Reels and Spindles: A Story of Mill Life

"Wh-h – why!"

"I shouldn't have said that. But you go right straight back home. Your mother wants you. I don't. Oh, dear! How could you say it?"

"Why, 'cause I like to go to funerals. I go to every one Ma does. She's got a real nice 'funeral dress,' an' so have I."

Amy fled. She had never seen anything like little Victoria, and she was so indignant that she almost forgot her dread of what might lie before her. She reached the group about the well, who were now utterly silent, and seemed to be watching with more astonishment than terror something happening within it.

Amy, also, stretched her neck to see, though she shut her eyes, and this naturally prevented; nor did she open them till she felt Cleena clutch the skirt of her frock and heard her exclaim: —

"Faith, but he's the biggest monkey out o' the Zoo! Arrah musha! I'll teach him scaring folks out o' their wits, an' wastin' good bedclothes on such havers! Huh!"

For this was the marvel that now presented. Poor, silly Fayette, looking more foolish and grotesque than ever, climbing upwards into the daylight, blinking and sputtering, his back against the stones of one side the shaft, his feet against the other, his hands clutching, pulling; both feet and hands almost prehensile, like the creature's to which Cleena had likened him, yet safe, unbruised, and only mud-splashed and laughing.

With a final, agile movement he reached the top, threw his arms about the beam, and leaped to the ground beside them. Then he laughed again, hilariously, uproariously, and not for long.

In Cleena Keegan's indignant soul a plan had been rapidly forming.

"So you'd be givin' us all the terrors, would ye, avick? Sure, a taste o' the same medicine's good for the doctor as his patient. I'll just give ye a try of it, an' see what ye say. Hmm, them sheets might ha' lasted for years, so they might; an' them blankets, my heart!"

Before anybody, least of all the astonished "Bony," could comprehend what she would be about, Cleena had tripped and thrown the lad to the ground. She was more powerful than even his boasted muscle, and he quite unprepared for what she meant to do. The life-line made from her cherished bedclothing was twisted about his wet shoulders like a flash. Yet there seemed nothing violent nor vindictive as she rolled him over and over, wisely winding and binding first his hands and feet. After that the punishment she administered was but a question of endurance on her part, and the length of the line.

"There, you blatherskite! What's your guardian angel thinkin' of ye the now, you poor, ignorant, heathen gossoon? Well for ye that old Cleena has met up with ye to beat some bits o' sense into your idle pate. Tight, is it? Well, not so tight as the bands o' me heart when I looked to see ye brought up to me dead. 'Twon't hurt. Lie there an' rest."

Cleena finished her harangue and her task together. After that she stood up straight and strong, and regarded the teamster with a questioning eye.

"Is it true, what he says, that he's nor kith nor kin, hereabouts?"

"I guess it's true," answered John, laughing at the ludicrous appearance of Fayette upon the ground. "He was born in the poorhouse, an' I've heard his mother died. His father had before then, I know. I used – "

Cleena was in no mood for long stories, and she foresaw that one was imminent. She interrupted without ceremony —

"So, if I take him in hand to train him a bit, what for no? There'll be no one botherin' an' interferin', is it?"

"I guess there won't anybody worry about 'Bony.' He's right handy around the mill, an' he does odd jobs for a many people; but if you want him, I 'low you can have him 'for a song.'"

"I'll have no song singin', not I, nor from him. But if I don't make a smart, decent lad where there lies a fool, my name isn't Cleena Keegan, the day. Now what's about the well?"

"That's what I want to know, Cleena," cried Amy. "How did he, could he, fall into it and climb out of it alive?"

"Easier than you think, miss. He slid down the rope as far as it went, I suppose, then caught his feet in the stones of the sides, then his hands, and went down just as he came up. He didn't go into the water in the bottom, of course; but he's proved that the well is safe enough, and to-morrow morning he ought to be made to go down, properly fixed, with a rope around his waist and the tackle for bailing it out. It'll be a job, then, even after to-day's beginning. But I'll tell the boss about it, and I don't doubt he'll send the other man that helps 'Bony' in the mill village, and get things right this time. What say, boy? Think you'll take matters a little soberer to-morrow, if I come back to help?"

Fayette lay with closed eyes and made no answer, but Cleena spoke for him, and as one in authority: —

"Faith an' he will. An' I'm thankin' ye, sir, for all ye've done the day. Sure, by this hour to-morrow, we should begin to see daylight 'twixt the dirt."

"I 'low you will. You're a master scrubber, and no mistake. Well, good-by. Anything I can do for you village way?"

"I'm beholden to you, sir, an' so are my folks, but there's not. I'm for sending the childer down on their donkeys to see how fares the mistress an' master; an' they'll fetch back what's lackin' o' food an' so on, when they come. It's hungerin' sore will the sweet lady be for a sight of her own."

"Oh, Cleena, is that so? May we go? But – that will leave you quite alone," said Amy.

Hallam smiled. "She'll not be so very much alone, after all, dear," and he nodded significantly toward the still apparently sleeping Fayette.

Then they went away to saddle the burros, and after having received a mysterious message which they were to deliver to Adam Burn, to the effect that "he'll know what to send o' them things in his box."

"And it's as clear as the sunshine just what you are asking, dear old Goodsoul. That Friend Adam shall give us your dollars out of his box. You transparent old pretender! Well, never mind, Scrubbub. Some day our ships will come home, and then – you shall live in lavender," said Amy, hugging the faithful woman, and smiling, though tears of gratitude were in her dark eyes.

Which eyes, happening to look downward, saw Fayette's own half open, and watching this little affectionate by-play with deep interest. No sooner, however, did he perceive that Amy had discovered this fact than his lids went down with a snap.

"Ah, ha, Fayette! I saw you. I'm sorry for you, but just you tell Goodsoul, here, that you'll remember not to shame your 'guardian angel' any more, and she'll let you up. I know her. Her heart's made of honey and sugar, and everything soft and sticky. I believe she's caught you in it, now, bad as you are, and if she has, you'll never get quite clear of her love and too demonstrative kindness."

Then she cried to Hallam, who was limping toward the tethered burros: "Now for a race. These dear little beasties would trot a good pace if they realized they were on the road to mother and father and Friend Adam Burn's big oat-bin!"

As they passed through the gateless entrance to "Bareacre," Hallam turned, and with something of Amy's cheerfulness waved his hand to Cleena.

"We'll be back before dark, Goodsoul. Don't keep that lad tied any longer. Don't."

"Arrah musha! Can't I do what I will with me own? There's somewhat to pass 'twixt him an' me afore he gets free o' them bonds."

Evidently, there was; nor was she sorry to see all go and leave her alone with Fayette. Of what occurred during their brief absence at the Clove, nobody ever heard; but when the brother and sister rode up the slope, just as the evening fell, Fayette appeared to meet them and take their burros for them. His manner was subdued and gentle, and on his homely face was a look of exceeding peace.

Amy nudged Hallam mischievously. "Another lull before another storm, isn't it?"

Hallam regarded the half-wit critically. "No. But I think he's 'met his Waterloo.'"

"Oh, is that what we are to call her in future? She's already as many names as a Spanish princess." Then she lifted her voice to summon Cleena.

"Heigho, 'Waterloo'! Father and mother are doing finely, and send love, and dear old Adam sent something much more substantial, but not what you asked for. Just plain beefsteak and potatoes, and a jolly chicken pie that's in a basket on Hallam's crutch. Those crutches are the handiest things!"

"Faith, so they be. An' there's a fire out of some wood the cottage woman sent, an' the steak'll broil while the taties roast, like the whisk of a squirrel in the tree."

So "Waterloo" became another of good Cleena's "love names." For it's ever the tone and not the words that makes a sweet sound in one's ears, and the woman's heart thrilled, and her weary shoulders lifted because of the love which sang through Amy's innocent jest.

CHAPTER X.

HOME-MAKING

For one whole week the artist and his wife remained at the Clove. During that time "Spite House" had undergone the most thorough cleaning and overhauling of its existence. The walls had been scraped of the ancient and discolored whitewash that covered them, and a fresh coat of sweet-smelling lime applied.

"It's like a new-mown field, I think," said Amy, on the day that this whitewashing had taken place, to Fayette who was artisan in chief – always under Cleena's orders.

"An' I must be the daisy that grows in it," he returned, catching a glimpse of his lime-splashed face in the tiny pocket mirror he always carried.

"A whole bunch of daisies, indeed. But isn't it jolly? I never did so much hard work in my life; my hands are all blistered and sore, my feet ache – whew! And I never, never was so happy."

Fayette paused midway to the shed, which he had repaired with bits of boards, begged or offered in various sources. The whitewash brush over his shoulder dripped a milky fluid upon his bared head, and occasionally a drop trickled as far as the corner of his capacious mouth.

But he minded nothing so trivial as this, and he stared at Amy in the same wonderment with which he had regarded her from the beginning of their acquaintance. She also paused and returned his gaze with an amused scrutiny.