Occasionally he would allow his glance to slide across to Sophrona. Adorned so attractively in her Sunday best, Cleav couldn't help but imagine her as the perfect choice for Mrs. M. C. Rhy, Jr.
She was perfect: so young, pretty, and blushing with innocence, the faultless adornment of a civilized gentleman.
His
faultless adornment.
She cast him a shy glance, and he returned it with a warm and welcoming smile. Encouragingly he reached over to pat her tiny pale hand. She looked up quickly, wide-eyed and blushing, to see if her father had noticed.
Reverend Tewksbury was totally wrapped up in a rather long-winded explanation of his choice of verses for the service and hadn't noticed a thing.
Cleav saw Sophrona's shoulders visibly relax. For her sake he clasped his hands casually against his stomach.
"Well, anyway," Mrs. Rhy assured the reverend, "I think the Crabbs were very
pleased with the basket, and a good deal luckier than they deserved."
"Yo Crabb has always been a faithful member of the church," Mrs. Tewksbury
said. "Although I could never approve of his laziness, I think of him as just another burden
that the congregation must assume."
The three elders nodded in agreement.
"The Crabb family is Vader, Tennessee's cross to bear," the pastor declared. "They can't take care of their own selves, and heaven knows,'nobody else will."
Sophrona's sweet singsong voice piped in. '"Wealth maketh many friends; but the poor is separated from his neighbor.'"
Mrs. Rhy and Sophrona's parents smiled proudly at the pretty young woman in the swing.
"How correct you are, my dear," the reverend said.
"And how lucky," Cleav added.
"Lucky?" Mrs. Tewksbury eyed the young man curiously. "Whatever do you mean, Mr. Rhy?"
Cleav had gone cold still when the conversation had turned to the Crabbs. In his memory he could still see Esme, her chin up high… daring… yes, daring the congregation to try to look down on her.
"I was just thinking of Miss Esme," Cleav said with
studied
nonchalance. He
saw the
preacher's eyebrow raise.
"I couldn't help but notice," he explained with a casual glance toward Sophrona, "how the gift seemed almost a blow to Miss Esme's pride."
"Pride!" Eula Rhy scoffed. "There never was a Crabb with a lick of pride," she declared, looking to Mrs. Tewksbury, who gave her an answering of agreement. "If she was thinking herself too good for our charity, well, she should have said so, and we'd have given it to someone deserving!"
"That's right," the preacher added. "Pride and poverty don't mix. That girl is looking for trouble, I hear."
"Just like those useless twin sisters of hers," Mrs. Tewksbury agreed.
"Trouble? What kind of trouble could involve Miss Esme?" Cleav asked, genuinely worried.
Mrs. Tewksbury made a tutting sound and looked gravely at Eula Rhy. The preacher was flushed with embarrassment and silence reigned for a full minute or longer.
"Sophrona honey," Mrs. Tewksbury said finally. "Why don't you step into Mrs. Rhy's house and check your hair in the vanity. I swear the breeze has nearly swept you away!" This last Mrs. Tewksbury added with a cheery laugh. It fell so false that discomfort was universally felt.
Sophrona dutifully rose from the swing, and with formal politeness excused herself. Cleav watched her go warily as he found all three pairs of eyes focused sternly on himself.
"Cleav," his mother began. "Mrs. Tewksbury tells me that there has been talk."
"Talk?" Cleav shifted uncomfortably, folding his arms across his chest.
"Folks are saying that Esme Crabb has been seen with you every day for the last week."
Cleav stared dumbstruck. A hasty denial stuck in his throat, and he choked slightly. Of the three the preacher appeared the most sympathetic. Cleav, therefore, directed the reply to him. "Miss Esme may have been seen
near
me," he said distinctly, "but she has not been seen
with
me, I can assure you."
The pastor nodded, willing to let him split hairs. "The fact remains she has been
She was perfect: so young, pretty, and blushing with innocence, the faultless adornment of a civilized gentleman.
His
faultless adornment.
She cast him a shy glance, and he returned it with a warm and welcoming smile. Encouragingly he reached over to pat her tiny pale hand. She looked up quickly, wide-eyed and blushing, to see if her father had noticed.
Reverend Tewksbury was totally wrapped up in a rather long-winded explanation of his choice of verses for the service and hadn't noticed a thing.
Cleav saw Sophrona's shoulders visibly relax. For her sake he clasped his hands casually against his stomach.
"Well, anyway," Mrs. Rhy assured the reverend, "I think the Crabbs were very
pleased with the basket, and a good deal luckier than they deserved."
"Yo Crabb has always been a faithful member of the church," Mrs. Tewksbury
said. "Although I could never approve of his laziness, I think of him as just another burden
that the congregation must assume."
The three elders nodded in agreement.
"The Crabb family is Vader, Tennessee's cross to bear," the pastor declared. "They can't take care of their own selves, and heaven knows,'nobody else will."
Sophrona's sweet singsong voice piped in. '"Wealth maketh many friends; but the poor is separated from his neighbor.'"
Mrs. Rhy and Sophrona's parents smiled proudly at the pretty young woman in the swing.
"How correct you are, my dear," the reverend said.
"And how lucky," Cleav added.
"Lucky?" Mrs. Tewksbury eyed the young man curiously. "Whatever do you mean, Mr. Rhy?"
Cleav had gone cold still when the conversation had turned to the Crabbs. In his memory he could still see Esme, her chin up high… daring… yes, daring the congregation to try to look down on her.
"I was just thinking of Miss Esme," Cleav said with
studied
nonchalance. He
saw the
preacher's eyebrow raise.
"I couldn't help but notice," he explained with a casual glance toward Sophrona, "how the gift seemed almost a blow to Miss Esme's pride."
"Pride!" Eula Rhy scoffed. "There never was a Crabb with a lick of pride," she declared, looking to Mrs. Tewksbury, who gave her an answering of agreement. "If she was thinking herself too good for our charity, well, she should have said so, and we'd have given it to someone deserving!"
"That's right," the preacher added. "Pride and poverty don't mix. That girl is looking for trouble, I hear."
"Just like those useless twin sisters of hers," Mrs. Tewksbury agreed.
"Trouble? What kind of trouble could involve Miss Esme?" Cleav asked, genuinely worried.
Mrs. Tewksbury made a tutting sound and looked gravely at Eula Rhy. The preacher was flushed with embarrassment and silence reigned for a full minute or longer.
"Sophrona honey," Mrs. Tewksbury said finally. "Why don't you step into Mrs. Rhy's house and check your hair in the vanity. I swear the breeze has nearly swept you away!" This last Mrs. Tewksbury added with a cheery laugh. It fell so false that discomfort was universally felt.
Sophrona dutifully rose from the swing, and with formal politeness excused herself. Cleav watched her go warily as he found all three pairs of eyes focused sternly on himself.
"Cleav," his mother began. "Mrs. Tewksbury tells me that there has been talk."
"Talk?" Cleav shifted uncomfortably, folding his arms across his chest.
"Folks are saying that Esme Crabb has been seen with you every day for the last week."
Cleav stared dumbstruck. A hasty denial stuck in his throat, and he choked slightly. Of the three the preacher appeared the most sympathetic. Cleav, therefore, directed the reply to him. "Miss Esme may have been seen
near
me," he said distinctly, "but she has not been seen
with
me, I can assure you."
The pastor nodded, willing to let him split hairs. "The fact remains she has been
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