"It seems Will met the old man somewhere on the road and they came to downright blows," he said."Fletcher broke a hickory stick over the boy's shoulders."Christopher carefully sorted a pile of plants, and then, selecting the finest six leaves, wrapped them together by means of a smaller one which he twisted tightly about the stems.
"Ah, is that so?" he returned, with a troubled look.
"It's a pretty kettle of fish, sure enough," pursued Jim."Of course, Will has made a fool of himself, and gone to the dogs and all that, but I must say it does seem a shame, when you think that old Fletcher can't take his money with him to the next world.As for pure stinginess, I don't believe he'd find his match if he scoured the country.Why, they say his granddaughter barely gets enough to eat.Look here! What are you putting in that bad leaf for.It's worm-eaten all over.""So it is," admitted Christopher, examining it with a laugh."My eyesight must be failing me.But what good under heaven does his money do Fletcher, after all?""Oh, he's saving it up to leave to foreign missions, Tom Spade says.Mr.Carraway is coming down next week to draw up a new will.""And his grandchildren come in for nothing?""It looks that way--but you can't see through Bill Fletcher, so nobody knows.The funny part is that he has taken rather a liking to Mrs.Wyndham, I hear, and she has even persuaded him to raise the wages of his hands.It's a pity she can't patch up a peace with Will--the quarrel seems to distress her very much.""You have seen her, then?"
"Yesterday, for a minute.She stopped me near the store and asked for news of Will.There was nothing I could tell her except that they dragged along somehow with Sol Peterkin's help.That's a fine woman, Fletcher or no Fletcher.""Well, she can't help that--it's merely a question of name.
There's Cynthia calling us to dinner.We'll have to fill the hogsheads later on."But when the meal was over and he was returning to his work, Cynthia followed him with a message from his mother.
"She has asked for you all the morning, Christopher; there's something on her mind, though she seems quite herself and in a very lively humour.It is impossible to get her away from the subject of marriage--she harps on it continually."He had turned to enter the house at her first words, but now his face clouded, and he hung back before the door.
"Do you think I'd better go in?" he asked, hesitating.
"There's no getting out of it without making her feel neglected, and perhaps your visit may divert her thoughts.I'm sure I don't see what she has left to say on the subject.""All right, I'll go," he said cheerfully; "but for heaven's sake, help me drum up some fresh topics."Mrs.Blake was sitting up in bed, sipping a glass of port wine, and at Christopher's step she turned her groping gaze helplessly in his direction.
"What a heavy tramp you have, my son; you must be almost as large as your father."Crossing the room as lightly as his rude boots permitted, Christopher stooped to kiss the cheek she held toward him.The old lady had wasted gradually to the shadow of herself, and the firelight from the hearth shone through the unearthly pallor of her face and hands.Her beautiful white hair was still arranged, over a high cushion, in an elaborate fashion, and her gown of fine embroidered linen was pinned together with a delicate cameo brooch.
"I have been talking very seriously to Lila," she began at once, as he sat down by the bedside."My age is great, you know, and it is hardly probable that the good Lord will see fit to leave me much longer to enjoy the pleasures of this world.Now, what troubles me more than all else is that I am to die feeling that the family will pass utterly away.Is it possible that both Lila and yourself persist in your absurd and selfish determination to remain unmarried?""Oh, mother! mother!" groaned Lila from the fireplace.
"You needn't interrupt me, Lila; you know quite well that a family is looked at askance when all of its members remain single.Surely one old maid--and I am quite reconciled to poor Cynthia's spinsterhood--is enough to leaven things, as your father used to say--"Her memory slipped from her for a moment; she caught at it painfully, and a peevish expression crossed her face.
"What was I saying, Lila? I grow so forgetful.""About father, dear."
