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While the "fotched-on" lady taught the girl, the girl taught the "fotched-on" lady, for the birds were her brothers, and the flowers her cousins, and in the poetry that existed before forms of meter came into being she was deeply versed. Toward the end of that year, Samson undertook his portrait of Adrienne Lescott.
After tasting the "fotched-on" substitute, she gravely, in accordance with the fixed etiquette of the hills, wiped the mouth of the bottle on the palm of her hand, then, kneeling once more on the stones, she lifted the stranger's head in her supporting arm, and pressed the flask to his lips. After that, she chafed the wrist which was not hurt, and once more administered the tonic.
And, yet, the "fotched-on" teachers at the "college" thought her the most voraciously ambitious pupil they had ever had, so unflaggingly did she toil, and the most remarkably acquisitive, so fast did she learn.
It was said that these exclusive sessions were attended by Judge Hollman, Sheriff Purvy and certain other gentlemen selected by reason of their marksmanship. When one of these victims fell, John South had just returned from a law school "down below," wearing "fotched-on" clothing and thinking "fotched-on" thoughts.
The old woman appeared on the porch and she, too, hailed the boy with a bantering tone and a quizzical smile. "One o' them fotched-on women whoop ye fer missin' yo' a-b-abs?" she asked. Jason scowled. "Whar's Mavis?" The old woman laughed teasingly. "Why, hain't ye heerd the news? How long d'ye reckon a purty gal like Mavis was a-goin' to wait fer you?
"Don't write me no check!" she exclaimed somewhat desperately, then, covered with confusion she added, "I don't aim ter insult ye none but I don't know much erbout fotched-on ways. I wants ter tote thet thar payment back home in real money." Except with Brent, Halloway had never thus far broken out of character.
These things had been the gifts of friends who liked such a type of God-inspired madness. A "fotched-on" trained nurse was in attendance. From time to time, eminent Bluegrass surgeons came to Hixon by rail, rode twenty miles on mules, and held clinics on the mountainside. To this haven, Jesse Purvy, the murder lord, was borne in a litter carried on the shoulders of his dependents.
"I reckon Samson don't need no fotched-on help ter make folks acknowledge him." "Every man needs his chance. He can be a great painter but that's the least part of it. He can come back equipped for anything that life offers. Here, he is wasted." "Ye mean" she put the question with a hurt quaver in her voice "ye mean we all hain't good enough fer Samson?" "No.
On the westward march they had simply dropped behind, and their isolation had left them in a long sleep that had given them a long rest, but had done them no real harm. Always in their eyes, however, she was a woman, and no woman was "fitten" to teach school. She was more a "fotched-on" woman, a distrusted "furriner," and she was carrying on a "slavery school."
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