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Updated: May 2, 2025
I proposed going back east, but Dosia says she'd rather stay here. I'm the happiest man in Red Butte, Doc." He squeezed Theodosia's hand as he had used to do long ago in Heatherton church, and Dosia smiled down at him. There were no dimples now, but her smile was very sweet.
Suddenly, without warning, Evangeline went off into a series of shrill shrieks. "Stop me! Stop me! Don't l-let Stefana hear me! Don't l-let me laugh!" This was an urgent case fits or something, surely! Miss Theodosia's eyes sought the horizon for a reformed doctor. In lack of one, she shook Evangeline. "Stop at once! Make yourself stop; count ten!" "One! Two-o!
He appeared to be looking inward at his own poor little pains instead of outward or upward at Miss Theodosia. She wisely refrained from speech during those first critical moments. Ten-year-old arms may not be as steady for cradling as thirty-six-year olds. Miss Theodosia's were steady and soft. The baby nestled into them and she rocked him. She was rocking a baby!
Miss Theodosia's cryptic little smile lingered on her lips and in the clear windows of her eyes, as she gazed past the voluble wife of Andrew, through her vines, at the little House of Children next door. She imagined she heard Stefana singing, high up and sweet, over her work. Wait! that was not a singing sound! A single shriek shot above the clear humming noise that might be Stefana.
He set up indignant wails, and Miss Theodosia's soul wailed in unison. "All our dear good time spoiled! We're not pretending any more; you're Evangeline's darlin' dear. I'll put you on the bed and give you your bottle." So abruptly had the beautiful game come to an end. Miss Theodosia went away to prepare the bottle.
When, therefore, on the 12th of October, 1870 the date is duly recorded in one of Miss Theodosia's letters she alighted from the cars in Atlanta, in the midst of a great crowd, she fully expected to find her brother waiting to receive her.
"I won't muss it. I'm just going to take it home and sew the buttons on. There's two off. Mother always sewed 'em on; he pays two cents extra for repairs." Miss Theodosia's fair face flushed. "You don't stir a step with it! I have buttons and a spool of thread what I do, I finish doing! Give it to me." For the first time, Miss Theodosia handled a man's garment intimately.
And for many to-morrows he came back. On one of them the talk once more reverted to the book that the Story Man was understood to be writing, in some mysterious Place of Pens and Paper. "I hope it's a regular romance," Miss Theodosia said. "Romance? What is that? Is there such a thing? There may have been once " Miss Theodosia's fair cheeks took on faint color. She turned upon him. "Once nothing!
But Miss Theodosia's eyes were cheerfully following the infinitesimal stitches with which she was rimming an infinitesimal round hole in the bit of linen in her hand. "How far have you got?" she questioned over a new stitch. "Not very far," sadly; "I think I am a little afraid of my heroine." "Mercy gracious! Well, I think I'd take her by the ear and march her round to suit myself!
Jes' stan's up ez straight an' smilin' afore all the crowd, an' jes' tells off his p'ints, one, two, three, ez nip! An' the crowd always cheers an' cheers jes' bawls itse'f hoarse. Whenever thar's a chance ter speak, Wat jes' leaves them t'other candidates nowhar." Ah, Theodosia's beauty well deserved the guerdon of sweet words. She might have been pictured as a thirsting Hebe.
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