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her into his yard！ 。 。 。 Just as I s'posed； it's that little； smirkin'
worthless school…teacher up to the Mills。Don't break my neck； Diademy；
can't you see out the other winder？Yes； he's helpin' her out； 'n' showin'
her in。 He can't 'a' ben married more'n ten minutes； for he's goin'
clear up the steps to open the door for her！〃
〃Wait 'n' see if he takes his horse out；〃 said Hannah Sophia。
〃Mebbe he'll drive her back in a few minutes。 。 。 。 No； he's onhitched！
。 。 。 There； he's hangin' up the head…stall！〃
〃I've ben up in the attic chamber；〃 called the Widow Buzzell；
as she descended the stairs； 〃she's pulled up the curtains； and took
off her hat right in front o' the winder； 's bold as a brass kettle！
She's come to stay！ Ain't that Rube Hobson all over；to bring another
woman int' this village 'stid o' weedin' one of 'em out as he'd oughter。
He ain't got any more public sperit than ahedgehog； 'n' never had！〃
Almira drew on her mitts excitedly； tied on her shaker；
and started for the door。
〃I'm goin' over to Eunice's；〃 she said； 〃and I'm goin'
to take my bottle of camphire。 I shouldn't wonder a mite
if I found her in a dead faint on the kitchen floor。
Nobody need tell me she wa'n't buildin' hopes。〃
〃I'll go with you；〃 said the Widow Buzzell。
〃I'd like to see with my own eyes how she takes it；
'n' it'll be too late to tell if I wait till after supper。
If she'd ben more open with me 'n' ever asked for my advice；
I could 'a' told her it wa'n't the first time Rube Hobson has
played that trick。〃
〃I'd come too if 't wa'n't milkin' but Jot ain't home
from the Centre； and I've got to do his chores； come in as you
go along back； will you？〃 asked Diadema。
Hannah Sophia remained behind； promising to meet them at the post…office
and hear the news。 As the two women walked down the hill she drew the old
envelope from the Bible and read the wavering words scrawled upon it in old
Mrs。 Bascom's rheumatic and uncertain hand；
_the_ _milikins_ _Mills_ _Teecher。_
〃Well Lucindy； you do make good use o' your winder；〃
she exclaimed； 〃but how you pitched on anything so onlikely
as her is more'n I can see。〃
〃Just because 't was onlikely。 A man's a great sight likelier
to do an onlikely thing than he is a likely one； when it comes
to marryin'。 In the first place； Rube sent his children to school
up to the Mills 'stid of to the brick schoolhouse； though he had
to pay a little something to get 'em taken in to another deestrick。
They used to come down at night with their hands full o'
'ward o' merit cards。 Do you s'pose I thought they got 'em
for good behavior； or for knowin' their lessons？ Then aunt Hitty
told me some question or other Rube had asked examination day。
Since when has Rube Hobson 'tended examinations； thinks I。 And
when I see the girl； a red…and…white paper doll that wouldn't know
whether to move the churn…dasher up 'n' down or round 'n' round；
I made up my mind that bein' a man he'd take her for certain；
and not his next…door neighbor of a sensible age and a house 'n'
farm 'n' cow 'n' buggy！〃
〃Sure enough；〃 agreed Hannah Sophia； 〃though that don't
account for Eunice's queer actions； 'n' the pa'cels 'n'
the fruit cake。〃
〃When I make out a case；〃 observed Mrs。 Bascom modestly；
〃I ain't one to leave weak spots in it。 If I guess at all；
I go all over the ground 'n' stop when I git through。
Now； sisters or no sisters； Maryabby Emery ain't spoke to Eunice sence
she moved to Salem。 But if Eunice has ben bringin' pa'cels home；
Maryabby must 'a' paid for what was in 'em； and if she's ben bakin'
fruit cake this hot day； why Maryabby used to be so font o'
fruit cake her folks were afraid she'd have fits 'n' die。
I shall be watchin' here as usual to…morrow morning'； 'n'
if Maryabby don't drive int' Eunice's yard before noon I won't
brag any more for a year to come。〃
Hannah Sophia gazed at old Mrs。 Bascom with unstinted admiration。
〃You do beat all；〃 she said； 〃and I wish I could stay all night 'n' see
how it turns out； but Almiry is just comin' over the bridge； 'n' I must
start 'n' meet her。 Good…by。 I'm glad to see you so smart； you always
look slim； but I guess you'll tough it out's long 's the rest of us。
I see your log was all right； last time I was down side o' the river。〃
〃They say it 's jest goin' to break in two in the middle；
and fall into the river；〃 cheerfully responded Lucinda。
〃They say it's just hanging' on by a thread。 Well； that's what
they 've ben sayin' about me these ten years； 'n' here I be
still hanging！ It don't make no odds； I guess； whether it's
a thread or a rope you 're hangin' by； so long as you hang。〃
* * *
The next morning； little Mote Hobson； who had stayed all night
with his uncle in Union； was walking home by the side of the river。
He strolled along； the happy； tousle…headed； barefooted youngster；
eyes one moment on the trees in the hope of squirrels and birds'…nests；
the next on the ground in search of the first blueberries。
As he stooped to pick up a bit of shining quartz to add to the collection
in his ragged trousers' pockets he glanced across the river；
and at that very instant Lucinda's log broke gently in twain；
rolled down the bank； crumbling as it went； and； dropping in like a
tired child； was carried peacefully along on the river's breast。
Mote walked more quickly after that。 It was quite a feather
in his cap to see； with his own eyes； the old landmark
slip from its accustomed place and float down the stream。
The other boys would miss it and say； 〃It's gone！〃
He would say； 〃I saw it go！〃
Grandpa Bascom was standing at the top of the hill。 His white locks
were uncovered； and he was in his shirt…sleeves。 Baby Jot； as usual；
held fast by his shaking hand； for they loved each other； these two。
The cruel stroke of the sun that had blurred the old man's brain had spared
a blessed something in him that won the healing love of children。
〃How d' ye； Mote？〃 he piped in his feeble voice。 〃They say
Lucindy's dead。 。 。 。 Jot says she is； 'n' Diademy says she is；
'n' I guess she is。 。 。 。 It 's a dretful thick year for fol'age；
。 。 。 some o' the maples looks like balls in the air。〃
Mote looked in at the window。 The neighbors were hurrying to and fro。
Diadema sat with her calico apron up to her face； sobbing； and for the first
morning in thirty years； old Mrs。 Bascom's high…backed rocker was empty；
and there was no one sitting in the village watch…tower。
…
TOM O' THE BLUEB'RY PLAINS。
The sky is a shadowless blue； the noon…day sun glows fiercely；
a cloud of dust rises from the burning road whenever the hot
breeze stirs the air； or whenever a farm wagon creaks along；
its wheels sinking into the deep sand。
In the distance； where the green of the earth joins the blue of the sky；
gleams the silver line of a river。
As far as the eye an reach； the ground is covered
with blueberry bushes； red leaves peeping among green ones；
bloom of blue fruit hanging in full warm clusters；spheres of
velvet mellowed by summer sun； moistened with crystal dew；
spiced with fragrance of woods。
In among the blueberry bushes grow huckleberries；
〃choky pears；〃 and black…snaps。
Gnarled oaks and stunted pines lift themselves out
of the wilderness of shrubs。 They look dwarfed and gloomy；
as if Nature had been an untender mother； and denied
them proper nourishment。
The road is a little…traveled one； and furrows of feathery grasses
grow between the long； hot； sandy stretches of the wheel…ruts。
The first goldenrod gleams among the loose stones at the foot
of the alder bushes。 Whole families of pale butterflies；
just out of their long sleep； perch on the brilliant stalks
and tilter up and down in the sunshine。
Straggling processions of wooly brown caterpillars wend their way
in the short grass by the wayside； where the wild carrot and the purple
bull…thistle are coming into bloom。
The song of birds is seldom heard； and the blueberry plains
are given over to silence save for the buzzing of gorged flies；
the humming of bees； and the chirping of crickets that stir
the drowsy air when the summer begins to wane。
It is so still that the shuffle…shuffle of a footstep can be heard
in the distance； the tinkle of a tin pail swinging musically to and fro；
the swish of an alder switch cropping the heads of the roadside weeds。
All at once a voice breaks the stillness。 Is it a child's； a woman's；
or a man's？ Neither yet all three。
〃I'd much d'ruth…er walk in the bloom…in' gy…ar…ding；
An' hear the whis…sle of the jol…ly
swain。〃
Everybody knows the song； and everybody knows the cracked voice。
The master of this bit of silent wilderness is coming home：
it is Tom o' the blueb'ry plains。
He is more than common tall； with a sandy beard；
and a mop of tangled