Mahala arose, wiped her eyes, and for the first time in her life, she
used her hands at work that was essential and not for the beautification
of her person or her home. With Jemima’s help she tried conscientiously
to make a selection of what would be a fair six hundred dollars’ worth
of the things that would be essential in the furnishing of Jemima’s
little house that she had rented since her husband’s death and her only
son had married and moved to Chicago. Whenever Jason delivered a load of
groceries, he drove a few blocks out of his way, and stopping at the
Spellman residence, carefully swept out the wagon, spread newspapers
over the bottom, and piled in as much furniture and household goods as
the horse could draw comfortably, and moved them to Jemima’s house.
Peter Potter had suggested that he should do this.
Coming in after the delivery of a load, Jason said to Peter: “Those
women are being too honest. They’re not taking enough to make them
comfortable. It’s a crime!”
“It’s worse than a crime,” said Peter. “It’s an outrage. I’ll tell you
what let’s do. Let’s take this matter into our own hands. Let’s fix up a
plan between us and the night the folks move out, let’s go and get
what’s right and fair they should have. We can store it in the upstairs
here, or in your room, till they get to the place where they’ve a bigger
house and use for it again.”
That plan Jason endorsed with enthusiasm. The evening of a hard day,
Jemima hitched up the Spellman horse and she and Mahala helped Elizabeth
into the surrey and drove her to her new home, and then gave the keys to
Jason. He was to return the horse and in the morning turn over the
property to the sheriff. That night was the busiest in the life of Jason
and Peter. The tongue of the exhausted delivery horse was almost hanging
from its mouth. There were narrow streaks of red in the east when the
conspirators sneaked into the alley behind the grocery with the last
load that they felt they dared take. Jason spent the day carrying these
things to the rooms which Peter Potter had made for him over the
grocery.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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