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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Don't you worry about that will, honey," advised Mrs. Greening, going to Ollie and putting her large freckled arm around the young woman's shoulders; "for it won't amount to shucks! Isom never had a son, and even if he did by some woman he wasn't married to, how's he goin' to prove he's the feller?" Nobody attempted to answer her, and Mrs.
Dead, he had become an object of awe which they approached softly and with fear. Isom lay upon his own cellar door, taken down from its hinges to make him a couch. It stood over against the kitchen wall, a chair supporting it at either end, and Isom stretched upon it covered over with a sheet.
He did not fully understand what Morgan was about, but it was plain to him that the man had no honest purpose there. He could not repeat his fears to Isom, for Isom's wrath and correction would fall on Ollie. Now he was left in charge of his master's house, his lands, his livestock, and his honor. The vicarious responsibility rested on him with serious weight.
"Now, Joe, you've got too much sense to try to stir up a row and rouse hard feelin's between us at the start," said Isom, coming forward with his soft-soap of flattery and crafty conciliation. "If I hadn't 'a' known that you was the smartest boy of your age anywhere around here, do you suppose I'd have taken you in this way?"
Morgan isn't as good a man as Isom is, with all his hard ways and stinginess. If he's honest and honorable, he can wait for you till Isom dies. He'll not last more than ten or fifteen years longer, and you'll be young even then, Ollie. I don't suppose anybody ever gets too old to be happy any more than they get too old to be sad." "No, I don't suppose they do, Joe," she sighed.
Why it was so, Joe did not know, although he struggled in his reason to make it clear. Anybody could deceive Isom if he would work his scheme behind a dollar. It was a shield beyond which Isom could not see, and had no wish to inquire.
Old Isom would have been living still, going about his sordid ways as before she came, and the need of his money would have been removed out of her life forever. Joe was at the bottom of all this spying, prying, meddling Joe. Let him suffer for it now, said she. If he had kept out of things which he did not understand, the fool! Now let him suffer!
These she hung on a line to dry. Isom watched her with approval, pleased to see her so housewifely and neat. "Ollie, you've come on wonderful since I married you," said he. "When you come here do you recollect? you couldn't hardly make a mess of biscuits that was fit to eat, and you knew next to nothing about milk and butter for all that you was brought up on a farm."
Joe threw his plow down in the furrow, cast the lines from his shoulders, and declared that he was starving. He vowed that he would not cultivate another row unless assured, then and there, that Isom would make an immediate enlargement in the bill-of-fare.
He stepped back a pace, Joe's subdued, calm warning penetrating his senses like the sound of a blow on an anvil. Last week this gangling strip of a youngster was nothing but a boy, fetching and carrying in Isom Chase's barn-yard.
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