At Fault Part 19

"W'at he ben a doin' yonda?" demanded Aunt Belindy impatiently.

"Well," said Pierson, a.s.suming a declamatory air and position in the middle of the large kitchen, "he lef' heah--w'at time he lef heah, Aunt B'lindy?"

"He done lef' fo' dinna, 'caze I seed 'im a lopin' to'ads de riva, time I flung dat Sampson boy out o' de doo', bringin' dem greens in heah 'dout was.h.i.+n' of 'em."

"Dat's so; it war good dinna time w'en he come a lopin' in town. Dat hoss look like he ben swimmin' in Cane Riva, he done ride him so hard.

He fling he se'f down front o' Grammont's sto' an' he come a stompin'

in, look like gwine hu't somebody. Ole Grammont tell him, 'How you come on, Gregor? Come ova tu de house an' eat dinna wid us: de ladies be pleas tu see you.' "

"Humph," muttered Aunt Belindy, "dem Grammont gals be glad to see any t'ing dat got breeches on; lef 'lone good lookin' piece like dat Gregor."

"Gregor, he neva sey, 'Tank you dog,' jis' fling he big dolla down on de counta an' 'low 'don't want no dinna: gimme some w'iskey.' "

"Yas, yas, Lord," from Aunt Belindy.

"Ole Grammont, he push de bottle to'ads 'im, an' I 'clar to Goodness ef he didn' mos fill dat tumbla to de brim, an' drink it down, neva blink a eye. Den he tu'n an treat ev'y las' w'ite man stan'in' roun'; dat ole kiarpenta man; de blacksmif; Ma.r.s.e Verdon. He keep on a treatin'; Grammont, he keep a handin' out de w'iskey; Gregor he keep on a drinkin' an a treatin'--Grammont, he keep a handin' out; don't make no odds tu him s'long uz dat bring de money in de draw. I ben a stan'in' out on de gallery, me, a peekin' in. An' Gregor, he cuss and swar an' he kiarry on, an 'low he want play game poka. Den dey all goes a trompin' in de back room an' sets down roun' de table, an' I comes a creepin' in, me, whar I kin look frough de doo', an dar dey sets an' plays an Gregor, he drinks w'iskey an' he wins de money. An'

arta w'ile Ma.r.s.e Verdon, he little eyes blinkin', he 'low', 'y' all had a shootin' down tu Place-du-Bois, _hein_ Gregor?' Gregor, he neva say nuttin': he jis' draw he pistol slow out o' he pocket an' lay it down on de table; an' he look squar in Ma.r.s.e Verdon eyes. Man! ef you eva seed some pussun tu'n' w'ite!"

"Reckon dat heifa 'Milky' look black side li'le Verdon dat time,"

chuckled Aunt Belindy.

"Jis' uz w'ite uz Unc' Hiurm's shurt an' a trimblin', an' neva say no mo' 'bout shootin'. Den ole Grammont, he kine o' hang back an' say, 'You git de jestice de peace, 'hine you, kiarrin' conceal' weepons dat a-way, Gregor.' "

"Dat ole Grammont, he got to git he gab in ef he gwine die fu' it,"

interrupted Aunt Belindy.

"Gregor say--'I don't 'lows to kiarr no conceal' weepons,' an he draw nudda pistol slow out o' he udda pocket an' lay et on de table. By dat time he gittin' all de money, he crammin' de money in he pocket; an'

dem fellas dey gits up one arta d'udda kine o' shy-like, an' sneaks out. Den Gregor, he git up an come out o' de room, he coat 'crost he arm, an' de pistols a stickin' out an him lookin' sa.s.sy tell ev'y body make way, same ef he ben Jay Goul'. Ef he look one o' 'em in de eye dey outs wid, 'Howdy, Gregor--how you come on, Gregor?' jis' uz pelite uz a peac.o.c.k, an' him neva take no trouble to yansa 'em. He jis' holla out fu' somebody bring dat hoss tu de steps, an' him stan'in' 's big uz life, waitin'. I gits tu de hoss fus', me, an' leads 'im up, an' he gits top dat hoss stidy like he ain't tetch a drap, an' he fling me big dolla."

"Whar de dolla, Mista Pierson?" enquired Betsy.

"De dolla in my pocket, an' et gwine stay dah. Didn' ax you fu' no 'Mista Pierson.' Whar yu' all tink he went on dat hoss?"

"How you reckon we knows whar he wint; we wasn't dah," replied Aunt Belindy.

"He jis' went a lopin' twenty yards down to Chartrand's sto'. I goes on 'hine 'im see w'at he gwine do. Dah he git down f'um de hoss an' go a stompin' in de sto'--eve'ybody stan'in' back jis' same like fu' Jay Goul', an' he fling bill down on de counta an' 'low, 'Fill me up a bottle, Chartrand, I'se gwine travelin'.' Den he 'lows, 'You treats eve'y las' man roun' heah at my 'spence, black an' w'ite--nuttin' fu'

me,' an' he fole he arms an' lean back on de counta, jis' so.

Chartrand, he look skeerd, he say 'Francois gwine wait on you.' But Gregor, he 'low he don't wants no rusty skileton a waitin' on him w'en he treat, 'Wait on de gemmen yo'se'f--step up gemmen.' Chartrand 'low, 'd.a.m.n ef n.i.g.g.a gwine drink wid w'ite man in dat sto',' all same he kine git 'hine box tu say dat."

"Lord, Lord, de ways o' de transgressor!" groaned Uncle Hiram.

"You want to see dem n.i.g.g.as sneaking 'way," resumed Pierson, "dey knows Gregor gwine fo'ce 'em drink; dey knows Chartrand gwine make it hot fu' 'em art'ards ef dey does. Gregor he spie me jis' I'se tryin'

glide frough de doo' an he call out, 'Yonda a gemmen f'um Place-du-Bois; Pierson, come heah; you'se good 'nough tu drink wid any w'ite man, 'cept me; you come heah, take drink wid Mr. Louis Chartrand.'

"I 'lows don't wants no drink, much 'bleege, Ma.r.s.e Gregor'. 'Yis, you wants drink,' an' 'id dat he draws he pistol. 'Mista Chartrand want drink, too. I done owe Mista Chartrand somethin' dis long time; I'se gwine pay 'im wid a treat,' he say. Chartrand look like he on fiar, he so red, he so mad, he swell up same like ole bull frog."

"Dat make no odd," chuckled Aunt Belindy, "he gwine drink wid n.i.g.g.a ef Gregor say so."

"Yes, he drink, Lord, only he cuss me slow, an' 'low he gwine break my skull."

"Lordy! I knows you was jis' a trimblin', Mista Pierson."

"Warn't trimblin' no mo' 'en I'se trimblin' dis minute, an' you drap dat 'Mista.' Den w'at you reckon? Yonda come Pere Antoine; he come an'

stan' in de doo' an' he hole up he han'; look like he ain't 'feard no body an' he 'low: 'Gregor Sanchun, how is you dar' come in dis heah peaceful town frowin' of it into disorda an' confusion? Ef you isn't 'feard o' man; hasn't you got no fear o' G.o.d A'mighty wat punishes?' "

"Gregor, he look at 'im an' he say cool like, 'Howdy, Pere Antoine; how you come on?' He got he pistol w'at he draw fu' make Chartrand drink wid dis heah n.i.g.g.a,--he foolin' wid it an' a rubbin' it up and down he pants, an' he 'low 'Dis a gemmen w'at fit to drink wid a Sanchun--w'at'll you have?' But Pere Antoine, he go on makin' a su'mon same like he make in chu'ch, an' Gregor, he lean he two arm back on de counta--kine o' smilin' like, an' he say, 'Chartrand, whar dat bottle I orda you put up?' Chartrand bring de bottle; Gregor, he put de bottle in he coat pocket wat hang on he arm--car'ful.

"Pere Antoine, he go on preachin', he say, 'I tell you dis young man, you 'se on de big road w'at leads tu h.e.l.l.'

"Den Gregor straight he se'f up an' walk close to Pere Antoine an' he say, 'h.e.l.l an' d.a.m.nation dar ain't no sich a place. I reckon she know; w'at you know side o' her. She say dar ain't no h.e.l.l, an' ef you an'

de Archbishop an' de Angel Gabriel come along an' 'low dey a h.e.l.l, you all liars,' an' he say, 'Make way dah, I'se a gittin' out o' heah; dis ain't no town fittin' to hol' a Sanchun. Make way ef you don' wants to go to Kingdom come fo' yo' time.'

"Well, I 'lows dey did make way. Only Pere Antoine, he look mighty sorry an' down cas'.

"Gregor go out dat sto' taking plenty room, an' walkin' car'ful like, an' he swing he se'f on de hoss; den he lean down mos' flat an' stick he spurs in dat hoss an' he go tar'in' like de win' down street, out o' de town, a firin' he pistol up in de a'r."

Uncle Hiram had listened to the foregoing recital with troubled countenance, and with many a protesting groan. He now shook his old white head, and heaved a deep sigh. "All dat gwine come hard an' heavy on de madam. She don't desarve it--G.o.d knows, she don't desarve it."

"How you, ole like you is, kin look fu' somethin' diffunt, Unc'

Hiurm?" observed Aunt Belindy philosophically. "Don't you know Gregor gwine be Gregor tell he die? Dat's all dar is 'bout it."

Betsy arose with the sudden recollection that she had let the time pa.s.s for bringing in Miss Therese's hot water, and Pierson went to the stove to see what Aunt Belindy had reserved for him in the shape of supper.

IX

The Reason Why.

Sampson, the young colored boy who had lighted f.a.n.n.y's fire on the first day of her arrival at Place-du-Bois, and who had made such insinuating advances of friendliness towards her, had continued to attract her notice and good will. He it was who lighted her fires on such mornings as they were needed. For there had been no winter. In mid-January, the gra.s.s was fresh and green; trees and plants were putting forth tender shoots, as if in welcome to spring; roses were blossoming, and it was a veritable atmosphere of Havana rather than of central Louisiana that the dwellers at Place-du-Bois were enjoying.

But finally winter made tardy a.s.sertion of its rights. One morning broke raw and black with an icy rain falling, and young Sampson arriving in the early bleakness to attend to his duties at the cottage, presented a picture of human distress to move the most hardened to pity. Though dressed comfortably in the clothing with which f.a.n.n.y had apparelled him--he was ashen. Save for the chattering of his teeth, his body seemed possessed of a paralytic inability to move. He knelt before the empty fire-place as he had done on that first day, and with deep sighs and groans went about his work. Then he remained long before the warmth that he had kindled; even lying full length upon the soft rug, to bask in the generous heat that permeated and seemed to thaw his stiffened limbs.

Next, he went quietly into the bedroom to attend to the fire there.

Hosmer and f.a.n.n.y were still sleeping. He approached a decorated basket that hung against the wall; a receptacle for old newspapers and odds and ends. He drew something from his rather capacious coat pocket, and, satisfying himself that Hosmer slept, thrust it in the bottom of the basket, well covered by the nondescript acc.u.mulation that was there.

The house was very warm and cheerful when they arose, and after breakfasting Hosmer felt unusually reluctant to quit his fire-side and face the inclement day; for an unaccustomed fatigue hung upon his limbs and his body was sore, as from the effect of bruises. But he went, nevertheless, well encased in protective rubber; and as he turned away from the house, f.a.n.n.y hastened to the hanging basket, and fumbling nervously in its depths, found what the complaisant Sampson had left for her.

The cold rain had gradually changed into a fine mist, that in descending, spread an icy coat upon every object that it touched. When Hosmer returned at noon, he did not leave the house again.

During the afternoon Therese knocked at f.a.n.n.y's door. She was enveloped in a long hooded cloak, her face glowing from contact with the sharp moist air, and myriad crystal drops clinging to her fluffy blonde hair that looked very golden under the dark hood that covered it. She wanted to learn how f.a.n.n.y accepted this unpleasant change of atmospheric conditions, intending to bear her company for the remainder of the day if she found her depressed, as was often the case.

"Why, I didn't know you were home," she said, a little startled, to Hosmer who opened the door to her. "I came over to show Mrs. Hosmer something pretty that I don't suppose she ever saw before." It was a branch from a rose-tree, bearing two open blossoms and a mult.i.tude of buds, creamy pink, all encased in an icy transparency that gleamed like diamonds. "Isn't it exquisite?" she said, holding the spray up for f.a.n.n.y's admiration. But she saw at a glance that the spirit of Disorder had descended and settled upon the Hosmer household.

The usually neat room was in a sad state of confusion. Some of the pictures had been taken from the walls, and were leaning here and there against chairs and tables. The mantel ornaments had been removed and deposited at random and in groups about the room. On the hearth was a pail of water in which swam a huge sponge; and f.a.n.n.y sat beside the center-table that was piled with her husband's wearing apparel, holding in her lap a coat which she had evidently been pa.s.sing under inspection. Her hair had escaped from its fastenings; her collar was hooked awry; her face was flushed and her whole bearing indicated her condition.

Hosmer took the frozen spray from Therese's hand, and spoke a little about the beauty of the trees, especially the young cedars that he had pa.s.sed out in the hills on his way home.