menu_book Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of A Spinner in the Sun by Myrtle Reed Chapter 2. Miss Mayhittable The slanting sunbeams of late afternoon crept through the cobwebbed window, and Miss Evelina stirred uneasily in her sleep. The mocking dream vanished, and she awoke to feel, as always, the iron, icy hand that unmercifully clutched her heart. The room was cold, and she shivered

as she lay beneath her insufficient covering. At length she rose, and dressed mechanically, avoiding the mirror and pinning her veil securely to her hair. She went downstairs slowly, clinging to the railing from sheer weakness. She was as frail and ghostly as some disembodied spirit of grief. Soon she had a fire. As the warmth increased, she opened the rear door of the house to dispel the musty atmosphere. The March wind blew strong and clear through the lonely

rooms, stirring the dust before it and swaying the cobwebs. Suddenly Miss Evelina heard a footstep outside and instinctively drew down her veil. Before she could close the door, a woman with a shawl over her head appeared on the threshold, peered curiously into the house, then unhesitatingly entered. For our land's sake, cried a cheery voice, you scared me most to death. I saw the smoke coming from the chimney and thought the house was a fire, so I come over to see.

Miss Evelina stiffened and made no reply. I don't know who you are, said the woman again, wildly defiant, but this is Evelina Gray's house. And I, answered Miss Evelina almost inaudibly, am Evelina Gray. For land's sake, cried the visitor again, don't you remember me? Why, Evelina, you and I used to go to school together. You…

She stopped abruptly. The fact of the veiled face confronted her stubbornly. She ransacked her memory for a forgotten catastrophe a quarter of a century back. Impenetrably, a wall was reared between them. I am afraid I don't remember, stammered Miss Evelina in a low voice, hoping that the intruder would go. I used to be Mayhead Will Smith, and that's what I still am, having been spared marriage. Mayheadable is my name, but folks call me Hitty. Miss Hitty,

she added with a slight accent on the Miss. Oh, answered Miss Evelina. I remember, though she did not remember at all. Well, I'm glad you've come back, went on the guest politely. Altogether, in the manner of one invited to do so, she removed her shawl and sat down, furtively eyeing Miss Evelina, yet affecting to look carelessly about the house. She was a woman of fifty or more, brisk and active of body, and kindly, though inquisitive, of countenance. Her dark hair, scarcely touched

with grey, was parted smoothly in the exact centre and plastered down on both sides, as when guessed by a brush and cold water. Her black eyes were bright and keen, and her gold-bowed spectacles were habitually worn halfway down her nose. Her mouth and chin were indicative of great firmness. Those whose misfortune it was to differ from Miss Hitty were accustomed to call it obstinacy. People of plainer speech said it was mullishness. Her gown was dark calico, stiffly starched, and

made according to the durable and comfortable pattern of her school days. All in one piece, Miss Hitty was wont to say. Then when I bend over, as folks that does housework has to bend over, occasionally, I don't come apart in the back. For my part, I never could see sense in wearing my clothes that's held by a safety pin in the back instead of good firm cloth, and moreover, a belt that either slides around or pinches where it ain't pleasant to be pinched. Ain't my notion of

comfort. Apron strings is bad enough, for you have to have them tight enough to keep from slipping. Miss Hitty had never worn corsets and had the straight slender figure of a boy. The situation became awkward. Miss Evelina stood still in the middle of the room, her veiled face slightly averted. The impenetrable shelter of Chiffon, odd, mismanageable. But she was not a woman to give up easily when embarked upon the quest for knowledge. Some unusual state of mind

kept her from asking a direct question about the veil, and meanwhile she continually wrapped her memory. Miss Evelina's white slender hands opened and closed nervously. Miss Hitty set her feet squarely on the floor and talked to her immaculate white apron closely about her niece. When did you come? she demanded finally, with the air of the attorney for the prosecution. Last night murmured Miss Evelina. On that late train? Yes. I heard it stop but I never sensed

it was you. Seemed to me I heard somebody go by too, but I was too sleepy to get up and see. I thought I must be dreaming, but I was sure I heard somebody on the walk. If I'd known it was you, I'd have made you stop at my house for the rest of the night instead of coming up here alone. Very kind said Miss Evelina after an uncomfortable pause. You might as well sit down remarked Miss Hitty with a new gentleness of manner.

I'm going to set a spell. Miss Evelina sat helplessly in the hair cloth chair which she hated and turned her veiled face yet further away from her guest. Seeing that her hostess did not intend to talk, Miss Hitty began a conversation. If anything wholly one-sided may be so termed. I live in the same place she said. Ma died 17 years ago on the 18th of next April and left the house and the income for me. There was enough to take care of two and so I took my sister's child

Araminta to bring up. You know my poor sister got married. She ought to have known better, but she didn't. She just put her head into the noose and it slipped up on her as I told her it would both before and after the ceremony. Having seen all the trouble men make in the world, I think women would know enough to keep away from them, but they don't. That is some women don't. Miss Hitty smoothed her stiff white apron with an air of conscious virtue. Araminta was only a year

old when her ma got enough of marrying and went through a reward in heaven. What she'd been through would have tried the patience of a saint and Barbara wasn't no saint. None of the Smith family have ever grown wings here on earth, but it's my belief that we'll all be awarded our proper plumage in heaven. She, the pronoun was sufficiently definite to indicate Araminta's helpless father, was always tracking dirt into the clean kitchen and he had an appetite like a horse.

Barbara would make a cake to set away for company and he'd gobble it all up at one meal just as if it was donut. She was forever cooking and washing dishes and sweeping up after him. When he'd come into the house she'd run for the broom and dustpan and follow him around sweeping up and if you'll believe me the brute scolded her for it. He actually once said in my presence that if he'd known how neat she was he didn't believe he'd have married her.

That shows what men are if it needs showing. It's no wonder poor Barbara died. I hope there ain't any brooms in heaven and that she's having a good rest now. Araminta's going on 19 and she's a sensible girl if I do say it as shouldn't. She's never spoke to a man except to say yes and no. I've taught her to steer clear of them and even when she was only seven years old she'd run if she saw one coming. She knows their pizzen and I don't believe I'll ever have any cause to worry

about Minty. I've got the minister boarding with me pursuit my city undaunted and cheerfully taking a fresh start. Ministers don't count and I must say that for a man Mr Thorpe is very little trouble. He wipes his feet sometimes for as much as five minutes when he's coming in and mostly when it's pleasant weather he's out. When he's in he usually stays in his room except at meals. He don't eat much more in the canary and likes what he eats and don't need hardly any picking up after.

Though a week ago last Saturday he left a collar laying on the bureau instead of putting it into his bag. I left her right where it was and Sunday morning he put it where it belonged. He's never been there and he's learned to pick up after himself. I wouldn't have had him on Araminta's account only that there wasn't no other place for him to stay and it was put to me by the elders as being my Christian duty. I wouldn't have took him otherwise and we've never had an unmarried

minister before. Besides Mr Thorpe ain't pleasing the congregation and I don't know that he'll stay long. He's been here six months and three Sundays over and I've been to every single service, church and Sunday school and prayer meeting and he ain't never said one word about hell. It's all of the joys of heaven and a sure reward in the hereafter for everybody that's done what they think is right. Nothing much mind you about what is right. Why when Mr Brewster was

preaching for us some of the centers would get up and run right out of the church when he got started on hell and the lost souls writhing in the flames. That was a minister worth having. But Mr Thorpe now he doesn't seem to have no sense of the duties of his position. Week before last I heard of his walking along the river with Andy Rogers arm in arm if you believe me with the worst drunkard and chicken thief in town. The very idea of a minister associating with

sinners. Mr Brewster would never have done that. Why Andy was one of them that ran out of the church the day the minister gave us that move in sermon on hell and he ain't never dared to show his face in a place of worship since. As I said I don't think Mr Thorpe will be with us long. For the vestry and the congregation is getting dissatisfied. There ain't been any open talk except in the ladies aid society but public opinion is sitting pretty strong in that direction.

Miss Hitty dropped her final G's when she got thoroughly interested in her subject and at times became deeply involved in grammatical complications. Us older ones that's strong in the faith ain't likely to be injured by it I suppose but there's always the young ones to be considered and it's highly important for Araminta to have the right kind of influence. Of course Mr Thorpe don't talk on religious subjects

at home and I ain't let Araminta go to church the last two Sundays. Meanwhile I've talked hell to her stronger and common but upon my soul I don't know what Rushden is coming to. A month or so ago there was an outlandish heathen character come here that beats anything I've ever heard tell of. His name is Tom Barnaby and he set up a store on the edge of town in the front parlor of widow Simon's house. She's went and rented it to him and she says he pays his rent regular.

He wears leather leggings and a hat with a red feather stuck in it and he's gone into competition with Mrs Allen who's kept the dry goods here for the last 20 years. Of course she went on a little wistfully. I've always patronized Mrs Allen and I always shall. They do say Barnaby's goods is a great deal cheaper but I feel it my duty to buy of a woman anyhow even though she's been married. She's been a widow for so long it's most the same as if she'd never been married at

all. Barnaby lives with the dog and does for himself but he's hardly ever in the store. People go there to buy things and find the door propped open with a brick and a sign says to come in and take what you want. The price of everything is marked good and plain and another sign says to put the money in the drawer and make your own change. The blacksmith was at him for doing business so shiftless and Barnaby laughed and said that if anybody wanted anything he had

bad enough to steal it, whoever it was, he was good and welcome to it. That just shows how crazy he is. Most of the time he's roaming around the country with his yellow dog at his heels making outlandish noises and some kind of flute. He can't play a tune but he keeps trying. Folks around here call him Piper Tom. Of course I wouldn't want Mrs Allen to know but I've thought that sometime when he was away and there was nobody there to see I'd just step in for a few

minutes and take a look at his goods. Elmery Jones says his calico is beautiful and that for her part she's going to trade there instead of at Allen's. I suppose it is a temptation. I might do it myself to want for my principles. The speaker paused for breath but Miss Evelina still sat silently in her chair. What was it thought Miss Hitty? I was here and I knew at the time but what happened? How did I come to forget? I must be getting old. She searched her memory without result.

Her house was situated at the crossroads and being on higher ground commanded a good view of the village below. Gradually her dooryard had become a sort of clearing house for neighborhood gossip. Travelers going and coming stopped at Miss Hitty's to drink from the moss grown well, give their bit of news and receive and return the scandal of the countryside. Had it not been for the faithful and industrious Miss Mayadable the town might have needed a daily

paper. Strange I can't think she said to herself. I don't doubt it'll come to me though. Something happened to Evelina and she went away and her mother went with her to take care of her and then her mother died all at once of heart failure. It happened the same week old Miss Hicks had a doctor from the city for an operation and the Millers's barn was struck by lightning and burned up and so I suppose it's no wonder I sort of lost track of it. Miss Evelina's veiled face

was wholly averted now and Miss Hitty studied her shrewdly. She noted that the black gown was well worn and had indeed been patched in several places. The shoes which tapped impatiently on the floor were undeniably shabby though they had been carefully blacked. Against the unrelieved somberness of her gown Miss Evelina's hands were singularly frail and transparent. Every line of her body was eloquent of weakness and well nigh insupportable grief. Well said Miss Hitty again

though she felt that the words were flat. I'm glad you've come back it seems like old times for us to be sitting here talking and here she laughed shrewly we've both been spared marriage. A small slender hand clutched convulsively at the arm of the haircloth chair but Miss Evelina did not speak. I see went on Miss Hitty not unkindly that you're still in mourning for your mother. You mustn't take it so hard. Sometimes folks get to feeling so sorry about something that they can't

never get over it and they keep on going round and round all the time like a squirrel on a wheel and keep on getting weaker till it gets to be a kind of disease there ain't no cured for. Least wise that's what Dr. Dexter says. Dr. Dexter with a cry Miss Evelina sprang to her feet her hands tightly pressed to her heart. The same nodded Miss Hitty overjoyed to discover that at last her hostess was interested. Dr. Anthony Dexter our old schoolmate as had just graduated when you lived

here before. He went away for a year and then he came back bringing a pretty young wife. She's dead but he has a son Ralph who's away studying to be a doctor. He'll graduate this spring and then he's coming here to help his father with his practice. Dr. Dexter's getting old like the rest of us and he don't like the night work. Some folks is inconsiderate enough to get sick in the night. They ought to have regular hours for it same as the doctor has hours for business.

Things would fit better. Well I must be going for I left soup on the stove and aromint as likely as not to let it burn. I'm going to send your supper over to you and next week if the weather's favourable we'll clean this house. Goodness knows it needs it. I just as soon send over all your meals till you get settled. It wouldn't be any trouble. Or you can come over to my house if you wouldn't mind eating with the minister. It seems queer to sit down to the table

with a man and not altogether natural but I'm beginning to get used to it and it gives us the advantage of a blessing and anyway ministers don't count. Come over when you can. Goodbye. With a rustle of stiffly starched garments Miss Mayettable took her departure carefully closing the door and avoiding the appearance of haste. This was an effort for every fibre of her being, ached to get back to the clearing house where she might speculate upon Evelina's return.

It was her desire also to hunt up the oldest inhabitant before nightfall and correct her pitiful lapse of memory. At the same time she was planning to send arominta over with nice hot supper for Miss Evelina seemed to be far from strong and even to one lacking in discernment acutely unhappy. Down the road she went her head bowed in deep and fruitless thought. Swiftly as in a lightning flash and without premonition she remembered. Evelina was burnt she said to herself triumphantly

over to Dr. Dexter's and they took her on the train to the hospital. I guess she wears that veil all the time. Then Miss Hitty stopped at her own gate catching her breath quickly. She must have been burnt awful she thought. Poor soul she murmured her sharp eyes softening with tears. Poor soul. End of chapter two.