Minty thats my daughter, maam Minty, she didnt want me to come to this one, he went on. She was afraid for me to be putting out alone on such a long trip way down here; she kept saying, Minty did, she was afraid the excitement might be too much for me at my age. But I says to her, I says, Minty, child, when my time comes for me to go I dont ask anything better than that it should be whilst Im amongst my old comrades, with the sound of one of our old battle songs ringing in my ears! I says to her, Shucks, but whats the use of talking that way! Nothings going to happen to me. I can get there and I can get back! I says to her. Going to reunion makes me feel young and spry all over again. But, maam, Im afraid Minty was right about it, this time anyhow. I actually dont believe Im going to be able to get back down-town for todays doings not for the mornings session anyway. I have to own up to you that I feel all kind of let-down and no-account, someway.
So through the forenoon he sat in an easy chair in an inner sitting-room and Miss Sissie, abandoning whatever else she might have had to do, read to him the accounts of the great event which filled column after column of the morning paper. He dozed off occasionally but she kept on reading, her voice droning across the placid quiet. Following the dinner which came at midday, she prevailed on him to take a real nap, and he stretched out on a sofa under a light coverlid which she tucked about him and slept peacefully until four oclock. Late in the afternoon a closed car containing a couple a man and a woman stopped in the alleyway behind the house and the driver came to the back door, but Miss Sissie went out and gave him a message for his passengers and he returned to his car and drove away. There were no other callers that day.
Mr. Braswell fretted a little after supper over his inability to muster up strength for getting to the auditorium, but somewhat was consoled by her assurances that a good nights rest should put him in proper trim for marching in the big parade next morning. By nine oclock he was in bed and Miss Sissie had a silent idle evening at home and seemed not ungrateful for it.
On the second morning the ancient greeted her in what plainly was his official wardrobe for parading. A frayed and threadbare butternut jacket, absurdly short, with a little peaked tail sticking out behind and a line of tarnished brass buttons spaced down its front, hung grotesquely upon his withered framework. Probably it had fitted him once; now it was acres too loose. Pinned to the left breast was a huge badge, evidently home-made, of yellowed white silk, and lengthwise of it in straggled letters worked with faded red floss ran the number and name of his regiment. In his hand he carried a slouch-hat which had been black once but now was a rusty brown, with a scrap of black ostrich-plume fastened to its band by a brass token.
With trembling fingers he proudly caressed the badge.
My wife made it for me out of a piece of her own wedding-dress nearly thirty years ago, he explained. Ive worn it to every reunion since then. Its funny how you put me in mind of my wife. Not that you look like her nor talk like her either. She was kind of small and she had a low voice and youre so much taller and your way of speaking is deeper and carries further than hers did. And of course you cant be more than half as old as shed be if shed lived. Funny, but you do remind me of her, though. Still, I reckin thats easy to explain. All good women favor each other some way even when they dont look alike. Its something inside of them that does it, I judge goodness and purity and thinking Christian thoughts.
If she winced at that last his innocent, weakened old eyes missed it. Anyhow the veteran very soon had personal cause for distress. He had to confess that he wasnt up to marching. Leaving the dining-room, he practically collapsed. He was heart-broken.
Dont you worry, said Miss Sissie, in that masterful way of hers. Even if youre not able to turn out with the rest of them youre going to see the parade. I cant send you down-town in my own car its its broken down and I cant go with you myself I Im going to be busy. But I can send you in a taxicab with a careful man to drive and you can see the parade.
Thats mighty sweet of you but then, I reckin its your nature to be sweet and thoughtful for other folks, he said gratefully. But, maam and doubt crept into his voice but aint all the public hacks likely to be engaged beforehand for today?
I happen to know the manager of the leading taxicab company here, she told him. Hell do what I say even if he has to take a rig away from somebody else. Ill telephone him.
But with the streets all crowded the way theyll be, wont it be hard to find a place where I can watch the other boys marching by? In his eagerness he was childish.
Thatll be arranged, too, she stated. As it so happens, I also know the chief of police. Ill call him up and give him the number of the taxi youre in and Ill guarantee one of his policemen will be on the special lookout for you at the far end of the Drive to see to it that you get a good place somewhere along the route.
Seems like to me the most important people in this town must respect you mighty highly! he exclaimed happily. Well, I guess its that same way everywhere all kinds of people are bound to recognize a real lady when they meet her and look up to her!
Oh, yes, theres one thing more. She added this as if by an afterthought. You neednt tell anybody you meet any of your old friends or any of the committeemen or anybody where youre stopping. You see, I didnt arrange to take in any visitors for the reunion there were reasons why I didnt care to take in anyone and now that I have you with me I wouldnt care for anybody connected with the local arrangements to know about it. You understand, dont you? they might think I was presuming on their rights.
Oh, yesm, I understand, he said unsuspectingly. Itll just be a little secret between us if thats the way youd rather it was. But I couldnt rightly tell anybody anyhow seeing that you aint ever told me what your last name is. Id like to know it, too I aim to write you a letter after I get home.
My name is Lamprey, she said. Cecelia Lamprey. I dont hear it very often myself at least, not spoken out in full. And now Id better be ringing up those influential friends of mine you mustnt be late getting started.
The same taxicab driver who drove him on this day came again on the third day to take Miss Sissies venerable house guest to his train. It would appear that her car still was out of commission.
She did not accompany him to the station. Domestic cares would hold her, she told him. She did not go to the front of the house to see him off, either. Indeed a more observant person than Mr. Braswell might have marveled that so constantly she had secluded herself indoors during his visit; and not only indoors, but behind windows curtained against the bright, warm Southern sunshine. They exchanged their farewells in her living-room.
I aint never going to forget you, he told her. If youd been my own daughter you couldnt a treated me any nicer than what you have and me just an old stove-up spavined country-jake that you never saw before in your life and probably never will see again. You aint seen fit, maam, to tell me much about yourself seems like you let me do most of the talking, and that suited me but old as I am I know a perfect lady when I see one and thats what you are, maam, and what always you must have been and always will be good-by and God bless you!