CHAPTER III
JUST then Emma came to the door. Emma was the Osbornes’ old servant, brown and plump as one of her own baked apple dumplings, and as much a part of the family as the tall clock in “the chamber.�
“Supper is ready, Miss M’randa, an’ you-all come right away, please’m,� she said. “De muffins is light as a feather. Come on an’ butter ’em. If you-all will live on corn bread, please’m eat it hot.�
“Poor Emma!� laughed Mrs. Osborne. “She cannot reconcile herself to our food program.�
“I tell Emma ’bout the Belgians,� complained Sweet William. “But she says ‘them folks is too far off for her to bother ’bout; corn bread don’t set good on her stomach; and she’s going to eat what she likes, long as she can get it.’ And, mother, she has light bread and hot biscuits for herself every day, and—�
“Sh-sh, son boy!� said Mrs. Osborne. “Emma doesn’t know any better, and we do. Come, Mayo, and Mayo. Come to the hot corn muffins!�
“I ought to go home,� said Black Mayo. “Polly’ll be expecting me.�
“Indeed she will not,� said Mrs. Osborne. “Polly never expects you till she sees you coming in the gate. How is she, and how are your pigeons? I understand they are a part of your family now. Of course you’ll stay to supper, Mayo. Patsy, tell Emma to put another plate on the table.�
A visit from their Cousin Mayo, always a delight, was now especially welcome to Dick because it postponed, perhaps prevented, a disagreeable interview with his father. He slipped to his place and quietly devoted himself to the hot muffins, cold ham, and damson preserves.
“Why, Dick! What have you done to your face?� asked his mother.
“Nothing. It got scratched,� he mumbled, glancing at his father.
But Mr. Osborne was not thinking of the garden; he was about to present to his family an amazing piece of news. He prepared for it by an impressive “Ahem!� with his eyes fixed on Black Mayo.
“A client came to my office to-day,� he said solemnly.
“Really, Mayo!� exclaimed his wife.
“What is a client?� asked Sweet William.
“Who disturbed the hoary dust of your sanctum?� asked Black Mayo.
“Well may you inquire!� said the Village lawyer. “You are responsible for his coming.�
“I?� There was a look of blank astonishment, followed by a peal of laughter. “You don’t mean to say that scoundrel Smith—�
“Yes. He wants to take action against you for assault and battery.�
“What is a client?� Sweet William asked again.
“What in the world are you talking about?� inquired Mrs. Osborne.
“Oh, I reckon I know.� Patsy eagerly aired her knowledge. “That Smith, the new man at the Tolliver place, quarreled with Cousin Mayo, and Cousin Mayo knocked him down. We saw it, Anne and I.�
“Oh, Princess Pocahontas! Are you and Lady Anne taking the witness stand against me?� Black Mayo said in mock reproach. “Well, it’s true.�
Mrs. Osborne gave a little exclamation of horror. “Oh, Mayo!� she said, frowning at her husband. “I’ve begged you not to let outside people buy land around here. And now Mayo’s had to knock one of them down.�
“But, Miranda dear, when a man sells his farmand the purchaser comes to get me to look up the title—�
“You just ought to tell him we don’t want him here,� said Mrs. Osborne. “What is the use of being a lawyer if you can’t put some law on outsiders to keep them from spoiling The Village?�
The two men laughed.
Then Black Mayo said: “I suppose he told you about it, Mayo. The ‘I saids’ and ‘he saids’?�
“Yes; oh, yes!�
“H’m! I hope you’ll make him pay you a good fat fee for the case.�
“Fee!� Red Mayo stared in amazement. “Assuredly you don’t think I’d accept his dirty money! Case! I informed him he had none.�
“But I did knock him down.�
“Of course you did. When he repeated what he said, I’d have knocked him down myself, if he hadn’t been in my own office. I told him if The Village heard such talk, he’d be tarred and feathered and drummed out of the community. Then I ordered him out of my office.�
“And that is how you treat yourrara avis, a client!� said Black Mayo.
“What is a client?� repeated Sweet William, whose questions were always answered because he never stopped asking till they were.
“A client, young man, is the golden-egg goosethat a lawyer tries to lure into his coop,� Black Mayo explained. “One fluttered to your father and he shooed it away.�
“I wish I had a goose that laid gold eggs,� said Sweet William. “I wouldn’t kill it, like the silly man in that story.�
“Perhaps I can find one and trade it to you for Hop-o-hop,� suggested his cousin.
Sweet William considered and shook his head. “Hop-o-hop couldn’t get on without me,� he said gravely.
“Ah, it’s a family failing,� laughed Black Mayo, as they left the table. “None of you is willing to pay the price for the goose.�
The evening was so mild that they settled themselves again on the porch. The men resumed their discussion of the war; David pored over a bulletin about corn; Dick snuggled down in a corner with “The Days of Bruce�; Anne and Patsy brought out their Red Cross knitting, and whispered and giggled together. Sweet William put a stool beside his mother’s chair and cuddled against her knee, with Scalawag at his feet.
Mrs. Osborne left the discussion of public affairs to the menfolks. She was intent on her own task, the making out of a program for the Village Literary Society. What pleasant meetings they would have, reading about the Plantagenet kings,supplementing Hume’s history with Waverley novels and Shakespeare plays. She smiled and folded her paper.
As the twilight deepened, Dick shut his book and grinned at the girls.
“Too bad not to have your company on my walk to-day, after you promised it, too!�
“Oh! we thought of a nicer place to go, where we wouldn’t scratch our faces,� said Anne.
“We’ll go with you some day, after you tear down all the barbed wire and briers,� said Patsy.
“I dare you!� Dick defied them.
“You say that because you know I’m going away so soon,� said Anne.
“You’re coming back in June. I dare and double dare you for then,� replied Dick. “I’ll be going to this place—oh! right along.�
“All right,� said Anne. “We’ll follow you; see if we don’t. We’ll not take a dare; will we, Patsy-pet?�
Their bickering was interrupted by the approach of guests. Three men strolled across the yard—Giles Spotswood, the cousin from the mill; Will Blair, another cousin, who kept the Village post office; and old Mr. Tavis, a villager outside the cousinship.
“We saw Black Mayo here, and we dropped in to talk over the news,� said Mr. Blair. “Gilessays Fayett Mallett heard at Redville that the United States has declared war. That’s what comes of sinking American ships; eh, Mayo?�
“Yes,� answered Black Mayo; “the German sinking of American ships was the overt act which brought on this war, just as the Stamp Tax brought on the Revolution. But at bottom, in both cases, the real cause is the same: it’s a fight against a despotic government for liberty and human rights.�
“It’s strange the Germans kept up submarine fighting after the United States’ protests,� said Mr. Blair; “getting another powerful enemy.�
“I reckon they count on winning the war with U-boats before the United States gets over there with both feet,� answered Black Mayo. “But I’ll bet on the British Navy; it’s saved the Allies so far.�
“You said the Belgians saved them by that ten days of defense that gave the French and British time to come,� said David.
“You told me the French saved them by driving the Germans back at the battle of the Marne,� said Dick.
“Oh! but you said the stubborn retreat of that first little British army was a real victory that made possible the Marne victory,� Patsy reminded him.
“Well, well! a good deal of saving is necessary; and maybe the old United States will jump in and do the final saving.�
“The French and British are pushing forward now,� said Mr. Blair. “Yesterday’s paper says——�
The men discussed the war news in an interested but remote way, just as they had discussed plagues in India, famines in China, the Boer War. Their sympathies were as wide as humanity; but, after all, these things did not touch them, really and personally, as did the death of Joe Spencer’s little daughter or the burning of a negro cabin with a baby in it. No one said “we� about the war; it was always “they.�
“What do you reckon they will do?� asked Mr. Spotswood. “Will they send an army over, do you think?�
“Oh, no!� Red Mayo answered confidently. “The war will be over before they could send men abroad, even if they had a trained army ready to start. They’ll lend the Allies money; they’ll give some—large amounts, millions, no doubt. And they’ll supply food and munitions; they must hustle around and get ships.�
“The main job will be to get the food to send,� said Mr. Spotswood. “There’s an alarmingshortage of grain. I never saw it so scarce and high, since I’ve been milling. The first war work is the farmers’, to raise a bumper crop.�
“Then I’m in war work, father,� said David. “I’m going to beat the record on my corn acre this year.�
Dick laughed. “A poor war worker! Not even a one-horse farmer, just a one-acre boy!�
“My one-acre boy multiplied by hundreds of thousands makes the Boys’ Corn Club a big thing,� said Mr. Spotswood. “Why aren’t you in it, Dick?�
“I’ve got something better to do,� said Dick, confidently and mysteriously.
“Isn’t it strange the Germans don’t see they are beaten?� said Mr. Blair.
“Man, man! What are you talking about?� Black Mayo exclaimed. “Beaten? In three years of war, German soil has been trampled by enemy feet only once, those few days in that first August when the French invaded Alsace. I fear there’s a hard struggle and dark days ahead.�
This speech amazed every one.
“Why, Cousin Mayo! Can’t the United States whip the world?� exclaimed David.
“Aren’t most of the nations against Germany?� asked Dick.
“Oh, yes! A score of nations are unitedagainst Germany and her sister autocracies, Austria-Hungary and Turkey and Bulgaria.�
“Is Germany so much the best fighter?� David wanted to know.
“No! But she has the inside lines, and she was ready for war. For nearly forty years she was preparing for ‘the day,’ while the rest of the world was busy with works of peace.�
“Didn’t the other countries have armies and navies, too?� David persisted.
“No country ever built up such a perfect war machine as Germany,� said Mr. Osborne. “Every point was prepared. Optical and dye experts produced an inconspicuous gray-green uniform; engineers constructed the Kiel Canal and a network of railroads leading to Belgium and France; scientists captured nitrogen from the air for explosives and fertilizers, and devised Zeppelins, huge guns, submarines, and poison gas; experts made war plans; officers were drilled to carry them out with soldiers trained by years of service. And the minds of people were prepared—abroad by propaganda, and at home by patriotic-sounding talk about ‘the seas must be free’ and ‘we demand our place in the sun.’ Even Kuno——� He paused and then said to himself, “I wonder where Kuno is!�
“Kuno?� said Red Mayo, questioningly.
“Kuno Kleist, a German friend of mine with whom I tramped through Mexico. He was coming home with me, but he had news that his mother was ill, so he went back to Germany. Such a clever, merry, kind-hearted fellow he was; confident that the eternal jubilee of peace and brotherhood was at hand, ‘made in Germany,’ by his Socialist brethren.�
Mr. Blair laughed. “Now we are seeing what is really ‘made in Germany’ by your friend Kuno Kleist and the others.�
Black Mayo shook his head. “Not Kuno, not the will and heart of him. They may have his body—I hope not, I hope not—as a cog in this terrible military machine, crushing helpless nations and people with its awful policy of frightfulness.�
“They ought all to be killed, them German scoundrels ought,� wheezed old Mr. Tavis. “They ought to be treated like they treat the Belgians and them other people Will Blair reads us about in his newspaper.�
“No and no!� Black Mayo said emphatically; then he went on, looking not at Mr. Tavis, but at David and Dick: “The worst thing that could happen to the world, to us, would be to be infected by the germ of hate.�
“But the Germans do such mean things, Cousin Mayo. How can we not hate them?� Patsylooked up with a frown. “Father read in the paper to-day that two more relief ships have been sunk, ships loaded with food for the starving Belgians.�
“And I gave all my money to buy it,� said Sweet William, indignantly. “I’m saving my sugar for the poor little Belgians. Do you reckon the Germans’ll sink that, too?�
“Relief ships!� said David. “Why, they sink hospital ships, with wounded soldiers and doctors and nurses; and ships with women and babies. Remember theLusitania!�
“I think we ought to hate them,� said Anne.
“No, dear, no,� said Black Mayo. “We ought to fight fair and hard and without hate, for our own rights and the rights of all people, the Germans, too. Why, the German people had no voice in making this war. It was declared by the kaiser without consulting theReichstagin which the people are represented.
“Remember, children, most wars are made by governments, against the wishes and interests of the people. War is a disaster, a scourge; war, more than famine, is the seven blasted ears of corn, the seven lean-fleshed kine, destroying the full and the well-favored. All the waste and woe of this World War will be worth while if they make people realize the horror and wickedness of war and put an end to it forever.�
“You are talking over their heads,� laughed Red Mayo.
“I am not sure of that,� said Black Mayo, looking at David’s thoughtful face. “And if I am, it is not a bad thing for young folks to have things above them to grow up to.�
“Dick, get a chair for Cousin Alice Blair,� said Mrs. Osborne, as a fat, smiling woman waddled up the path. “She likes the big rocker. Get two chairs, son. There’s Miss Fanny coming down The Street, and she’ll stop to find out what we are talking about.�
Sure enough, Miss Fanny Morrison turned in at the gate. She was the Village seamstress, a blunt-featured, blunt-mannered, kind-hearted woman who lived with an invalid sister in a cottage across the street from the Osborne home.
“I saw you-all out here and I just had to come in,� she said. “Oh! you’re talking about this war. Is it really true that the United States is in it? Isn’t it awful? War is a terrible thing. I certainly am glad I don’t live in a country that is in it, I mean, really in it. My mother said that during The War they used to——� She carried the conversation away from the war that was convulsing the world, to their “The War,� fought before they were born.
“Did the supervisors appropriate money for our veterans to go to the Reunion, Mayo?� Mrs. Osborne asked presently.
“The treasury’s almost empty,� answered her husband. “They gave what they had. And we started a subscription to make up the deficit.�
“We can raise part of the money by selling lunches on the Green during court week,� said Mrs. Osborne.
Patsy spoke quickly. “Oh, no, mother! You forget I told you the school’s going to serve lunches that week for the Red Cross.�
Mrs. Osborne turned a surprised, indignant face to her daughter. “Why, my dear! Aren’t you patriotic enough to give up any other plans for the sake of our dear old Confederate soldiers?�
Patsy hung her head, with a submissive mumble.
Sweet William, now nestling against his mother’s knee, put a caressing hand on her cheek to demand attention.
“Mother, is Virginia the United States, too?� he inquired.
“Virginia the United States?� repeated his mother.
“Virginians used to be accused of thinking so,son,� said Mr. Osborne, laughing. “It is the general opinion that our State is a part of the Union; it’s so on the map.�
“Then if Virginia is in the United States, we are, too; aren’t we, father?�
“We certainly are, son; we are whatever Virginia is,� declared Mr. Osborne.
“Then we are in this war.� Sweet William imparted the information solemnly, as his own special discovery. “Virginia’s the United States, and we are Virginia; and so we are in the war!�
“It sounds reasonable, son,� remarked his father, with a dry chuckle, “but you are the first of us who has thought of it.�
While they were laughing over Sweet William’s great discovery, two men, one leading a horse, turned from The Back Way into The Street and came toward the Osborne home.
Black Mayo jumped up.
“There’s Jack Mallett bringing Rosinante,� he said. “I left her at the shop to be shod, and told him I’d be back in ten minutes.�
“We all know the length of your ‘ten minutes,’� laughed Mrs. Osborne.
“It’s your fault, Miranda, all your fault,� Black Mayo turned on her. “You asked me to stay to supper; and you know I never know when to go home.�
By this time, Mr. Mallett and his son were at the steps, receiving a cordial greeting. They were a little circle of friends, gentlefolks and seamstress and blacksmith, who had grown up together in The Village.
As children and men and women, in school and shop and church, they played and worked and worshipped together. Each stood on his own merits, and only old negroes spoke slightingly of “poor white trash.� But the class lines were there, as deep or even deeper than when they were marked by wealth and land and slaves. An Osborne or Wilson or Mayo was—oh, well! an Osborne or Wilson or Mayo, and not a Tavis or Jones or Hight.
“I’m awfully sorry, Jack——� began Black Mayo, going to get his horse.
“Oh! that’s all right,� interrupted Mr. Mallett. “I was shutting up the shop and I saw you here, so I thought I’d bring the mare. She don’t like to stand tied.�
“Thank you, Jack.�
“Come in, Jack; come in, you and Fayett, and sit awhile,� said Red Mayo, heartily.
“No, Red; no, Miss Miranda, thank you,� replied Mr. Mallett. “I can’t set down. I’ve got to go straight home. I promised my old woman I would.� But he tarried to share his news withthem. “You’ve been talking ’bout the war, I reckon. Fayett heard to-day at Redville the Congress has voted for it. And—what do you think?—he’s going to give up agricultural school and be a soldier.�
“Fayett a soldier!� exclaimed Dick, looking at his neighbor with amazement and a sort of awe.
The elders, too, were exclaiming and questioning, looking at the boy whom they had known all his life as if he had suddenly become a stranger. That a Village boy was going as a soldier did not bring home to them the fact that the World War had become an American war; it merely seemed to carry him away from them, making him a part of that mighty overseas conflict.
“Is Fayett really going?� asked Miss Fanny Morrison.
“Well, he wants to, and my old woman and me’ve been talking it over and we’ve done both give our consent; so I reckon it’s settled,� was the answer.
“How could his mother agree?� As Mrs. Osborne asked the question, her hold tightened on the man child drowsing at her knee.
“He told us he felt he ought to go, and she says she wouldn’t stand in the way of anythinghe thought he ought to do,� Mr. Mallett said quietly. “And if his mother can give him up, I’ve got no right to hold him back.�
“But, Fayett,—� Mr. Blair turned to the boy—“I don’t understand your wanting to go. You were always such a peaceable fellow.�
“Yes, sir,� said the lad, as if that were a reason for him to fight in this war. “And now that the United States is in it, it seems like I must go. Of free will. Not waiting to be sent.�
He spoke as an American, but those listening remembered that he was the great-great-grandson of a Frenchman.
Black Mayo turned to Mr. Mallett. “Well, well, well! Your great-grandfather came here to fight for American liberty, and now your son is going to France to fight for freedom there. Wouldn’t that old Mallett of the mine be proud of Fayett? Ah, it’s fine to act so that our ancestors might be proud of us! God bless you, boy!�
He wrung Fayett’s hand, man to man, and then took his bridle rein.
“Thank you, Jack,� he said again. “Good night, folks. It’s ten minutes to eight. Polly is locking the back door this minute, and when I get there she’ll be settled with her knitting. Come to see us, all of you.�
He paused in the yard and said, “Mayo, a word with you.� Then he said in an undertone: “It’s best to keep quiet about what happened to-day. Tell Anne and Patsy so. That fellow Smith doesn’t understand how we feel about things. If his foolish speech gets abroad, it will injure him. Maybe I was a little too quick on the trigger.�
He swung into the saddle and the roan mare galloped away.
While the other guests were saying good night, Dick slipped to his bedroom, avoiding a private interview with his father.
“He won’t punish me to-morrow,� he said. “It’s Sunday, Easter Sunday.�
Easter Sunday! And America, that had striven so hard for peace, had been whirled into the red World War.
But it was not of the nation that Mrs. Osborne was thinking as she put Sweet William to bed.
“Poor Mrs. Mallett!� she said to herself. “What if it were my boy that is going?� And she kissed her little son so fiercely that he stirred and opened his eyes.
“Mother,� he said drowsily, “will my sugar be enough——�
He was asleep before the question was finished.