"Hepsey,"she said,decisively,"when your week is up,you will no longer be in my service.I am a-goin'to make a change."Mr.Ball's knife dropped with a sharp clatter."Why,Mis'Ball,"he said,reproachfully,"who air you goin'to hev to do your work?""Don't let that trouble you,James,"she answered,serenely,"the washin'can be put out to the Widder Pendleton,her as was Elmiry Peavey,and the rest ain't no particular trouble.""Aunty,"said Ruth,"now that you've come home and everything is going on nicely,I think I'd better go back to the city.You see,if I stay here,I'll be interrupting the honeymoon.""No,no,Niece Ruth!"exclaimed Mr.Ball,"you ain't interruptin'no honeymoon.It's a great pleasure to your aunt and me to hev you here--we likes pretty young things around us,and as long as we hev a home,you're welcome to stay in it;ain't she Jane?""She has sense enough to see,James,that she is interruptin'the honeymoon,"replied Aunt Jane,somewhat harshly."On account of her mother havin'been a Hathaway before marriage,she knows things.Not but what you can come some other time,Ruth,"she added,with belated hospitality.
"Thank you,Aunty,I will.I'll stay just a day or two longer,if you don't mind--just until Mr.Winfield comes back.I don't know just where to write to him.""Mr.--who?"demanded Aunt Jane,looking at her narrowly.
"Mr.Carl Winfield,"said Ruth,crimsoning --"the man I am going to marry."The piercing eyes were still fixed upon her.
"Now about the letters,Aunty,"she went on,in confusion,"you could help Uncle James with the book much better than I could.Of course it would have to be done under your supervision."Mrs.Ball scrutinized her niece long and carefully."You appear to be tellin'the truth,"she said."Who would best print it?""I think it would be better for you to handle it yourself,Aunty,and then you and Uncle James would have all the profits.If you let some one else publish it and sell it,you'd have only ten per cent,and even then,you might have to pay part of the expenses.""How much does it cost to print a book?"
"That depends on the book.Of course it costs more to print a large one than a small one.""That needn't make no difference,"said Aunt Jane,after long deliberation."James has two hundred dollars sewed up on the inside of the belt he insists on wearin',instead of Christian suspenders,ain't you,James?""Yes'm,two hundred and four dollars in my belt and seventy-six cents in my pocket.""It's from his store,"Mrs.Ball explained."He sold it to a relative of one of them heathen women.""It was worth more'n three hundred,"he said regretfully.
"Now,James,you know a small store like that ain't worth no three hundred dollars.I wouldn't have let you took three hundred,'cause it wouldn't be honest."The arrival of a small and battered trunk created a welcome diversion."Where's your trunk,Uncle James?"asked Ruth.
"I ain't a needin'of no trunk,"he answered,"what clothes I've got is on me,and that there valise has more of my things in it.
When my clothes wears out,I put on new ones and leave the others for some pore creeter what may need 'em worse'n me."Aunt Jane followed Joe upstairs,issuing caution and direction at every step."You can set outside now,Joe Pendleton,"she said,"and see that them hosses don't run away,and as soon as I get some of my things hung up so's they won't wrinkle no more,I'll come out and pay you."Joe obeyed,casting longing eyes at a bit of blue gingham that was fluttering among the currant bushes in the garden.Mr.Ball,longing for conversation with his kind,went out to the gate and stood looking up at him,blinking in the bright sunlight.
"Young feller,"he said,"I reckon that starboard hoss is my old mare.Where'd you get it?""Over to the Ridge,"answered Joe,"of a feller named Johnson.""Jest so--I reckon 't was his father I give Nellie to when I went away.She was a frisky filly then--she don't look nothin'like that now.""Mamie"turned,as if her former master's voice had stirred some old memory."She's got the evil eye,"Mr.Ball continued."You wanter be keerful.""She's all right,I guess,"Joe replied.
"Young feller,"said Mr.Ball earnestly,"do you chew terbacker?""Yep,but I ain't got no more.I'm on the last hunk."Mr.Ball stroked his stained beard."I useter,"he said,reminiscently,"afore I was merried."Joe whistled idly,still watching for Hepsey.
"Young feller,"said Mr.Ball,again,"there's a great deal of merryin'and givin'in merriage in this here settlement,ain't there?""Not so much as there might be."
"Say,was your mother's name Elmiry Peavey?"
"Yes sir,"Joe answered,much surprised.
"Then you be keerful,"cautioned Mr.Ball."Your hoss has got the evil eye and your father,as might hev been,allers had a weak eye fer women."Joe's face was a picture of blank astonishment.
"I was engaged to both of 'em,"Mr.Ball explained,"each one a-keepin'of it secret,and she--"here he pointed his thumb suggestively toward the house--"she's got me.""I'm going to be married myself,"volunteered Joe,proudly.
"Merriage is a fleetin'show--I wouldn't,if I was in your place.
Merriage is a drag on a man's ambitions.I set out to own a schooner,but I can't never do it now,on account of bein'
merried.I had a good start towards it--I had a little store all to myself,what was worth three or four hundred dollars,in a sunny country where the women folks had soft voices and pretty ankles and wasn't above passin'jokes with an old feller to cheer 'im on 'is lonely way."Mrs.Ball appeared at the upper window."James,"she called,"you'd better come in and get your hat.Your bald spot will get all sunburned.""I guess I won't wait no longer,Miss Hathaway,"Joe shouted,and,suiting the action to the word,turned around and started down hill.Mr.Ball,half way up the gravelled walk,turned back to smile at Joe with feeble jocularity.
Hearing the familiar voice,Hepsey hastened to the front of the house,and was about to retreat,when Mr.Ball stopped her.
"Pore little darlin',he said,kindly,noting her tear stained face."Don't go--wait a minute."He fumbled at his belt and at last extracted a crisp,new ten dollar bill."Here,take that and buy you a ribbon or sunthin'to remember your lovin'Uncle James by."Hepsey's face brightened,and she hastily concealed the bill in her dress."I ain't your niece,"she said,hesitatingly,"it's Miss Thorne.""That don't make no difference,"rejoined Mr.Ball,generously,"I'm willin'you should be my niece too.All pretty young things is my nieces and I loves 'em all.Won't you give your pore old uncle a kiss to remember you by?"Ruth,who had heard the last words,came down to the gravelled walk."Aunt Jane is coming,"she announced,and Hepsey fled.
When the lady of the house appeared,Uncle James was sitting at one end of the piazza and Ruth at the other,exchanging decorous commonplaces.
