Chapter 3
CHAPTER III. What is the Matter with Grandpa? "'Sissy,' said Hank solemnly, "'I thought you'd got a handful. "'Upon my word, it's more than that.
"'It's an armful.' "'It's more than an armful, Hank,' replied the little girl soberly. "'It's a heartful.' "'And we were so smug,' he said lugubriously, "'gazing about the neat kitchen, just like three bugs in a rug.'
"'Tilde Jane being wholly taken up with a compliment to herself, "'so no inelegance in the comparison. "'We were,' she said, and will be. "'Why, you don't think you can stop that mule from kicking. "'There's no fun in kicking, if there isn't anything to kick at.
"'She's fresh from the asylum, Hank.' "'That's so,' he said thoughtfully, "'and he stared at the expiring fire. "'Seems to me most orphans had kind of tired-out parents,' "'said the little girl wistfully,
"'parents that didn't stand by their children. "'Some parents can't,' said Hank mildly. "'They have poor health or die.' "'But those that lived for a while,' said Tilde Jane wearily. "'Our new orphans' parents used to beat her before they died.
"'She was telling me before you come—I mean you came in. "'She ran away to the woods to the Indians.' "'After giving this information, Tilde Jane fell into a long and painful brown study. "'And Hank, by way of arousing her, said at last, "'How long do you think parents ought to stand by their children?
"'I mean, how long should they keep them at home "'before they let them go out into the cold world?' "'Oh, I don't know.' "'I don't know,' said Tilde Jane with sudden fire. "'But as long as they can.'
"'It's so hard to grow up, Hank, so hard. "'Children should have their time.' "'There's some folks in this very town,' said Hank, "'agitating for more laws against child labor. "'That is children working for pay.
"'They say worn-out children ain't any good to the state. "'While healthy boys and girls make citizens that bring in money. "'They're remunerative, in fact.' "'I don't know about that,' said Tilde Jane with a look on her face, "'as if she was striving to understand him, and could not.
"'But I know that God made children. "'He tells them to play. "'They ought to have their time for it. "'Trouble comes soon enough.' "'You're right, Sissy, you're right.
"'And now don't you think you'd better pass on this trouble to someone else?' "'You mean Perletta? "'I mean Miss Garaby.' "'Tilde Jane smiled. "'I'll do as you say, Hank,' she remarked humbly.
"'But would it worry you if I marched her back to the asylum?' "'It's just as you say. "'I often lay, no lie, awake, a spell-night's turning over things in my mind,' "'said Tilde Jane thoughtfully. "'I guess I'd be just as wakeful if she went, because she wants to stay.'
"'Don't you know, Hank, you like to see your trouble, not worry about it, "'being a way off in the dark where you can't get at it. "'You're dreadful disappointed in her, though,' he said sharply. "'Well,' said the little girl impartially, "'I'll not say no, if you ask me, if I am.
"'But it isn't because she hasn't the blue eyes and curly hair I've always hankered for, "'being one that folks never turn to look after in the street. "'Hush up, Tilde, you're good, and that's better than being blue-eyed and curly-haired.' "'I'm not good, Hank,' she said, turning two tearful dark eyes on him. "'I have awful ugly feelings sometimes.
"'I just blush at myself.' "'You're good enough for me,' he said doggedly. "'We were trying to ravel out things about Burletta,' she said shortly. "'And I was going to say that it's her inward contrariness that will bother me. "'But unless you say the word stop, I guess I'll make up my mind to have and to hold her.
"'There's good in her, brother.' "'All right,' he said, rising and stretching himself. "'And now as the fire has just gone to sleep, I guess I'll follow its example. "'I'm tired, for we had a lively day at the mill. Mr. Waysmith wanted some old accounts.' "'You're getting on well, aren't you, Hank?' the little girl inquired anxiously.
"'No trouble. And you like your work.' "'You bet I do. Being only assistant, the old bookkeeper takes most of the responsibility "'and I'm glad. For Mr. Waysmith is a hard man.' The little girl shuddered. "'How is he hard, Hank? Is he cross for faults?
"'He just jumps on us, Sissy, when anything goes wrong. "'I'd rather get under the big saw than face him.' "'Til the chain became pale, drawing in her breath, she murmured. "'Lord help me, when I have to march up to him.' "'Father went to bed some time ago, didn't he?' asked Hank, suppressing a huge yawn.
"'Til the chain with a start called back her wandering thoughts. "'Yes, he went at half past seven, Hank,' she added hesitatingly, and her two dark eyes were eager and piercing as she stared at him. "'Was your father all his life kind of brooding and droopy-like, with spasms by turns, as he is now?' "'Oh no,' said Hank lightly. "'Tis only since he quit work. Old folks are like that.
"'They're thinking over past days. But it seems to me he isn't natural,' persisted Tilda Jane. "'How not natural?' inquired Hank, good-naturedly, but with a careless accent. "'You're such a one to stew over trifles, Tilda.' "'Well,' said the little girl thoughtfully. "'When I come—no, when I came here, he was just like a dear old gun that was always going off when
you didn't expect it to. There were neither times nor seasons with him. I don't call that natural, and when he lost that money before you come home, I laid it to that. But he forgot the sixty dollars he never found, and now he is just like he was at first. That is about fretting. He isn't so ugly to folks.' "'Oh, that's just elderly cussedness,' said Hank lazily.
"'Yes, but what makes it? Old folks are apt to boil over. But he used to be boiled over all the time, and now he tries to hide it. But I know he's simmering to himself.' Hank shook his head. "'You've got me up a tree, sissy. Wait till I'm almost eighty and I'll tell you.' The little girl held her breath and looked at him strangely.
"'Seems as if he must have some load on his mind,' he said at last in a low voice. Hank was shrewd enough to catch her meeting. "'Now, what could my old dad have on his mind?' he said irritably. "'You're the most aggravating young one, Tilda. If you ain't got any trouble, you go sniffing around and make some.'
"'Father's mane improved now. He don't fling his crutches at your dogs any more. And he don't yell at you so often. I say he's a changed character. Now why can't you rest on that?' "'You don't sleep well,' said Tilda Jane wearily. "'No, old folks do. They don't exercise. How can they sleep?'
"'He calls out in his sleep,' said the little girl doggedly. Hank stepped forward and stood threateningly over her. "'Now look here, young one. You sleep with your door shut at night after this. Do you hear?' "'Yes,' she said weakly. "'All day long you're bearing on your pinched shoulders the troubles of this household.
And soon you'll have the troubles of the whole town of Sisgasset. You've got to stop it. If you worry all night, as well as all day, you'll soon be as lean as a greyhound. My father is all right. He's got the dinner bell. If he wants anything in the night and rings it, I'll hear. Now will you mind me?' "'Yes, Hank,' she said quietly.
"'Don't you want a piece of pumpkin pie before you go to bed?' "'I guess I do, Sissy. Is it in the pantry?' "'No, I put it in the oven to take the chill off. And she went to the stove. And there's a cup of milk covered up on the shelf over there for you.' "'Good night, I guess. I'll go upstairs.'
"'Ain't you going to look after your dogs?' asked Hank curiously. Tilted Jane turned back with a start. "'You must have something pretty brain-scattering going on inside you. Or you'd never forget your animals,' remarked Hank. A little uneasily, and neglecting his pie, he turned a critical eye on his adopted sister.
Tilted Jane, aware of his disapproving watchfulness, laughed a little effectively and said, "'Never mind me, Brother Hank. I feel kind of dreamy tonight.' "'It's that girl,' he said with a curl of his lip. "'No, it ain't. I mean, it isn't. What is it, then?'
Tilted Jane did not reply at first. Finally, she said curtly, "'I hate to lie when it isn't necessary. Seems to me this is one of the times.' Hank slowly ate his pie, but his eyes never left her as she opened the door of the substantial wood house that he had had built onto the house since he came home
and brought in a small box of straw. Reaching under the stove, she drew out a small semi-blind three-legged crooked-tailed dog and put him in the box. Then carefully, folding up an old blanket, she put it on the floor beside the box. For a large hunting dog who came and gratefully curled himself up on it. "'Now don't you think there's something the matter with those dogs?' asked the young man ironically.
"'Seems to me Poacher has a kind of far-away look in his eyes. Maybe he's hankering after the deer in the woods up north.' "'Stop teasing, Hank,' said Tilda Jane pleadingly. Yet she smiled as she bent over the hound and lifted his velvet muzzle in her hand. "'What became of the man that owned him?' asked Hank suddenly,
as his thoughts took a new direction. "'Mr. Lucas,' said Tilda Jane, "'he's all right. He's trying to keep out of the woods in winter so Satan won't tell him to go on Poach again. I write him at times to let him know that Poacher isn't going to be a backslider either. He says his boys are doing fine. He makes them go to school, but he has promised to let them
go in the sawmill where he works next year.' "'Suppose that other dog of yours there,' said Hank waving his pie crust in the direction of the little box drawn close to the stove, "'that rickety Gipy died. What would you do?' "'I'd cry my eyes out for a while. Then I'd get another,' said Tilda Jane slowly. "'Another orphan?' remarked Hank. "'Meditatively.'
"'Yes,' she replied warmly. "'I like the poor dogs and the sick dogs. There are plenty to care for the well-favored ones. How old is Gipy?' "'Nobody knows,' said Tilda Jane solemnly. "'His muzzle has been white ever since I had him.'
"'He don't seem to be sleeping well,' pursued Hank slyly, as Gipy stirred in his sleep and gave a queer little yelp. Do you suppose that there is something on his mind?' Tilda Jane was prematurely old and careworn, yet she was still a child in some ways, and tenderly shaking the little old dog she burst into sudden laughter. "'Wake up, Gipy. There's friends all around you. There ain't no—I mean,
there isn't any big dog chasing you.' "'Maybe he thought his chaser was a cat,' remarked Hank. "'Gipy never quailed before a cat,' said Tilda Jane decidedly. "'Haven't you seen him run at them tail first, then turn around and give a bite?' "'Yes, I've seen him gallop after a mouse so hotly,' said Hank,
that when he'd got on his blindest side he'd go most crazy, and then in his excitement he'd eat it and forget he'd eaten it and go on looking for it.' Tilda Jane was shaking with laughter. "'I've seen him do that,' she said, lots of times, and it's queer, for he doesn't favor mice for eating.
"'We do lots of things when we're worked up that we wouldn't do sober,' remarked Hank sententiously. Hoacher, who had sprung off his blanket to the aid of the dreaming cur, now called the little girl's attention to himself by affectionately pressing his head against her arm. "'My beauties,' she said caressingly, and her glance embraced the two dogs. "'What would I do without you?'
"'You take solid comfort with those beasts, don't you?' said Hank. "'But you like dogs, too,' she said anxiously. "'Oh yes, I like them. But not as you do. They're only dumb critters to me.' "'Now a horse,' Tilda Jane sprang up. "'Oh, Hank, I forgot to ask you. Did you get a letter from that man today?'
"'Yes,' said Hank gloomily. "'And he won't let me have my mare back for less than two hundred and fifty dollars.' "'Oh, brother, but you'll raise it. I've only got one hundred and fifty.' "'Could you get a hundred anywhere?' "'I could save it out of my salary, but it would take too long. He'll sell the mare.'
The little girl gave a distressed cry. "'We must have her. We must have her.' "'You're pretty milkweed.' Then hurrying to a cupboard, she drew out an old sugar bowl. Lifting the cover, she said, count my Barry money.
"'Hank, count it.' The young man in a bewildered way drew out some bills from the sugar bowl. "'You didn't get all this from selling Barry's sissy.' "'Part of it, Hank. Currents were all the fashion this year. And we had lots of them.' "'Then when you were on your holidays, I saved some from the housekeeping.'
"'There's twenty-five dollars here,' said Hank, with a kind of solemn joy. "'And Grandpa has fifty dollars,' said Tilda Jane. "'He saved it for you from his pension. Just as soon as he heard about your wanting your horse back, he began to scrimp.' "'Father did?' exclaimed Hank, and a sudden glow eliminated his face.
"'Twas you, young monkey, that put it in his head.' "'Suppose I did,' she said stoutly. "'There was reason for it.' "'God bless you,' said the young man warmly. "'You've been the light of this house ever since you came into it.
"'If I get that mare, you'll never get out of the sleigh or buggy except for meals.' At this picture of her busy self driving behind Hank's beautiful white-streaked mare, with only pauses for refreshment, Tilda Jane again burst into such happy whole-hearted laughter that she almost suffocated. "'Oh, go away, Hank,' she exclaimed, waving one lean brown hand at him.
"'You are so drollish. "'You most choke me.' Hank was not a handsome young man. He was stout and decidedly commonplace, but in the eyes of his adopted sister, he was almost perfect, and with a pleased smile irradiating his plain features and
whistling softly in order not to disturb his father, he tramped off to bed. Left alone, Tilda Jane tucked her dogs in bed, and with a last caress, left them to slumber till morning. "'The dogs are all right. I'm all right,' she murmured. As she crept out of a room,
Hank is all right. That orphan? Tush! She isn't going to fret me much. But poor old grandpa, poor old grandpa, I'm young and little, but I must go to see
Mr. Waysmith. There is no one else, for I see. I'll get no help from Hank. Mr. Tracy could go, but I can't run blurting poor grandpa's sorrows all over the place.'" End of chapter 3
Recording by John Brandon
