To Solon Denney the thing came as a deep and divine relief. In the satisfaction induced by it, he penned an obituary of Potts in which he employed the phrase "grim messenger of death" very cleverly indeed. For matters had been going from bad to worse. Murmurs at the demands of Mrs.

Potts--likened by Asa Bundy to a daughter of the horse leech--had become pa.s.sionately loud as our ma.s.ses toiled expensively up that Potts-defined path of enlightenment. The old sneer at Solon's Boss-ship was again to be observed on every hand, that att.i.tude of doubting ridicule, half-playful, half-contemptuous, which your public man finds more dangerous to his influence than downright hostility would be.

But the murmurs were again stilled, and Solon might breathe the peace of a golden age when as yet no Potts, male or female, had come unto us.

It was not felt at all that Solon's genius for the discretion of public affairs had availed him in this latest crisis. But the benefit was substantial, none the less, and the columns of the _Argus_ were again buoyant as of yore. It was at this time, I remember, that the _Argus_ first spoke of our town as "a gem at beauty's throat," and, touching the rare enterprise of our citizens, declared that, "If you put a Sloc.u.m County man astride a streak of lightning, he'd call for a pair of spurs."

For myself, I frankly mourned Potts. For I saw now that he had been truly and finely of that Greek spirit--one accepting gifts from the G.o.ds with a joyous young faith in their continuance. I felt that he had divined more of the lesson of Greek art than his one-time love could write down in papers unending. I should not have wished him back in Little Arcady, but I did breathe a prayer that he might in some early Greek elysium be indeed "Potts forever." Might it not be? Had not that other paper on "the message of Emerson" hinted of "compensation" in a jargon that sounded authoritative?

And now, as I breakfasted, my attention was invited anew to that fateful, never ending extension of the Potts-made ripples in our little pool. I was threatened with the loss of my domestic stay; again might I be forced to the City Hotel's refectory of a thousand blended smells and spotty table-linen; or even to irksome adventure at the board of the self-lauded Budd.

There was selfish wonder in my heart as I listened to Clem, who, now that my second cup of coffee competed with the May blossoms, stood by to tell me of his worldly advancement and the nearing of a time when Miss Caroline should come among us to be independent.

His stubborn industry had counted. The vegetable and melon crop of the year before had been abundant and well sold, despite sundry raids upon the latter by nameless boys, who, he a.s.sured me, "hain't had no raght raisin'." And he had further swelled that h.o.a.rd of "reglah gole money"

in Bundy's bank by his performances of house-cleaning, catering, and his work as janitor; not a little, too, by sales of the fish he caught. He was believed to possess a secret charm that made his fish-bait irresistible. Certainly his fortune in this matter was superior to that of any other frequenter of the ba.s.s nooks below the dam.

And now he had waxed so heavy of purse that a woman could come between us,--a selfish woman, I made no doubt, pampered survival of a pernicious and now happily destroyed system, who would not only unsettle my domestic tranquillity, but would, in all likelihood, fetch another alien ferment into our already sorely tried existence as a town needing elevation. It seemed, indeed, that we were never to be done with these consequences.

Separated from my house by a stretch of weedy lawn was a shambling structure built years before by one Azariah Prouse, who believed among other strange matters that the earth is flat and that houses are built higher than one story only at great peril, because of the earth's p.r.o.neness to tip if overbalanced. Prouse had compromised with this belief, however, and made his house a story and a half high, in what I conceive to have been a dare-devil spirit. The reckless upper rooms were thus cut off untimely by ceilings of sudden slope, and might not be walked in uprightly save by persons of an inconsiderable stature.

In a fulness of years Azariah had died and been chested, like Joseph of old, his soul to be gathered, as he believed, to another horizontal plane, exalted far above this, as would befit an abode for spirits of the departed good.

His earthly home, now long vacant, had been rented by Clem for a monthly sum not particularly cheap in view of its surprising limitations above stairs. It was of this new home that he chiefly talked to me, of the persistence required to have it newly painted by the inheriting Prouse, and repairs made to doors, windows, and the blinds that hung awry from them.

"An' Ah been cleanin'--yes, seh, Mahstah Majah--fum celleh to gahet.

Them floahs do shine an' them windows is jes' so clean they look lahk they ain't theah at all. Miss Cahline an' Little Miss, they reside on th' lowah floah, an' Ah tek mahse'f up to that theh gahet. Yes, seh, Ah haf to scrooge aw Ah git mah haid knocked off, but Ah reckon Ah sho'

will luhn to remembeh in Gawd's own time. An' they's a tehible grand hen-house. Ah'm go'n' a' raise a hund'ed thousan' yellow-laiged pullets; an' theh's a staihway down to th' watah whah Ah kin tie up mah ole catfish boat, an' a monst'ous big gyahden whah Ah kin keep mah fie'ce look on them mush an' watah melons. Ah don' want t' git into any mo'

alterations with them boys, but Ah suttinly will weah 'em out if they don't mind theah cautions. Yes, seh,--we all go'n' a' have a raght tolable homeplace."

Then my grievance prompted me.

"Yes, and who's going to get my breakfast and dinner for me, then?" I asked with a dark look, but he beamed upon me placatingly.

"Oh, Ah's still go'n' a' do fo yo', Mahstah Majah. Ah steddied huh all out twell she's plumb systemous. Miss Cahline sh' ain't wantin' huh breakfus' twell yo's done, an' she'll tek huh dinneh uhliah. Ah manage, Mahstah Majah. Ah mek all mah reddiments, yes, seh--yo's go'n' a' be jes' lahk mah own folks."

I affected to be made more cheerful by this, but I knew that no man can serve two masters, especially when he is the "p.u.s.s.enal propity" of one; but I forbore to warn the deluded African of the tribulations ahead of him.

The Book of MISS CAROLINE

CHAPTER XIII

A CATASTROPHE IN FURNITURE

"Miss Cahline comin' this yeh time a' yeah so's 't'll seem mo' soft an'

homelike. Ah gaiss she go'n' a' sprighten raght up when she see th'

summeh time all pleasant."

Thus Clem said to me a few weeks later, and I praised his thoughtfulness. But I nursed misgivings both for Miss Caroline and for Little Arcady. How would they take each other? I conceived Miss Caroline to be a formidable person whom Little Miss resembled, Clem said, "as aigs look lahk aigs." No further detail could I elicit from him save that his Mistress was "not fleshily inclahned," and that Little Miss was "sweetah'n honey on a rag!"

They would find our summer acceptable, even after a Southern summer heavy-sweet with magnolia and jasmine, honeysuckle and mimosa; with spirea and bridal-wreath and white-blossomed sloe trees. And the house as put to rights by Clem would be found at least endurable. It had not the solid grace nor the columned front of the houses I had somewhat hurriedly admired in the Southland some years before, but its lower rooms were wide, its windows abundant, and outwardly it had escaped the blight of the scroll saw.

But the civilization of Little Arcady would be alien to the newcomers, and I was apprehensive that it would also be difficult.

Further, I suspected that J.R.C. Tuckerman, with all his genius for hard work, lacked the administrative gifts of a true financier. He said a hundred thousand pullets when he should have said twenty-five, and he seemed to consider his banked h.o.a.rd of gold money to be inexhaustible when it was in fact merely a sum slightly greater than he was wont to juggle with in his darkened mind.

I was not surprised, therefore, when I found him rather dejectedly sunk in figures one afternoon about a week after Miss Caroline's "home-fixin's" had begun to arrive.

These were all about him at the front door, in the hall, and extending far into the rooms, a truly depressing chaos of packing boxes, swathed tables, chairs, bureaus, and barrels of china. Nor was this all; for even as I loitered up to the door the dray of Sam Murdock halted in front with another huge load.

Clem raised his head from a sheet of sprawled figures and regarded this fresh trouble with something like consternation. In one hand he fluttered a packet of receipted freight bills, and he spoke as one in an evil dream.

"Yes, seh, Mahstah Majah, it suttinly do seem lahk them railroad genamen would git monst'ous rich a-runnin' them freight trains about th'

kentry th' way lahk they do. Ah allus think them ole freight cyahs look maghty cheap an' common a-rattlin' around, but Ah teks mah ole hat off to um yehafteh. Yes, seh, Ah lays Ah will! Them engineahs an' fiahmen an' them Cunnels with gole on they hats, Ah gaiss they go'n' a' have all th' money in th' world maghty shawtly. They looks highly awdinahy an'

unpetentious, but they suttinly p'duces th' revenue. Ah sho'ly go'n' a'

repoht mahse'f to um ve'y honably when they pa.s.s me by yehafteh. Yo'

don't gaiss they made a errah, Mahstah Majah?"

He searched my face with a sudden hope:--

"Yo' don't reckon they git a idy them funichas an' home-fixin's ain't been paid foh in th' fust place?"

I took the packet from his hands and glanced over it.

"No, these seem to be all right, Clem--only freight is charged for. But you must remember Virginia is a long way off."

"Yes, seh--it ain't neveh raghtly come upon me befoh."

"And freights are high, of course?"

"Yes, seh, th' freight p'fession does look lahk it ort a' be maghty gainful. Ah gaiss them engineahs go'n' a' do raght well in it, with evabody movin' 'round considable."

"Well, how many more loads do you expect?"

"Well, seh, Ah don't raghtly know. Ah tell that drivah yestaday Ah already got a gret abundance to mek evabody comf'table, an' a little bit oveh, but he jes' sais, 'Oh, tha's all raght,' an' so fothe, an' he still is _a-bringin_' it. Lohks ve'y strongly lahk he ain't go'n' a'

stop at _mah_ implications. Mahstah Majah, maght happen lahk he'd ack mo' reasonin' ef yo' was t' have a good long talk with him."

"Oh, he hasn't anything to do with it. He only brings what your Miss Caroline has shipped. She shouldn't have sent so much, that's all."

He took the troubling bills again.

"Yo' _sounds_ raght, Mahstah Majah--you suttinly do sound _raght_! Ah gaiss Ah got a' raise ten hund'ed thousan' pulletts an mo'."

For three more days the juggernaut of Sam Murdock's dray hauled heavy furniture over the prostrate spirit of Clem. Faster than he could unpack the stuff was it unpiled at his door. And it was poor stuff, moreover, in the opinion of Little Arcady. Clem's history was known, of course, and during these busy days the town made it a point to pa.s.s his door in friendly curiosity about the belongings of his mistress. When these could not be satisfactorily appraised from the yard, they sauntered up to the porch and surveyed Clem in the front room at his work of unpacking and cleaning. Often, indeed, some kindly disposed observer with time to spare would lend a hand in freeing some heavy bit of mahogany from its crate or wrappings.