The next day the sheriff decorated the Spellman front door with a copy
of the writ of attachment that appeared upon the store. Mahala was told
by Albert Rich, the lawyer who knew more of her father’s affairs than
any one else, and who had offered his help in her extremity, that there
was very little if anything that could be saved, the Moreland claims
were so heavy, so numerous. He would search the records diligently, and
any possible thing that could be salvaged he would try to secure for
her. He told her that the law would allow her to take for her use six
hundred dollars’ worth of the household furniture, and looking at him
with sick eyes, Mahala had said almost to space instead of to Attorney
Rich: “My piano cost fifteen hundred.”
“Yes, I know,” said Albert Rich. “You mustn’t think of pianos to-day, my
dear. You must think of a cook stove, a couple of beds, some bedding,
dishes, and those things which you absolutely must have.”
From this interview Mahala went to the kitchen and laid her head on the
breast of Jemima.
“Jemima,” she said, “now that you’ve had time to think things over,
where do you stand? Do you feel toward us as you always did, or have you
discovered that we are examples of monumental extravagance, whitened
sepulchres who intentionally deceived our friends and neighbours?”
Jemima lifted a stove lid and poked the fire expertly. Then she
carefully wiped her hands upon the corner of her apron, and took Mahala
into her arms.
“You poor little lamb,” she said. “If I could get at the necks of some
of these old hens that have let you hear what they’re saying, I’d wring
’em good and proper! The other day Serena Moulton came nosin’ into my
kitchen with her whitened-sepulchre sentiments droolin’ from her lips,
and I told her pretty quick to cheese it and get where she belonged
among the other cats that was given over to clawin’!”
Mahala gripped her arms around Jemima’s broad shoulders and buried her
face in her warm breast and cried until she was exhausted. Jemima sat
down in the one easy chair conceded to her idle moments in the kitchen
and held the girl closely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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