_ CHAPTER XXII. ME AND THEIR LINE FENCE
I had to own it up to myself--I'd lost my nerve. I tried more'n fifteen times to come out and tell Old Man Wright about them Peanut letters from their hired man to Bonnie Bell, and I couldn't--I would see her face every time come in between him and me.
I kept my eyes on that hole in the fence. I was setting there fixing up the bricks, ready to put them in, when I heard some one talking on the other side of the fence. You couldn't see nobody through the fence, no more'n if they was a thousand miles away; but you could hear 'em talk, all right, there, through the hole. I could tell who one of 'em was--it was the voice of Old Lady Wisner. She had the sort of a voice a woman has who has got a nose like a eagle. But I couldn't tell who she was talking to, for nobody seemed to answer much at first.
"James," says she--"James, what are you doing there?"
No one answered, but I felt sure now she was talking to their gardener. So he was home!
"Who made that hole? Who has done this, James?" says she again. "Who made that hole in the wall?"
Still, he didn't answer none; and she went on:
"I see! It must of been some of them awful Wrights that live acrost there. How dare they break through our fence? I'll have them sued!"
"Oh, no, you won't. It was done from this side--I can tell you that."
I knew his voice. It was him.
"Whoever did it," he went on, "I'm going to close it up. I saw their dog in our yard the other day. Did you see him in here today?"
"No--that same awful little cur?" says she. "They are the worst people, James! I certainly am glad you want nothing to do with them, even their dog. But, of course, you couldn't."
"No; it seemed not," says he.
"What do you mean?" says she, harshlike. "As for that maid of theirs, I was inexpressibly shocked, James, when I found that you so far forgot yourself--"
"I wouldn't say any more," says he.
"I shall say all I like, and you'll please remember who you are! The David Wisners can't afford to have it understood that they associate any way whatsoever with the Wright family. Not even our servants can visit acrost. I've been suspecting for some time."
"Well, that's plain enough," says he. "I don't see any use trying to make it any plainer. There's no use rubbing it in."
"If I had a servant," says she, right pointed, "who'd look at the best of them I'd discharge him as soon as I knew it. I've got my eye on Emmy, my second-floor maid, too. All I can say is, you'd all better be more careful, or, the first thing some of you know----"
"Naturally," says he, "I can imagine that," says he. "It's hell to belong to the lower classes!"
"What do you mean, James?" says she, solemn, "I'll not have profanity from you! Besides, you talk like a socialist person, and I'll not have that."
"Socialist, eh? Well, I'll admit, if I had all the money in the world," says he, "no wall nor bars would make any difference to me. Nor they wouldn't when I didn't have."
"James, continually you shock me beyond words!" says she, gasping. "What words from one in your position in life!"
He didn't say much then, but only sort of growled, like he was mad.
"James," says she, "what on earth are you doing--what's that you're eating?"
"It's good old tobacco I'm eating," says he. "I found the brand out West and I've used no other since."
"James! James!" says she. "You to chew the filthy weed! It's impossible!"
"No, it ain't," says he. "You watch me and I'll show you how far it is from impossible. I chaw it and I like it, same as any other socialist; and I want you to understand, ma'am, that I'm my own man, tobacco and all, while I stay here. If you don't like it, fire me again!"
She begun to gasp again, like I heard her before.
"You don't care!" says she. "Nothing is sacred to you!"
Them two had me guessing. I'd heard of middle-age women getting infaturated with chauffores. Why not gardeners, then? Something was going on between them two, else why should she be so damned jealous? And why should he be so damned sassy to her? I wondered what Old Man Wisner would think if he knew what I knew now about his wife. Didn't this even things up some? I wouldn't tell him, of course; but didn't it beat all how many secrets I was getting into?
Them folks didn't have so much on us, after all; for that hired man was shore a gay bird, and playing both sides the fence. I seen he was a socialist, all right--but, Lord, her, with that face! _