FullReads

“Now pitch in, Mrs. Smith,” said Mrs. Gray, presiding over the table.”You know these men critters. They’ll eat every grain of it, if yeh give ’em a chance. I swan, they’re made o’ India-rubber, their stomachs is, I know it.”

“Haf to eat to work,” said Bill, gnawing a cob with a swift, circular motion that rivaled a corn-sheller in results.

“More like workin’ to eat,” put in one of the girls with a giggle.”More eat ‘n work with you.”

“Youneedn’t say anything, Net. Anyone that’ll eat seven ears—”

“I didn’t, no such thing. You piled your cobs on my plate.”

“That’ll do to tell Ed Varney. It won’t go down here, where we know yeh.”

“Good land! Eat all yeh want! They’s plenty more in the fiel’s, but I can’t afford to give you young ‘uns tea. The tea is for us womenfolks, and ‘specially fr Mis’ Smith an’ Bill’s wife. We’re agoin’ to tell fortunes by it.”

One by one the men filled up and shoved back, and one by one the children slipped into their places, and by two o’clock the women alone remained around the débris-covered table, sipping their tea and telling fortunes.

As they got well down to the grounds in the cup, they shook them with a circular motion in the hand, and then turned them bottom-side-up quickly in the saucer, then twirled them three or four times one way, and three or four times the other, during a breathless pause. Then Mrs. Gray lifted the cup and, gazing into it with profound gravity, pronounced the impending fate.

It must be admitted that, to a critical observer, she had abundant preparation for hitting close to the mark, as when she told the girls that “somebody was comin’.” “It’s a man,” she went on gravely.”He is cross-eyed—”

“Oh, you hush!” cried Nettie.

“He has red hair, and is death on b’iled corn and hot biscuit.”

The others shrieked with delight.

“But he’s goin’ to get the mitten, that red-headed feller is, for I see a feller comin’ up behind him.”

“Oh, lemme see, lemme see!” cried Nettle.

“Keep off,” said the priestess with a lofty gesture.”His hair is black. He don’t eat so much, and he works more.”

The girls exploded in a shriek of laughter and pounded their sister on the back.

At last came Mrs. Smith’s turn, and she was trembling with excitement as Mrs. Gray again composed her jolly face to what she considered a proper solemnity of expression.

“Somebody is comin’ to you,” she said after a long pause.”He’s got a musket on his back. He’s a soldier. He’s almost here. See?”

She pointed at two little tea stems, which formed a faint suggestion of a man with a musket on his back. He had climbed nearly to the edge of the cup. Mrs. Smith grew pale with excitement. She trembled so she could hardly hold the cup in her hand as she gazed into it.

“It’s Ed,” cried the old woman.”He’s on the way home. Heavens an’ earth! There he is now!” She turned and waved her hand out toward the road. They rushed to the door and looked where she pointed.

A man in a blue coat, with a musket on his back, was toiling slowly up the hill, on the sun-bright, dusty road, toiling slowly, with bent head half-hidden by a heavy knapsack. So tired it seemed that walking was indeed a process of falling. So eager to get home he would not stop, would not look aside, but plodded on, amid the cries of the locusts, the welcome of the crickets, and the rustle of the yellow wheat. Getting back to God’s country, and his wife and babies!