Sandy
Copyright© 2024 by Alice Caldwell Hegan Rice
Chapter 8: Aunt Melvy as a Soothsayer
It was a crisp afternoon in late October. The road leading west from Clayton ran the gantlet of fiery maples and sumac until it reached the barren hillside below “Who’d ‘a’ Thought It.” The little cabin clung to the side of the steep slope like a bit of fungus to the trunk of a tree.
In the doorway sat three girls, one tall and dark, one plump and fair, and the third straight and thin. They were anxiously awaiting the revelation of the future as disclosed by Aunt Melvy’s far-famed tea-leaves. The prophetess kept them company while waiting for the water to boil.
“He sutenly is a peart boy,” she was saying. “De jedge done start him in plumb at de foot up at de ‘cademy, an’ dey tell me he’s ketchin’ up right along.”
“Wasn’t it g-grand in Judge Hollis to send him to school?” said Annette. “Of course he’s going to work for him b-between times. They say even Mrs. Hollis is glad he is going to stay.”
“‘Co’se she is,” said Aunt Melvy; “dere nebber was nobody come it over Miss Sue lak he done.”
“Father says he is very quick,” ventured Martha Meech, a faint color coming to her dull cheek at this unusual opportunity of descanting upon such an absorbing subject. “Father told Judge Hollis he would help him with his lessons, and that he thought it would be only a little while before he was up with the other boys.”
“Dad says he’s a d-dandy,” cried Annette. “And isn’t it grand he’s going to be put on the ball team and the glee club!”
Ruth rose to break a branch laden with crimson maple-leaves. “Was he ever here before?” she asked in puzzled tones. “I have seen him somewhere, and I can’t think where.”
“Well, I’d never f-forget him,” said Annette. “He’s got the jolliest face I ever saw. M-Martha says he can jump that high fence b-back of the Hollises’ without touching it. I d-drove dad’s buggy clear up over the curbstone yesterday, so he would come to the r-rescue, and he swung on to old B-Baldy’s neck like he had been a race-horse.”
“But you don’t know him,” protested Ruth. “And, besides, he was he was a peddler.”
“I don’t care if he was,” said Annette. “And if I don’t know him, it’s no sign I am not g-going to.”
Aunt Melvy chuckled as she rose to encourage the fire with a pair of squeaking old bellows.
Martha looked about the room curiously. “Can you really tell what’s going to happen?” she asked timidly.
“Indeed she can,” said Annette. “She told Jane Lewis that she was g-going to have some g-good luck, and the v-very next week her aunt died and left her a turquoise-ring!”
“Yas, chile,” said Aunt Melvy, bending over the fire to light her pipe; “I been habin’ divisions for gwine on five year. Dat’s what made me think I wuz gwine git religion; but hit ain’t come yit not yit. I’m a mourner an’ a seeker.” Her pipe dropped unheeded, and she gazed with fixed eyes out of the window.
“Tell us about your visions,” demanded Annette.
“Well,” said Aunt Melvy, “de fust I knowed about it wuz de lizards in my legs. I could feel ‘em jus’ as plain as day, dese here little green lizards a-runnin’ round inside my legs. I tole de doctor ‘bout hit, Miss Nettie; but he said ‘t warn’t nothin’ but de fidgits. I knowed better ‘n he did dat time. Dat night I had a division, an’ de dream say, ‘Put on yer purple mournin’-dress an’ set wid yer feet in a barrel ob b’ilin’ water till de smoke comes down de chimbly.’ An’ so I done, a-settin’ up dere on dat chist o’ drawers all night, wid my purple mournin’-dress on an’ my feet in de b’ilin’ water, an’ de lizards run away so fur dat dey ain’t even stopped yit.”
“Aunt Melvy, do you tell fortunes by palmistry?” asked Ruth.
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