Gabriel Tolliver. Joel Chandler Harris

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      In no long time the waggon reached the outskirts of the town, where the highway became a part of the wide street that ran through the centre of Shady Dale, flowing around the old court-house in the semblance of a wide river embracing a small island. Gabriel and Cephas were on the point 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 two wi' 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 was marked off from the great majority of her sex by her keen appreciation of humour. Her own contributions were spoiled for some, for the reason that she gave them the tone of quarrelsomeness; whereas, it is to be doubted whether she ever gave way to real anger more than once or twice in her life. She was Dr. Randolph Dorrington's housekeeper, and was a real mother to Nan, who was motherless before she had drawn a dozen breaths of the poisonous air of this world.

      By the time the waggon reached Dorrington's, Gabriel, acting on the instructions 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 would imagine that some one was lying prone in the waggon with his feet sticking out.

      When the waggon reached the Dorrington Place, Mr. Sanders drew rein, and hailed the house, having signed to Cephas to make himself invisible. Evidently Mrs. Absalom was in the rear, or in the kitchen, which was a favourite resort of hers, for the "hello" had to be repeated a number of times before she made her appearance. She came wiping her face on her ample apron, and brushing the hair from her eyes. She was always a busy housekeeper.

      "We're huntin', ma'am, for a place called Cloptons'," said Mr. Sanders in a falsetto voice, his hat pulled down over his eyes; "an' we'd thank you might'ly ef you'd put us on the right road. About four mile back, we picked up a' old snoozer who calls himself William H. Sanders, an' he keeps on talkin' about the Clopton Place."

      "Why, the Clopton Place is right down the road a piece. What in the world 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-time devilment?"

      "Well, ma'am, from the looks of the jimmyjon we found by his side, he must 'a' shot hisself in the neck. He complains of cold feet, an' he's got 'em stuck out from under the kiver."

      "Don't you worry about that," said Mrs. Absalom; "the climate will never strike in on old Billy's feet till he gits better acquainted wi' soap an' 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 to jilt her bekaze she can't cook a decent biscuit."

      "The old villain!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with well simulated indignation; "he can't tell the truth even when he's drunk. If he ever sobers up in this world, I'll give him a long piece of my mind. Jest drive on the way you've started, an' ef you can keep in the middle of the road wi' that drunken old slink in the waggin, you'll come to Cloptons' 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 in recognising them. "Well, my life!" she exclaimed, raising her hands above 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' to believe that war's a real good thing; it's like a revival meetin' for some 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 a beard! Well, honey, I'll send you a bottle of bergamot grease to rub on it."

      Mrs. Absalom came out to the waggon and shook hands with the returned warriors very heartily, and, sharp as her tongue was, there were tears in her eyes as she greeted them; for in that region, nearly all had feelings of kinship for their neighbours and friends, and in that day and time, people were not ashamed of their emotions.

      "Margaret Gaither has come back," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Ab fetched her in his hack."

      "Well, the poor creetur'!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom; "they say she's had trouble 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 got a mighty lively gal."

      The waggon moved on and left Mrs. Absalom leaning on the gate, a position that she kept for some little time. Farther down the road, Gabriel, whose example was followed by Cephas, bade Mr. Sanders good-bye, nodded lightly to Francis Bethune, and jumped from the waggon.

      "Wait a moment, Tolliver," said Bethune. "I want you to come to see me—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 show you what a good fellow I can be when I try right hard."

      "Yes, you boys must come," said Mr. Sanders; "an' ef Frank is off courtin' that new gal—I ketched him cuttin' his eye at her—you can hunt me up, an' I'll tell you some old-time tales that'll make your hair stan' on end."

CHAPTER FIVE

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The Story of Margaret Gaither

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      Gabriel and Cephas started toward their homes, which lay in the same direction. Instead of going around by road or street, they cut across the fields and woods. Before they had gone very far, they heard a rustling, swishing sound in the pine-thicket through which they were passing, but gave it little attention, both being used to the noises common to the forest. In their minds it was either a rabbit or a grey fox scuttling away; or a poree scratching in the bushes, or a ground-squirrel running in the underbrush.

      But a moment later, Nan Dorrington, followed by Tasma Tid, burst from the pine-thicket, crying, "Oh, you walk so fast, you two!" She was panting and laughing, and as she stood before the lads, one little hand at her throat, and the other vainly trying to control her flying hair, a delicious rosiness illuminating her face, Gabriel knew that he had just been doing her a gross injustice. As he walked along the path, followed by his faithful Cephas, he had been mentally comparing her to a young woman he had just seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack; and had been saying to himself that the new-comer was, if possible, more beautiful than Nan.

      But now here was Nan herself in person, and Gabriel's comparisons appeared to be shabby indeed. With Nan before his eyes, he could see what a foolish thing it was to compare her with any one in this world except herself. There was a flavour of wildness in her beauty that gave it infinite charm and variety. It was a wildness that is wedded to grace and vivacity, such as we see embodied in the form and gestures of the wood-dove, or the partridge, or the flying squirrel, when it is un-awed by the presence of man. The flash of her dark brown eyes, her tawny hair blowing free, and her lithe figure, with the dark green pines for a background, completed the most charming picture it is possible for the mind to conceive. All that Gabriel was conscious of, beyond a dim surprise that СКАЧАТЬ