The Starbucks. Opie Percival Read

Starbuck came in, with a pan of turnips. Peters bowed to her. "Er good mornin', ma'm."

      She put the pan on the table and giving him an unconscious grace bade him good morning. "Is mammy done ironin'?" she asked, speaking to Lou.

      "Yes'm, I reckon so." Then she added, speaking to Peters, "Is there anythin' else you wanted?"

      "Why, Lou," Margaret spoke up, "is that the way to talk?"

      "Yes'm, sometimes," and nodding at Peters she added: "And this is one of them." She laughed, turned away and sat down with her elbows resting on a battered old melodeon.

      "Oh, she's jest a jokin' with me ma'm," said Peters. "I wanted to see yo' husband. Reckon he's out some whar on the place."

      "I think so," Margaret replied, peeling the turnips. "I heard him calling the hogs just now."

      Lou looked at Peters and said: "Then why don't you go?"

      "Why, daughter," exclaimed Margaret, "you musn't talk that way. Mr. Peters is in yo' house."

      She came forward and to the visitor bowed with mock humility. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Peters—"

      "Oh, that's all right, Miss Lou."

      "For bein' honest with you."

      Peters cleared his throat. She returned to the melodeon and sat down with her back toward him. Peters started out but halted and spoke to Margaret. "Suthin' I have been workin' fur a long time is about to come—an app'intment I've been tryin' to git, and when I git it there air folks that ought to be skeered."

      Lou glanced round at him and replied, "And then again, there are folks that won't be."

      "Ah," said Peters, "an' them that won't be air them that ought to be." And then to Margaret he added: "If I don't find Jasper I'll be back. When he comes tell him I want to see him. Good day."

      When he had gone out into the road Margaret inquired of her daughter what he had said to give such offense.

      "He said I could learn to love him. And I as much as told him he was a liar."

      "But, daughter, you musn't talk like that. You'll have to be more careful with him, for in some way he's got the upper hand of yo' father."

      "Well, I don't envy him his job."

      "Hush," said Margaret. "Here come the folks."

CHAPTER III.

       Table of Contents

GETTING ACQUAINTED.

       Table of Contents

      In came Mrs. Mayfield and her nephew, with Jim, the preacher, following them. Margaret began industriously to dust a rocking chair. She bade them come in, if it were not too warm, "Mammy has been ironing but the fire's dyin' down. And I do hope she irons yo' clothes to suit you, Miz Mayfield," she added.

      "Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Mayfield, glancing round at the preacher who with hat in hand sat on the melodeon stool, gazing at her. "I am not hard to please," she continued, speaking to Margaret. "I have passed that stage."

      Margaret bowed to her. "Well, I'm mighty glad to hear it. So many folks are hard to please. There come a woman from away off yander sometime ago and took up over at Fetterson's and they couldn't do a thing to please her—grumbled all the time; the water wasn't even good, when heaven knows we've got the best water on the yeth. So I am glad you ain't hard to please."

      "Oh, I should indeed be finical to find fault with anything in this delicious air," said Mrs. Mayfield, smiling at Lou, "this new life, among these God-worshipping hills, these—"

      "Oh, auntie brought her romance with her," Tom broke in, and Lou gave him a look of tender reproof.

      "Oh, let her talk, please. I like to hear her." And standing beside Mrs. Mayfield's chair she said: "You told me you were something. What was it?"

      "An echo from the world," the city woman answered.

      Lou looked at her mother who in turn gave her a look in which the girl read an ignorance as profound as her own. "Well, is sounds mighty putty," she said, "but what do you mean by it. I don't understand."

      "Why Lou!" exclaimed her mother. "You musn't talk that way."

      "Oh, let her go ahead," Tom spoke up. "The fact is auntie says a good many things I'd like to have explained to me."

      "Tom," she said, "please don't be any more wayward than you can help."

      At this moment old Jasper's voice was heard without. "Git down from here. Got less sense than any dog I ever seed, come a jumpin' on me with yo' muddy feet. Howdy everybody, howdy," he greeted them as he entered, with a set of harness on his arm. Every one spoke to him and after surveying the party he drew a chair out from the table, sat down and began to tug at the harness, pulling hard against the resistance of a rusty buckle. "Whar's that luther string?" he inquired of his wife.

      "What luther string?"

      "The one I told you to put away for me some time last fall—mebby fall a year ago. Whar is it?"

      "Gracious alive Jasper, I don't know. What did you bring that gear in here for? Can't you fix it at the stable?"

      "Yes, could. Could also sleep and eat out thar, but I don't want to."

      "Now what on the yeth do you want to talk that way fur?"

      Jasper chuckled. "Wall, a man ain't hardly responsible for what he says when he's talkin' to a woman."

      "Then you don't believe, Mr. Starbuck, that woman inspires truth," said Mrs. Mayfield, and Jim leaned forward, still gazing at her.

      "Oh, yes, all the putty truths," Jasper replied, and Tom who, with Lou, was standing over near the fire-place, sang out: "There, auntie, he is meeting you on your own ground."

      Jim's countenance flared and he struck in: "Yes, in the shade where the soft air is stirring."

      Mrs. Mayfield turned to him. "Oh, thank you Mr.—I shall have to call you Mr. Reverend."

      He gave her a smile and then as if afraid of too much light shut it off; but he had the courage to reply: "Anything you call me, ma'm, will be music."

      "Oh, I tell you," said Jasper, tugging at the buckle, "Jim ain't been preachin' ten years fur nothin'. Wall, mighty fur nothin', too; for I ricolleck that one winter all he got was a pa'r of blue jeens britches an' fo' pa'r of wool socks. And if I don't cuss this thing in a minit more I'll be about fitten to preach."

      "Mr. Starbuck," Mrs. Mayfield inquired, "was that you shooting so early this morning?"

      "Yes'm, killin' them squirrels we had fur breakfus'."

      "And you saw the sun rise?"

      He left off working with his gear and looked at her. "Ah, hah. Ever see the sun rise?"

      "I have seen the moon set," she said, half musing.

      "And so have I," said Jasper. "I have seen the moon set and hatch out the stars."

      And still musing, Mrs. Mayfield replied: "Yes, and they peeped at one another in their heavenly nest until the sun, man-like, came and spoiled it all."