The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains | Page 2

down the slope again, facing him, the pink curtain of
her bonnet waving about her shoulders, her blue skirts fluttering among
the blades of corn, a winged shadow sweeping along as if attendant
upon her, while a dove flew high above to its nest in the pines, he
raised his hand with an imperative gesture, and she paused obediently.
He had flushed deeply; the smouldering fire in his eyes was kindling.
He leaned across the few rows of corn that stood between them.
"I hev a word ter ax right now. Who air under conviction hyar?" he
demanded.
She seemed a trifle startled. Her grasp shifted uncertainly on the
plough-handles, and the old ox, accustomed to rest only at the turnrow,
mistook her intention, and started off. She stopped him with some
difficulty, and then, "Convicted of sin?" she asked, in a voice that
showed her appreciation of the solemnity of the subject.
"I hev said it," the young man declared, with a half-suppressed
irritation which confused her.
She remained silent.
"Mebbe it air yer granny," he suggested, with a sneer.
She recoiled, with palpable surprise. "Granny made her peace fifty year
ago," she declared, with pride in this anciently acquired grace, - "fifty

year an' better."
"The boys air convicted, then?" he asked, still leaning over the corn and
still sneering.
"The boys hev got thar religion, too," she faltered, looking at him with
wide eyes, brilliant with astonishment, and yet a trifle dismayed.
Suddenly, she threw herself into her wonted confiding attitude, leaning
upon her plough-handles, and with an appealing glance began an
extenuation of her spiritual poverty: "'Pears like ez I hev never hed a
call ter tell you-uns afore ez I hev hed no time yit ter git my religion.
Granny bein' old, an' the boys at the still, I hev hed ter spin, an' weave,
an' cook, an' sew, an' plough some, - the boys bein' mos'ly at the still.
An' then, thar be Mirandy Jane, my brother Ab's darter, ez I hev hed ter
l'arn how ter cook vittles. When I went down yander ter my aunt
Jerushy's house in Tuckaleechee Cove, ter holp her some with weavin',
I war plumb cur'ous ter know how Mirandy Jane would make out
whilst I war gone. They 'lowed ez she hed cooked the vittles toler'ble,
but ef she had washed a skillet or a platter in them three days I couldn't
find it."
Her tone was stern; all the outraged housekeeper was astir within her.
He said nothing, and she presently continued discursively, still leaning
on the plough-handles: "I never stayed away but them three days. I war
n't sati'fied in my mind, nohow, whilst I bided down thar in
Tuckaleechee Cove. I hankered cornsider'ble arter the baby. He air
three year old now, an' I hev keered fur him ever sence his mother died,
- my brother Ab's wife, ye know, - two year ago an' better. They hed
fedded him toler'ble whilst I war away, an' I fund him fat ez common.
But they hed crost him somehows, an' he war ailin' in his temper when
I got home, an' hed ter hev cornsider'ble coddlin'."
She paused before the rising anger in his eyes.
"Why air Mirandy Jane called ter l'arn how ter cook vittles?" he
demanded, irrelevantly, it might have seemed.

She looked at him in deprecating surprise. Yet she turned at bay.
"I hev never hearn ez ye war convicted yerself, Rick Tyler!" she said,
tartly. "Ye war never so much ez seen a-scoutin' round the mourner's
bench. Ef I hev got no religion, ye hev got none, nuther."
"Ye air minded ter git married, D'rindy Cayce," he said, severely,
solving his own problem, "an' that's why Mirandy Jane hev got ter be
l'arned ter take yer place at home."
He produced this as if it were an accusation.
She drew back, indignant and affronted, and with a rigid air of offended
propriety. "I hev no call ter spen' words 'bout sech ez that, with a
free-spoken man like you-uns," she staidly asseverated; and then she
was about to move on. Accepting her view of the gross unseemliness of
his mention of the subject, the young fellow's anger gave way to
contrition. "Waal, D'rindy," he said, in an eager, apologetic tone, "I hev
seen that critter, that thar preacher, a-hangin' round you-uns's house a
powerful deal lately, whilst I hev been obleeged ter hide out in the
woods. An' bein' ez nobody thar owns up ter needin' religion but ye, I
reckoned he war a-tryin' ter git ye ter take him an' grace tergether. That
man hev got his mouth stuffed chock full o' words, - more'n enny other
man I ever see," he added, with an expression of deep disgust.
Dorinda might be