Her hands trembled.Then she sat quiet upon the edge of the old rush-bottomed chair.There was a terrible silence, broken by Jeb's saying loudly and fiercely, "Keziah, you go get the dinner.Then you pack your duds and clear out for Uncle Bob's."Keziah stared at the bride, rose and went to the rear door."I'm goin' now," she answered."The dinner's ready except for putting on the table."Through the flimsy partitions they heard her mounting the uncarpeted stairs, hustling about upon an uncarpeted floor above, and presently descending."I'll hoof it," she said, reappearing in the doorway."I'll send for my things this afternoon."Jeb, not caring to provoke the "Ferguson temper," said nothing.
"As for this here marryin'," continued Keziah, "I never allowed you'd fall so low as to take a baby, and a bastard at that."She whirled away.Jeb flung his hat on the table, flung himself on the sofa."Well--that's settled," said he."You kin get the dinner.It's all in there." And he jerked his head toward the door in the partition to the left.Susan got up, moved toward the indicated door.Jeb laughed."Don't you think you might take off your hat and stay awhile?" said he.
She removed her hat, put it on top of the bundle which she left on the floor beside the rocking chair.She went into the kitchen dining-room.It was a squalid room, its ceiling and walls smoke-stained from the cracked and never polished stove in the corner.The air was foul with the strong old onions stewing on the stove.In a skillet slices of pork were frying.On the back of the stove stood a pan of mashed potatoes and a tin coffeepot.
On the stained flowered cloth which covered the table in the middle of the room had been laid coarse, cracked dishes and discolored steel knives and forks with black wooden handles.
Susan, half fainting, dropped into a chair by one of the open windows.A multitude of fat flies from the stable were running and crawling everywhere, were buzzing about her head.She was aroused by Jeb's voice: "Why, what the--the damnation! You've fell asleep!"She started up."In a minute!" she muttered, nervously.
And somehow, with Jeb's eyes on her from the doorway, she got the evil-smelling messes from the stove into table dishes from the shelves and then on the table, where the flies descended upon them in troops of scores and hundreds.Jeb, in his shirt sleeves now, sat down and fell to.She sat opposite him, her hands in her lap.He used his knife in preference to his fork, leaping the blade high, packing the food firmly upon it with fork or fingers, then thrusting it into his mouth.He ate voraciously, smacking his lips, breathing hard, now and then eructing with frank energy and satisfaction.
"My stummick's gassy right smart this year," he observed after a huge gulp of coffee."Some says the heavy rains last spring put gas into everything, but I dunno.Maybe it's Keziah's cooking.I hope you'll do better.Why, you ain't eatin' nothin'!""I'm not hungry," said Susan.Then, as he frowned suspiciously, "I had a late breakfast."He laughed."And the marrying, too," he suggested with a flirtatious nod and wink."Women's always upset by them kind of things."When he had filled himself he pushed his chair back."I'll set with you while you wash up," said he."But you'd better take off them Sunday duds.You'll find some calikers that belonged to maw in a box under the bed in our room." He laughed and winked at her.
"That's the one on t'other side of the settin'-room.Yes--that's our'n!" And he winked again.
The girl, ghastly white, her great eyes staring like a sleepwalker's, rose and stood resting one hand on the back of the chair to steady her.
Jeb drew a cigar from his waistcoat pocket and lighted it.
"Usually," said he, "I take a pipe or a chaw.But this bein' a weddin' day----"He laughed and winked again, rose, took her in his arms and kissed her.She made a feeble gesture of thrusting him away.Her head reeled, her stomach turned.
She got away as soon as he would release her, crossed the sitting-room and entered the tiny dingy bedroom.The windows were down and the bed had not yet been made.The odor was nauseating--the staleness left by a not too clean sleeper who abhors fresh air.Susan saw the box under the bed, knelt to draw it out.But instead she buried her face in her hands, burst into wild sobs."Oh, God," she prayed, "stop punishing me.I didn't mean to do wrong--and I'm sure my mother didn't, either.Stop, for Thy Son's sake, amen." Now surely she would wake.God must answer that prayer.She dared not take her palms from her eyes.
Suddenly she felt herself caught from behind.She gave a wild scream and sprang up.
Jeb was looking at her with eyes that filled her with a fear more awful than the fear of death."Don't!" she cried."Don't!""Never mind, hon," said he in a voice that was terrible just because it was soft."It's only your husband.My, but you're purty!" And he seized her.She fought.He crushed her.He kissed her with great slobbering smacks and gnawed at the flesh of her neck with teeth that craved to bite.
"Oh, Mr.Ferguson, for pity's sake!" she wailed.Then she opened her mouth wide as one gasping for breath where there is no air;and pushing at him with all her strength she vented a series of maniac shrieks.
