Oh, I told em the full circumstances. I told em I just had to keep my promise. Im afraid not to keep it. Ive lived my own life in my own way and I guess Ive got a lot of things to answer for. I aint worryin about that now. But you dont dare to break a promise thats made to the dyin. They come back and hant you. Ive always heard that and I know its true.
One after another I told those preachers just exactly how it was, but still they all said no. Every one of em said his board of deacons or elders or trustees, or something like that, wouldnt stand for openin up their church for Viola. I always thought a preacher could run his church to suit himself, but from what Ive heard to-day I know now he takes his orders from somebody else. So finally, when I was about to give up, I thought about you and I come here as straight as I could walk.
But, maam, he said, Im not a regular church member myself. I reckin I oughter be, but I aint. And I still fail to understand why you should think I could serve you, though I dont mind tellin you Id be mighty glad to ef I could.
Ill tell you why. I never spoke to you but once before in my life, but I made up my mind then what kind of a man you was. Maybe you dont remember it, Judge, but two years ago this comin December that there Law and Order League fixed up to run me out of this town. They didnt succeed, but they did have me indicted by the Grand Jury, and I come up before you and pleaded guilty they had the evidence on me all right. You fined me, you fined me the limit, and I guess if I hadnt a had the money to pay the fine Id a gone to jail. But the main point with me was that you treated me like a lady.
I know what I am good and well, but I dont like to have somebody always throwin it up to me. Ive got feelins the same as anybody else has. You made that little deputy sheriff quit shovin me round and you called me Mizzis Cramp to my face, right out in court. Ive been Old Mallie Cramp to everybody in this town so long Id mighty near forgot I ever had a handle on my name, until you reminded me of it. You was polite to me and decent to me, and you acted like you was sorry to see a white woman fetched up in court, even if you didnt say it right out. I aint forgot that. I aint ever goin to forget it. And awhile ago, when I was all beat out and discouraged, I said to myself that if there was one man left in this town who could maybe help me to keep my promise to that dead girl, Judge William Pitman Priest was the man. Thats why Im here.
Im sorry, maam, sorry fur you and sorry fur that dead child, said Judge Priest slowly. I wish I could help you. I wish I knew how to advise you. But I reckin those gentlemen were right in whut they said to you to-day. I reckin probably their elders would object to them openin up their churches, under the circumstances. And Im mightily afraid I aint got any influence I could bring to bear in any quarter. Did you go to Father Minor? Hes a good friend of mine; we was soldiers together in the war him and me. Mebbe
I thought of him, said the woman hopelessly; but you see, Judge, Viola didnt belong to his church. She was raised a Protestant, she told me so. I guess he couldnt do nothin. in.
Ah-hah, I see, said the judge, and in his perplexity he bent his head and rubbed his broad expanse of pink bald brow fretfully, as though to stimulate thought within by friction without. His left hand fell into the litter of documents upon his desk. Absently his fingers shuffled them back and forth under his eyes. He straightened himself alertly.
Was it stated was it specified that a preacher must hold the funeral service over that dead girl? he inquired.
The woman caught eagerly at the inflection that had come into his voice.
No, sir, she answered; all she said was that it must be in a church and with some flowers and some music. But I never heard of anybody preachin a regular sermon without it was a regular preacher. Did you ever, Judge? Doubt and renewed disappointment battered at her just-born hopes.
I reckin mebbe there have been extraordinary occasions where an amateur stepped in and done the best he could, said the judge. Mebbe some folks here on earth couldnt excuse sech presumption as that, but I reckin theyd understand how it was up yonder.
He stood up, facing her, and spoke as one making a solemn promise:
Maam, you neednt worry yourself any longer. You kin go on back to your home. That dead child is goin to have whut she asked for. I give you my word on it.
She strove to put a question, but he kept on: I aint prepared to give you the full details yit. You see I dont know myself jest exactly whut theyll be. But inside of an hour from now Ill be seein Jansen and hell notify you in regards to the hour and the place and the rest of it. Kin you rest satisfied with that?
She nodded, trying to utter words and not succeeding. Emotion shook her gross shape until the big gold bands on her arms jangled together.
So, ef youll kindly excuse me, Ive got quite a number of things to do betwixt now and suppertime. I kind of figger Im goin to be right busy.
He stepped to the threshold and called out down the hallway, which by now was a long, dim tunnel of thickening shadows.
Jeff, oh Jeff, where are you, boy?
Comin, Jedge.
The speaker emerged from the gloom that was only a few shades darker than himself.
Jeff, bade his master, I want you to show this lady the way out its black as pitch in that there hall. And, Jeff, listen here! When youve done that I want you to go and find the sheriff fur me. Ef hes left his office and I spose he has by now you go on out to his house, or wherever he is, and find him and tell him I want to see him here right away.
He swung his ponderous old body about and bowed with a homely courtesy:
And now I bid you good night, maam. At the cross sill of the door she halted: Judge about gettin somebody to carry the coffin in and out did you think about that? She was such a little thing she wont be very heavy but still, at that, I dont know anybody any men that would be willin
Maam, said Judge Priest gravely, ef I was you I wouldnt worry about who the pallbearers will be. I reckin the Lord will provide. Ive took notice that He always does ef youll only meet Him halfway.
For a fact the judge was a busy man during the hour which followed upon all this, the hour between twilight and night. Over the telephone he first called up M. Jansen, our leading undertaker; indeed at that time our only one, excusing the coloured undertaker on Locust Street. He had converse at length with M. Jansen. Then he called up Doctor Lake, a most dependable person in sickness, and when you were in good health too. Then last of all he called up a certain widow who lived in those days, Mrs. Matilda Weeks by name; and this lady was what is commonly called, a character. In her case the title was just and justified. Of character she had more than almost anybody I ever knew.
Mrs. Weeks didnt observe precedents. She made them. She cared so little for following after public opinion that public opinion usually followed alter her when it had recovered from the shock and reorganised itself. There were two sides to her tongue: for some a sharp and acid side, and then again for some a sweet and gentle side and mainly these last were the weak and the erring and the shiftless, those underfoot and trodden down. Moving through this life in a calm, deliberative, determined way, always along paths of her making and her choosing, obeying only the beck of her own mind, doing good where she might, with a perfect disregard for what the truly good might think about it, Mrs. Weeks was daily guilty of acts that scandalised all proper people. But the improper ones worshipped the ground her feet touched as she walked. She was much like that disciple of Joppa named Tabitha, which by interpretation is called Dorcas, of whom it is written that she was full of good works and almsdeeds which she did. Yes, you might safely call Mrs. Weeks a character.