The record-union., 1894-01-13
GRANDMA HULL AND The HEATHEN
Copyright, 1894. All rights reserved ]
GRANDMA HULL.

Copyright, 1894. All rights reserved
I.
GRANDMA HULL.
The glory of Indian summer still lay
like delicious dream upon the land
when a certain early November night
came upon Maple Valley among the
gray New England hills, and with it all
the storm-swept bitterness of winter.
1t brought on bad night early; wild
night without, but within the great farm
houses of the valley it also brought that
blessed warmth and glow which no
storms save those of misfortune and sor-
row can chill or change. and those dear
old New England suppers, with their
melodious kettle songs, their wealth of
shining pewter, their spotless tablecloths
and their hosts of f1iekering candles;
those pleasant. olden, year-round glow
worms within the gentle murk and dark
of ample farmside homes.
At their evening meal. in the wide, low
hYing-rOom of Maple Hill farmhouse sat
''Grandma Hull" her two remaining
fatherless children, four-year ola Mary
and ten-year old Dick, and her servant
Jane whose husband, old Josh Tooker,
was still busy about the ''chores" and IN
housing the furious dumb brutes from
the shiYering storm. AS the mistress OF
the farmhouse pushed her chair away
from the table, the light from the fire.
place revealed the sorrows -sharpened out
lines of a plain, motherly face. White
haired, from love labor and love loss, she
was still scarcely a middle-aged woman,
who mad come to be called Grandma"
Hull by the valley folk opprobrlously at
first and finally from universal habit,
through her stubborn kindliness and
generosity to all suffering waits cast by
the tide Of misfortune on the rocky beach
of Maple Valley charity.
"She'd better tend ter keepin' Maple
Hill outer debt" was the remark of one
membe of the Turnover Club at the
odorous village store.
Its jess such silly critters as keeps
Maple Valley full o. passels er vaga-
bones" struck up another.
Jim HulPd shrink up till his grave
clothes -wuZ loose at sech COINS on, If he
cud know on 'em," vouchsated another.
Even the parson walled from the viii
lage pulpit: There are those IN this very
neighborhood-and may they be forgiv-
en!-whO waste their substance upon
goddess scofers, when millions of heathen
souls are hungerlng for the mamma of the
Wordo Whereupon all the village con-
gregation groaned at the obdurate iniqui-
W OF Grandma Hull in the old house on
Maple Hill.
Whenever Grandma Hull was struck
in her untoward heart by a particularly
cruel shaft of this nature she merely
clapped her sun bonnet on her head,
took her Bible in her hand, started for the
little family burylng ground beside Ma
pie Hill grove, where the gypsies came
and camped once or twice each year, sat
there among the little headstones beside
her parents, her childrens' and her dead
husbands, Jim Hulls, graves for little
time, when she always returned home
calm and cheerful TO say to Jane and
Josh. as she had said scores of times be-
fore, that when Jim died he had told her,
nearly the last thing he said, to be kinder
easy and fair to them as hadn't had much
show and that, neighbors or no neigh
bors a little kindness to the heatheu
right under our own noses seemed to be
about the right sort of religion for Cynthy
Hull, widow, better known as Grandma
Hull,n as long as she could keep the dear
olSi home together.
Suddenly old Josh Tooker, tin lantern
in hand, burst into the room like half
shattered snowman, and quickly latching
the door gave a premonltory
..S-sts-Ai'
Setting down his lantern he shook him.
self in9o recognizable shape by the fire.
place and blurted out,
"Jan9 Tooker, git right outer this set
TIM rooml Bring the children. He's
comm! 1 seed him wrastlin' in the
snow along the lane, and jess slid in
ahead on Pim. Cuss himi' And, without
another word, he jerked his lantern from
the floor, Rerked himself into the kitchen
among the hired men and slammed the
door behind him.
Then Jane Rocker rose up. She marched
Mary and Dick authoritatively before her
into the kItGheh. and pausing an instant
at the door just as mutiied footsteps were
heard on the Snow banked porch, re-
marked portentiously.
.'Yes; it's hint tSrammer Hull, its sly
Silas. Sunthn's goin' to happen. Sunthn'
allus does happen arter that pesky old
miser eomes,n with which she snapped
the door behind her, as Squire Slater,
the self-made great man of Maple Valley
village, in response to Grandma Hull in
nowise cheerful answer to his insistive
knockings, was hurled into the room, as
though even the ugly storhl was glad for
q little TO be rid OF him.
''Jess passing, Cynthy. Been havin' a
hard day chaSin' gypsies outer the val
ley. Poorhouse full enough now. Tough
night, amt it? Thought mebby you'd
be glad to see me minnit 'Reinen-
berin' th' widder an 1atherless' issa di-
vine injunction, Cynthy, an bein' in the
law | allus mind injunctionsv,
His square head was set so low between
his peaked shoulders and he was so stoutlf
muffied that the smart ehuckle which
followed seenIed 20 c5nIe frofsS sCIslv
pocket of his great-coat rather than from
his hairy throat.
''Ye amt changed yer mind yit, Gym
thy?"
lie waited little. but got never word
from Grandma Hull who now sat rocking
and looking calmly into the fireplace with
an impassive face.
''No? We're gittin' on in years. Gym
thv, Lemme see. It's nigh onto fifteen
wear now-afore Jim g time-ye know,
Pm gittin' richer ey'ry year-and you
ain't!n
close listener might have heard an
other low chuckle from one of the great
coat pockets.
though night, ain'tit2 Well, guess PIl
pull out. Prayer mee.in night, an Pve
got to see young JEFF Dean yit. He's
chasin' away them gypsies, too. Ye
oughtn't 10 let 'em camp in the grove,
Cvnthy. Makes talk. Course 1 hush it
M. down to the village. Course you need
money. But don't keep doin' things
that makes talk, Cynthy. It's bad
Makes trouble. Friends tall OF; solid
friends. Makes moneytighter, an that's
mighty bad. Corners folks Well. Fm
ofr'
He had the door open and was nearly
zone. when he turned % the woman who