Books: The Road To Providence

M >> Maria Thompson Daviess >> The Road To Providence

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"Bless your dear little heart, the best they shall have always!"
exclaimed Mother Mayberry, as she hugged her small confrere close
against her side and wiped away a tear with a quick gesture. "Now
you can go fix up Nath Mosbey's finger to suit your mind, Sister
Pike," she added with a laugh as she, bestowed the bottle.

The rest of the morning was filled to the minute for the Mayberry
household, which seemed possessed with a frenzy of polishing and
garnishing. After Cindy had done her worst with broom and mop,
Mother Mayberry with feather duster and cloth, Miss Wingate threw
her energies with abandon into the accomplishing of a most artistic
scheme of decoration. She set tall jars of white locust blossoms in
the hall which shone out mystically in the cool dusk. She mingled
lilac and red bud, cherry blossoms and narcissus and trailed long
vines of honeysuckle over every possible place.

"Dearie me," said Mother Mayberry, as she paused in her busy
manoeuvers to take in what Miss Wingate proudly declared to be the
completed effect, "everybody will think they have walked into a
flower show. I'm sorry I never thought of inviting in the outdoors
to any of my parties before. I wonder if some of the meek folks,
that our dear Lord told about being invited in from the byways and
hedges, mightn't a-brought some of the hedge blooms along into the
feast with 'em. Thank you, child, the prettiness will feed
everybody's eye, I know, but you'd better run along and get to
whipping on that custard for they stomicks. This here is a Mission
Circle, but it have got a good knife and fork by-law to it. Make a
plenty and if we feel well disposed toward Tom Mayberry, come
bedtime, we may feed him a half dozen."

And in accordance with time-honored custom the stroke of one found
the Providence matrons grouped along the Road and up Mother
Mayberry's front walk, in the act of assembling for the good work in
hand.

"Come in, everybody," exclaimed Mother Mayberry, as she welcomed
them from the front steps. "I'm mighty glad all are on time, for I
have got the best of things to tell, as I have been saving by the
hardest for three days. A woman holding back news is mighty like
root-beer, liable to pop the cork and foam over in spite of all."

"I'm mighty glad to hear something good," said Mrs. Peavey in a
doleful tone. "Looks like the world have got into astonishing
misery. Did you all read in the Bolivar Herald last week about that
explode in a mine in Delyware; a terrible flood in Lottisianny and
the man that killed his wife and six children in Kansas? I don't
know what we're a-coming to. I told Mr. Peavey and Buck this
morning, but they ain't either of 'em got any sympathy. They just
went on talking about the good trade Mr. Hoover made in hogs over to
Springfield and the fine clover stand they have got in the north
field."

By this time the assembly had removed their hats, laid them on
Mother Mayberry's snowy bed and settled themselves in rocking-chairs
that had been collected from all over the house for the occasion.
Gay sewing bags had been produced and the armor of thimbles and
scissors had been buckled on. Mother Mayberry still stood in the
center of the room watching to see that all of her guests were
comfortably seated.

"Them were mighty bad happenings, Mis' Peavey, and I know we all
feel for such trouble being sent on the Lord's people," said Mother
Mayberry seriously, though a smile quirked at the corners of the
Widow Pratt's pretty mouth and young Mrs. Nath Mosbey bent over to
hunt in her bag for an unnecessary spool of thread. Mrs. Peavey's
nature was of the genus kill-joy, and it was hard to steer her into
the peaceful waters of social enjoyment.

"I don't think any of that is as bad as three divorce cases I read
about in a town paper that Mr. Petway wrapped up some calico for me
in," answered Mrs. Peavey, continuing her lamentations over
conditions in general, which they all knew would get to be over
conditions in particular if something did not intervene to stop the
tide of her dissatisfaction.

"Divorces oughtn't to be allowed by the United States," answered
Mrs. Pike decidedly. "They are too many people in the world that
don't seem to be able to hitch up together, without letting folks
already geared roam loose again. But what's the news, Sister
Mayberry?" There came times when only Judy Pike's uncompromising
veto could lay Mrs. Peavey on the table.

"Well, what do you think! Tom Mayberry have got this Providence
Meeting-house Sewing Circle a good big sewing order from the United
States Government. Night drawers and aprons and chimeses and all
sorts of things and--"

"Lands alive, Sister Mayberry, you must be outen your head!"
exclaimed Mrs. Peavey with her usual fear-the-worst manner. "What
earthly use can the United States Government have for night drawers
and chimeses?"

"Now, Hettie Ann, you didn't let me have my say out," remonstrated
Mother Mayberry as they all laughed merrily at Mrs. Peavey's
scandalized remonstrance. "They are for them poor misfortunates over
at Flat Rock what the Government have sent Tom down here to study
about, so he can find the bug that makes the disease and stop it
from spreading everywhere. While he's a-working with 'em he has to
see that they are provided for; and they condition are shameful. He
wants outfits for the women and children and Mr. Petway have the
order to buy the men's things down in the City for him. He's a-going
to pay us good prices for the work and it will mean a lot of money
for the carpet and the repair fund. A quarter apiece for the little
night drawers without feet to 'em is good money. He wanted to give
us fifty cents but I told him no, I wasn't a-going to cheat my own
country for no little child's night rigging. A quarter is fair to
liberal, I say."

"That it is, Mis' Mayberry, and thank Doctor Tom, too, for giving us
the order," answered Widow Pratt heartily. "When can we begin? I'll
cut 'em all out at home, so as to save time, if you'll give me the
goods. I can cut children's clothes out with my eyes shut and sew
'em with my left hand if needs be."

"Well, if all we hear be true, Bettie Pratt, it's a good thing it
comes easy to you. The sewing for seventeen might be a set-back to
any kind of co'ting, but seeing as you likes it so, why, maybe--"
Mrs. Peavey paused and peered at the blushing widow with goading
curiosity in her keen eyes.

"Well, it hasn't been a bit to me and Mr. Hoover, Mis' Peavey," she
answered with dancing eyes and a lovely rose color mounting her
cheeks. "Looks like all the love we have got for each other's
orphant children have mixed itself up into a wedding cake for the
family. I had laid off to tell you all about it this afternoon, and
here's a box of peppermints Mr. Hoover sent everybody. He said to
make you say sweet things about him to me. Have one, Mis' Peavey,
and pass the box!"

With which a general laugh and buzz of inquiry went around with the
box of sweets provided by the wily widower.

"Well, we think we'll just build a long, covered porch acrost the
fronts of the two houses to connect 'em up," answered Mrs. Pratt to
a friendly inquiry about her future domestic arrangements.

"I know it will look sorter like a broke-in-two steamboat but I can
put the boys all over into one house and take the girls with me. We
can rent a room in the boys' house to Mr. Petway and he'll look
after them if need be, though 'Lias Hoover and my Henny Turner are
getting big, dependable boys already. I'm so glad the children match
out in pairs. I always did want twins and now I'm going to have
eight pairs and the baby over. I don't think I ever was so happy
before." And pretty Bettie fairly radiated lovingness from her big,
motherly heart.

"Bettie Pratt, you are a regular Proverbs, last chapter and tenth to
thirtieth verse woman and your husband's heart is a-going to 'safely
rejoice' in you," said Mother Mayberry as she beamed across the
little sleeve she was basting in an apron. "And this brings me to
the mention of another little Bible character we have a-running
about amongst us. It's 'Liza Pike, as should be called one of God's
own little ravens arid you all know why."

"Yes, we do, Sister Mayberry," spoke up Mrs. Mosbey quickly. "And
I've just caught on to her doings, and thankful I am to her for
letting in the light to us before it were too late maybe."

"Why, what have my child been a-doing to be spoke of this way?"
asked her mother with both pride and uneasiness in her tone, for
Eliza, as is the way of all geniuses, especially those of a
philanthropic turn of mind, was apt often to confront those
responsible for her with the unexpected.

"Just seeing what we was failing to notice, that Mis' Bostick and
the Deacon was in need of being tooken care of and, without a word
to anybody, starting out with a covered dish and a napkin to do the
providing for 'em. And in the right spirit, too, walking into each
kitchen and taking the best offen the stove--no left-over scraps in
her offering to the Lord, and she have gave a lesson to grown-ups.
We all love the old folks and was ready to do, but 'Liza have proved
that love must be mixed with a little gumption to make wheels go
round. And ain't she cute about it? She told the Deacon that she had
to bring something from everybody's kitchen or hurt all our
feelings. They is a way of putting what-oughter-be into words that
makes it a truth, and she did it that time." As she delivered her
little homily on the subject of the absent small Sister Pike, Mother
Mayberry's face shone with emotion and there was a mist in her eyes
that also dimmed the vision of some of the others.

"And the way of her," laughed the widow softly. "Told me yesterday I
didn't brown my hoe-cake enough on both sides for the Deacon's
greens--that Mis' Peavey's was better."

"Why, Mis' Pratt, 'Liza oughtn't to speak that way to you; it ain't
manners," her mother hastened to say as they all laughed, even the
misanthrope, who was much pleased over this public acknowledgment of
the superiority of her handiwork.

"Now, Judy honey, don't you say one word to 'Liza about that! She
have got the whole thing fixed up for us now, and it won't do to get
her conscious like in her management of the old folks. The thing for
us to do is to make our engagements for truck with her regular and
take her dictation always about what is sent. Keep it in her mind
how complimented we are to be let give to the Deacon and she'll
manage him, pride and all, in a sorter game. We'll make it a race
with her which pleases him. most. And now," Mother paused and looked
from the face of one hearty country woman to another with a wealth
of affection for each and every one, "let's don't none of us forget
to take the child up to the throne with us each night in the arms of
prayer, as one of His ministers!--Well it's time for us to walk out
to the dining-room and see what kind of a set-out Cindy and Elinory
have got for us. Yes, Mis' Nath, did you ever see such a show of
decorations? She must a-kinder sensed the wedding in the air in
compliment to you, Bettie. Come in, one and all!"

And the cheerful company assembled around the hospitable Mayberry
board put into practice the knife and fork by-law of the Circle with
hearty good will. Cindy's austerity relaxed noticeably at the
compliments handed her in return for her offer of the various viands
she had prepared for their delectation, and Miss Wingate blushed and
beamed upon them all with the most rapturous delight when her
efforts met with like commendation. She had insisted on helping
Cindy wait on them and was such a very lovely young Hebe that they
could scarcely eat for looking at her.

"Sakes, Mis' Mayberry," said Mrs. Pike, who had unbent from her
reserve over her second cup of tea to a most remarkable degree, "it
were hard enough to ask Doctor Tom in to pot-luck with my chicken
dumplins, that he carries on over, a-knowing about what you and
Cindy could shake up in the kitchen, but with Miss Elinory's cooking
added I'm a-going to turn him away hungry next time."

"Oh, please don't!" exclaimed Miss Wingate. "Yours is the next place
he has promised to take me to supper. And Bud and Eliza have both
invited me."

"I'll set a day with him this very night," responded Mrs. Judy, all
undone with pride. Nothing in the world could have pleased the
hospitable country women more than the parties that Doctor Tom had
been improvising for the amusement of the singer girl. Before each
visit he openly and boldly made demands of each friend for her CHEF-
D'OEUVRE and consumed the same heartily and with delight in the
stranger's growing appetite.

"If you folks don't stop spoiling Tom Mayberry I won't never be able
to get him a wife. I'll have to take little Bettie to raise and
teach her how to bit and bridle him," laughed Mother Mayberry, as
they all rose and flocked to the front porch.

In the Road in front of the house had congregated the entire school
of small-fry, drawn by the mother lode, but too well trained to
think of making any kind of interruption to the gathering. They were
busily engaged in a tag and tally riot which was led on one side by
Eliza and the other by Henny Turner, whose generalship could hardly
be said to equal that of his younger and feminine opponent. Teether
and little Hoover sat in the Pike wheelbarrow which was drawn up
beside the Pike gate, and attached thereto by long gingham strings
were Martin Luther and little Bettie. They champed the gingham bits
drawn through their mouths and pranced with their little bare feet
in the dust, as Eliza found time every minute or two to call out
"whoa" or cut at them with a switch as she flashed past them. They
were distinctly of the game and were blissfully unconscious of the
fact that they were not in it. This arrangement for keeping them
happy, though out of the way, had been of Eliza's contriving and did
credit to her wit in many senses of the word.

At the appearance of their be-hatted parents on Mother Mayberry's
front walk they all swooped over and stood in a circle around the
gate. A mother who has many calls in the life-complicated to take
her out of reach of the children is different from a mother who is
always in the house, kitchen, garden or at a convenient neighbor's,
and this weekly three-hour separation occasionally had disastrous
results.

"Have anything happened, 'Liza?" asked her mother, as she ran a
practised eye over her group and detected not a loose end. Eliza and
Bud had rolled over the wheelbarrow, led by the prancing team.

"No'm," answered Eliza, "everybody's been good and the Deacon have
told us three Bible tales, and my side have beat Henny's five
catches and one loose. But Henny played his'n good," she added, with
a worthy victor's generosity to the fallen foe.

"Here's a whole bucket of cakes Cindy and Miss Elinory made in case
we found a good passel of children when the meeting was over," said
Mother Mayberry as she tendered the crisp reward of merit to Bud
Pike, who stood nearest her.

"Thank you, ma'am," answered Bud, mindful of his manners. "Say,
'Liza, let's all go down and set on the pump and eat 'em, and we can
drink water, too, so they will last longer."

"All right," answered Eliza, and she set about unharnessing the
young team, who immediately scampered after the rest. She handed
little Hoover to Mrs. Pratt and was preparing to set off with
Teether in the wake of the cake bucket, when the widow called to
her.

"'Liza, honey," she said, "here's some peppermints for you. They
wasn't enough to give some to all the children, but I want you to
get a bite, anyway."

"Thanky, ma'am, but I don't like the fresh air taste of 'em in my
mouth," answered Eliza. "But can you give me five of 'em? I want one
for Deacon and Mis' Bostick and I want one for Squire Tutt, 'cause
he do love peppermint so. He wouldn't take the medicine Mother
Mayberry fixes for him if she didn't put peppermint in it. He says
so. He's porely and have got his head all tied up in a shawl, 'cause
prayer meeting day Mis' Tutt sings hymns all the time and music
gives him misery in his ears. I want to give her one, too, and I
want one for Cindy."

"I'll save all in the box for you, sweetie," assented Mrs. Pratt
heartily. "Now run along, for you might get left out of that cake
eating."

"No, ma'am, I won't," answered Eliza with confidence; "they won't
begin till I get there. It wouldn't be fair." And she hurried down
the Road to where the group waited impatiently but loyally around
the town pump.

"Ain't they all the Lord's blessings?" asked Mother Mayberry, as she
looked down the Road at the little swarm with tender pride in her
eyes.

"That they are," answered the widow, with an echo of the pride in
her own rich voice, "and to think that pretty soon seventeen of 'em
will be mine!"

And it was an hour or two later that the old red sun had reluctantly
departed across the west meadows, just as a soft lady moon rose
languidly over Providence Nob. Providence suppers had all been
served, the day's news discussed with the men folk, jocularly eager
to get the drippings of excitement from the afternoon infair, and
the Road toddlers put to bed, when the soft-toned Meeting-house bell
droned out its call for the weekly prayer meeting. Very soon the
Road was in a gentle hum of conversation as the congregation issued
from their house doors and wended their way slowly toward the little
church, which, back from the Road in an old cedar glade, brooded
over its peaceful yard of graves. The men had all donned their coats
and exchanged field hats for stiff, uncomfortable, straight-brimmed
straw, and their wives still wore the Sewing Circle gala attire. The
older children walked decorously along, each group in wake of the
heads of their own family, though Buck Peavey had managed to annex
himself to the Hoover household.

"Well, I don't know just what to do with you all," said Mother
Mayberry, as she came out on the front porch, sedately bonneted,
with her Bible and hymn-book under her arm and fortified with a huge
palm-leaf fan. "It's my duty to make you both come with Cindy and me
to prayer meeting, but I don't hold with a body using they own duty
as a stick to fray out other folks with. I reckon I'll have to let
you two just set here on the steps and see if you can outshine the
moon in your talk, which you can't, but think you can."

"Oh, we'll come with you! I was just going to get my hat," exclaimed
the singer lady as she rose from the steps upon which Doctor Tom
kept his seat and puffed a ring of his cigar smoke at his mother
daringly.

"No, honey-bird, you've had a long day since your sun-up breakfast
and I'll excuse you. I'd LET Tom Mayberry go only I have to make him
stay to keep care of you. Put that lace fascination around your
throat if a breeze blows up! Tom, try to make out, with Elinory's
help, to bring a fresh bucket of water from the spring for the
night. Good-by, both of you; I'm a-going to bring you a blessing!"

"Yourself, mother," called the Doctor after her.

"Honey-fuzzle," called Mother back from the gate. "Better keep it,
son, you'll need it some day."

"Was there ever, ever anybody just like her?" asked Miss Wingate, as
she sank back on the step beside the Doctor.

"I think not," he answered with a hint of tenderness in his voice;
"but then, really, Mother is one of a type. A type one has to get
across a continent from Harpeth Hills to appreciate. She's the
result of the men and women who blazed the wilderness trail into
Tennessee, and she has Huguenot puritanism contending with cavalier
graces of spirit in her nature."

"Well, she's perfectly darling and the little town is just an
exquisite setting for her. Do you know what this soft moonlight
aspect of Providence reminds me of, with those tall poplars down the
Road and the wide-roofed houses and barns? The little village in
Lombardy where--where I met--my fate."

"Met your fate?" asked the Doctor quickly after a moment. His face
was in the shadow and not a note in his voice betrayed his anxiety.

"Yes," answered the singer lady in a dreamy, reminiscent voice. The
moon shone full down into her very lovely face, fell across her
white throat and shimmered into the faint rose folds of her dainty
gown. Her close, dark braids showed black against the fragrant
wistaria vines and her eyes were deep and velvety in the soft light.
"Yes, it was the summer I was eighteen and I had gone over with my
father for a month or two of recuperation for him after a long extra
session of Congress. Monsieur LaTour was staying in the little
village, also recuperating. He heard me singing to father, and that
night my fate was sealed. It was a wonderful thing to come to me--
and I was so young."

"Tell me about it," said the Doctor quietly, and his voice was
perfectly steady, though his heart pounded like mad and his cigar
shook in his fingers.

"My father died at the end of the summer, after only a few day's
illness, and he had grown to believe what LaTour said of my voice,
and to have great confidence in my future. I had no near relatives
and in his will he left me to Monsieur LaTour and Madame, his wife.
She is an American and her father had been in the Senate with father
for years. Monsieur is a very great teacher, perhaps the greatest
living. Madame wanted to come to Providence with me, but Doctor
Stein insisted that I come alone. I--I'm very glad she didn't,
though they both love me and await--" She paused and leaned her
flower head back against the wistaria vine,

And the great breath that Doctor Thomas Mayberry of Providence drew
might have cracked the breast of a giant. In this world no record is
kept of the great moments when a private individual's universe
collides with his far star and of the crash that ensues.

"I rather thought you meant another--another kind of fate. I was
preparing for confidences," he managed to say in a very small voice
for so large a man.

"Mais, non, Monsieur, jamais--never!" she exclaimed quickly. "I--I--
have been tempted to think sometimes I might like that sort--of a--
fate, but I haven't had the time. It was work, work, sleep, eat,
live for the voice! And--and once or twice it has seemed worth
while. My debut night in Paris when I sang the Juliette waltz-song-
just the moment when I realized I could use it as I would and always
more volume--and the people! And again the night in New York when I
had made it incarnate Elizabeth as she sings to Tannhauser--the
night it went away." And as she spoke she dropped her head on her
arms folded across her knees.

"Have you picked out the song you are going to sing first when it
comes back?" demanded the very young Doctor with a quick note of
tenderness in his voice, still under a marvelous control.

"Yes," she answered as she turned her head and peeped up at him with
shining eyes, a delicious little burr of a laugh in her throat,
"Rings on my fingers, bells on my toes, for Teether Pike. He is wild
about my humming it, and dances with his absurd, chubby little legs
at the first note. What will he do if I can really sing it? And I'll
sing Beulah Land for Cindy, and I'm sitting on the stile, Mary, for
your mother, perhaps, Oh, the kingdom of my heart for Buck, and
Drink to me only, for Squire Tutt, hymns for the Deacon--and a paean
for you, if I have to order one from New York."

"Do you know," said the Doctor after a long pause in which he lit
his cigar and again began to puff rings out into the moonlight, "I'd
like to say that you are--are a--perfect wonder."

"You may," she answered with a laugh. Then suddenly she stretched
out her hand to him and, as he took it into his, she asked very
quietly with just the one word, "When?"

"In a few weeks, I hope," he answered her just as quietly,
comprehending her instantly.

"I'll be good--and wait," she answered him in a Hone of voice that
would have done credit to little Bettie Pratt. "Let's hurry and get
that bucket of water; don't you hear them singing the doxology?"

CHAPTER VI

THE PROVIDENCE TAG-GANG

"Miss Elinory, do you think getting married and such is ketching,
like the mumps and chickenpox?" asked Eliza Pike as she sat on the
steps at the daintily shod feet of the singer lady, who sat in
Mother Mayberry's large arm-chair, swinging herself and Teether
slowly to and fro, humming happily little vagrant airs that floated
into her brain on the wings of their own melody. Teether's large
blue eyes looked into hers with earnest rapture and his little head
swayed on his slender neck in harmony with her singing.

"Why, Eliza, I'm sure I don't know. Do you think so?" answered Miss
Wingate, as she smiled down into the large eyes raised to hers. The
heart-to-heart communions, which she and Eliza found opportunities
to hold, were a constant source of pleasure to Miss Wingate, and the
child's quaint little personality unfolded itself delightedly in the
sunshine of appreciation from this lady of her adoration.

"Yes'm, I believe I do. Mis' Pratt and Mr. Hoover started it, and
last night Mr. Petway walked home with Aunt Prissy and Maw set two
racking-chairs out on the front porch for 'em. Paw said he was
more'n glad to set in the back yard and smoke his pipe. Maw wouldn't
put Teether to bed, but rocked him in her lap 'cause he might wake
up and disturb 'em. She let me set up with her and Paw and he told
tales on the time he co'ted her. She said hush up, that co'ting was
like mumps and chickenpox and he was about to get a second spell.
Does it make you want a beau too, Miss Elinory?"

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