The Road To Providence | Page 7

for not having more gumption, Squire, and next
time you're took come right over to me same as usual. Course I know
all the neighbors feel as how Tom is young and have just hung out his
shingle here, and I ain't expectin' of 'em to have no confidence in him. I
think it my duty to just go on with my usual doctoring of my friends. I
hope you won't hold this mistake against Tom."
"Well," said the Squire in a mollified tone of voice, "I won't say no
more, but you must tell him to stop fooling with these here Providence
people. Stopped Ezra Pike's wife feeding her baby on pot- liquor and
give it biled milk watered with lime juice. It'll die-- it'll die!"
"Oh no, Squire, it's a-getting well--jest as peart as can be," Mother said
in a mollifying tone of voice.
"It'll die--it'll die! Cut one er the lights outen Sam Mosbey's
side--called it a new fangled impendix name--but he'll die--he'll die!"
"Sam's a-working out there on the barn roof right this minute, Squire,
good and alive," said Mother Mayberry with a good-humored smile,
while Miss Wingate cast a restrained though indignant glance at the
doubting old magistrate.
"And old Deacon Bostick drinking cow-hot milk and sucking raw eggs!
He looks like a mixed calf and shanghai rooster! So old he'd oughter
die--and he'll do it! Hot water and me in tormint! Hot water on his

middle in a rubber bag and nothing inside er him! He'll die-he'll die!"
"Oh no, Squire, the good Lord have gave Deacon Bostick back to us
from the edge of the grave; Tom a-working day and night but under His
guidance. He have gained ten pounds and walks everywhere. It were
low typhus, six weeks running, too! I'm glad it were gave to me to see
my son bring back a saint to earth from the gates themselves. Have you
been by to see him?"
"Yes," answered the Squire as he rose much more briskly than he had
seated himself, and prepared to take his departure. "Yes, and it was you
a-nussing of him that did it--muster slipped him calimile--but I ain't
a-disputing! Play actor, ain't you, girl?" he demanded as he paused on
his way out of the door and peered over at Miss Wingate with his
beetling, suspicious eyes.
"Yes," answered the singer lady as she went on putting her biscuit into
the pan. If her culinary manoeuvers were slow they were at least sure
and the "riz" biscuits looked promising.
"Dearie me," said Mother as she returned from guiding her guest down
the front walk and into the shaded Road, "it do seem that Squire Tutt
gets more rantankerous every day. Poor Mis' Tutt is just wore out with
contriving with him. It's a wonder she feels like she have got any ease
at all, much less a second blessing. Now I must turn to and make a dish
of baked chicken hash for supper to be et with them feather biscuits of
your'n. I want to compliment them by the company of a extra nice dish.
If they come out the oven in time I want to ask Sam Mosbey to stop in
and get some, with a little quince preserves. He brought his dinner in a
bucket, which troubled me, for who's got foot on my land, two or four,
I likes to feed myself. I expected he was some mortified at your being
here. He's kinder shy like in the noticing of girls."
"That seems to be a failing with the Providence young--with
Providence people," ventured Miss Wingate with ambiguity.
"Oh, country boys is all alike," answered Mother comfortingly, only in
a measure taking in the tentative observation. "They're all kinder co'ting

tongue-tied. They have to be eased along attentive, all 'cept Buck
Peavey, who'd like to eat Pattie up same as a cannibal, I'm thinking,
and don't mind who knows it. Now the supper is all on the simmer and
can be got ready in no time. Let's me and you walk down to the front
gate and watch for Tom to come around the Nob from Flat Rock and
then we can run in the biscuits. Maybe we'll hear some news; I haven't
hardly seen any folks to-day and I mistrust some mischief are
a-brewing somewhere."
And Mother Mayberry's well trained intuitions must have been in
unusually good working order, for she met her expected complications
at the very front gate. She was just turning to point out a promise of an
unusually large crop of snowballs on the old shrub by the gate-post
when a subdued sniffling made itself heard and caused her to
concentrate her attention on the house opposite across the Road. And a
sympathy stirring scene met her eyes.