The Shield of Silence | Page 7

he once explained to Sister Angela, "that 'tain't all gold
as glitters, but dis year yaller in my mouth, ma'am, is right sure gold an'
it's like layin' up treasure in heaven, for no moth nor rust ain't ever
going to distroy anythin' in my mouth. No, ma'am! No corruption,
nuther."
Jed, listening to Sister Angela, now, was beaming and shining.
"I want you to go to Stone Hedgeton to-morrow, Uncle Jed. You better
start early. You must meet every train until you see a young lady--she
will be looking about for someone--and bring her here. In between
trains make yourself and the horses comfortable at the tavern. I'm glad

you do not drink, Jed."
"Yes-m," pondered Jed, "but I 'spect there might be mo' dan one young
lady. I reckon it would be disastering if I fotched the wrong one. Isn't
thar something 'bout her discounterments as might be leading, as yo'
might say, ma'am?"
"Jed, I rely upon you to bring the right young lady!"
There was no use of further arguing. Jed shuffled off.
Alone, of all the household, little Mary Allan was not taken into Sister
Angela's confidence, and this was unfortunate, for Mary ran well in
harness, but was apt to go a bit wild if left to her own devices. What
people did not confide to Mary she generally found out for herself.
Mary was known to Silver Gap as the "last of them Allans." Her father
and mother both died soon after Mary showed signs of persisting--her
ten brothers and sisters had refused to live, and when Mary was left to
her fate Sister Angela rescued her, and the girl had been trained for
entrance into a Sisterhood later on.
She was abnormally keen but discouragingly superstitious; she had
moods when the Sisters believed they had overcome her inheritance of
reticence and aloofness. She would laugh and chat gaily and appear
charmingly young and happy, but without warning she would lapse
back to the almost sullen, suspicious attitude that was so disconcerting.
Sister Angela demanded justice for Mary and received, in return, a kind
of loyalty that was the best the girl had to give.
She regarded, with that strange interpretation of the lonely hills, all
outsiders as foreigners. She was receiving benefits from them, her only
chance of life, and while she blindly repaid in services, Mary's roots
clung to the cabin life; her affections to the fast-decaying hovel from
which she had been rescued.
Jed was the only familiar creature left to Mary's inner consciousness.
He belonged to the hills--if not of them, and while his birthright made it

possible for him to assimilate, he shared with Mary the feeling that he
was among strangers.
Jed thought in strains of "quality"; Mary in terms of "outlanders." But
both served loyally.
The morning that Jed was to start on his mysterious errand--and he
gloried in the mystery--Mary was "minding" bread in the kitchen and
"chuncking" wood in the stove with a lavish hand. The Sisters were at
prayer in the tiny chapel which had been evolved from a small west
room; and old Aunt Becky Adams was plodding down the rugged trail
from Thunder Peak. Meredith Thornton, too, was nearing her
destination and The Ship was on The Rock.
Presently Mary, having tested the state of the golden-brown ovals in the
oven--and she could do it to a nicety--came out of the kitchen, followed
by a delicious smell of crisping wheat, and sat down upon the step of
the porch to watch Jed polishing the harness of Washington and
Lincoln--the grave, reliable team upon whom Jed spared no toil.
Mary looked very brief and slim in her scanty blue cotton frock and the
apron far too large for her. The hair, tidily caught in a firm little knot,
was making brave efforts to escape in wild little curls, and the girl's big
eyes had the expression seen in the eyes of an animal that has been
trapped but not conquered.
"Uncle Jed," she said in an awed tone, and planting her sharp elbows on
her knees in order to prop her serious face, "The Ship is on The Rock."
All the morning Jed had been trying to keep his back to the fact.
"Yo' sure is one triflin' child," he muttered.
"All the same, The Ship is there, Uncle Jed, and that means that
something is going to happen. It is going to happen long o' Ridge
House--and nothing has happened here before. Things have just gone
on--and--on and on----"

The girl's voice trailed vaguely--she was looking at The Ship.
Jed began to have that sensation described by him as "shivers in the
spine of his back." Mary was fascinating him. Suddenly she asked:
"Uncle Jed, what are they-all sending you to--fetch?" Mary almost said