FullReads

“No use, father; you’ll only make things worse,” sighed Sam’s mother, plaintively; but in her heart laughter gurgled like a spring. To the gift of diplomacy Mrs. Norris was fast adding the art of being an actress. “If you go there Sam’ll set the dog on you. I know he will, from the way he was talking,” she concluded.

“Oh! got a dog, have they? Well, I bet they’ve got no cow,” sneered Billy. Then after a meaning pause: “I say Marthy, have they got a cow?”

“No,” replied Mrs. Norris, shortly.

“No cow, an’ a sick woman and a baby–my grandchild–in the house? Now ain’t that jes’ like that sneak Sam? They’ll jes’ kill that baby atween them, they’re that igner’nt. Hev they got enny milk fer them two babbling kids, Della an’ the baby–my grandchild?”

“No!” snapped Mrs. Norris, while through her mind echoed some terrifying lines she had heard as a child:

“All liars dwell with him in hell,
And many more who cursed and swore.”

“An’ there’s that young Shorthorn of ours, Marthy. Couldn’t we spare her?” he asked with a pathetic eagerness. “We’ve got eight other cows to milk. Can’t we spare her? If you think Sam’ll set the dog on me, I’ll have her driv over in the mornin’. Jim’ll take her.”

“I don’t think it’s any use, Bill; but you can try it,” remarked Mrs. Norris, her soul singing within her like a celestial choir.

* * * * *

“Where are you driving that cow to?” yelled Sam from the kitchen door, at sunrise the following morning. “Take her out of there! You’re driving her into my yard, right over my cabbages.”

But Jim, the Norris’ hired man, only grinned, and proceeding with his driving, yelled back:

“Cow’s yourn, Sam. Yer old man sent it–a present to yer missus and the babby.”

“You take and drive that cow back again!” roared Sam. “And tell my dad I won’t have hide nor hair of her on my place.”

Back went the cow.

“Didn’t I tell you?” mourned Mrs. Norris. “Sam’s that stubborn and contrary. It’s no use, Billy; he just doesn’t care for his poor old father nor mother any more.”

“By the jumping Jiminy Christmas! I’ll make him care!” thundered old Billy. “I’m a-goin’ ter see that grandchild of mine.” Then followed a long silence.

“I say, Marthy, how are they fixed in the house?” he questioned, after many moments of apparently brown study.

“Pretty poor,” answered Sam’s mother, truthfully this time.

“Got a decent stove, an’ bed, an’ the like?” he finally asked.

“Stove seems to cook all right, but the bed looks just like straw tick–not much good, I’d say,” responded Mrs. Norris, drearily.

“A straw tick!” fairly yelled old Billy. “A straw tick fer my grandson ter sleep on? Jim, you fetch that there cow here, right ter the side door.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Martha, anxiously.

“I’ll show yer!” blurted old Billy. And going to his own room, he dragged off all the pretty patchwork quilts above his neatly-made bed, grabbed up the voluminous feather-bed, staggered with it in his arms down the hall, through the side door, and flung it on to the back of the astonished cow.

“Now you, Jim, drive that there cow over to Sam’s, and if you dare bring her back agin, I’ll hide yer with the flail till yer can’t stand up.”

“Me drive that lookin’ circus over to Sam’s?” sneered Jim. “I’ll quit yer place first. Yer kin do it yerself;” and the hired man turned on his lordly heel and slouched over to the barn.

“That’ll be the best way, Billy,” urged Sam’s mother. “Do it yourself.”

“I’ll do it too,” old Billy growled. “I ain’t afraid of no dog on four legs. Git on there, bossy! Git on, I say!” and the ridiculous cavalcade started forth.