Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
His form was as gnarled as the
tree-trunks in the apple-orchard, and twisted almost as fantastically.
But the head, uplifted from the stooped shoulders and held a little to
one side, was remarkable enough to attract attention. It had scanty
white locks and a fringe of white whiskers under the chin, and these
framed a smiling face and features that were extremely winning in
expression. No one could remember ever seeing Old Hucks when he was not
smiling, and the expression was neither set nor inane, but so cheery and
bright that you were tempted to smile with him, without knowing why. For
dress he wore a much patched pair of woolen trousers and a "hickory"
shirt of faded blue, with rough top boots and a dilapidated straw hat
that looked as if it might have outlived several generations.
As Ethel greeted the man she looked him over carefully and sighed at the
result; for certainly, as far as personal appearances went, he seemed as
unlikely a person to serve a "nabob" as could well be imagined. But the
girl knew Thomas' good points, and remembering them, took courage.
"If the worst comes," she said, brightly, "you are both to come to us to
live. I've arranged all that with grandmother, you know. But I'm not
much afraid of your being obliged to leave here. From all accounts this
Mr. Merrick is a generous and free-hearted man, and I've discovered that
strangers are not likely to be fearsome when you come to know them. The
unknown always makes us childishly nervous, you see, and then we forget
it's wrong to borrow trouble."
"True's gospil," said Old Hucks. "To know my Nora is to love her.
Ev'body loves Nora. An' the good Lord He's took'n care o' us so long, it
seems like a sort o' sacrelidge to feel that all thet pretty furn'ture
in the barn spells on'y poor-house to us. Eh, Ethel?"
McNutt arrived just then, with big Ned Long, Lon Taft the carpenter, and
Widow Clark, that lady having agreed to "help with the cleanin'." She
didn't usually "work out," but was impelled to this task as much through
curiosity to see the new furniture as from desire to secure the wages.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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