Mrs. Tucker was fast
stunning me!
"Law yis! Melindy, you go git that 'ere key; it's a-hangin' up'side o'
the lookin'glass in the back shed, under that bunch o' onions father
strung up yisterday. Got the bread sot to rise, hev ye? well, git
yer bunnet an' go out to the coop with Mr. Greene, 'n' show him the
turkeys an' the chickens, 'n' tell what dre'ful luck we hev hed. I
never did see sech luck! the crows they keep a-comin' an' snippin' up
the little creturs jest as soon's they're hatched; an' the old turkey
hen't sot under the grapevine she got two hen's eggs under her, 'n'
they come out fust, so she quit--"
Here I bolted out of the door, (a storm at sea did not deafen one like
that!) Melindy following, in silence such as our blessed New England
poet has immortalized,--silence that
"--Like a poultice comes,
To heal the blows of sound."
Indeed, I did not discover that Melindy could talk that day; she was
very silent, very incommunicative. I inspected the fowls, and tried to
look wise, but I perceived a strangled laugh twisting Melindy's face
when I innocently inquired if she found catnip of much benefit to the
little chickens; a natural question enough, for the yard was full of
it, and I had seen Hannah give it to the baby.
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