Allegories; Christian fiction; Clergy -- Fiction; Ozark Mountains -- Fiction
This was too much for Mandy; she blushed and giggled, then remarked, as
she gazed admiringly at her friend, “You’ll look mighty fine, Sammy,
when you get fixed up with all them pretties you’ll have when you an’
Ollie git married. I wish my hair was bright an’ shiny like yourn. How
do you reckon you’ll like bein’ a fine lady anyhow?”
Here it was again. Sammy turned upon her helpless friend, with, “How do
I know if I would like it or not? What is bein’ a fine lady, anyhow?”
“Why, bein’ a fine lady is—is livin’ in a big house with carpets on th’
floor, an’ lookin’ glasses, an’ not havin’ no work t’ do, an’ wearin’
pretty clothes, with lots of rings an’ things, an’—an’,” she paused;
then finished in triumph, “an’ a ridin’ in a carriage.”
That wide questioning look was in Sammy’s eyes as she returned, “It’s a
heap more’n that, Mandy. I don’t jest sense what it is, but I know
’tain’t all them things that makes a sure ’nough lady. ’Tain’t the
clothes he wears that makes Mr. Howitt different from the folks we
know. He don’t wear no rings, and he walks. He’s jest different ’cause
he’s different; and would be, no matter what he had on or where he
was.”
This, too, was beyond Mandy. Sammy continued, as she finished her
preparations for retiring; “This here house is plenty big enough for
me, least wise it would be if it had one more room like the cabin in
Mutton Hollow; carpets would be mighty dirty and unhandy to clean when
the men folks come trampin’ in with their muddy boots; I wouldn’t want
to wear no dresses so fine I couldn’t knock ’round in the brush with
them; and it would be awful to have nothin’ to do; as for a carriage, I
wouldn’t swap Brownie for a whole city full of carriages.” She slipped
into bed and stretched out luxuriously. “Do you reckon I could be a
fine lady, and be as I am now, a livin’ here in the hills?”
The next day Mandy went back to her home on Jake Creek. And in the
evening Sammy’s father, with Wash Gibbs, returned, both men and horses
showing the effects of a long, hard ride.
CHAPTER VIII.
“WHY AIN’T WE GOT NO FOLKS.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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