RS. Nitschkan, in her usual careless, almost masculine attire, stood in the door of her cabin gazing out at the mountains in all their verdant and triumphant glory, the evanescent glory of the late springtime. A pick and fishing-rod lay across the door-sill, a lean, flea-bitten dog dozed at her feet; her arms were akimbo, and a pipe was thrust between her teeth, which, when disclosed by her frequent smile, showed milk-white in her heavily tanned face.
Suddenly her blue, twinkling gaze dropped from the hills to the road which ran before her cabin, and she started slightly, a smile of blended amusement and apprehension crossing her face, for at her gate, fumbling with the knotted rope which held it to the post, were three of her coadjutors and most intimate friends. Now, the arrival of one of them might have shown a feminine longing for consolation or the necessity of relating a grievance; two might have been taken symbolically to represent an important bit of gossip; but three indicated a union of strength for a definite purpose. It meant business, and Mrs. Nitschkan knew it; but, true backwoods-woman that she was, if she scented danger, she gave no outward sign.
"Hello, girls," she called jovially, as the three advanced along the path,—an oddly assorted group to the casual observer. There was Mrs. Thomas, a pink and white Amazon with a softly feminine and appealing manner; Mrs. Landvetter, stout to unwieldiness, stolid, laconic, knitting as she walked; and Mrs. Evans, a tiny, alert creature, the essence of concentrated ambition and capability.
"Have any of you seen Celia?" continued Mrs. Nitschkan, removing the pipe from her mouth. "I sent her to the store an hour ago, and she ain't turned up yet. I don't know whether to do some assessment work or spend the afternoon fishing; but I wisht she'd come, I want to get off."
Her three visitors exchanged significant glances which were not lost upon their friend.
"Is she hangin' 'round with any of them worthless hounds of boys, 'stead of doin' her errand and marchin' straight home?" she asked sharply.
"I don't see but what she's got a right to beaux. You was married 'fore you was her age," remarked Mrs. Evans, cocking her sleek head like a little brown bird. "What for are you so cranky, Sadie Nitschkan, that you got to take on so every time one of the boys pokes his nose around the house?"
"'Cause Celia's got other work to do 'sides thinkin' of gettin' married," said her mother succinctly. "I don't work no claim expectin' to get nothin' out of it, do I? An' I don't bring a lot of kids into the world and spend years teachin' 'em manners,"—she was interrupted by a brief and scornful laugh from Mrs. Landvetter, who, on observing that her friend was gazing at her earnestly and ominously, hastily converted it into a rapid and interested count of the stitches in her interminable piece of lace. "Spend years teachin' 'em manners," repeated Mrs. Nitschkan emphatically, "an' sacrifice myself to stay home an' punish 'em when I might be jantin' 'round my own self; to have 'em go and get married just when they get to the useful age."
"Well, that's between you and her," replied Mrs. Evans coldly; "though I will say, Sadie Nitschkan, that there ain't a soul in this camp that don't consider but what you're actin' real devilish to Celia. But," with a comprehensive gesture of indifference, "we didn't come to point out your plain duty as a mother to you, and"
"Wait a moment, Mis' Evans," lisped Mrs. Thomas, with a touch of asperity in her voice. "Times when I go callin' I ain't used to standin' on my feet 'till my ankles cracks under me."
"Nor to haf my tongue hang out 'cause it's so dry " muttered Mrs. Landvetter deeply, clicking her needles together, with her an unfailing sign of mental disturbance.
"0h, Lord, ain't you all in the fine humor this mornin'!" commented the mountain woman. She removed the pick and fishing-rod, dragged the dog out of the way, and threw open the door. "Come on right in,"—her tone was grudging,—"and if you wait a minute, I'll stir up the fire and get some water boilin'." Then, as the women entered, the habit of hospitality asserted itself, and she set out rocking-chairs and made a show of bustling preparation of the invariable beverages, tea and coffee.