THE SUMMONS
Jake Brewer paused in the lane opposite
Skinner’s home. The shanty was almost snowed
in. A thin curl of smoke trailed up from the chimney
and drifted among the leafless branches of the willow
trees.
Brewer dropped a pair of dead rabbits
to the deep snow at his side, and shifted the gun
he held in his right hand to his left. Then, he
fumbled in his overcoat pockets. Discovering
what he wanted, he picked up the rabbits and walked
through the path to the hut.
Tess took down the bar at his rap.
“Lot o’ snow, Tessie,” smiled Brewer.
“Here, I brought ye some letters.”
Tessibel took the two letters the fisherman handed
her.
“They got yer name writ on ’em,
brat,” said he, knocking the snow from his boots
against the clap boards. “That’s how
I knowed they was your’n.”
A shadowy smile flitted over the squatter girl’s
face.
“Sure, they be fer me,”
she replied. She turned the letters over in her
hands. “Thank ye, Jake, fer bringin’
’em.... Come in a minute, won’t ye?”
“Sure, an’ I air always
glad to do somethin’ fer ye, kid....
How’s yer pa this mornin’?”
Brewer stepped into the hut, placed
his gun and the rabbits in the corner, and spread
his hands over the stove.
“He ain’t so well today,
Jake! Poor Daddy, he suffers somethin’ awful
with his heart, Daddy does.... It air rheumatism.”
“Ever try eel skins, brat?”
asked Brewer, sitting down. “My grandma
wore a eel skin for rheumatiz for twenty-five years,
an’ Holy Moses, the sufferin’ that woman
had durin’ ’em times my tongue ain’t
able to tell!”
Tess glanced at the letters in her hand half-heartedly.
“We’ve tried ’em,
too, Jake,” she answered. “Daddy’s
been wrapped in ’em night after night.
But they don’t seem to do no good.”
“D’ye ever have Ma Moll incant over him,
Tessie?”
Tessibel nodded her head.
“Yep, I give ‘er three
dollars for ten incants an’ they didn’t
do no good uther.” She went a step nearer
Brewer. “But I air prayin’ hard,
Jake, every day for ’im,” she confided
softly.
Brewer nodded his head.
“I guess that air better’n
incants any time if ye can do it, kid,” he smiled.
“I guess so, too,” agreed
the girl. “Tell Miss Brewer I’ll be
to see her soon as the weather gits better.”
Jake got up, scratched his head, and thought a moment.
“I might leave ye a rabbit,
seein’ yer daddy ain’t well ’nough
to do no gunnin’,” said he.
“Ye’re awful good, Jake,”
murmured Tessibel, following the man to the door.
“Stop in any day.”
“All right,” and Jake struck out toward
the rock path.
Tess closed the door and put up the
bar. Andy was eyeing her from the ceiling.
“What ye got, kid?” he whispered.
Tess held up the letters.
“Two of ’em, an’
this one air from Mr. Young. Shall I read it to
ye, Andy?” she asked, looking up.
The little man chuckled with joy.
“I’d like to hear it,” said he.
Tess drew a chair under the boyish face peering upon
her, and sat down.
“Dear Tessibel,” she read.
“I hoped to be home this week, but find my work
won’t be finished.
Please keep at your books and study hard. Get
the doctor any time you
need him for your father. I know you’re
trying to be a brave little
girl, and may God bless you.
Affectionately,
Deforrest
Young.”
Tessibel choked on the last word.
“It air awful hard to be brave,
Andy,” she faltered, brushing away a tear.
The dwarf made a dash at his own eyes.
“Ye got another letter,” he cut in irrelevantly.
“Yep,” said Tess.
After pulling forth the second sheet,
she spread it out and read it through without looking
up.
“Miss Tessibel Skinner:
“It is necessary for you to
attend a church meeting next Wednesday afternoon at
three o’clock in the chapel. Please oblige,
“SILANDER
GRIGGS, Pastor.”
“Anything much?” demanded the dwarf, interestedly.
“Nope, Andy, only a note askin’
me to come to church tomorrow afternoon, but I jest
can’t go, Andy!... I can’t! I
ain’t been fer two Sundays, now, ‘cause
I been feelin’ so bad.”
She raised her eyes full of misery
to meet Andy’s sympathetic gaze. How could
she go after that awful scene nearly three weeks before
with Madelene and Frederick? She never could
face the Waldstricker family again.
“I won’t never go to church,
ever any more,” she mourned presently.
“Mebbe not, dear,” returned
the dwarf, smothered in his throat. “An’
the church’ll be worser off’n you!”
Troubled in spirit, Tess considered
the letter a few minutes.
“I s’pose they be gittin’
up somethin’ fer Christmas, an’ I
ought to go an’ tell ’em I can’t
sing. I said as how I would over three months
ago if Miss Waldstricker’d help me; but I can’t....
Will ye look after Daddy while I air gone, Andy?”
“Sure,” agreed the dwarf.
“I’ll slide under his bed an’ talk
the pains right out o’ ’im.”
“I wish the meetin’ was
in the mornin’,” Tess sighed. “It
gits dark so early, an’ Mr. Young ain’t
home! He’d come an’ git me an’
bring me back if he were. It air a long walk,”
and she sighed again.
“Mebbe ’twon’t be
so cold tomorrow as it air today,” cheered Andy
and they lapsed into silence.