Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction by Joel Chandler Harris
CHAPTER FOUR
_Mr. Goodlett's Passengers_
The vehicle that Mr. Goodlett was driving was an old hack that had beenused for long years to ply between Shady Dale and Malvern. On thisoccasion, Mr. Goodlett had for his passengers a lady and a young womanapparently about Nan's age. There was such a contrast between the twothat Gabriel became absorbed in contemplating them; so much so that hefailed to hear the greetings that passed between Mr. Goodlett and Mr.Sanders, who were old-time friends. The elder of the two women wasemaciated to a degree, and her face was pale to the point ofghastliness; but in spite of her apparent weakness, there was an easeand a refinement in her manner, a repose and a self-possession thatreminded Gabriel of his grandmother, when she was receiving the fineladies from a distance who sometimes called on her. The younger of thetwo women, on the other hand, was the picture of health. The buoyancy ofyouth possessed her. She had an eager, impatient way of handling her fanand handkerchief, and there was a twinkle in her eye that spoke ofhumour; but her glance never fell directly on the men in the waggon; allher attention was for the invalid.
Mr. Goodlett, his greeting over, was for pushing on, but the voice ofthe invalid detained him. "Can you tell me," she said, turning to Mr.Sanders, "whether the Gaither Place is occupied? Oh, but I forgot; youare just returning from that horrible, horrible war." She had liftedherself from a reclining position, but fell back hopelessly.
"Why, Ab thar ought to be able to tell you that," responded Mr. Sanders,his voice full of sympathy.
"Well, I jest ain't," declared Mr. Goodlett, with some show ofimpatience. "I tell you, William, I been so worried an' flurried, an' sodisqualified an' mortified, an' so het up wi' fust one thing an' thenanother, that I ain't skacely had time for to scratch myself on theeatchin' places, much less gittin' up all times er night for to see efthe Gaither Place is got folks or ha'nts in it. When you've been throughwhat I have, William, you won't come a-axin' me ef the Gaither house iswhar it mought be, or whar it oughter be, or ef it's popylated ordispopylated."
The young lady stroked the invalid's hand and smiled. Something in thefrowning face and fractious tone of the old man evidently appealed toher sense of humour. "Don't you think it is absurd," said the pale lady,again appealing to Mr. Sanders, "that a person should live in so small atown, and not know whether one of the largest houses in the place isoccupied--a house that belongs to a family that used to be one of themost prominent of the county? Why, of course it is absurd. There issomething uncanny about it. I haven't had such a shock in many a day."
"But, mother," protested the young lady, "why worry about it? A greatmany strange things have happened to us, and this is the least importantof all."
"Why, dearest, this is the strangest of all strange things. The driverhere says he lives at Dorringtons', and the Gaither house is not so veryfar from Dorringtons'."
"Everybody knows," said Gabriel, "that Miss Polly Gaither lives in theGaither house." He spoke before he was aware, and began to blush.Whereupon the young lady gave him a very bright smile.
"Humph!" grunted Mr. Goodlett, giving the lad a severe look. He startedto climb into his seat, but turned to Gabriel. "Is she got a wen?" heasked, with something like a scowl.
"Yes, she has a wen," replied the lad, blushing again, but this time forMr. Goodlett.
"Well, then, ef she's got a wen, ef Polly Gaithers is got a wen, she'slivin' in that house, bekaze, no longer'n last Sat'day, she come roun'for to borry some meal; an' whatsomever she use to have, an' whatsomevershe mought have herearter, she's got a wen now, an' I'll tell you so ona stack of Bibles as high as the court-house."
The young lady laughed, but immediately controlled herself with ahalf-petulant "Oh dear!" Laughter became her well, for it smoothed awaya little frown of perplexity that had established itself between hereyebrows.
"Oh, we'll take the young man's word for it," said the invalid, "and weare very much obliged to him. What is your name?" When Gabriel had toldher, she repeated the name over again. "I used to know your grandmothervery well," she said. "Tell her Margaret Bridalbin has returned home,and would be delighted to see her."
"Then, ma'am, you must be Margaret Gaither," remarked Mr. Sanders.
"Yes, I was Margaret Gaither," replied the invalid. "I used to know youvery well, Mr. Sanders, and if I had changed as little as you have, Icould still boast of my beauty."
"Yet nobody hears me braggin' of mine, Margaret," said Mr. Sanders witha smile that found its reflection in the daughter's face; "but I hopefrom my heart that home an' old friends will be a good physic for you,an' git you to braggin' ag'in. Anyhow, ef you don't brag on yourself,you can take up a good part of the time braggin' on your daughter."
"Oh, thank you, sir, for the clever joke. My mother has told me long agohow full of fun you are," said the young lady, blushing sufficiently toshow that she did not regard the compliment as altogether a joke. "Youmay drive on now," she remarked to Mr. Goodlett. Whereupon thatsurly-looking veteran slapped his mismatched team with the loose ends ofthe reins, and the shabby old hack moved off toward Shady Dale. Mr.Sanders waited for the vehicle to get some distance ahead, and then hetoo urged his team forward.
"The word is Home," he said; "I reckon Margaret has had her sheer oftrouble, an' a few slices more. She made her own bed, as the sayin' is,an' now she's layin' on it. Well, well, well! when time an' occasionstake arter you, it ain't no use to run; you mought jest as well setright flat on the ground an' see what they've got ag'in you."
The remark was not original, nor very deep, but it recurred to Gabrielwhen trouble plucked at his own sleeve, or when he saw disaster runthrough a family like a contagion.
In no long time the waggon reached the outskirts of the town, where thehighway became a part of the wide street that ran through the centre ofShady Dale, flowing around the old court-house in the semblance of awide river embracing a small island. Gabriel and Cephas were on thepoint of leaving the waggon here, but Mr. Sanders was of another mind.
"Ride on to Dorrin'tons' wi' us," he said. "I want to swap a joke or twowi' Mrs. Ab."
"She's sure to get the best of it," Gabriel warned him.
"Likely enough, but that won't spile the fun," responded Mr. Sanders.
Mrs. Absalom, as she was called, was the wife of Mr. Goodlett, and wasmarked off from the great majority of her sex by her keen appreciationof humour. Her own contributions were spoiled for some, for the reasonthat she gave them the tone of quarrelsomeness; whereas, it is to bedoubted whether she ever gave way to real anger more than once or twicein her life. She was Dr. Randolph Dorrington's housekeeper, and was areal mother to Nan, who was motherless before she had drawn a dozenbreaths of the poisonous air of this world.
By the time the waggon reached Dorrington's, Gabriel, acting on theinstructions of Mr. Sanders, had crawled under the cover of the waggon,and was holding out a pair of old shoes, so that a passer-by wouldimagine that some one was lying prone in the waggon with his feetsticking out.
When the waggon reached the Dorrington Place, Mr. Sanders drew rein, andhailed the house, having signed to Cephas to make himself invisible.Evidently Mrs. Absalom was in the rear, or in the kitchen, which was afavourite resort of hers, for the "hello" had to be repeated a number oftimes before she made her appearance. She came wiping her face on herample apron, and brushing the hair from her eyes. She was always a busyhousekeeper.
"We're huntin', ma'am, for a place called Cloptons'," said Mr. Sandersin a falsetto voice, his hat pulled down over his eyes; "an' we'd thankyou might'ly ef you'd put us on the right road. About four mile back, wepicked up a' old snoozer who calls himself William H. Sanders, an' hekeeps on talkin' about the Clopton Place."
"Why, the Clopton Place is right down the road a piece. What in theworld is the matter wi' old Billy?" she inquired with real solicitude."Was he wounded in the war, or is he jest up to some of his old-timedevilment?"
"Well, ma'am, from the looks of the jimmyjon we found by his side, hemust 'a' shot hisself
"Don't you worry about that," said Mrs. Absalom; "the climate will neverstrike in on old Billy's feet till he gits better acquainted wi' soapan' water."
"An' he talks in his sleep about a Mrs. Absalom," Mr. Sanders went on,"an' he cries, an' says she used to be his sweetheart, but he had tojilt her bekaze she can't cook a decent biscuit."
"The old villain!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with well simulatedindignation; "he can't tell the truth even when he's drunk. If he eversobers up in this world, I'll give him a long piece of my mind. Jestdrive on the way you've started, an' ef you can keep in the middle ofthe road wi' that drunken old slink in the waggin, you'll come toCloptons' in a mighty few minutes."
At this juncture Mr. Sanders was obliged to laugh, whereupon, Mrs.Absalom, looking narrowly at the travellers, had no difficulty inrecognising them. "Well, my life!" she exclaimed, raising her handsabove her head in a gesture of amazement. "Why, that's old Billy, an'him sober; and Franky Bethune, an' him not a primpin'! Well, well! I'd'a' never believed it ef I hadn't 'a' seed it. I vow I'm beginnin' tobelieve that war's a real good thing; it's like a revival meetin' forsome folks. I'm sorry Ab didn't take his gun an' jine in--maybe he'd 'a'shed his stinginess. But I declare to gracious, I'm glad to see you all;the sight of you is good for the sore eyes. An' Frank tryin' to raise abeard! Well, honey, I'll send you a bottle of bergamot grease to rub onit."
Mrs. Absalom came out to the waggon and shook hands with the returnedwarriors very heartily, and, sharp as her tongue was, there were tearsin her eyes as she greeted them; for in that region, nearly all hadfeelings of kinship for their neighbours and friends, and in that dayand time, people were not ashamed of their emotions.
"Margaret Gaither has come back," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Ab fetched herin his hack."
"Well, the poor creetur'!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom; "they say she's hadtrouble piled on her house-high."
"She won't have much more in this world ef looks is any sign," Mr.Sanders replied. "She ain't nothin' but a livin' skeleton, but she's gota mighty lively gal."
The waggon moved on and left Mrs. Absalom leaning on the gate, aposition that she kept for some little time. Farther down the road,Gabriel, whose example was followed by Cephas, bade Mr. Sandersgood-bye, nodded lightly to Francis Bethune, and jumped from the waggon.
"Wait a moment, Tolliver," said Bethune. "I want you to come to seeme--and bring Cephas with you. I am going to make you like me if I can.The home folks have been writing great things about you. Oh, you _must_come," he insisted, seeing that Gabriel was hesitating. "I want to showyou what a good fellow I can be when I try right hard."
"Yes, you boys must come," said Mr. Sanders; "an' ef Frank is offcourtin' that new gal--I ketched him cuttin' his eye at her--you canhunt me up, an' I'll tell you some old-time tales that'll make your hairstan' on end."