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Updated: June 19, 2025
"It's the mixed-up things that bother me," said Sandy. "Mr. Moseley was telling of us to-day how ye lost a day out of the week when ye went round the world one way, and gained a day when ye went round the other." Aunt Melvy paused with the tea-towel in her hand. "Lost a day outen de week? Where'd he say you lost it at?" Sandy shook his head in perplexity.
For of all manner of work that a river can be put to, irrigation is, I think, the most useful. But isn't that a queer way for the Missouri to wander about underneath the ground? "Jes' look at dat ornery little nigger!" exclaimed Aunt Melvy, as she deposited a basket of clothes on the cabin floor.
"Oh, but, Aunt Melvy, won't you please let her come?" begged Nell, throwing off her sun-bonnet and letting down a tangle of yellow curls. "I have n't got anybody to play with me. Mother drove to town with father, and she said I was to get 'Mazin' Grace to stay with me." "Why, I'se gwine to let her come, honey," said Aunt Melvy, "co'se I is.
"Where'd you come from, boy?" "Curragh Chase, Limerick," murmured Sandy. "'Fore de Lawd, he's done been cunjered!" cried the old woman, aghast. "I'll git it outen of you, chile. You jus' come home wif yer Aunt Melvy; she'll take keer of you. Put yer arm on my shoulder; dat's right. Don't you mind where you gwine at. I got yer bundle. It ain't fur.
Hollis nor Aunt Melvy was to be found. Returning through the front hall, he opened the door to the parlor. The sight that met him was somewhat gruesome. Everything was carefully wrapped in newspapers. Pictures enveloped in newspapers hung on the walls, newspaper chairs stood primly around a newspaper table. In the dim twilight it looked like the very ghost of a room.
"It's a stray lad, doctor; my old cook, Melvy, played the good Samaritan and picked him up off the road last night. She brought him to me this morning. He's out of his head with a fever." "Where'd he come from?" asked the doctor. "Mrs. Hollis says he was peddling goods up at Main street and the bridge last night." "Which one is he?" demanded Annette, eagerly, as she emerged from the buggy.
Once or twice she made a sign with her fingers, and frowned anxiously. "What is it, Aunt Melvy?" Ruth demanded. "Am I going to be an old maid?" "'T ain't no time to joke, chile," whispered Aunt Melvy, all the superstition of her race embodied in her trembling figure. "What I see, I see. Hit's de galluses what I see in de bottom ob yer cup!" "Do you m-mean suspenders?" laughed Annette.
But it was no use thinking of the punishment in the next world, when an immediate whipping was promised in this; consequently she turned the whole battery of her eloquence upon Aunt Melvy, who in the end gave in. Ten minutes later the two little playmates were skipping down the avenue under the shady old beech-trees where their fathers had played together in the long ago.
"Hit's de green rubbin' off," she assured him sympathetically. "De same ones dat laugh at you now will be takin' off dey hats to you some day." "Oh, it ain't the guyin' I mind," said Sandy; "it's me wooden head. Them little shavers that can't see a hole in a ladder can beat me figurin'." "You jus' keep on axin' questions," advised Aunt Melvy. "Dat's what I always tole Rachael.
Now de doctor's jes tearin' his shirt to git her out, he's so skeered she'll do what she says." Sandy laughed in spite of himself, and Aunt Melvy wagged her head knowingly. "He needn't pester hisseif 'bout dat. Now Mr. Carter's 'bout to die, an' you's shut up in jail, she's done turnin' her 'tention on Mr. Sid Gray.
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