“i guess york county will never get red of that simpson crew!” exclaimed miranda sawyer to jane. “i thought when the family moved to acreville we'd seen the last of em, but we ain't! the big, cross-eyed, stutterin' boy has got a place at the mills in maplewood; that's near enough to come over to riverboro once in a while of a sunday mornin' and set in the meetin' house starin' at rebecca same as he used to do, only it's reskier now both of em are older. then mrs. fogg must go and bring back the biggest girl to help her take care of her baby,—as if there wa'n't plenty of help nearer home! now i hear say that the youngest twin has come to stop the summer with the cames up to edgewood lower corner.”
“i thought two twins were always the same age,” said rebecca, reflectively, as she came into the kitchen with the milk pail.
“so they be,” snapped miranda, flushing and correcting herself. “but that pasty-faced simpson twin looks younger and is smaller than the other one. he's meek as moses and the other one is as bold as a brass kettle; i don't see how they come to be twins; they ain't a mite alike.”
“elijah was always called the fighting twin' at school,” said rebecca, “and elisha's other name was nimbi-pamby; but i think he's a nice little boy, and i'm glad he has come back. he won't like living with mr. came, but he'll be almost next door to the minister's, and mrs. baxter is sure to let him play in her garden.”
“i wonder why the boy's stayin' with cassius came,” said jane. “to be sure they haven't got any of their own, but the child's too young to be much use.”
“i know why,” remarked rebecca promptly, “for i heard all about it over to watson's when i was getting the milk. mr. came traded something with mr. simpson two years ago and got the best of the bargain, and uncle jerry says he's the only man that ever did, and he ought to have a monument put up to him. so mr. came owes mr. simpson money and won't pay it, and mr. simpson said he'd send over a child and board part of it out, and take the rest in stock—a pig or a calf or something.”
“that's all stuff and nonsense,” exclaimed miranda; “nothin' in the world but store-talk. you git a clump o' men-folks settin' round watson's stove, or out on the bench at the door, an' they'll make up stories as fast as their tongues can wag. the man don't live that's smart enough to cheat abner simpson in a trade, and who ever heard of anybody's owin' him money? tain't supposable that a woman like mrs. came would allow her husband to be in debt to a man like abner simpson. it's a sight likelier that she heard that mrs. simpson was ailin' and sent for the boy so as to help the family along. she always had mrs. simpson to wash for her once a month, if you remember jane?”
there are some facts so shrouded in obscurity that the most skillful and patient investigator cannot drag them into the light of day. there are also (but only occasionally) certain motives, acts, speeches, lines of conduct, that can never be wholly and satisfactorily explained, even in a village post-office or on the loafers' bench outside the tavern door.
cassius came was a close man, close of mouth and close of purse; and all that riverboro ever knew as to the three months' visit of the simpson twin was that it actually occurred. elisha, otherwise nimbi-pamby, came; nimbi-pamby stayed; and nimbi-pamby, when he finally rejoined his own domestic circle, did not go empty-handed (so to speak), for he was accompanied on his homeward travels by a large, red, bony, somewhat truculent cow, who was tied on behind the wagon, and who made the journey a lively and eventful one by her total lack of desire to proceed over the road from edgewood to acreville. but that, the cow's tale, belongs to another time and place, and the coward's tale must come first; for elisha simpson was held to be sadly lacking in the manly quality of courage.
it was the new minister's wife who called nimbi-pamby the little prophet. his full name was elisha jeremiah simpson, but one seldom heard it at full length, since, if he escaped the ignominy of nimbi-pamby, lishe was quite enough for an urchin just in his first trousers and those assumed somewhat prematurely. he was “lishe,” therefore, to the village, but the little prophet to the young minister's wife.
rebecca could see the cames' brown farmhouse from mrs. baxter's sitting-room window. the little-traveled road with strips of tufted green between the wheel tracks curled dustily up to the very doorstep, and inside the screen door of pink mosquito netting was a wonderful drawn-in rug, shaped like a half pie, with “welcome” in saffron letters on a green ground.
rebecca liked mrs. cassius came, who was a friend of her aunt miranda's and one of the few persons who exchanged calls with that somewhat unsociable lady. the came farm was not a long walk from the brick house, for rebecca could go across the fields when haying-time was over, and her delight at being sent on an errand in that direction could not be measured, now that the new minister and his wife had grown to be such a resource in her life. she liked to see mrs. came shake the welcome rug, flinging the cheery word out into the summer sunshine like a bright greeting to the day. she liked to see her go to the screen door a dozen times in a morning, open it a crack and chase an imaginary fly from the sacred precincts within. she liked to see her come up the cellar steps into the side garden, appearing mysteriously as from the bowels of the earth, carrying a shining pan of milk in both hands, and disappearing through the beds of hollyhocks and sunflowers to the pig-pen or the hen-house.
rebecca was not fond of mr. came, and neither was mrs. baxter, nor elisha, for that matter; in fact mr. came was rather a difficult person to grow fond of, with his fiery red beard, his freckled skin, and his gruff way of speaking; for there were no children in the brown house to smooth the creases from his forehead or the roughness from his voice.
