"Put me to the plough, he says; but I can't stand it--I haven't the strength.Why, this morning he made me hang around that tobacco field in the blazing sun for two mortal hours, minding those shiftless darkies.If I complain; or even go off to sit down in a bit of shade, he rushes up and blusters about kicking me out of doors unless I earn my bread.Oh, his temper is simply awful, and he gets worse every day.He's growing stingy, too, and makes us live like beggars.All the vegetables go to market now, and most of the butter, and this morning he blew Aunt Saidie's head off because she had spring chickens on the breakfast table.I don't dare ask him for a penny, and yet he's rich--one of the richest men in the State, they say.""Well, it sounds jolly," observed Christopher, smiling.
"Oh, you can't imagine the state of things, and you'd never believe it if I told you.It's worse than any fuss you ever heard of or ever saw.I used to be able to twist him round my finger, you know, and now he hates me worse than he does a snake.He hasn't spoken a word to me since that scene we had at the university, except to order me to go out and watch the Negroes plant tobacco.If he finds out I want a thing he'll move heaven and earth to keep me from getting it--and then sit by and grin.
He's got a devil in him, that's the truth, and there's nothing to do except keep out of his way as much as possible.I'm patient, too--Aunt Saidie knows it--and the only time I ever hit back was when he jumped on you the other day.Then I got mad and struck out hard, I tell you."Christopher leaned over and began buckling and unbuckling a leather strap in the harness-box.
"Don't get into hot water on my account," he returned; "the more he abuses me, you know, the better I like it.But it's odd that after all these years he should want to turn you into an overseer.""Well, he shan't do it; that's certain.It will be a cold day when he gets me masquerading in the family character.Let him go just one step too far and I'll shake him off for good, and strike out on a freight-train.Life couldn't be any worse than it is now, and it might be a great deal better.As to my hanging round like this much longer and swearing at a pack of worthless darkies--well, it's more than I bargain for, that's all.""There's not much excitement in it, to be sure.I would rather be a freight-hand myself, I think, when all is said.""Oh, you needn't joke.You were brought up to it and it doesn't come so hard.""Doesn't it?"
"Not so hard as it does to me, at any rate.There's got to be some dash about life, I tell you, to make it suit my taste.Iwasn't born to settle down and count my money and my tobacco from morning till night.It's spice I want in things, and--hang it! Idon't believe there's a pretty woman in the county."For a moment Christopher stared silently down at the matted straw.His face had grown dark, and the reckless lines about his mouth became suddenly prominent.
"Why, where's Molly Peterkin?" he asked abruptly, with a laugh that seemed to slip from him against his will.
The other broke into a long whistle and tossed the end of his cigarette through the doorway.
"You needn't think I've forgotten her," he replied; "she's the one bright spot I see in this barren hole.By the way, why do you think her a fool?""Because she is one."
"And you're a brute.What does a man want with brains in a woman, anyway.Maria had them and they didn't keep her from coming to shipwreck."Christopher reached for the lantern.
"Well, I've got to go now," he broke in, "and you'd better be trotting home or you'll have the old man and the hounds out after you."With the lantern swinging from his hand, he went to the door and waited for Will; then passing out, he turned the key in the lock, and with a short "Good-night!" started briskly toward the house.
Will followed him to the kitchen steps, and then keeping to the path that trailed across the yard, he passed through the whitewashed gate and went on along the sunken road which led by the abandoned ice-pond.Here he turned into the avenue of chestnuts, and with the lighted windows of the Hall before him, walked slowly toward the impending interview with his grandfather.
As he entered the house, Miss Saidie looked out from the dining-room doorway and beckoned in a stealthy fashion with the hen-house key.
"He has been hunting everywhere for you," she whispered, "and Itold him you'd gone for a little stroll along the road."An expression of anger swept over Will's face, and he made a helpless gesture of revolt.
"I won't stand it any longer," he answered, with a spurt of resolution which was exhausted in the feeble speech.
Miss Saidie put up her hand and straightened his necktie with an affectionate pat.
"Only for a little while, dear," she urged; "he's in one of his black humours, and it will blow over, never fear.Things are never so bad but there's hope of a mending some day.Try to please him and go to work as he wants you to do.It all came of the trouble at the university--he had set his heart on your carrying off the honours.""It was his fault," said Will stubbornly."I begged him not to send me there.It was his fault.""Well, that can't be helped now," returned the little woman decisively."All we can do is to make things as easy as we can, and if thar's ever to be any peace in this house again you must try to humour him.I never saw him in such a state before, and I've known him for sixty years and slept in a trundle-bed with him as a baby.The queerest thing about it, too, is that he seems to get closer and closer every day.Just now thar was a big fuss because I hadn't sent all the fresh butter to market, and Ithought he'd have a fit when he found I was saving some asparagus for dinner to-morrow.""Where is he now?" asked Will in a whisper.
"Complaining over some bills in his setting-room; and he actually told me a while ago, when I went in, that he had been a fool to give Maria so much money for Wyndham to throw away.Poor Maria!
