CHAPTER SEVEN
_Silas Tomlin Goes A-Calling_
When the solemn funeral ceremonies were over, it was arranged that Nanshould spend a few days with her new friend, Margaret Gaither--she wasnever called by the name of her father after her mother died--andGabriel took advantage of Nan's temporary absence to pay a visit to Mrs.Absalom. He was very fond of that strong-minded woman; but since Nan hadgrown to be such a young lady, he had not called as often as he had beenin the habit of doing. He was afraid, indeed, that some one would accusehim of a sneaking desire to see Nan, and he was also afraid of thequizzing which Nan's father was always eager to apply. But with Nanaway--her absence being notorious, as you may say--Gabriel felt that hecould afford to call on the genial housekeeper.
Mrs. Absalom had for years been the manager of the Dorrington household,and she retained her place even after Randolph Dorrington had taken forhis second wife Zepherine Dion, who had been known as Miss Johns, andwho was now called Mrs. Johnny Dorrington. In that household, indeed,Mrs. Absalom was indispensable, and it was very fortunate that she andMrs. Johnny were very fond of each other. Her maiden name was MargaretRorick, and she came of a family that had long been attached to theDorringtons. In another clime, and under a different system, the Rorickswould have been described as retainers. They were that and much more.They served without fee or reward. They were retainers in the highestand best sense; for, in following the bent of their affections, theyretained their independence, their simple dignity and theirself-respect; and in that region, which was then, and is now, the mostdemocratic in the world, they were as well thought of as the Cloptons orthe Dorringtons.
It came to pass, in the order of events, that Margaret Rorick marriedMr. Absalom Goodlett, who was the manager of the Dorrington plantation.Though she was no chicken, as she said herself, Mr. Goodlett was hersenior by several years. She was also, in a sense, the victim of thehumour that used to run riot in Middle Georgia; for, in spite of herindividuality, which was vigorous and aggressive, she lost her own nameand her husband's too. At Margaret Rorick's wedding, or, rather, at theinfair, which was the feast after the wedding, Mr. Uriah Lazenby, whosememory is kept green by his feats at tippling, and who combined fiddlingwith farming, furnished the music for the occasion. Being something of aprivileged character, and having taken a thimbleful too much dram, asfiddlers will do, the world over, Mr. Lazenby rose in his place, whenthe company had been summoned to the feast, and remarked:
"Margaret Rorick, now that the thing's been gone and done, and can't beholp, I nominate you Mrs. Absalom, an' Mrs. Absalom it shall beherearter. Ab Goodlett, you ought to be mighty proud when you can flingyour bridle on a filly like that, an' lead her home jest for the bar'sesso."
The loud laughter that followed placed the bride at a temporarydisadvantage. She joined in, however, and then exclaimed: "My goodness!Old Uriah's drunk ag'in; you can't pull a stopper out'n a jug in thesame house wi' him but what he'll dribble at the mouth an' git shaky inthe legs."
But drunk or sober, Uriah had "nominated" Mrs. Absalom for good and all.One reason why this "nomination" was seized on so eagerly was the suddenchange that had taken place in Miss Rorick's views in regard tomatrimony. She was more than thirty years old when she consented tobecome Mrs. Absalom. Up to that time she had declared over and overagain that there wasn't a man in the world she'd look at, much lessmarry.
Now, many a woman has said the same thing and changed her mind withoutattracting attention; but Mrs. Absalom's views on matrimony, and herpithy criticisms of the male sex in general, had flown about on thewings of her humour, and, in that way, had come to have wideadvertisement. But her "nomination" interfered neither with herindividuality, nor with her ability to indulge in pithy comments onmatters and things in general. Of Mr. Lazenby, she said later: "What'sthe use of choosin' betwixt a fool an' a fiddler, when you can git bothin the same package?"
She made no bad bargain when she married Mr. Goodlett. His irritabilitywas all on the surface. At bottom, he was the best-natured and mostpatient of men--a philosopher who was so thoroughly contented with theways of the world and the order of Providence, that he had no desire tochange either--and so comfortable in his own views and opinions that hewas not anxious to convert others to his way of thinking. If anythingwent wrong, it was like a garment turned inside out; it would "come outall right in the washin'."
Mrs. Absalom's explanation of her change of views in the subject ofmatrimony was very simple and reasonable. "Why, a single 'oman," shesaid, "can't cut no caper at all; she can't hardly turn around wi'outbein' plumb tore to pieces by folks's tongues. But now--you see Ab overthere? Well, he ain't purty enough for a centre-piece, nor light enoughfor to be set on the mantel-shelf, but it's a comfort to see him in thatcheer there, knowin' all the time that you can do as you please, andnobody dastin to say anything out of the way. Why, I could put on Ab'sold boots an' take his old buggy umbrell, an' go an' jine the muster.The men might snicker behind the'r han's, but all they could say wouldbe, 'Well, ef that kind of a dido suits Ab Goodlett, it ain't nobodyelse's business.'"
It happened that Mr. Sanders was the person to whom Mrs. Absalom wasaddressing her remarks, and he inquired if such an unheard of proceedingwould be likely to suit Mr. Goodlett.
"To a t!" she exclaimed. "Why, he wouldn't bat his eye. He mought gruntan' groan a little jest to let you know that he's alive, but that'd beall. An' that's the trouble: ef Ab has any fault in the world that youcan put your finger on, it's in bein' too good. You know,William--anyhow, you'd know it ef you belonged to my seck--that there'slots of times and occasions when it'd make the wimmen folks feel lotsbetter ef they had somethin' or other to rip and rare about. My old catgoes about purrin', the very spit and image of innocence; but she'd dieef she didn't show her claws sometimes. Once in awhile I try my levelbest for to pick a quarrel wi' Ab, but before I say a dozen words, Ilook at him an' have to laugh. Why the way that man sets there an' saysnothin' is enough to make a saint ashamed of hisself."
It was the general opinion that Mr. Goodlett, who was shrewd andfar-seeing beyond the average, had an eye to strengthening his relationswith Dr. Dorrington, when he "popped the question" to Margaret Rorick.But such was not the case. His relations needed no strengthening. Hemanaged Dorrington's agricultural interests with uncommon ability, andbrought rare prosperity to the plantation. Unlettered, and, to allappearances, taking no interest in public affairs, he not only foresawthe end of the Civil War, but looked forward to the time when theConfederate Government, pressed for supplies, would urge upon the Statesthe necessity of limiting the raising of cotton.
He gave both Meriwether Clopton and Neighbour Tomlin the benefit ofthese views; and then, when the rumours of Sherman's march throughGeorgia grew rifer he made a shrewd guess as to the route, and succeededin hiding out and saving, not only all the cotton the three plantationshad grown, but also all the livestock. Having an ingrained suspicion ofthe negroes, and entertaining against them the prejudices of his class,Mr. Goodlett employed a number of white boys from the country districtsto aid him with his refugee train. And he left them in charge of thecamp he had selected, knowing full well that they would be glad toremain in hiding as long as the Federal soldiers were about.
The window of the dining-room at Dorringtons' commanded a view of thestreet for a considerable distance toward town, and it was at thiswindow that Mrs. Absalom had her favourite seat. She explained herpreference for it by saying that she wanted to know what was going on inthe world. She looked out from this window one day while she was talkingto Gabriel Tolliver, whose visits to Dorringtons' had come to becoincident with Nan's absence, and suddenly exclaimed:
"Well, my gracious! Ef yonder ain't old Picayune Pauper! I wonder whatwe have done out this way that old Picayune should be sneakin' aroundhere? I'll tell you what--ef Ab has borried arry thrip from old SilasTomlin, I'll quit him; I won't live wi' a man that'll have anything todo wi' that old scamp. As I'm a livin' human, he's comin' here!"
N
ow, Silas Tomlin was Neighbour Tomlin's elder brother, but the two menwere as different in character and disposition as a warm bright day isdifferent from a bitter black night. Pulaski Tomlin gave his servicesfreely to all who needed them, and he was happy and prosperous; whereasSilas was a miserly money-lender and note-shaver, and always appeared tobe in the clutches of adversity. To parsimony he added the sting--yes,and the stain--of a peevish and an irritable temper. It was as Mrs.Absalom had said--"a picayunish man is a pauper, I don't care how muchmoney he's got."
"I'll go see ef Johnny is in the house," said Mrs. Absalom. "Johnny" wasMrs. Dorrington, who, in turn, called Mrs. Absalom "Nonny," which wasNan's pet name for the woman who had raised her--"I'll go see, but Ilay she's gone to see Nan; I never before seed a step-mammy so wroppedup in her husband's daughter." Nan, as has been said, was spending a fewdays with poor Margaret Bridalbin, whose mother had just been buried.
Mrs. Absalom called Mrs. Dorrington, and then looked for her, but shewas not to be found at the moment. "I reckon you'll have to go to thedoor, Gabe," said Mrs. Absalom, as the knocker sounded. "Sence freedom,we ain't got as many niggers lazyin' around an' doin' nothin' as we useto have."
"Is Mr. Goodlett in?" asked Silas Tomlin, when Gabriel opened the door.
"I think he's in Malvern," Gabriel answered, as politely as he could.
"No, no, no!" exclaimed Silas Tomlin, with a terrible frown; "you don'tknow a thing about it, not a thing in the world. He got back right afterdinner."
"Well, ef he did," said Mrs. Absalom, coming forward, "he didn't comehere. He ain't cast a shadow in this house sence day before yistiddy,when he went to Malvern."
"How are you, Mrs. Absalom?--how are you?" said Silas, with a tremendouseffort at politeness. "I hope you are well; you are certainly lookingwell. You say your husband is not in? Well, I'm sorry; I wanted to seehim on business; I wanted to get some information."
"Ab don't owe you anything, I hope," remarked Mrs. Absalom, ignoring thesalutation.
"Not a thing--not a thing in the world. But why do you ask? Many peoplehave the idea that I'm rolling in money--that's what I hear--and theythink that I go about loaning it to Tom, Dick and Harry. But it is notso--it is not so; I have no money."
Mrs. Absalom laughed ironically, saying, "I reckon if your son Paul wasto scratch about under the house, he'd find small change about inplaces."
Silas Tomlin looked hard at Mrs. Absalom, his little black eyesglistening under his coarse, heavy eyebrows like those of some wildanimal. He was not a prepossessing man. He was so bald that he wascompelled to wear a skull-cap, and the edge of this showed beneath thebrim of his chimney-pot hat. His face needed a razor; and the grey beardcoming through the cuticle, gave a ghastly, bluish tint to the pallor ofhis countenance. His broadcloth coat--Mrs. Absalom called it a"shadbelly"--was greasy at the collar, and worn at the seams, and hiswaistcoat was stained with ambeer. His trousers, which were much toolarge for him, bagged at the knees, and his boots were run down at theheels. Though he was temperate to the last degree, he had the appearanceof a man who is the victim of some artificial stimulant.
"What put that idea in your head, Mrs. Goodlett?" he asked, afterlooking long and searchingly at Mrs. Absalom.
"Well, I allowed that when you was countin' out your cash, a thrip ortwo mought have slipped through the cracks in the floor," she replied;"sech things have happened before now."
He wiped his thin lips with his lean forefinger, and stood hesitating,whereupon Mrs. Absalom remarked: "It sha'n't cost you a cent ef you'llcome in. Ab'll be here purty soon ef somebody ain't been fool enough togive him his dinner. His health'll fail him long before his appetitedoes. Show Mr. Tomlin in the parlour, Gabriel, an' I'll see about Ab'sdinner; I don't want it to burn to a cracklin' before he gits it."
Silas Tomlin went into the parlour and sat down, while Gabriel stoodhesitating, not knowing what to do or say. He was embarrassed, and SilasTomlin saw it. "Oh, take a seat," he said, with a show of impatience."What are you doing for yourself, Tolliver? You're a big boy now, andyou ought to be making good money. We'll all have to work now: we'llhave to buckle right down to it. The way I look at it, the man who isdoing nothing is throwing money away; yes, sir, throwing it away. Whatdoes Adam Smith say? Why, he says----"
Gabriel never found out what particular statement of Adam Smith was tobe thrown at his head, for at that moment, Mr. Goodlett called out fromthe dining-room: "Si Tomlin in there, Gabriel? Well, fetch him out herewhar I live at. I ain't got no parlours for company." By the time thatGabriel had led Mr. Silas Tomlin into the dining-room, Mr. Goodlett hada plate of victuals carrying it to the kitchen; and he remarked as hewent along, "I got nuther parlours nor dinin'-rooms: fetch him out hereto the kitchen whar we both b'long at."
If Silas Tomlin objected to this arrangement, he gave no sign; hefollowed without a word, Mr. Goodlett placed his plate on the tablewhere the dishes were washed, and dropped his hat on the floor besidehim, and began to attack his dinner most vigorously. Believing,evidently, that ordinary politeness would be wasted here, Silas enteredat once on the business that had brought him to Dorringtons'.
"Sorry to trouble you, Goodlett," he said by way of making a beginning.
"I notice you ain't cryin' none to hurt," remarked Mr. Goodlettplacidly. "An' ef you was, you'd be cryin' for nothin'. You ain'ttroublin' me a mite. Forty an' four like you can't trouble me."
"You'll have to excuse Ab," said Mrs. Goodlett, who had preceded Gabrieland Silas to the kitchen. "He's lost his cud, an' he won't be right welltill he finds it ag'in." She placed her hand over her mouth to hide hersmiles.
Silas Tomlin paid no attention to this by-play. He stood like a man whois waiting an opportunity to get in a word.
"Goodlett, who were the ladies you brought from Malvern to-day?" Hisface was very serious.
"You know 'em lots better'n I do. The oldest seed you out in the field,an' she axed me who you mought be. I told her, bekaze I ain't got nosecrets from my passengers, specially when they're good-lookin' an'plank down the'r money before they start. Arter I told 'em who you was,the oldest made you a mighty purty bow, but you wer'n't polite enoughfor to take off your hat. I dunno as I blame you much, all thingsconsidered. Then the youngest, she's the daughter, she says, says she,'Is that reely him, ma?' an' t'other one, says she, 'Ef it's him, honey,he's swunk turrible.' She said them very words."
"I wonder who in the world they can be?" said Silas Tomlin, as iftalking to himself.
"You'll think of the'r names arter awhile," Mr. Goodlett remarked by wayof consolation, but his tone was so suspicious that Silas turned on hisheel--he had started out--and asked Mr. Goodlett what he meant.
"Adzackly what I said, nuther more nor less."
Mrs. Absalom was so curious to find out something more that Silas washardly out of the house before she began to ply her husband withquestions. But they were all futile. Mr. Goodlett knew no more thanthat he had brought the women from Malvern; that they had chanced tospy old Silas Tomlin in a field by the side of the road, and that whenthe elder of the two women found out what his name was, she made him abow, which Silas wasn't polite enough to return.
"That's all I know," remarked Mr. Goodlett. "Dog take the wimmenanyhow!" he exclaimed indignantly; "ef they'd stay at home they'd be allright; but here they go, a-trapesin' an' a-trollopin' all over creation,an' a-givin' trouble wherever they go. They git me so muddled an'befuddled wi' ther whickerin' an' snickerin' that I dunner which een'I'm a-stannin' on half the time. Nex' time they want to ride wi' me,I'll say, 'Walk!' By jacks! I won't haul 'em."
This episode, if it may be called such, made small impression onGabriel's mind, but it tickled Mrs. Goodlett's mind into activity, andthe lad heard more of Silas Tomlin during the next hour than he had everknown before. In a manner, Silas was a very important factor in thecommunity, as money-lenders always are, but according to Gabriel's idea,he was always one of the poorest creatures in the world.
When he was a young man, Silas
joined the tide of emigration that wasflowing westward. He went to Mississippi, where he married his firstwife. In a year's time, he returned to his old home. When asked abouthis wife--for he returned alone--he curtly answered that she was wellenough off. Mrs. Absalom was among those who made the inquiry, and herprompt comment was, "She's well off ef she's dead; I'll say that much."
But there was a persistent rumour, coming from no one knew where, thatwhen a child was born to Silas, the wife was seized with such a horrorof the father that the bare sight of him would cause her to scream, andshe constantly implored her people to send him away. It is curious howrumours will travel far and wide, from State to State, creeping throughswamps, flying over deserts and waste places, and coming home at last asthe carrier-pigeon does, especially if there happens to be a grain oftruth in them.
It turned out that the lady, in regard to whom Silas Tomlin expressedsuch curiosity, was a Mrs. Claiborne, of Kentucky, who, with herdaughter, had refugeed from point to point in advance of the Federalarmy. Finally, when peace came, the lady concluded to make her home inGeorgia, where she had relatives, and she selected Shady Dale as herplace of abode on account of its beauty. These facts became known later.
Evidently the new-comers had resources, for they arranged to occupy theGaither house, taking it as it stood, with Miss Polly Gaither, furnitureand all. This arrangement must have been satisfactory to Miss Polly inthe first place, or it would never have been made; and it certainlyrelieved her of the necessity of living on the charity of herneighbours, under pretence of borrowing from them. But so strange abundle of contradictions is human nature, that no sooner had Miss Pollybegun to enjoy the abundance that was now showered upon her in the shapeof victuals and drink than she took her ear-trumpet in one hand and herwork-bag in the other, and went abroad, gossiping about her tenants,telling what she thought they said, and commenting on theiractions--not maliciously, but simply with a desire to feed the curiosityof the neighbours.
In order to do this more effectually, Miss Polly returned visits thathad been made to her before the war. There was nothing in her talk todiscredit the Claibornes or to injure their characters. They werestrangers to the community, and there was a natural and perfectlylegitimate curiosity on the part of the town to learn something of theirhistory. Miss Polly could not satisfy this curiosity, but she could whetit by leaving at each one's door choice selections from her catalogue ofthe sayings and doings of the new-comers--wearing all the time a dressthat Miss Eugenia, the daughter, had made over for her. Miss Polly was adumpy little woman, and, with her wen, her ear-trumpet, and herwork-bag, she cut a queer figure as she waddled along.
There was one piece of information she gave out that puzzled thecommunity no little. According to Miss Polly, the Claibornes had hardlysettled themselves in their new home before Silas Tomlin called on them."I can't hear as well as I used to," said Miss Polly--she was deaf as adoor-post--"but I can see as well as anybody; yes indeed, as well asanybody in the world. And I tell you, Lucy Lumsden"--she was talking toGabriel's grandmother--"as soon as old Silas darkened the door, I knewhe was worried. I never saw a grown person so fidgety and nervous,unless it was Micajah Clemmons, and he's got the rickets, poor man. So Isays to myself, 'I'll watch you,' and watch I did. Well, when Mrs.Claiborne came into the parlour, she bowed very politely to old Silas,but I could see that she could hardly keep from laughing in his face;and I don't blame her, for the way old Silas went on was perfectlyridiculous. He spit and he spluttered, and sawed the air with his arms,and buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, and jerked at the bottom of hiswescut till I really thought he'd pull the front out. I wish you couldhave seen him, Lucy Lumsden, I do indeed. And when the door was shut onhim, Mrs. Claiborne flung herself down on a sofa, and laughed until shefrightened her daughter. I don't complain about my afflictions as ageneral thing, Lucy, but I would have given anything that day if myhearing had been as good as it used to be."
And though Gabriel's grandmother was a woman of the highest principles,holding eavesdropping in the greatest contempt, it is possible that shewould have owned to a mild regret that Miss Polly Gaither was too deafto hear what Silas Tomlin's troubles were. This was natural, too, for,on account of the persistent rumours that had followed Silas home fromMississippi, there was always something of a mystery in regard to hisfirst matrimonial venture. There was none about his second. A year ortwo after he returned home he married Susan Pritchard, whose father wasa prosperous farmer, living several miles from town. Susan bore Silas ason and died. She was a pious woman, and with her last breath named thechild Paul, on account of the conjunction of the names of Paul and Silasin the New Testament. Paul grew up to be one of the most popular youngmen in the community.
Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction Page 8