Read Online The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eudora Welty
Ads: Link
was long enough,” said Mr. Chisom. “I’m sorry he had to go while he’s so many miles short of home.”
“Out of curiosity, who does he remind you of?” Mrs. Chisom asked him as he gazed down.
The old man reflected for a minute. “Nobody,” he said.
“Clint thought it was too good a joke not to play it on somebody!” Laurel heard behind her, at the end of a long spate of words.
She saw that most of the Bar had gathered themselves up and gone behind the screen of ferns, without being missed. They had retired into her father’s library and were talking among themselves back there. Now and then she heard a laugh. She smelled the cigar smoke. They were all back there but Major Bullock.
“How’s my fire?” cried Major Bullock. “Somebody tend to the fire!” he called toward the kitchen. “Important time like this, you can’t do without a fire, can you?” But he kept his own watch on the doorway leading from the hall, and looked eagerly to see each one who came in.
Old Mrs. Pease kept a watch on the front walk through the parlor curtains, making herself at home. “Why, here comes Tommy,” she said now. She might have been entertaining a notion of running him away, as she might have to run those Texas children if they played too near the house.
The caller entered the room without the benefit of Miss Adele, walking with a spring on the balls of his feet, striking his cane from side to side in a lordly way. He was Tom Farris, Mount Salus’s blind man. Instead of going to the coffin, he went to the piano and tapped his cane on the empty piano stool.
“He’s so happy,” said Miss Tennyson approvingly.
He sat down, a large, very clean man with rotund, open eyes like a statue’s. His fly had not been buttoned up quite straight. Laurel thought he had never been in the house before except to tune the piano, ages ago. He sat down on the same stool now.
“And under that cloak of modesty he wore, a fearless man! Fearless man!” Major Bullock suddenly burst into speech, standing at the foot of the coffin. “Remember the day, everybody, when Clint McKelva stood up and faced the White Caps?” The floor creaked agonizingly as he rocked back and forth on his feet and all but shouted, filling the room, perhaps the house, with his voice. “The time Clint sentenced that fellow for willful murder and the White Caps let it be known they were coming to town out of all their holes and nooks and crannies to take that man from the jail! And Clint just as quick sent out word of his own: he was going to ring that jail and Courthouse of ours with Mount Salus volunteers, and we’d be armed and ready. And the White Caps came, too—came a little bit earlier than they promised, little bit earlier than the rest of us got on hand. But Clint, Clint all by himself, he walked out on the front steps of that Courthouse and stood there and he said, ‘Come right on in! The jail is upstairs, on the second floor!’ ”
“I don’t think that was Father,” Laurel said low to Tish, who had come up beside her.
Major Bullock was going irrepressibly on. “ ‘Comein!’ says he. ‘But before you enter, you take those damn white hoods off, and every last one of you give me a look at who you are!’ ”
“He hadn’t any use for what he called theatrics,” Laurel was saying. “In the courtroom or anywhere else. He had no patience for show.”
“He says, ‘Back to your holes, rats!’ And they were armed!” cried Major Bullock, lifting an imaginary gun in his hands.
“He’s trying to make Father into something he wanted to be himself,” said Laurel.
“Bless his heart,” mourned Tish beside her. “Don’t spoil it for Daddy.”
“But I don’t think it’s fair now,” said Laurel.
“Well, that backed ’em right out of there, the whole pack, right on out of town and back into the woods they came from. Cooked their goose for a while!” declared Major Bullock. “Oh, under that cloak of modesty he
“Out of curiosity, who does he remind you of?” Mrs. Chisom asked him as he gazed down.
The old man reflected for a minute. “Nobody,” he said.
“Clint thought it was too good a joke not to play it on somebody!” Laurel heard behind her, at the end of a long spate of words.
She saw that most of the Bar had gathered themselves up and gone behind the screen of ferns, without being missed. They had retired into her father’s library and were talking among themselves back there. Now and then she heard a laugh. She smelled the cigar smoke. They were all back there but Major Bullock.
“How’s my fire?” cried Major Bullock. “Somebody tend to the fire!” he called toward the kitchen. “Important time like this, you can’t do without a fire, can you?” But he kept his own watch on the doorway leading from the hall, and looked eagerly to see each one who came in.
Old Mrs. Pease kept a watch on the front walk through the parlor curtains, making herself at home. “Why, here comes Tommy,” she said now. She might have been entertaining a notion of running him away, as she might have to run those Texas children if they played too near the house.
The caller entered the room without the benefit of Miss Adele, walking with a spring on the balls of his feet, striking his cane from side to side in a lordly way. He was Tom Farris, Mount Salus’s blind man. Instead of going to the coffin, he went to the piano and tapped his cane on the empty piano stool.
“He’s so happy,” said Miss Tennyson approvingly.
He sat down, a large, very clean man with rotund, open eyes like a statue’s. His fly had not been buttoned up quite straight. Laurel thought he had never been in the house before except to tune the piano, ages ago. He sat down on the same stool now.
“And under that cloak of modesty he wore, a fearless man! Fearless man!” Major Bullock suddenly burst into speech, standing at the foot of the coffin. “Remember the day, everybody, when Clint McKelva stood up and faced the White Caps?” The floor creaked agonizingly as he rocked back and forth on his feet and all but shouted, filling the room, perhaps the house, with his voice. “The time Clint sentenced that fellow for willful murder and the White Caps let it be known they were coming to town out of all their holes and nooks and crannies to take that man from the jail! And Clint just as quick sent out word of his own: he was going to ring that jail and Courthouse of ours with Mount Salus volunteers, and we’d be armed and ready. And the White Caps came, too—came a little bit earlier than they promised, little bit earlier than the rest of us got on hand. But Clint, Clint all by himself, he walked out on the front steps of that Courthouse and stood there and he said, ‘Come right on in! The jail is upstairs, on the second floor!’ ”
“I don’t think that was Father,” Laurel said low to Tish, who had come up beside her.
Major Bullock was going irrepressibly on. “ ‘Comein!’ says he. ‘But before you enter, you take those damn white hoods off, and every last one of you give me a look at who you are!’ ”
“He hadn’t any use for what he called theatrics,” Laurel was saying. “In the courtroom or anywhere else. He had no patience for show.”
“He says, ‘Back to your holes, rats!’ And they were armed!” cried Major Bullock, lifting an imaginary gun in his hands.
“He’s trying to make Father into something he wanted to be himself,” said Laurel.
“Bless his heart,” mourned Tish beside her. “Don’t spoil it for Daddy.”
“But I don’t think it’s fair now,” said Laurel.
“Well, that backed ’em right out of there, the whole pack, right on out of town and back into the woods they came from. Cooked their goose for a while!” declared Major Bullock. “Oh, under that cloak of modesty he
Similar Books
