Viola Gwyn | Page 5

pumpkin over yonder where the sun
went down at night.
It was not until sometime after his mother went away,--after the
long-to-be-remembered "fooneral," with its hymns, and weeping, and
praying,--that he heard the grown-ups talking about the war being over.
The redcoats were thrashed and there was much boasting and bragging
among the men of the settlement. Strange men appeared on the street,
and other men slapped their backs and shook hands with them and
shouted loudly and happily at them. In time, he came to understand that
these were the citizens who had gone off to fight in the war and were
now home again, all safe and sound. He began to watch for his father.
He would know him a million miles off, he was so big, and he had the
biggest rifle in the world.
"Do you s'pose Pa will know how to find me, grandma?" he would
inquire. "'Cause, you see, I don't live where I used to."
And his grandmother, beset with this and similar questions from one
day's end to the other, would become very busy over what she was
doing at the time and tell him not to pester her. He did not like to ask
his grandfather. He was so stern,--even when he was sitting all alone on
the porch and was not busy at all.
Then one day he saw his grandparents talking together on the porch.
Aunt Hettie was with them, but she was not talking. She was just
looking at him as he played down by the watering trough. He distinctly
heard his grandma say:
"I think he ought to be told, Richard. It's a sin to let him go on
thinking---" The rest of the sentence was lost to him when she suddenly

lowered her voice. They were all looking at him.
Presently his grandfather called to him, and beckoned with his finger.
He marched up to the porch with his little bow and arrow. Grandma
turned to go into the house, and Aunt Hettie hurried away.
"Don't be afraid, Granny," he sang out. "I won't shoot you. 'Sides, I've
only got one arrer, Aunt Hettie."
His grandfather took him on his knee, and then and there told him the
truth about his father. He spoke very slowly and did not say any of
those great big words that he always used when he was with grown-up
people, or even with the darkies.
"Now, pay strict attention, Kenneth. You must understand everything I
say to you. Do you hear? Your father is never coming home. We told
you he had gone to the war. We thought it was best to let you think so.
It is time for you to know the truth. You are always asking questions
about him. After this, when you want to know about your father, you
must come to me. I will tell you. Do not bother your grandma. You
make her unhappy when you ask questions. You see, your Ma was once
her little girl and mine. She used to be as little as you are. Your Pa was
her husband. You know what a husband is, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," said Kenneth, wide-eyed. "It's a boy's father."
"You are nearly six years old. Quite a man, my lad." He paused to look
searchingly into the child's face, his bushy eyebrows meeting in a
frown.
"The devil of it is," he burst out, "you are the living image of your
father. You are going to grow up to look like him." He groaned audibly,
spat viciously over his shoulder, and went on in a strange, hard voice.
"Do you know what it is to steal? It means taking something that
belongs to somebody else."
"Yes, sir. 'Thou shalt not steal.' It's in the Bible."
"Well, you know that Indians and gipsies steal little boys, don't you? It
is the very worst kind of stealing, because it breaks the boy's mother's
heart. It sometimes kills them. Now, suppose that somebody stole a
husband. A husband is a boy's father, as you say. Your father was a
husband. He was your dear mother's husband. You loved your mother
very, very much, didn't you? Don't cry, lad,--there, there, now! Be a
little man. Now, listen. Somebody stole your mother's husband. She
loved him better than anything in the world. She loved him, I guess,

even better than she loved you, Kenneth. She just couldn't live without
him. Do you see? That is why she died and went away. She is in
Heaven now. Now, let me hear you say this after me: My mother died
because somebody stole her husband away from her."
"'My mother died because somebody stoled her husband away from
her,'" repeated the boy, slowly.
"You will never forget that, will you?"
"No,--sir."
"Say