The Road To Providence | Page 8

Perched along the fence were all
five of the little Pikes clinging to the top board in forlorn despondency.
On the edge of the porch sat Mr. Pike in his shirt sleeves with his pipe
in one hand and the Teether Pike balanced on his knee. His expression
matched that of the children in the matter of gloom, and like them he
glanced apprehensively toward the door as if expecting Calamity to
issue from his very hearthstone.
"Why, what's the matter?" demanded Mother as she hurried to the edge
of the sidewalk followed by the singer lady, whose acquaintance with
the young Pikes had long before ripened to the stage of intimate
friendship. At the sight of her sympathetic face, Eliza, the first Pike,
slipped to the ground and buried her head in her new but valued friend's
dainty muslin skirt. Bud, the next rung of the stair steps licked out his
tongue to dispose of a mortifying tear and little Susie sobbed outright.
At this juncture, just as Mother was about to demand again an
explanation of such united woe, Mrs. Pike came to the door, and a large
spoon and a bottle full of amber, liquid grease made further inquiry
unnecessary.
"Sakes, Mis' Mayberry, I certainly am glad you have came over to back
me up in getting down these doses of oil. Ez," with an indignant and

contemptuous glance at her sullen husband, "don't want me to give it to
'em. He'd rather they'd up and die than to stand the ruckus, but I ain't
a-going to let my own children perish for a few cherry seeds with a
bottle of oil in the house and Doctor Tom Mayberry's prescription to
give 'em a spoonful all around." Mrs. Pike was short and stout, but with
a martial and determined eye, and as she spoke she began to measure
out a first dose with her glance fixed on young Bud, who turned white
around his little mouth and clung to the fence. Susie's sobs rose to a
wail and Eliza shuddered in Miss Wingate's skirt.
"Wait a minute, Mis' Pike," said Mother hurriedly, "are you sure they
have et cherry seeds? Cherries ain't ripe yet, and--"
"We didn't--we didn't!" came in a perfect chorus of wails from the little
fence birds.
"Of course they did, Mis' Mayberry!" exclaimed their mother
relentlessly. "It was two jars of cherry preserves that Prissy put up and
clean forgot to seed 'fore she biled 'em, and the children done took and
et 'em on the sly. Now they're going to suffer for it."
"We all spitted the seeds out, and we was so hungry, too!" Eliza took
courage to sob from Miss Wingate's skirt. Bud managed to echo her
statement, while Susie and the two little boys gave confirmation from
their wide-open, terror-stricken eyes.
"Well, now, maybe they did, Mis' Pike," said Mother, coming near to
argue the question. Her hand rested sustainingly on one of the brave
young Bud's knees which jutted out from the fence.
"Can't trust 'em, Mis' Mayberry, fer if they'll steal they'll lie," said Mrs.
Pike in a voice tinged with the deepest melancholy for the fallen estate
of her family. "They'll have to suffer for both sins whether they did or
didn't," and again the bottle was poised.
"Now hold on, Mis' Pike," again exclaimed Mother Mayberry as her
face illumined with a bright smile. "If they throwed away the cherry
pits they must be where they throwed 'em and they can go find 'em to

prove they character. They ain't nothing fairer than that. Where did you
eat the preserves, children?" she asked, but there was a wild rush
around the corner of the house before her question was answered.
"Now," exclaimed the astonished mother, "I never thought of that and
if they thought to spit out one stone they did the balance. But Doctor
Tom was so kind to tell me about the oil and I paid fifteen cents down
at the store for it, that I'm a mind to give it to 'em anyway."
"I'll be blamed if you do," ejaculated her indignant husband as he
shouldered Teether and strode into the house, unable longer to restrain
his rage.
"Ain't that just like him!" said his wife in a resigned voice. "And I was
just going to try to make him take this spoonful I've poured out. It won't
hurt him none and it's a pity to pour it back, it wastes so. Do either of
you all need it?" she asked hospitably.
Miss Wingate was dissenting with an echo of Eliza's shudder and
Mother Mayberry with a laugh, when the reprieved criminals raced
back around the house, each dirty little fist inclosing a reasonable
number of grubby cherry stones.
"Well," assented their mother reluctantly,