, and the managers were trying to be as polite as they could beunder the circumstances. The controversy referred to finally resulted inthe passage of the railway laws that are now on the statute books of thestate. The promoters of the line to Shady Dale had no desire to arousethe serious opposition of Mr. Whipple and his friends; they had no ideaof making a serious contest in view of the state of public opinion, andthey had made up their minds that if they failed to secure the right ofway through old Jonas's lands by fair words, they would leave Shady Daleout of their plans altogether. They had already surveyed another linethat would run six or seven miles north of the town, and work on thiswould have begun promptly but for the representations of Mr. Sanders andother substantial citizens, who declared that only a short delay wouldbe necessary to bring old Jonas to terms. But that result, by theinterposition of Providence, as it were, was left for others toaccomplish.

  Of the contest going on between the old-fashioned, unprogressivefaction, headed by her uncle, and the spirited element of which Mr.Sanders was the leader, Adelaide had no particular knowledge. She knewin a general way that some question in regard to the new railroad was indispute. She had heard the matter discussed, and she had laughed at someof the comments of Mr. Sanders on the obstinacy of her uncle, but thewhole matter was outside the circle of her serious thoughts andinterests until, at last, it was brought home to her in a way that thenovel writers would call romantic, though for some time it was decidedlyembarrassing.

  Blushing and laughing, she told Mr. Sanders about it afterward. Thatgenial citizen regarded it as a good joke, and, as such, he made themost of it. She was walking about in the garden one day, thinking ofchildish things, and remembering what fine times she and Mr. Sanders hadhad when she was a tiny bit of a girl. She was very old now--quiteseventeen--but her childhood was still fresh in her remembrance, and shewas quite a child in her freshness and innocence. The corn-patch was ina new place now, but to her it was still the Whish-Whish Woods. In thedays when she brought down the Boogerman with her cornstalk gun, thecorn was growing in the garden next to a side street on which there wasvery little passing to and fro; but now the corn-patch was next to athoroughfare that was much frequented. Remembering how delighted she hadbeen when Randall, the Boogerman, responded so completely to herpretence of shooting him with her cornstalk gun, she was seized by awhim that gave her an almost uncontrollable desire to repeat theperformance.

  By a gesture which, whether magical or not, admirably served itspurpose, Adelaide became a child again. Her beautiful hair, unloosed,fell below her waist, and her face had the same little pucker ofearnestness that it wore when, as a child, she was intent on herbusiness of make-believe. She found a cornstalk that suited her purpose,stripped off the blades, and concealed herself in the Whish-Whish Woods,holding her gun in readiness to make a victim of the first person thatpassed along the street. As Providence would have it, she was not keptwaiting, for almost before she could conceal herself, she heard thesound of feet. Whoever it was had no idea of the danger that awaitedhim, for he was walking along, whistling softly to himself, showing thathe was either in high feather, or seriously uneasy with respect tocertain plans he had in his head. As he came to the ambush, Adelaidepromptly thrust her cornstalk gun forward, with a loud cry of "bang!"The result was as surprising as, and far more embarrassing than, whenshe made-believe to shoot Randall. This time the victim, instead offalling on the ground and writhing, as a man should do if he isseriously wounded, nearly jumped out of his skin, crying, "Goodgracious!"

  The voice was strange to Adelaide's ears, and when she was in a positionto see her intended victim, she discovered that her innocent joke hadbeen played at the expense of a young man who
m she had never seenbefore; he was an utter stranger. The young man, glancing back to seewho had waylaid him, caught a glimpse of Adelaide, and politely raisedhis hat. Adelaide, frightened at what seemed to be her boldness, couldhardly articulate clearly, but she managed to say, in the midst of herconfusion and embarrassment, "Oh, excuse me! I thought--" but there shepaused.

  "So did I," said the young man, with a laugh, "and you are quiteexcusable." Adelaide said to herself that he was making fun of her, butshe did not fail to see, in the midst of her vexation and confusion,that he was very pleasant looking. In short he had a clear eye and astrong face. Having seen this much, she gathered her skirts free of herfeet, and went running to the house. She couldn't resist the temptationto stop in the kitchen and give Lucindy the story of her excitingadventure, and in the midst of it, she paused to say how handsome theyoung man was. When the narrative was concluded, Adelaide asked Lucindywhat she thought of it all. The old negro woman must have had very deepthoughts, judging from her silence. She asked no questions and merelynodded her head while Adelaide was talking; and then, while the excitedyoung woman was waiting for her to make some comment, the little-usedknocker on the front door fell with a tremendous whack.

  "Whosomever it mought be," remarked Lucindy, "it look like dey erbleedze ter git in, kaze dey er breakin' de door down!"

  "Oh, I believe it's the young man I tried to shoot!" cried Adelaide indistress, "and I wouldn't meet him again for the world! I wonder whereUncle Jonas is--and why he don't have a bell placed on the door?" Thenthe young woman asked with some indignation, "Mammy Lucindy, do yousuppose that young man is knocking at the door because I made a goose ofmyself in the garden?"

  "Lawsy, honey," said Lucindy, soothingly, "don't git ter frettin'; I'mgwine ter de door--yit I lay ef you had been up ter yo' neck in deflour-bairl, I wouldn't let you run ter de front door an' grin atwhomsomever mought be dar! I lay dat much."

  "But, Mammy! I'm afraid the person at the door is the young man I wasrude to when he was passing the garden. Oh, I wish Uncle Jonas wouldhire a housemaid; I can't be running to the front door all the time."

  "I ain't seed you run much, honey, kaze dat's de fust time datdoor-knocker is bangded in many's de long day. You want a house-gal,does you? Well, you better not fetch no gal in dis house fer ter makemoufs at me right 'fo' my face. She sho' won't last long; I tell you datright now!"

  Lucindy prepared to answer the summons, but before she could wipe theflour from her hands, Adelaide changed her mind. She said she wouldanswer the knock herself, and, as she went into the house, Randall camearound the corner and went into the kitchen. He was somewhat excited,and Lucindy inquired if he was ill. "Mammy," he said, "does you know whothat is knockin' at the door? Well, it aint nobody in the roun' worl'but ol' Marster's grandson; it's Miss Betty's boy. Of all people on topof the ground, that's who it is."

  Lucindy leaned on the kitchen table, and gazed at Randall in speechlesssurprise. "De Lord he'p my soul!" she exclaimed when she could find hervoice. "What he been up ter dat he ain't never is been here befo'? Hesholy can't be much mo' dan knee-high ter a puddle-duck." She persistedin thinking of her young mistress as she had known her a quarter of acentury before. Randall could tell her little beyond the fact that hehad "know'd the favour," and had spoken to the young man on the street,asking if he were not kin to the Bowdens.

  This simple question developed into a long conversation, with the resultthat Randall was as enthusiastic about Miss Betty's boy as he was aboutMiss Betty, who had saved his life. "He sho' have got the blood in 'im.He don't look strong, like all de balance of the Bowdens, but he's gottheir ways. He walks an' holds his head jest like Miss Betty."

  When Adelaide opened the door, and saw standing there the young man atwhom she had aimed her cornstalk gun, she was surprised to find that shewas not at all embarrassed. She had no idea that this particular meetinghad been arranged and provided for long ages ago. But she wondered whyshe should feel so cool and collected, when she should be confused andblushing. This is the way young women act in story books, and Adelaidehad often longed for the opportunity to stammer and blush when a strangebut noble young man appeared before her; but now that the young man hadcome, she felt as if she had known him a long, long time. He was theembarrassed one, while she observed that he had nice brown eyes, tolight up his handsome countenance, and these brown eyes seemed to betrying to apologise for something or other; and all the time the youngman was thinking that he had never seen such beautiful blue eyes asthose that were shyly glancing at him from under their long lashes. Itwas a desperate moment for all concerned, but Providence was there, andlaid its calm, cool hand on the situation. The young man asked for Mr.Whipple, but Providence had been before him, and Mr. Whipple was not tobe found in the house, though Adelaide tried hard to find him, notknowing that if her uncle could have been found just at that particulartime, a great many possibilities would have been destroyed. Adelaideinquired if the brown eyes wouldn't come in and wait for Uncle Jonas,who was to be expected at any moment, and the brown eyes softly admittedthat nothing would please them better if such an arrangement wereperfectly agreeable to everybody, otherwise not for the world would theyintrude--and then, as a matter of course, the blue eyes were compelledto see to it that the time of waiting would be made perfectly pleasant.

  After awhile the sound of footsteps was heard on the veranda, andAdelaide, with a secret regret, declared that Uncle Jonas must becoming. But Providence was looking out for the interests of the youngfellow with a keener eye, for the footsteps they heard were those of Mr.Sanders. He came in without knocking, as usual, and Adelaide ran to meethim, just as she always did. "You look as flustrated as ef you had mancompany," Mr. Sanders remarked, as she greeted him. She slapped himlightly on the arm by way of warning and rebuke. "An' I'll lay I kinguess his name: it's Winters." Adelaide was very red in the face as sheshook her head. "Then it's Somers," he declared; "I know'd it was one ofthe seasons that had dropped in on you out'n season. But it happens tobe the very chap I'm arter." He stalked in to the sitting-room, andshook hands with young Somers, calling him Jonah, though his name wasJohn.

  Then he casually inquired as to the whereabouts of Mr. Jonas Whipple, inspite of the fact that he already knew. "You see how it is," he remarkedto the young man; "you thought you wanted to see Jonas, but it wasn'tJonas you wanted to see at all." Mr. Sanders pursed his mouth, andstared at the ceiling. The remark he had made was interpreted byAdelaide in a way he had not intended, but she was quite equal to theemergency.

  "Well, Mr. Sanders," she inquired with great dignity, "whom did Mr.Somers desire to see?"

  He turned a bland and child-like smile upon her. "Why, he wanted to seeme, of course. Who else could it 'a' been?" Adelaide's dignity was notmade of the strongest stuff, and she was compelled to laugh. "Iunderstood him to inquire for Uncle Jonas," she said simply, "but I mayhave been mistaken."

  "No; I really want to see Mr. Whipple," the young man insisted. "That ismy business here."

  Mr. Sanders beamed upon him with a smile that was as broad and sweet asa slice of pie. "I've allers took notice," he remarked, "that wimmen an'children, an' young folks in gener'l, will ax for the identical thingsthey ought not to have. They're made that-a-way, I reckon."

  In a little while the young man bowed himself out, followed by Mr.Sanders. "You young fellers worry me no little," remarked the Sage ofShady Dale, as they went along the street together. "I happen to knowabout the business that fetched you here, an' I mighty nigh swallered mygoozle when I seed you makin' for Jonas's."

  "Well, I really thought Mr. Whipple was the proper person to see. I wastold that he held the key to the situation," young Somers replied.

  Mr. Sanders smiled benignly. "Old Jonas has been seed an' he's beensaw'd," said the elder man so drolly that Somers laughed outright. "Ireckon you've been to college, ain't you? I 'lowed as much. The trainin'is all right, but you'll have to fergit a heap you've l'arned ef youwant travellin' for to be easy. Old as I am, I wish I
had some of yourknowledge, but if you was to put it all in a hamper basket an' gi' methe right to paw it over, you'd be surprised at what I'd pick out. Myexperience is that when a feller gits through college, an' begins for toface the hard propositions that he ain't never thought about, he allerstakes a notion that somethin's wrong somewhar.

  "I reckon maybe you've got the idee that argyment, ef it's got all thefacts behind it, is the thing that's bound for to win, an' you'll haveto git bumped by a barnyard full of billy-goats before you find out thatnineteen-hundred squar' miles on 'em ain't wuth one little inch ofpersuasion. It's all right in the books, whar they l'arn you how tothink an' put up a nice article of argyment, but it don't work in reellife. You can't carry none of your p'ints wi'out doin' some mighty purtydancin' on t'other side of the line. Now I've saved you from one of thewust bumpin's that a young feller ever had, and the beauty about it isyou'll never have a suspicion of it ontel you're old enough for to havegrandchildren. It'll not hurt you for to hit some of the rough places asyou go slidin' through this vale of tears, but it'll never do you anyreel good for to climb four flights of sta'rs an' then jump out'n thetop window when you want to come down."

  "I should think that even a fool would know that," the young mandeclared.

  "Well, some on 'em don't," responded Mr. Sanders. "Thar's diffunt kindsof fools, an' diffunt kinds of houses, an' heap higher jumps, an' you'd'a' had the experience of it ef you'd 'a' found old Jonas at home. Thenext time you go thar don't ax for him. Call for Adelaide--call forLucindy the cook (she use' to belong to your Gran'daddy Bowden)--callfor Randall--call for any an' ever'body but old Jonas."

  "But what am I to do?" the young man inquired somewhat impatiently. "Itseems that I may as well go back to Malvern or Atlanta; and when I dothat, I'll have to hunt for another job."

  Mr. Sanders hummed a tune, and apparently paid no attention to the youngman's last remark. "Old Jonas is mighty quar'," he said after a pause."When his sister died up thar in Atlanta, you couldn't 'a' told from themotions he made that he'd hearn the mournful news; but sence he's hadfor to take keer of Adelaide, her daughter, his gizzard has kindersoftened up. Why, that man thinks that the sun rises an' sets wharAdelaide lives at."

  "Well," said the young fellow, "she certainly is charming; I don't thinkI ever met a young lady that so impressed me."

  "Forty years from now you'll be able for to say the same thing,"remarked Mr. Sanders. "Well, as I was a-tellin' you, old Jonas ain'tnigh as mean as he looks to be, but when I found out that he reely had aheart, you mought 'a' knocked me down wi' a feather. It was the timeyour gran'daddy died. Why, Jonas walked the floor all night long. Thatmuch I know bekaze I seed it wi' my own eyes. An' then thar's thatnigger Randall--thar ain't no tellin' how much Jonas has done for him,nor how much he will do. But when it comes to makin' a fuss, Jonas ain'tin it. He's too hard-headed for to let people know him as he is. Now,don't think I'm doin' any obiturary work, bekaze the fact is old Jonasain't a bit better than he ought to be. I reckon, he is too hard-headedfor to let people know him as he is, but the fact is that old Jonas ishuman; he ain't a bit better than the rest on us--an' he may be wuss insome spots. Ef you've ever took notice, the people between the best manin the world an' the wust, make a purty fa'r average. I reckon," Mr.Sanders went on, regarding Somers with a child-like smile, "I reckon youain't never played poker as a habit?"

  "Not as a habit," replied the young man, laughing.

  "Well, the hand I've dealt to you is known as a royal straight flush,an' it sweeps ever'thing before it. Look it over when you git time, an'ef anybody calls you, jes spread out the kyards on the table, an' ax 'emwhat they think of the lay-out."

  "I don't think I know what you mean," said the young man, with some showof embarrassment.

  "Maybe not," replied Mr. Sanders, "but I leave it to you ef that's myfault; I've dealt you the hand, an' ef you dunno how to play it, youcan't blame me. I see Tidwell across yander, an' I want to have a talkwi' him; maybe he'll loan me his pocket-han'kcher. So-long!"

  Young Somers went to his room in the tavern and pondered long over theproblem that Mr. Sanders had presented with confident smiles. He triedto think it out, but, somehow, he could think of nothing but a laughingface, dimpled and sweet, blue eyes and golden hair, and lovely whitehands lifted in eloquent gesture. He could concentrate all the powers ofhis mind on these, and he could think a little, just a little, of thewonderful personality of Mr. Sanders, who had persisted in remaining aboy, in spite of his years and large experience, but so far as puzzlesand problems were concerned, his mind refused to work.

  It was the same the next day, and the next. He walked about the littletown by way of recreation, but by far the largest part of his time wasspent in his room at the tavern. On the morning of the third day of hisstay in Shady Dale, he concluded to visit the old place where hisgrandfather had lived, and where his mother was born. Of the whereaboutsof the place he had not the slightest idea, though he knew it was abouta mile from the centre of the town. While he was debating whether or nohe should wander about and try to find it for himself, or whether heshould make inquiries as to the direction, he heard the rustle of skirtsbehind him. Turning he beheld his vision of blue eyes and golden hair.This, however, was the reality. The young fellow had a queer notion,momentary but vivid, that somewhere or somehow, in some dim, mysteriousregion under the stars, he had come suddenly upon this same experience,under precisely the same conditions--and the thought gave him a thrillthe like of which he had never felt before--the kind of thrill that, asMr. Sanders once suggested, makes you think that you've clerked in adry-goods store in some other world.

  Blue eyes and dimples were very gracious. "You left too soon the otherday," they declared; "Uncle Jonas came in shortly after you went away,and you were hardly out of the house before one of your mother's oldservants came in to see you. It was Mammy Lucindy, our cook, and she wasvery much disappointed to find you had gone."

  "I'm sorry," the young fellow said, and he was so emphatic, and soserious, that Adelaide laughed. "I have heard my mother speak of Lucindyand her son Randall."

  "When Uncle Jonas came in," remarked Adelaide, "I told him you hadcalled. He frowned and said he supposed you wanted to see him onbusiness; but I suggested that perhaps you had called because you wereJudge Bowden's grandson. He declared you had never thought of such athing; but the possibility that you might have had such a thoughtpleased him greatly. I don't know when I have seen him in such high goodhumour."

  They were walking along as they talked, and the young man made a mentalnote of old Jonas's pleasure. The sun was shining brightly, the air wasfresh and cool, the jay-birds in the China trees were hilarious, and,somehow or other, the two young people felt very happy as they walkedalong. They had no particular reason for their happiness, but theyseemed to be in the atmosphere in which happiness arises like thesparkling dew of early morning. A deaf old lady sitting on her piazza,on the opposite side of the street, smiled sweetly at Adelaide, and heldher trumpet to her ear, as if, by means of its echoing depths, she couldhear what the laughing young woman was saying. Adelaide did havesomething to say, evidently--something that an ear-trumpet could notinterpret across the wide street, for she made a little gesture with herhead, which her companion failed to see, and she sent some signalwhirling through the air by means of a fluttering white hand. Thissignal he did see, but he was unfamiliar with the code that prevailsamong women-kind the world over: yet he had no difficulty in taking itto be an ordinary salutation, especially as the smiling old lady wavedthe trumpet around her head with an air of triumph. Still there wassomething in it all that seemed to be a trifle beyond him--and from thefeminine point of view it was a neat and pretty piece of work.

  He had small opportunity to give the matter any thought, for Adelaide,laughing, turned toward him, and began to speak of the affection herUncle Jonas had felt for Judge Bowden, and the high esteem in which heheld the judge's memory. She acknowledged that it was very queer that aman long dead should play a
living part in her uncle's thoughts, but sheexplained that people had wrong ideas about her uncle. "They seem tothink," she declared, "that Uncle Jonas is very mean and stingy, andhard-hearted; but if they knew him as well as I do, they would thinkdifferently."

  The young fellow would have protested, but Adelaide stopped him with adignified wave of her versatile white hand. "I know what people say,"she insisted. "Mr. Sanders tells me, and so does Randall, whose life wassaved by your mother; they tell me everything that is said about UncleJonas. And I always tell him about it, but he doesn't seem to care; helaughs as if it were a good joke, and declares that people have moresense than he has been willing to credit them with. Really, I believe helikes it, but it is not at all agreeable to me."

  Young Somers hardly knew what to say; he had heard old Jonas describedas the meanest man in twenty states, and the promoters of the railwayenterprise who had sent him to Shady Dale were not at all backward inexpressing their opinion of the man who was causing them so muchunnecessary trouble and delay. So he walked on in silence for awhile.Then: "Speaking of my grandfather, I was just on the point of inquiringabout the old place, but when you made your appearance just now,dropping out of the sky, I forgot all about it. I should like very muchto see the home where my mother was born, and where my grandfather wasborn and died. I have heard my mother talk about Shady Dale and aboutthe old home-place ever since I could understand what she said. Iremember, when I was a child, that I had a queer idea that the town wasshaped like a bowl or saucer; all the good people that chanced to comeby stumbled and fell in, there to remain, and all the bad people crawledover the rim and fell out; and I couldn't help having a feeling ofdisappointment when I found that Shady Dale is very much like othertowns."

  "Now, don't say that!" protested Adelaide. "I have seen a great manytowns, but never one like this--not one as pretty."

  "Why, in North Carolina----" the young fellow began, but Adelaideinterrupted him with a laugh so genuine and unaffected that it wasdelightful to hear. Yet, in spite of the fact that he enjoyed therippling sound, he felt his face turning red. "You think North Carolinais a joke," he went on, "but you would be surprised to know what a greatstate it is."

  "I was laughing at one of Mr. Sanders's jokes," said Adelaide, stillsmiling. "Once there was a tobacco peddler came here driving a bigcovered waggon. Mr. Sanders discovered he was from North Carolina, andshook hands with him very cordially, and asked about a great many peoplehe never heard of. The tobacco man said they must have moved away, butMr. Sanders said he thought not, for the reason that the only threeNorth Carolinians he ever saw that were able to settle at the toll-gatesand ferries, made their way straight to Alabama, and formed a businessfirm. He said the name of this firm was 'Tar, Pitch, andTurkentime'--that's the way he pronounced the names. The tobacco mandidn't get angry; he laughed as loudly as anybody, and Uncle Jonas saysthat was because he wasn't conceited."

  Here Adelaide paused; she had come to the house of the friend sheproposed to visit, and from the gate she pointed out the trees that grewso abundantly on the Bowden place, and her attitude seemed to say to theyoung man that should he get lost, he would be safe so long as she waswithin calling distance. He had been used to more dignity and less charmon the part of most of the young women he knew, and he rather preferredthe variety which he had now come in contact with for the first time.And yet, when he came to the old homestead, where his grandfather livedand died, and where his mother was born, he was attacked by none of theemotions that would have seized upon the soul of his mother. He had beeneducated in a different environment, and he was essentially modern inhis sense of the importance of business affairs. As he read the friendlyinscription on the tomb of his grandfather--the family burying-groundbeing not far from the picturesquely simple old house--he was consciousof a strong desire to know whether failure or success would crown hisnegotiations with Mr. Jonas Whipple.

  The vagrant winds blew through the tops of trees more than two centuriesold, the house frowned grimly over the reminiscences of pasthospitality, and the whole scene appealed strongly to sentiments thatare now said not to be strictly scientific. But it must not be supposedthat the young man had no poetry in his soul, or that his nature wasfree from emotions of a sentimental character. He lived entirely in thepresent, and the past had no meaning for him save that which was coldlyhistorical. He found his inspiration in the rhythmical clatter andcackle of intricate machinery; he was stirred by the interweaving andinterlacing business problems, and the whole movement, shape, andpattern of huge commercial enterprises.

  Nor was this a misfortune. Being modern and practical, he was whollyfree from the entanglements and misconceptions of prejudices that hadoutlived the issues that gave rise to them; and he went about hisbusiness with a mind at once clear, clean, and cheerful, bearing thesignal of hope on his forehead. As he walked about the old place, it wascharacteristic of him, that he should be seeking the solution of thepuzzle which Mr. Sanders had placed before him in the shape of a "royalstraight flush," but in a matter of this kind, his mathematics availinghim nothing: nor did it occur to him that the solution was to be foundsomewhere in the region from which the nations of the world draw theirnot over-abundant supplies of poetical metaphor. After an interval whichhe deemed seemly and proper, he turned his steps in the direction whencehe had come. The street being straight as well as wide, afforded a fineperspective of sun and shade, to say nothing of the sand. As he went on,he walked more and more rapidly, so that he could have been accused offleeing from the ghosts of his ancestors; but the propelling influencewas the sight of Adelaide, who, having completed her morning call, wasemerging from the gate-way that led to the house of her friend. She wasfor moving on, but seemed suddenly to remember about the young man.Turning, she saw him coming, and waited, sauntering slowly, her mindfull of a swarm of thoughts that had been fighting for its possessionsince she first saw him.

  "The sight of your mother's old home doesn't seem to have saddened you,"she remarked, as he came up.

  "No," he replied, "but that is because I have no refreshing memory ofthe old place. All my ideas about it are second hand; and besides, itseems to be a very cheerful place. I imagine that the soil round aboutis still fertile."

  "I never thought of that," she answered; "but men are always morepractical than women. In your place, I should have searched over the oldhomestead for the favourite walks of my grandfather; and I should haveknown, before I came away, where my mother ran, and hid herself when herfeelings were hurt; and where she played with her dolls, and just howshe did when she was a little bit of a girl."

  The young man had an uneasy idea that Adelaide was poking fun at him,but her face was so grave that he dismissed the idea, and it was thenthat he felt himself stirred by a dim conception of the region in whichthe thoughts of this beautiful young woman wandered and ranged.

  "What I was really thinking of all the time," he said, with a laugh thatsomehow conveyed a regret that his thoughts were on a plane so muchlower than hers, "was how I shall prevail on your uncle to convey to therailway company a right of way through his land. It means a great dealto me."

  "Oh, _that_ is why you are here!" exclaimed Adelaide. "Well, I waswondering." She regarded him very seriously for a moment and he feltthat he had fallen a notch in her estimation. "If you'll take myadvice," she said, "you will leave the whole affair to Randall."

  "But how can I? Randall is a negro. I'm sure I don't understand what youmean!" His pride, his self-esteem, had been wounded to the very core,and his face was very red.

  "Yes, leave it to Randall and Mr. Sanders," Adelaide replied, "and you'dnot lose anything if you could manage to introduce the ghost of yourgrandfather." This was said airily, but it had far more meaning thatyoung Somers was able to read into it.

  "I never saw just such a place as this is," he remarked somewhatpetulantly, "where the people can only help you along by means ofriddles and parables and jokes. Mr. Sanders tells me to say nothing toyour uncle about the business on which I ha
ve been sent. And then hesays that I already have a royal straight flush in my hand. What am I toinfer from that?"

  Young Somers, without intending it, revealed the essential boyishness ofhis nature, and Adelaide relished it immensely. "You are to infer justwhat he intended you should," she declared. "The jokes of Mr. Sandersmean a great deal more than another man's wisdom. You'll discover thatfor yourself when you come to know him well."

  "But you can't do business by means of jokes," the young fellowprotested.

  "That's the way Mr. Sanders transacts his business," Adelaide responded,"and he's a very prosperous man. As for your grandfather's ghost, UncleJonas will raise it if you give him half an opportunity. You'll learn agreat deal from Mr. Sanders and Uncle Jonas if you stay here longenough." The expression of her face was demureness itself, but the blueeyes sparkled with humour.

  Now, young Somers was neither slow nor dull, but the peculiar atmospherehe found at Shady Dale was something new in his experience, and he wascompelled to tunnel through it before he could clearly understand it.His business training, as far as it had gone, and all his businessassociations, had accustomed him to methods of procedure that were notonly direct, but blunt. He never went around obstacles but through orover them. But he knew, after giving the matter some consideration, andafter discovering that the ordinary commercial and cold-blooded methodswould be useless here, that he would have to enter into the spirit ofthe place. He was a very attractive young man when at his best, and hemade himself more attractive than ever by acquiring a quick sympathy forthe things that interested the sincere and simple people about him.

  He had several long talks with Mr. Sanders, during which he never oncementioned business nor anything relating thereto. Instead, he seemed tobe very much interested in Adelaide and her personality, her nature andindividuality. On this subject Mr. Sanders was eloquent. He coulddiscourse on it for hours, and was only humorous when he wanted to makepeople believe he was in earnest. He told Somers all about Cally-Lou,and asked the young man what he thought about the child that was alittle more than make-believe, and yet remained on the very verge ofvisibility. Now, the young man was very practical; circumstances hadmade him so. His spirit had had so little exercise, his dreams remainedso persistently on the hither side of concrete things, he was socompletely invested with the cold and critical views that were theresult of his education, that his mind never ventured much beyond hismaterial interests, and he never tried to peep around the many cornersthat life presents to a curious and sincere observer. Consequently, hewas all at sea, as the saying is, when Mr. Sanders told him aboutCally-Lou. He thought it was some form of a new joke, and he would havehad a hearty laugh had the old philosopher given him the wink.

  But the wink was not forthcoming. On the contrary, much to the youngman's surprise, Mr. Sanders appeared to be very serious. But the youngman was as frank as it is possible for a youngster to be. "I'll behonest with you, Mr. Sanders," he said. "I don't know a thing about suchmatters. If I were not in Shady Dale, where everything seems to be sodifferent, I would say at once that you are talking nonsense--that youare trying to play some kind of a practical joke--but, as it is, I don'tknow what to think."

  When the young man said that everything is different in Shady Dale, hemeant that Adelaide was different, and Mr. Sanders knew it; so he said,"When you git so that you kin mighty nigh see Cally-Lou, you'll be wuthlookin' at twice."

  Somers took this more seriously than he would have taken it twenty-fourhours previously--and he carried it to the tavern with him, and thoughtit over a long time; and then, as if that were not sufficient, hecarried it to the Bowden place in the dusk of the evening, and worriedwith it until he had no difficulty in discovering where his grandfatherhad walked, and where his mother had hid herself when her feelings werehurt, and where she had played with her dolls.

  The experience helped him in many ways, so much that when Adelaide sawhim only a few hours later she exclaimed, "Why, how well you arelooking! Our climate must be fine to make such a change in you." And Mr.Sanders--"Well, well! ef you stay here long, you'll turn out to be apurty nice lookin' chap. The home air is mighty good for folks, so I'vebeen told." And, somehow or other, without further explanation, theyoung fellow knew what Mr. Sanders had meant by his talk about the"royal straight flush." When he called on old Jonas, he went as thegrandson of Judge Bowden, and not as the agent of the promoter of thenew railway, and endeavoured to learn everything that the old man knewabout his grandfather.

  Mr. Sanders joined the two before they had been conversing very long,and he was surprised, as well as pleased, to find how completely oldJonas had thawed out. There was not a frown on his face, and, onoccasion, he laughed heartily over some incident that his memory drewfrom the past. And, presently, Adelaide glided in from the innermostrecesses of the house, and sat near her uncle. She was a charmingaddition, and a most interesting one, for she was able to remind oldJonas of many things he had told her about the dead judge. Mr. Sanders,not to be outdone, contributed some of his own reminiscences, so thatthe evening became a sort of memorial of a good man who had long passedaway.

  When the visitors were going away, Adelaide accompanied them to thedoor, and went with them on the veranda. Before Mr. Sanders could saygood-bye, she caught him by his sleeve--"Do you remember what I told youthe other day? Well, she has returned."

  "What did she say?" he inquired, his finger on his chin. Adelaideblushed, but no one could see her embarrassment. "Why, she says thateverything looks a great deal better by lamplight."

  Young Somers heard the conversation, but kept on moving away. "Did youhear that?" inquired Mr. Sanders, as he overtook the other. "She wastalking about Cally-Lou. It seems she run away the day you showed yourface here, and now she's come back." And further than that, the Sage ofShady Dale said not a word. But the next day, he met the young fellow onthe street, and gave him a congratulatory slap on the back. "You showedup purty strong, sonny; an' now that you've diskiver'd for yourself thatthar's a whole lot of ingineerin' that's nuther civil nor mechanical,an' that aint got a thing in the world to do wi' figgers, you'll manageto git along ruther better than you thought--in fact, mighty nighfustrate.

  "But don't fergit Cally-Lou!"

  And the young fellow did get along first-rate in more ways than one. Therailroad was allowed to run right through old Jonas's land, and when itwas completed there was nothing to do but to celebrate the event by amarriage, in which the young man was aided and abetted by Adelaide. Thenwhen everything had settled down, he took hold of Randall's water-powerand furnished lights for the town, and power for two or three mills inwhich Mr. Sanders was interested. I think this is all, but if you are indoubt about it, and want to find out something more, just enclose astamp to William H. Sanders, Esq., Shady Dale, Georgia.

  By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS

  Uncle Remus--His Songs and His Sayings Nights with Uncle Remus Uncle Remus and His Friends Mingo Little Mr. Thimblefinger On the Plantation Daddy Jake, the Runaway Balaam and His Master Mr. Rabbit at Home The Story of Aaron Sister Jane Free Joe Stories of Georgia Aaron in the Wild Woods Tales of the Home Folks Georgia, from the Invasion of De Soto to Recent Times Evening Tales Stories of Home Folks Chronicles of Aunt Minerva Ann On the Wing of Occasions The Making of a Statesman Gabriel Tolliver Wally Wanderoon A Little Union Scout The Tar Baby Story and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus Told by Uncle Remus The Yankee Hater, etc.