Rose of Old Harpeth | Page 4

end of a stick and have got him buried in dirt
up to jest his nose. Burying in dirt is the onliest thing that'll take off the
smell. We comed to ask you to watch Shoofly while he's buried, cause
Mis' Poteet will be mad at him when she comes home if Shoofly smells.
We're all a-going to stay right by him until he's dug up, 'cause we all
sicked him on that polecat and we ought in honor!"
Stonie looked at the Swarm for confirmation of this worthy sentiment,
and it arose in a murmur. The Swarm was a choice congregation of

small fry that trailed perpetually at the heels of Stonewall Jackson, and
at the moment was in a state of seething excitement. Jennie Rucker's
little freckled face was pale under its usual sunburn, as a result of being
too near the disastrous encounter, and her little nose, turned up by
nature in the outset, looked as if it were in danger of never again
assuming its normal tilt. She held small Pete by one chubby hand, and
with a wry face he was licking out an absurd little red tongue at least
twice each moment, as if uncertain as to whether his olfactory or
gustatory nerves had been offended. Billy was standing with the
nonchalant unconcern of one strong of stomach, and the four other little
Poteets, ranging in size from Shoofly, on the floor, to Tobe, the buried,
were shuffling their bare feet in the dust with evident impatience to be
off to gloat over the prostrated but important member of the family.
They rolled their wide eyes at almost impossible angles, and small
Peggy sniffed audibly into a corner of her patched gingham apron.
"Yes, Stonie," answered Rose Mary judicially, while Everett's
shoulders shook with mirth that he felt it best not to give way to in the
face of the sympathetic Swarm, "you all must stay with Tobe, if he has
to be buried, and go right back as fast as you can. Troubles must make
us stay close by our friends."
"If I get much closer to him I'll throw up," sniffed Jennie, and her
protest was echoed by a groan from Peggy into the apron, while the
area which showed above its folds turned white at the prospect of being
obliged to draw near to this brother in affliction.
"Yes, but you sicked Tobe, with the rest of us, and in this girls don't
count. You've got to go back, smell or no smell, sick or no sick,"
announced the General firmly, in the decisive tones of one accustomed
to be obeyed.
"Yes, Stonie," came in a meek and muffled tone from the apron, "we'll
go back with you."
"Can't we just set on the fence of the lot--it ain't so far?" pleaded Jennie
in almost a wail. "I'm afraid Pete will cry from the smell if we go any
closter. He's most doing it now."

"Yes, General, let the girls sit on the fence," pleaded Everett, with his
eyes dancing, but a bit of mockery in his voice, "after all they are--girls,
you know."
"Oh, well, yes, they can," answered Stonewall Jackson in a
magnanimously disgusted tone of voice. "They always get girls when
they don't want to do anything. Come on, Tobe'll be crying if we don't
hurry. Billy, you help Jennie drag Pete, so he can go fast!"
But during the conference the disgusted toddler had been pondering the
situation, and at this mention of his being dragged back to the scene of
offense he had made a quick sally across the plank that spanned the
spring branch and with masculine intuition as to the safe place in time
of danger, he had plunged head foremost into Rose Mary's skirts, so
that only his small fat back showed to the enemy.
"Please go on, Stonie, and leave him with me--he's just a baby,"
pleaded Rose Mary.
"All right," answered the General, "Tobe don't care about him; he'd just
make us go slow," and thus dropping young Peter into the category of
impedimenta, the General departed at top speed, surrounded, as he
came, by the loyal Swarm. On the day of his birth Aunt Viney's choice
for a name for the General had balanced for some hours between that of
the redoubtable Abner the Valiant, of old Testament fame, and her
favorite modern hero, Jackson of the stonewall nature. And in her final
choice she had seemed so to impress the infant that he had developed
more than a little of the nature of his patron commander. At all times
Stonie commanded the Swarm, and also at all times was strictly
obeyed.
Then seeing herself thus deserted by her companions, Shoofly began a
low, musical hum of a wail and walled large