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Anna was an epistle to Pogue's entry and my only excuse for dragging Hughie Thornton into this narrative is that he was a commentary on Anna. He was only once in our house, but that was an "occasion," and for many years we dated things that happened about that time as "about," "before" or "after" "the night Hughie stayed in the pigsty."
I'll turn one o' my famous doubleback-action flip-flaps, which people have come miles to see, when I was traveling with Dan Rice. Or we'll sing you a song. We've here the World Renowned Ballad-Singer of Bean Blossom Crick. Or we'll make you a speech. We have here the Justly-Famous Boy Orator of Pogue's Run." Everything had become quite still all around during this dialog.
We built around the hope a sty and placed it against the end of the cabin. The pig never turned up, but the hope lived there throughout a generation! We owned a goat once. In three months it reduced the smooth kindly feeling in Pogue's entry to the point of total eclipse. We sold it and spent a year in winning back old friends. We had a garden.
He sat up, looked at the black figure of the sweep for a moment, then made a spring at Billy, and before any one could interfere poor Billy had been felled to the floor with a terrible smash on the jaw. Then he jumped on him. We youngsters raised a howl that awoke the sleepers in Pogue's entry. Jamie and Billy soon overpowered Boyle.
"Aye, an' that's no news to me, but with good folks like you it's different." "No, indeed, I assure you I think that exactly." "Well, now, if it makes no diff'rence, dear, why do ye come down Pogue's entry like a bailiff or a process-sarver?" "I didn't, I just hinted " "Aye, ye hinted an' a wink's as good as a nod to a blind horse.
"Some day we'll haave a home like this," Jamie said as they descended the steps. Anna named it "The Mount of Temptation," for it was the nearest she had ever been to the sin of envy. A one-armed Crimean pensioner named Steele occupied it during my youth. It could be seen from Pogue's entry and Anna used to point it out and tell the story of that memorable journey.
During the fifteen years that followed the burial of "the famine child" they buried three others and saved three four living and four dead. I was the ninth child. Anna gave me a Greek name which means "Helper of men." Shortly after my arrival in Scott's entry, they moved to Pogue's entry. The stone cabin was thatch-covered and measured about twelve by sixteen feet.
"Th' biggest hope I've ever had was t' bear a chile that would love everybody as yer father loved me!" "A sort of John-three-sixteen in miniature." "Aye." "The aim is high enough to begin with!" "Not too high!" "And your religion?" "All in all, it's bein' kind an' lovin' kindness. That takes in God an' maan an' Pogue's entry an' th' world." The town clock struck twelve.
His head and face had been cut in several places and his face and clothes were red. They brought him home. A crowd followed and filled Pogue's entry, a crowd that was about equally divided in sentiment against Hughie and against the toughs. I borrowed a can of water from Mrs. McGrath and another from the Gainers and Anna washed old Hughie's wounds in Jamie's tub. It was a great operation.
"Yer spakin' ov clothes, Jamie; I'm spakin' ov mind, an' ye wor behind th' doore whin th' wor givin' it out, but begorra, Anna was at th' head ov th' class, an' that's no feerie story, naither, is it, me bhoy?" At the head of Pogue's entry, Bob Dougherty, Tommy Wilson, Sam Manderson, Lucinda Gordon and a dozen others stopped for a "partin' crack." The kettle was boiling on the chain.
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