Miss Gibbie Gault | Page 9

in private, and you're
making a bad beginning. Have you got that list of the councilmen? I
want to see it again."
Mary Cary picked up her writing-materials, crumbled the bread and
threw it to the birds, and, with arm in Miss Gibbie's, turned toward the
house.
"It's on the library table. I've seen every one of them. I'm sure it's going
to be all right."
"You are? That's because you are yet young. Never be sure a man in
politics is going to do what he says until he does it. When he makes
you a promise, just ask him to kindly put his name to it. I'm like a
darkey--I've more confidence in a piece of paper with some writing on
it than in the spoken word. Men mean well, and they'll promise a
woman heaven or hell to get rid of her, but you can't trust them. How
about Mr. Chinn?"
"Hardest of all. He can't speak correctly, and has never been out of
Yorkburg a week in his life. And yet he says we've got as good streets
as we need, and he doesn't approve of all this education, anyhow."
"Naturally. People are generally opposed to things they know nothing
about. Here, Hedwig, take my hat and bring me some iced tea--and next
time your Fraulein hides in the orchard you can find her and not send
me there."
Blowing somewhat from her walk, Miss Gibbie dropped in a chair in
the hall, unfastened the strings of her broad-brimmed hat and handed it
to Hedwig. Spreading out her ample skirts, she pulled off her white
cotton gloves, opened the bag hanging from her waist, took from it a
handkerchief of finest thread, and with it wiped her face. After a
moment she glanced around. "A house knows when it is occupied.
Sleeping here has given things a different air." She looked at the girl
standing in front of her, hands clasped behind, and the turkey-wing fan

stopped on its backward motion. "You are sure you will not be lonely?
Sure you will not be afraid?"
"Afraid! I'm not just Mary Cary, I'm Martha Cary also. Martha has
never been afraid, and Mary has never been lonely in her life. And I
love it so, my little Harmony House! Oh, Miss Gibbie, you have been
so good, so precious good!" The strong young arms reached down, and
on her warm breast she drew the anxious face of the older woman,
kissed it swiftly, then pushed her back against the cushions. "If only
you would let me tell how good you've been!"
"If only you would behave yourself and get me some tea I would think
more of you. There are many things I might forgive, but never the
telling of my private affairs. Where is that list of City Fathers? Here,
get me another chair. One feels like a kitty puss on a feather-bed in a
thing of this kind. I prefer to sit like a human being."
With an effort she extricated herself from the depths of the big
chintz-covered chair and took a tall straight one near the table on which
Hedwig was placing iced tea and sandwiches, and as she reached for
the tea with her right hand, she held out her left for the paper Mary
Cary was bringing to her.
She glanced down its length, and for some moments drank her tea in
silence save for an occasional grunt which was half sniff, half snort;
then as she put down her glass and took up a sandwich she waved the
paper in good-natured derision.
"And that's what governs us--that!
"Oh, august body of assembled men, The gods in thee have come to
earth again!"
She bit into the sandwich and again skimmed the paper. "These are the
individuals who make our local laws and do with our taxes what they
will. Listen:
"'1. Josiah Chinn, Undertaker.' Deals with the dead. An eye single to

the grave.
"'2. Franklin Semph, Machine Agent.' Travels. Sleeps home two nights
in the week. Drinks.
"'3. Richard Moon, President Woolen Mills.' In council as matter of
conscience. Only attends when Mary Cary makes him.
"'4. Jefferson Mowry. Chewer and spitter.' Livery business. Reads less
than he writes--never writes.
"'5. Jacob Walstein, born Pawnbroker, now Banker.' Rich and rising.
"'6. Williamson Brent, General Merchandise.' Votes as he's told by the
last person who tells. Putty man.
"'7. Blacker Ash, Secretary and Treasurer of Yorkburg Shoe Factory.'
Sensible and good worker. Bachelor. Does as Miss Cary tells him.
"'8. John Armitage. Soap-box politician.' Clerk in Mr. Blick's grocery
store. Salary eight dollars per week. When it's ten he will marry; told
me so.
"'9. Robertson Grey, Lawyer.' Well born and lazy.
"'10. Patrick Milligan.' Whiskey business and good talker. Slippery."
She