But she was older now and more experienced. She could face him easily without batting an eyelash, and she smile pleasantly as she inquired, “How do you do yousef, Cousin? You ain’ lookin so spry today. How-come so?”
Almost unconsciously her fingers began toying with the tiny soiled rag tied on a string around her neck, for such polite indifference as Andrew’s was something she seldom met. He was not exactly young in years, but he still stood tall and lean and straight, his muscles were hard, his teeth strong and his eyes keen.
In many ways he looked better now than he had ever looked in his whole life. The years had added flesh to his long, lanky frame, his great strong double joints were less gaunt and with worry-ation softening his bright eyes, they became almost gentle. Trouble does most people good. If they are too weak to bear it, they get crushed but if they can stand up against it, it makes them better, in the end. Strange how Andrew stuck to that stupid fat Doll when there were so many better-looking, willing women in the world. Of course, he was a deacon, and he had always been so severe with sinners that he had to walk straight himself. But a little crooked walking might do him good.
“What de matter ail you, Cousin?” she asked him pleasantly. “You don’ have to depend on cotton for a livin and I hear-say you’s got more money dan you know what to do wid. You ought to be happy and smilin, enty?” She said it as softly, as gently as she could, smiling as woman smiles when she knows her power.
He shook his head gloomily. “I has a lot o trouble, Si May-e.”
Mary laughed out, “Trouble? You has trouble? Gawd have mussy on you, Cousin. If I didn’ have no more trouble’n you, I’d jump up an’ crack my heels togedder wid joy. Yes, Jedus. What kinder trouble is gnawin on you today?”
As Andrew took up his heavy hammer and fingered it, the brawny muscles slid back and forth under the smooth black skin of his powerful arms. It was strange to see this big, strapping fellow downhearted, for as a rule he strutted around vain as a turkey cock. Nobody was ever more sure of himself or more certain that all he did was right; nobody else had such sharp tools or such skilful, well-trained hands; but he seemed not to know just how to start telling her what his trouble was. “I declare to Gawd, Si May-e, when I think on Doll and de foolish way e done me, I git pure povoked. I ain’ never had a long patience, nohow.”
“Doll? Fo Gawd’s sake, Cousin. You make me surprise. You an’ Doll ain’ lovin as two turtle doves? I didn’ thought butter would much as melt in Doll’s mouth, e talks so mild an’ pleasant all de time.”
“E didn’ talk mild an’ pleasant, not dis mawnin. Great Gawd, no. E like to a choked esef a-workin e tongue. All ’bout nothin, too.”
Mary sighed and murmured that it was a pity for a nice useful man like himself to be worried and fretted. But some women are silly like children, and get spoiled to death if you pet them or treat them anyways soft and easy.
“You got sense, Si May-e, sense like a man.” Andrew looked at her with brightening eyes, and his hands tightened their grip on the hammer’s handle.
Andrew was a good housekeeper. The shop was crammed with wagon wheels in need of spokes or rims, but they stood in neat rows, one against the other.
The solid block which held the anvil had a band around its middle where punches and cold chisels and other tools stood in the pockets, where his hands could reach them without trouble or waste of time. The oak shavings were free of smut. But, Lord, the shop had an evil smell—the breath of that smoky black coal constantly. To stand near the forge was a terrible thing when Andrew turned the handle of the bellows and fanned the black coals red. If cedar smoke could cause miscarriage, what would this coal smoke do?
“Great Gawd, Cun Andrew, how-come you don’ burn hickory or ash or some kind o sweet-smellin wood like you used to? How can you stand a coal fire? It stinks worse’n a blunt tail moccasin to me.”
Andrew’s eyes twinkled but his voice was grave. “You better smoke you pipe whilst you’s here, Si May-e. Le me fill em fo you.” And she handed him her pipe, making a wry face.
“I ruther smell a polecat, Cun Andrew.”
“Me too, but don’ blame me, gal. Big Boy is de one fetched coal to de shop. E will try new tings and newfangled ways. Big Boy knows more’n me or anybody to hear him talk.”
“Shucks,” Mary answered, as she took a tiny ember off the forge and lighted her pipe. “Big Boy’ll find out some o dese days dat all de sense his skull ever will hold ain’ much as you got in one lil toenail.”
The iron in the forge slowly turned red, then white with heat as Andrew blew the bellows.
“I dunno. Big Boy is gwine to be a fine man too, Si May-e. I see plenty o signs o dat, but ’e’s been mighty downhearted lately. ’E’s so raven about Seraphine, e can ’rest. I keep tellin’ em to wait an’ see what kind o ’oman Seraphine’ll be. A contrary ’oman is a hard thing to stand.”
“Dat’s de Gawd’s truth, Cousin, but what you know bout a contrary ’oman?”
“When Doll gets e head set e gits mighty contrary,” Andrew complained.
Mary puffed her pipe in silence. Her
