Book: Sonny, A Christmas Guest

R >> Ruth McEnery Stuart >> Sonny, A Christmas Guest




In a heap o' ways she nears up to us, sech, f' instance, ez when she
taken wife's cook-receipt book to go by in experimentin' with Sonny's
likes an' dislikes. 'T ain't every new-married wife thet's willin' to
sample her husband's tastes by his ma's cook-books.

They seem to think they 're too dictatorial.

But, of co'se, wife's receipts was better 'n most, an' Mary Elizabeth,
she knows that.

She ain't been married but a week, but she's served up sev'al self-made
dishes a'ready--all constructed accordin' to wife's schedule.

Of co'se I could see the diff'ence in the mixin'--but it only amused me.
An' Sonny seemed to think thet, ef anything, they was better 'n they
ever had been--which is only right and proper.

Three days after she was married, the po' little thing whipped up a
b'iled custard for dinner an', some way or other, she put salt in it
'stid o' sugar, and poor Sonny--Well, I never have knew him to lie
outright, befo', but he smacked his lips over it an' said it was the
most delicious custard he had ever e't in his life, an' then, when he
had done finished his first saucer an' said, "No, thank you, I won't
choose any more," to a second helpin', why, she tasted it an' thess bust
out a-cryin'.

But I reckon that was partly because she was sort o' on edge yet from
the excitement of new housekeepin' and the head o' the table.

Well, I felt mighty sorry to see her in tears, an' what does Sonny do
but insist on eatin' the whole dish o' custard, an' soon ez I could git
a chance, I took him aside an' give him a little dose-t o' pain-killer,
an' I took a few drops myself.

I had felt obligated to swaller a few spoonfuls o' the salted custard
when she'd be lookin' my way, an' I felt like ez ef I was pizened, an'
so I thess took the painkiller ez a sort o' anecdote.

Another way Mary Elizabeth shows sense is the way she accepts
discipline from the ol' nigger, Dicey.

She's mighty old an' strenuous now, Dicey is, an' she thinks because she
was present at Sonny's birth an' before it, thet she's privileged to
correct him for anything he does, and we've always indulged her in it,
an' thess ez soon as she knowed what was brewin' 'twix' him an' Mary
Elizabeth, why, she took her into the same custody, an' it's too cute
for anything the way the little girl takes a scoldin' from her--thess
winkin' at Sonny an' me while she receives it.

An' the ol' nigger'd lay down her life for her most ez quick ez she
would for Sonny.

She was the first to open our eyes to the state of affairs 'twixt the
two child'en, that ol' nigger was. It was the first year Sonny went
North. He had writ home to his ma from New York State, and said thet Mr.
Burroughs had looked over his little writings an' said they was good
enough to be printed an' bound up in a book.

Wife, she read the letter out loud, ez she always done, an' we noticed
thet when we come to that, Mary Elizabeth slipped out o' the room; but
we didn't think nothin' of it tell direc'ly ol' Dicey, she come in
tickled all but to death to tell us thet the little girl was out on the
po'ch with her face hid in the honeysuckle vines, cryin' thess ez hard
as we was. So then, of co'se, we knowed that ef the co'se of true love
could be allowed to run smooth for once-t, she was fo'-ordained to be
our little blessin'--an' his--that is, so far as she was concerned.

Of co'se we was even a little tenderer todes her, after that, than we
had been befo'.

That was over five year ago, an' th' ain't been a day sca'cely sence
then but we've seen her, an' in my jedgment they won't be nothin'
lackin' in her thet's needful in a little wife--not a thing.

Ef they's anything in long acquaintance, they've certainly knowed one
another all the time they've had.

Of co'se Mary Elizabeth, she ain't to say got Sonny's thoughts, exac'ly,
where it comes to sech a thing ez book-writin', but he says she's a heap
better educated 'n what he is.

She's got all her tuition repo'ts du'in' the whole time she attended
school, an' mostly all her precentages was up close onto the hund'eds.

Sonny never was no hand on earth to git good reports at school.

They was always so low down in figgurs thet he calls 'em his "misconduc'
slips."

But they ain't a one he's ever got, takin' 'em from the beginnin' clean
up to the day o' his gradjuatin', thet ain't got some lovin' remark
inscribed acrost it from his teacher--not a one.

Even them that wrastled with him most severe has writ him down friendly
an' kind.

An' little Mary Elizabeth--why, she's took every last one of 'em an'
she's feather-stitched 'em aroun' the edges an' sewed 'em up into a sort
o' little book, an' tied a ribbin' bow acrost it. I don't know whether
she done it on account o' the teacher's remarks or not--but she cert'n'y
does prize that pamphlet.

She thinks so much of it thet I been advisin' her to take out a fire
insu'ance on it.

In a heap o' ways she thess perzacly suits Sonny. Lookin' at it from one
p'int o' view, she's a sort o' dictionary to him.

Whenever Sonny finds hisself short of a date, f' instance, or some
unreasonable spellin' 'll bother 'im, why, he'll apply to her for it an'
she'll hand it out to him, intac'. I ain't never knew her to fail.

You see, while Sonny's thoughts is purty far-reachin' in some ways, he's
received his education so sort o' hit an' miss thet the things he knows
ain't to say catalogued in his mind, an' while he'll know one fac',
maybe he won't be able to recall another thet seems to belong hand in
hand with it. An' that's one reason why I say thet little Mary Elizabeth
is thess the wife for him.

She may not bother about the whys an' wherefores, but she's got the
statistics.

It's always well, in a married couple, to have either one or the other
statistical, so thet any needed fac' can be had on demand.

Wife, she was a heap more gifted that-a-way 'n what I was, but of co'se
hers wasn't so much book statistics.

She could give the name an' age of every cow an' calf on the farm, an'
relate any circumstance thet has took place within her recollection or
mine without the loss of a single date or any gain through imagination,
either.

I don't know but I think that's a greater gif' than the other, to be
able to reproduce a event after a long time without sort o' thess
techin' it up with a little exaggeration.

Th' ain't no finer trait, in my opinion, _in man or woman_, than
dependableness, an' that's another reason I take sech special delight in
the little daughter, Mary Elizabeth.

If she tells you a thing's black, why you may know it don't lean todes
brown or gray. It's thess a dismal black.

She may hate to say it, an' show her hatred in a dozen lovin', regretful
ways, but out it'll come.

An' I think thet any man thet can count on a devoted wife for
_exactitude_ is blessed beyond common.

So many exac' women is col'-breasted an' severe. An' ef I had to take
one or the other, why, I'd let my wife prevaricate a little, ef need
be, befo' I'd relinquish warmheartedness, an' the power to command
peacefulness an' rest, an' make things comfortable an' homely, day in
an' day out.

Maybe I'm unprincipled in that, but life is so short, an' ef we didn't
have lovin' ways to lengthen out our days, why I don't think I'd keer to
bother with it, less'n, of co'se, I might be needful to somebody else.

Yas, doc', I 'm mighty happy in the little daughter--an' the book--an'
the blessed boy hisself. Maybe I'm too talkative on the subject, but the
way I feel about him, I might discuss him forever, an' then they'd be
thess a little sweetness left over thet I couldn't put into words about
him.

Not thet he's faultless. I don't suppose they ever was a boy on earth
thet had mo' faults 'n Sonny, but they ain't one he's got thet I don't
seem to cherish because I know it's rooted in honest soil.

You may strike a weed now an' ag'in, but he don't grow no pizen vines in
his little wilderness o' short-comin's. Th' ain't no nettles in his
garden o' faults. That ain't a bad figgur o' speech for a ol' man like
me, is it, doctor?

But nex' time he stops an' tells you I'm sick, you thess tell him to go
about his business.

I'm failin' in stren'th ez the days go--an' I know it--an' it's all
right.

I don't ask no mo' 'n thess to pass on whenever the good Lord wills.

But of co'se I ain't in no hurry, an' they's one joy I'd like to feel
befo' that time comes.

I'd love to hol' Sonny's baby in my ol' arms--his an' hers--an' to see
thet the good ol' name o' Jones has had safe transportation into one mo'
generation of honest folks.

Sonny an' Mary Elizabeth are too sweet-hearted an' true not to be
reproduced in detail, an' passed along.

This here ol' oak tree thet gran'pa planted when I was a kid, why, it'd
be a fine shady place for healthy girls an' boys to play under.


[Illustration: "Seem like a person don't no mo' 'n realize he's a
descendant befo' he's a' ancestor."]


When I set here by myself on this po'ch so much these days an'
think,--an' remember,--why I thess wonder over the passage o' time.

I ricollec' thess ez well when gran'pa planted that oak saplin'. My pa
he helt it stiddy an' I handed gran'pa the spade, an' we took off our
hats whilst he repeated a Bible tex'.

Yes, that ol' oak was religiously planted, an' we've tried not to offend
its first principles in no ways du'in' the years we've nurtured it.

An' when I set here an' look at it, an' consider its propensities,--it's
got five limbs that seem thess constructed to hold swings,--maybe it's
'cause I was raised Presbyterian an' sort o' can't git shet o' the
doctrine o' predestination, but I can't help seemin' to fo'-see them
friendly family limbs all fulfillin' their promises.

An' when I imagine myself a-settin' there with one little one a-climbin'
over me while the rest swings away, why, seem like a person don't no mo'
'n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor.

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