Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch

								

violent ordeal of reconstruction with a mangled constitution,
internal dissension, a decided preponderance of foreign element, but
a firm and abiding trust in the new power with which his fortunes
had been irrevocably cast.

CHAPTER V
A REMINISCENCE



    "It is easy enough to be pleasant

    When life flows along like a song,

    But the man worth while is the one who will smile

    When everything goes dead wrong."
WHEN Miss Hazy was awakened early that morning by a resonant neigh
at the head of her bed, she mistook it for the trump of doom. Miss
Hazy's cottage, as has been said, was built on the bias in the
Wiggses' side yard, and the little lean-to, immediately behind Miss
Hazy's bedroom, had been pressed into service as Cuba's temporary
abiding-place.
After her first agonized fright, the old woman ventured to push the
door open a crack and peep out.
"Chris," she said, in a tense whisper, to her sleeping nephew--"Chris,
what on airth is this here hitched to our shutter?"
Chris, usually deaf to all calls less emphatic than cold water and a
broomstick, raised a rumpled head from the bed-clothes.
"Where at?" he asked.
"Right here!" said Miss Hazy, still in a terrified whisper, and
holding fast the door, as if the specter might attempt an entrance.
Chris did not stop to adjust his wooden leg, but hopped over to the
door, and cautiously put an eye to the opening.
"Why, shucks, 't ain't nothin' but a hoss!" he said, in disgust,
having nerved himself for nothing less than a rhinoceros, such as he
had seen in the circus.
"How'd he git there?" demanded Miss Hazy.
Chris was not prepared to say.
All through breakfast Miss Hazy was in a flutter of excitement. She
had once heard of a baby being left on a doorstep, but never a
horse. When the limit of her curiosity was about reached, she saw
Mrs. Wiggs coming across the yard carrying a bucket. She hastened to
meet her.
"Mornin'," called Mrs. Wiggs, brightly, in spite of her night's
vigil; "ain't we got a fine hoss?"
Miss Hazy put the ash-barrel between herself and the animal, and
hazarded a timid inspection, while Mrs. Wiggs made explanations, and
called attention to Cuba's fine points.
"Can't you come in an' take a warm?" asked Miss Hazy, as she
concluded.
"Well, I b'lieve I will," said Mrs. Wiggs. "I ain't been over fer
quite a spell. The childern kin clean up, bein' it's Saturday."
From seven to nine in the morning were the favorite calling-hours in
the Cabbage Patch.
Mrs. Wiggs chose the chair which had the least on it, and leaned
back, smiling affably as she remarked: "We 're used to hosses; this
here's the second one we 've had."
"My!" said Miss Hazy, "you muster been well to do!"
"Yes," continued Mrs. Wiggs, "we was--up to the time of the fire.
Did I ever tell you 'bout how Jim brought our other hoss to town?"
Miss Hazy had heard the story a number of times, but she knew the