Lou, standing on a chair, had taken down an old gun which rested upon deer horns above the fire place, and was exhibiting it to Tom. "My great grandfather carried it at the battle of New Orleans," she said; and reverently the young man took the gun and pressed the butt to his shoulder, taking aim. "No wonder our country has a spirit that can't be crushed," he remarked, lowering the ancient war hound and looking into its black mouth.
"When we've got such guns?" she said, smiling down upon him, still standing on the chair.
"No, not such guns but men who do such deeds and women who are proud of them."
Jasper looked round and saw that the young man in his carelessness had the gun pointed at him. "Here," he called, "turn that thing tuther way."
"Why it isn't loaded, is it?" Tom asked, returning the gun to Lou.
"No, but them's the sort that usually goes off and kills folks. Thar's an old sayin', ma'm," he said to Mrs. Mayfield, "that thar's danger in a gun without lock, stock, or barrel--you kin w'ar a feller out with the ram-rod."
Lou replaced the gun and sat down. Tom stood over her, slily showing her some verses. Mrs. Mayfield, glancing round, understood that it was a "poetic situation," and remarked to Jasper. "Just now we were speaking of trouble. Heart-hunger is the real poetry of life--heart-hunger and heart-ache; our pleasures are but jingling rhymes."
Jasper and his wife exchanged glances, and the old man said: "Husband dead, ma'm?"
"Worse than that, Mr. Starbuck."
"Why, ain't that awful," Margaret declared.
Jasper studied for a few moments and then inquired: "Wan't hung, was he?"
She shook her head, sighed and made answer: "We were divorced."
Then the old man thought to be consoling. "Well, let us hope that you won't marry him over ag'in."
"No, his heart is black."
"There is a fountain where it may be made white," said the preacher.
Sadly she smiled at him and replied: "To that fountain he would never go."
Old Jasper jingled and clanked the iron of his harness. "I don't know much about fountains," said he, "but I know a good deal about men, and I never seed one with a black heart that ever had it washed out clean.
I never knowd a scoundrel that wan't allus a scoundrel, and the Book don't say that the Savior died for scoundrels--died for sinners. A sinner kin be a fust-rate feller, full o' that weakness that helps a wretch outen trouble. The Savior knowed that and died for him."
Margaret slammed her pan of turnips down upon the table. "Oh, sometimes I'm so put out with you."
"Yes," drawled the old man, "and old Miz Eve was put out with Adam, too, but atter all the best thing she could do, was to stick to him and go whar he went."
"Oh, of course," said Margaret. "The only use a man ever has for the Bible is to hit a woman with it." She went over to a safe, looking back at her husband who stood watching her, his droll countenance lighted with a humorous grin; she began to mix meal in a pan, stirring vigorously to make up corn pone, throwing in water with a dash. Tom and Lou were still engaged with the verses.
"What is this line?" she asked.
"'Her eye a star of heart's most gleaming hope,'" he read, and she purred like a kitten.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"Why, er--it means all sorts of things."
"It sounds like things you find in a book, but this is in writin', isn't it? And--and it smells like a violet in the woods."
"What have they got thar, a mortgage?" Jasper inquired of Mrs. Mayfield.
"The beginning of many a mortgage, Mr. Starbuck; some verses."
"Huh," grunted the old man, "I don't reckon they are like some verses I had not long ago. Had a lawsuit befo' a jestice of the peace and they called it Starbuck verses Brown."
Margaret ceased her work of mixing corn pone and looked round at him.
"Jasper, anybody to hear you talk would think you don't know nuthin'."
"Well," Starbuck replied, "that's the way to find out that a man don't know nuthin'--by hearin' him talk. Feller over the mountains had a son that was deef and dumb for twenty-odd year. Everybody lowed he was the smartest one of the fam'ly. But finally a doctor teached him how to talk and then they found out that he wan't nuthin' but a damned fool."
The profane twist of the old man's defense amused Mrs. Mayfield. And Jim smiled. It was not only in keeping with the old man's half innocent character--it was the honest spurt of sinful Adam, remaining with the most of us--which the devout preacher may deplore for the sake of example and yet inwardly accept because he is human. I am told that there are languages that hold no profanity and we know that there are tongues too delicate for philosophy and too gentle for blank verse.
"Now what do you want to pester a body thatter way for?" Margaret rejoined, thankful that Mrs. Mayfield had not been shocked. "I never seed a body that could be so aggrivatin'. Miz Mayfield, don't pay no 'tention to him when he talks thatter way, fur when he wants to he kin be right bright.
"Oh, I understand him, Mrs. Starbuck," and then of Jasper she inquired: "How far is it to the post office?"
"A little the rise of three mile. As soon as I git this gear in shape I'll have Kintchin hitch up and drive a passel of you over thar. I reckon we've got one of the smartest post-masters in the country. I've seed him rip open many a man's letter an' read it off just like print.
Here, Kintchin! Kintchin! That nigger's asleep somewhar. One of these days somebody will fill him so full of lead you couldn't turn him over with a hand spike." Kintchin appeared at the door, stretching himself and rubbing his eyes. "What have you been doin'?"
"Who, me?"
"Yes, you."
"Wall, suh, I ain't been ersleep ef dat whut you means."
"Then why didn't you answer me?"
"W'y, suh, I had my min' flung down on er 'ligious subjeck an' it wuz all I coul' do ter t'ar it off."
"Ah, thought I hearn suthin' rip like a piece of tent cloth," and giving Kintchin the harness he continued: "Here, hitch up old Dick and drive these folks over to the post office."
"Yas, suh."
"And when you come back you can break that young steer."
"Yas, suh, break de steer."
"And when you get the steer broke," said Margaret, "I want you to make me an ash hopper."
"Yas'm," replied the old negro, looking at her and then at Starbuck.
"And then," said Jasper, "I want you to hive the bees."
"And then," Margaret spoke up, "you may fix the loom."
"Yas'm, fix de loom."
"When that is done," said Starbuck, "you may rive some clap-boards to cover the spring house."