The Shorn Lamb/Chapter 20
Chapter 20
THE IMPORTANCE OF PROOF
"Oh, Aunt Pearly Gates, life is very hard right now! It isn't that it is so hard for me. I'm getting on well enough, except, of course, my aunts are as cold as ever to me—I reckon they always will be that. It's because they don't believe I'm their kin. I'm sure I don't want to be, and if I could be of Grandfather's blood and Uncle Spot's, I'd be perfectly willing to forego the honor of being even their poor kin.
"It's Uncle Spot and Grandfather that are having such a hard time. You see poor Uncle Spot has fallen head over heels in love with Betsy Bolling, and Grandfather and Mr. Bolling are having a law suit, and although Betsy is just crazy about Uncle Spot she won't have him because Grandfather is so opposed, and then she is so mortified at the way her own father is behaving. For my part, I believe Mr. Bolling is losing his mind."
"He ain't never had none to lose, Beck baby, ain't ol' Rolfe Bolling. He ain't never had no min' an' no manners an' what heart he may er had in the fust beginning is done been blackened an' 'taminated long ago by ol' Mam' Peachy. He wa'n't nachelly sech a bad boy, but she done got holt er him an' give him the wrong start. I had hopes that Miss Elizabeth, his wife, wa' a gonter help him some, but Mam' Peachy wa' too strong fer her. I reckon Rolfe Bolling marryin' into that mounting fambly wa' about the onlies' thing he ever done in all his life that Mam' Peachy didn't have a han' in. I don't know how come he flew the coop then. She wa' as mad as hops an' she ain't never forgib Miss Elizabeth fer a marryin' er what she calls her baby."
Rebecca had come to see her old friend to tell her of the sad happenings at Mill House. She hoped that Aunt Pearly Gates might have some solution to offer for the muddle affairs were in.
"What does Mr. Philip say ter all this here carryin' on? 'Tain't likely he a gonter set still an' let his paw ruin Marse Bob."
"Oh, poor Philip is doing everything in his power to make his father stop, but Aunt Peachy keeps on persuading Mr. Bolling to try and get back the hub factory property, and he is just like a real baby with her. He is afraid of her, too, I believe.
"It's right funny, but everybody talks to me about the business. Philip has told me a lot about it. He thinks the law and equity court will decide in favor of Grandfather in spite of Mr. Bolling's holding that old lease and the deed books being gone, burnt or something."
"Laws-a-mussy, Beck baby, I kin 'member moughty well that time the word went 'roun' that the Yankees wa' a coming. They done burnt a lot er co't houses, so they said, an' the chanct wa' they wa' a gonter burn ourn. Some er the men got ter wuck an' tuck all the things out'n the buildin' befo' the sojers got there an' then when some drunken sojers started ter fire the place a awfficer come a ridin' up with his saber a glintin' in the sun an' he drove off the drunks an' set a gyard ter protec' the prop'ty. Them there books an' sech would a been saf't enough. Somebody done stole them books. Mo'n likely the Yankees. Some folks'll jes' steal fer stealin's sake.
"Air Mr. Spot takin' on much 'bout his sweetheart?"
"Poor Uncle Spot! He most breaks my heart. He doesn't eat and I don't believe he is sleeping either, he looks so black under his eyes. I didn't know he loved Betsy so much, but he told me the other day that he had been thinking about having her for his wife ever since she was a little young girl. He'd go ahead in spite of Grandfather if Betsy would just have him. He says he is farmer enough to make a living for her, even if Grandfather won't let them live at Mill House. But Betsy won't have him, although she had already about got engaged to him.
"It was the very afternoon that Grandfather went over to see Mr. Bolling, that day in March. I had a cold and didn't go to school, but Uncle Spot made out he had forgotten about it and walked over to the mill to meet me, just as he had been doing—except he always drove. Of course this walking over was right foxy in Uncle Spot, 'cause it would be right hard to make love to a girl when you were in one buggy and she was in the other. As it was, he got in Betsy's old buggy. She was alone. Jo was sick with a cold, too. At least he pretended to be. And, Oh, Aunt Pearly Gates, I wish I could have been there! I am mighty excited about being mixed up in a real romance.
"Betsy told me a little about it, but she was too shy to tell me everything. She didn't know how far Mr. Bolling had gone about that old hub factory land and she told Spot she liked him a little—at least that is what she said she said—but I believe she said more than that, because that night before supper I found Uncle Spot sitting in the library and he looked so happy I just know she said something besides just liking.
"I used to think Uncle Spot was sullen looking, but I can't see how I ever did. He has a solemn face, but it isn't sullen any more. Even now when he and Grandfather have had such terrible words between them he hasn't taken back his old look, but has a kind of sweet, sad expression. I just know he is remembering the kiss I think Betsy must have given him.
"Well, Grandfather said terrible things about the Bollings, all but Philip, and he spared him just because he brought me to Mill House. He said he'd never give his consent to the marriage and if Spot chose to disgrace his family by even contemplating such a thing he could leave home. I guess my father must have had just such a talk with Grandfather, only he wanted to wed his art.
"Poor Uncle Spot did not have to choose between his home and his sweetheart, 'cause before we went to bed that night, after Uncle Spot told about his kind of engagement, a colored man named Young Abe came riding over on a mule with a note from Betsy and I reckon she told Uncle Spot good-bye forever in that note, because he cried a little. I saw him."
Aunt Pearly Gates stopped tatting for a moment and reached carefully under the covers of her bed, an intent expression on her good old face.
Rebecca paused and looked at the old woman.
"’Scuse me a minute, honey chil', I's a listenin' ter yer an' so interested in my white folks an' they troubles I come moughty nigh fergittin' I wa' a settin'. I got a duck aig in here by mistake an' Gawd in Heaven knows what I'm a gonter do with a baby duck. Duck aigs takes fo' weeks to hatch. I put the settin' in 'thout payin' it much min'. Si brought it ter me goin' on three weeks ago, an' it wa' 'bout come dusk an' I couldn't see any too clear. I never would a knowed it if Si hadn't a got ter huntin' that aig. He wa' a gonter stir up a lil' batter braid an' th'ain't nothin' mo' rich like in the way er eatin' than duck aigs in batter braid. He 'lowed he put it in the chancy bowl an' he looked an' looked till he wa' all tuckered out lookin'. Po' Si has a hard time with me a laid up in the baid all these years an' him sech a han' fer losin' things. I reckon he'd been better off if he had er los' me twenty years ago an' then he wa' still a right spry nigger an' he mought a get another wife. I'm 'fraid he couldn't git nobody wuth her salt ter marry him now."
"Oh, dear Aunt Pearly Gates, please don't talk that way! Uncle Si adores you and all of us adore you. Even the aunts love you, and if you should leave us there would be nothing but sadness at Mill House. Philip and Betsy and Jo love you, too."
"Well, sometimes I gits moughty low in my min'. When my folks is havin' so much trouble an' sorrow it seems lak I worry so over them an' what with settin' an' all I reckon I ain't had a wink er sleep fer nigh on ter a week.
"I ain't quite clar in my min' 'bout what ol' Rolfe Bollin' is claimin', but I is sho' er one thing, an' that is if they is a law in the lan' what will take Marse Robert's hub fact'ry away from him, hide an' har, an' han' it over ter Rolfe Bollin', who ain't never done a hones' ter Gawd day's wuck in his life, why, then they's something the matter with the law an' I ain't near so ap' ter feel lak 'bidin' by it. I reckon I'd have a hard time a breakin' the law a layin' up here in the baid, but I'd feel lak a tryin' ter do it."
Rebecca laughed. The picture of gentle old Aunt Pearly Gates breaking the law was funny.
"Well, break the law, but don't break your eggs. Maybe I'd better not tell you any more about our troubles, because you do such sad talking about dying and Uncle Si marrying again," Rebecca suggested.
"Laws-a-mussy, chil', go on an' talk. My white folks been a comin' down here ter ol' Pearly Gates' cabin a tellin' her they troubles fer so long I couldn't stan' my 'zistence 'thout I felt lak I done some good jes' a listenin' ter miseries. What else is a worryin' you, honey chil'?"
"I wasn't going to mention my other worries, 'cause you have enough to think about. I guess you can see I am bothered about something without my telling you. You are so sympathetic, Aunt Pearly Gates."
"Well, honey baby, I kin see a lil' line on yo' forehaid what don' b'long thar an' I notice a look in yo' eyes what is wrong ter see in a lil' gal what ain't mo'n in her teens. What is it, Beck baby?"
"Oh, Aunt Pearly Gates, sometimes I am afraid I'm not named Taylor after all. If I am, why doesn't Mrs. O'Shea answer my letters? Why doesn't she send Daddy's books to me? Grandfather has written, too, and she doesn't answer his letters either, or if she has answered them he hasn't told me.
"I may be nothing but an impostor after all, if there is no proof of my being what I always thought I was. Since this business has come up about the hub factory and I have heard so much talk about the importance of proof, I feel worse and worse that there is no proof about me."
Rebecca wiped away her tears and tried to smile. Her old friend looked sadly at her and with gentle words tried to comfort her.
"You is you, no matter who you mought be," she asserted, "an' Marse Bob loves you 'cause you is you; an' Mr. Spot air took wif you 'cause you is you. Becky baby mustn't go worry too much 'bout them letters an' things. Maybe you needs mo' fun in life than you air gittin'."
"Oh, I have a splendid time! I like my school in spite of being behind in arithmetic. You see my Daddy used to say that the adding machine had done away with all necessity for amateur mathematics, and I hardly know a bit of arithmetic. I am ahead of the others in history and geography and spelling, and I must say most of them read like they were spelling while they are reading.
"I am astonished to see how many things happen in the country. I used to think that the country would be a place where nothing happened but just crops and weather, but something is going on all the time. I do miss the shows I used to see in New York, but do you know, Aunt Pearly Gates, that Uncle Spot is going to take me to a show at the Court House this very night? I am real excited about it.
"Poor Uncle Spot was going to get up a real party for this show and ask Mr. Philip Bolling and Betsy and Jo, but now he can't do it because of the letter Young Abe brought over on the mule. He can't trust himself to say a word to Betsy now. Even when he takes me to the mill to meet her in the morning he only touches his hat and never says a word to her. I am sure his heart is most breaking. And Betsy is looking pale and thin. It is too bad, when she is to graduate now in a few weeks, and she is the favorite of her class, too, and now she won't look near so pretty as she should with her roses all turned to lilies. I'm going to come down to-morrow and tell you all about the show, Aunt Pearly Gates."
"Well, I ain't never seed a show an' they is some chu'ch numbers what claims they is mos'ly run by the debble, but I 'low I'd like ter see one fust rate. What kin' er show is it?"
"I think it's a vaudeville and there will be singing and dancing and acrobatic performances."
"Sounds lak a circus. I ain't seed a circus fer so long I done mos' forgot they wa' sech a thing. I sho' did useter love a circus. I's glad you is a goin' ter have a nice time, honey chil', an' I'm glad Mr. Spot air gonter fergit his troubles fer a piece."