Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer SSC by John the Balladeer (v1.1)

said after her father.
                 Shy,
she dimpled at me. "I know it's a scarce name, Mr. John, I never heard it
anywhere but among my kinfolks."
                 "I
have," I said, "and it's what brought me here."
                 Mr.
Tewk Millen looked funny above his whiskers. "Thought you said you was a
young stranger man."
                 "I
heard the name outside in a song, sir. Somebody allowed the song's known here.
I'm a singer. I go far after a good song." I looked around. "Do you
all know that Vandy song, folks?"
                 "Yes,
sir," said little Calder, but the others studied a minute. Mr. Tewk rubbed
up a leaf of tobacco into his pipe.
                 "Calder,"
he said, "go in and fetch me a chunk of fire to light up with. John, you
certain you never met my daughter Vandy?"
                "Certain sure," I made
reply. "Only I can figure how ary young fellow might come a far piece to
meet her."
                 She
stared down at her hands where she sat. "We learnt the song from
papa," she half-whispered, "and he learnt it from his papa—"
                 "And
my papa learnt it from his," Mr. Tewk finished for her. "It goes a
way back, that song, I figure."
                 "I'd
sure enough relish hearing it," I said.
                 "After
you heard it," said Mr. Tewk. "After you learnt it, what would you
do?"
                 "Why,"
I said, "I reckon I'd go back outside and sing it some."
                 I
could see that's what he wanted to hear.
                 "Heber,"
he told his son, "you pick it out and I'D scrape this fiddle, and Calder
and Vandy can sing it for John."
                 They
played the tune once without words. The notes were put together strangely, in
what schooled folks call minors. But other folks, better schooled yet, say such
tunes sound strange and lonesome because in old times folks had another note
scale from our do-re-mi-fa today. And little Calder piped up, high and young
but strong:
                 Vandy, Vandy, I've come to court you,
                 Be you rich or be you poor, And if you'll
kindly entertain me,
                 I will love you forever more.
                 Vandy, Vandy, I've gold and silver, Vandy,
Vandy, I've a house and land,
                 Vandy, Vandy, I've a world of pleasure, I
would make you a handsome man.
                 He
got that far, singing for the fellow come courting, and Vandy sang back the
reply, sweet as a bird:
                 / love a man who's in the army, He's been
there for seven long year,
                 And if he's therefor seven year longer, I
won't court no other dear.
                What
care I for your gold and silver, What care I for —
                 She
stopped, and the guitar and fiddle stopped, and it was like the death of sound.
The leaves didn't rustle in the trees, nor the fire didn't stir on the hearth
inside. They all looked with their mouths half open, where somebody stood with
his hands crossed on the gold knob of a black cane and grinned all on one side
of his toothy mouth.
                 Maybe
he came up the down-valley trail, maybe he'd dropped from a tree like a possum.
He was built spry and slim, with a long coat buttoned to his pointed chin, and
brown pants tucked into elastic-sided boots, like what your grandsire had. His
hands on the cane looked slim and strong. His face, bar its crooked smile,
might be handsome. His dark brown hair curled like buffalo wool, and his eyes
were the shiny pale gray of a new knife. Their gaze crawled all over the
Millens and he laughed a slow, soft laugh.
                 "I
thought I'd stop by," he crooned, "if I haven't worn out my
welcome."
                 "Oh,
no sir!" said Mr. Tewk, standing
up on his two bare feet, fiddle