Vesty of the Basins

怒

Vesty of the Basins, by Sarah P. McLean Greene

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vesty of the Basins, by Sarah P. McLean Greene This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Vesty of the Basins
Author: Sarah P. McLean Greene
Release Date: May 15, 2007 [EBook #21443]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VESTY OF THE BASINS ***

Produced by Al Haines

[Illustration: Cover Art]

VESTY OF THE BASINS
A Novel
BY
SARAH P. McLEAN GREENE
AUTHOR OF CAPE COD FOLKS, ETC.

NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Published by arrangement with Harper & Brothers

Copyright, 1892, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
All rights reserved.

CONTENTS
I. THE MEETIN' II. "SETTIN' ON THE LOG" III. "GETTIN' A NAIL PUT IN THE HOSS'S SHU" IV. LOVE, LOVE V. COLUMBUS AND THE EGG, AND LOT'S WIFE VI. THIS GREATER LOVE VII. "SETTIN' ON THE FENCE"--THE SHIFTY SPECTRE VIII. "VESTY'S MARRIED" IX. THE TALE OF CAPTAIN LEEZUR'S SLY COURTSHIP X. A CALL FROM NOTELY'S YACHT XI. ANOTHER NAIL XII. THE MASTER REVELLER XIII. CAPTAIN LEEZUR RELATES HOW MIS' GARRISON ATE CROW XIV. "TAR-A-TA!" OF THE TRUMPET XV. THE BROTHERS XVI. THE POPLAR LEAVES TREMBLE XVII. GOIN' TO THE DAGARRIER'S XVIII. UNCLE BENNY SAILS AWAY TO GALILEE XIX. THE BASIN XX. SOCIAL DIVERSIONS AT THE "POST-OFFICE" XXI. BROKEN WINDOWS XXII. "NEIGHBORIN'" XXIII. THE "FLAG-RAISIN'," OR THE "OCCASION" XXIV. THE STORY OF THE SACRED COW XXV. IN THE LANE XXVI. JUST THE SCHOOL-HOUSE

VESTY OF THE BASINS
I
THE MEETIN'
Now is it to be rain or a storm of wind at the Basin?
I love that foam out on the sea; those boulders, black and wet along the shore, they are a rest to me; the clouds chase one another; in this dim north country the wind is cool and strong, though it is now midsummer; at sunset you shall see such color!
From a little, low, storm-beaten building comes the sound of a fog-horn. That is the gift of Melchias Tibbitts, deceased, to the Basin school-house. Yonder is his schooner, the "Martha B. Fuller," long stranded, leaning seaward, down there in the cove.
It is Sunday afternoon; the fog-horn that Melchias Tibbitts gave--it serves as bell; the battered schoolhouse as church; and for Sunday raiment? some little reverent, aspiring compromise of an unwonted white collar, stretched stiff and holy and uncomfortable about the stalwart neck above a blue flannel shirt, or a new pair of rubber boots--the trousers much tucked in--worn with an air of conscious, deprecating pride.
But the women will be fine. God only knows how! but be sure, in some pitiful, sweet way they will be fine.
There are many panes of glass out of the windows, the panels of the doors are out; so better they can see the clouds pass: it is beautiful.
Oh, naught have I either, nor wisdom, nor fine speech--only a little knowledge of shipwreck out yonder, and mirth, and tears, and love. The windows and panels of my life are no strong plate, polished and glittering to all beholders; they are stained and broken through. Let me come in and sit with ye.
"We should like to open our meetin' with singin'," said Superintendent Skates; "will one of the Pointers lead us in singin'?"
The Pointers were the aristocrats of this region, living twelve miles away at the Point, in the midst of two grocery stores and a millinery establishment; there were two of them here for a Sunday drive and pastime. They were silent.
"I see," said Elder Skates patiently, "that a few of the Crooked Rivers have drove down to-day, too. Will one of the Crooked Rivers lead us in singin'?"
Lower down in the scale than the Pointers were they of Crooked River, but still far above the Basins; those present were not singers, they were silent.
"Then will one of the Capers lead us in singin'?" very meekly and patiently persisted Elder Skates.
Nearer, and of low degree, were they of the Cape, but still above the Basins. They were silent.
"I know," said Elder Skates, his subdued tone buoyant now with an undertone of hope, "that one of the Basins will lead us in singin'!"
For the Basins had reached those cheerful depths where there is no social or artistic status to maintain; so low as to be expected to do, or attempt to do, whatever might be asked of them, even though failure plunged them, if possible, in deeper depths of abasement. There was nothing beneath them except the Artichokes; and it was seldom, very seldom, an Artichoke was present.
But the Basins, though so low, were modest.
"Can't one of the Basins start, 'He will carry you through'?" said the enduring Brother Skates; "where is Vesty?"
"She 's a-helpin' Elvine with her baby," came now a prompt