Miss Mink's Soldier and Other Stories

								

"Lord, yes," said Pop, "heaps of 'em. Thar's Ted an' Larkin, an'
Gus,--they wuz all kilt in feud fights. An' Burt an' Jim,--they're in
jail in Jackson fer moonshinin'. Four more died when they wuz babies.
An' they ain't nary a one at home now but jes' Sal."
"How old is she?"
"Seventeen or eighteen, mebbe."
"And she tells me she has never been to school."
"Thar warn't no needcessity," said Pop complacently, taking a long twist
of tobacco from his pocket. "Sal don't need no larnin'. She's pearter
then most gals thet's got book sense. You show me ary one of these gals
round here thet kin spin an' weave the cloth to mek ther own dresses,
thet kin mold candles, an' mek soap, an' hoe terbaccy, an' handle a
rifle good ez a man."
"But, Mr. Hawkins," insisted Miss Fletcher, "there are better things
than those for us to learn. Haven't you ever felt the need of an
education yourself?"
Pop looked at her suspiciously: "Look a-here, young woman. I'm nigh on
to seventy. I never hed a doctor but onct in my life, an' then he
chopped my arm off when it might hev got well whar it wuz. I kin plow,
an' fell trees, an' haul wood. Thar ain't a log-rollin' ner a
house-raisin' in our neck of the woods thet Jeb Hawkins ain't sent fer.
I kin h'ist a barrel with the best of 'em, and shake up Ole Dan Tucker
ez peart ez the next one. Now how about yer scholards? This here
horspittle is full of 'em. Pale-faced, spindly-legged, nerve-jerking
young fellows thet has spent ther fust twenty years gittin' larnin',
an' ther next twenty gittin' over hit. Me an' Sal will keep to the
open!"
But Sally was not so confident. As her strength began to return she took
a growing interest in all that went on around her, asking eager,
intelligent questions and noting with wistful curiosity the speech and
manners of the nurses who served her. She was a raw recruit from Nature,
unsophisticated, illiterate. Under a bondage of poverty and drudgery she
had led her starved life in the mountain fastnesses; but now she had
opened her eyes on a new and unexpected world.
"How do you go about gittin' a larnin'?" she ventured at last to ask one
of the friendly nurses. "Can't you fetch me up some of them thar picter
books?"
For hours after this she pored over her new treasures, until one day
Miss Fletcher brought her a primer, and the seventeen-year-old girl
grappled for the first time with the alphabet. After that she was loath
to have the book out of her hand, going painfully and slowly over the
lessons, mastering each in turn with patient perseverance.
Pop viewed this proceeding with disfavor. He seemed to sense the
entering wedge that was to separate her from him. His pride in her
accomplishment was overshadowed by his jealousy, and when she was able
to read a whole page and attempted to explain the intricate process to
him, he was distinctly cast down. He left the hospital that afternoon
for the first time, and was gone until dusk. When he returned he carried