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diff --git a/2011-h/2011-h.htm b/2011-h/2011-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a56c36 --- /dev/null +++ b/2011-h/2011-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9510 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Rudder Grange, by Frank R. Stockton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rudder Grange, by Frank R. Stockton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Rudder Grange + +Author: Frank R. Stockton + +Release Date: November 7, 2008 [EBook #2011] +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUDDER GRANGE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + RUDDER GRANGE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Frank R. Stockton + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>RUDDER GRANGE.</b></big> </a> + <br /><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> TREATING + OF A NOVEL STYLE OF DWELLING HOUSE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> + CHAPTER II. </a> TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF BOARDER. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> TREATING OF A + NOVEL STYLE OF GIRL. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. + </a> TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF BURGLAR. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> POMONA PRODUCES A + PARTIAL REVOLUTION IN RUDDER GRANGE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> + CHAPTER VI. </a> THE NEW RUDDER GRANGE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> TREATING OF AN + UNSUCCESSFUL BROKER AND A DOG. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> + CHAPTER VIII. </a> POMONA ONCE MORE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> WE CAMP OUT. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> WET BLANKETS. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> THE BOARDER'S + VISIT. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> LORD + EDWARD AND THE TREE-MAN. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER + XIII. </a> POMONA'S NOVEL. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> + CHAPTER XIV. </a> POMONA TAKES A BRIDAL TRIP. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> IN WHICH TWO NEW + FRIENDS DISPORT THEMSELVES. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER + XVI. </a> IN WHICH AN OLD FRIEND APPEARS AND THE BRIDAL TRIP + TAKES A <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> IN + WHICH WE TAKE A VACATION AND LOOK FOR DAVID DUTTON. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> OUR + TAVERN. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE + BABY AT RUDDER GRANGE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. + </a> THE OTHER BABY AT RUDDER GRANGE. <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + RUDDER GRANGE. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF DWELLING HOUSE. + </h2> + <p> + For some months after our marriage, Euphemia and I boarded. But we did not + like it. Indeed, there was no reason why we should like it. Euphemia said + that she never felt at home except when she was out, which feeling, + indicating such an excessively unphilosophic state of mind, was enough to + make me desire to have a home of my own, where, except upon rare and + exceptional occasions, my wife would never care to go out. + </p> + <p> + If you should want to rent a house, there are three ways to find one. One + way is to advertise; another is to read the advertisements of other + people. This is a comparatively cheap way. A third method is to apply to + an agent. But none of these plans are worth anything. The proper way is to + know some one who will tell you of a house that will exactly suit you. + Euphemia and I thoroughly investigated this matter, and I know that what I + say is a fact. + </p> + <p> + We tried all the plans. When we advertised, we had about a dozen admirable + answers, but in these, although everything seemed to suit, the amount of + rent was not named. (None of those in which the rent was named would do at + all.) And when I went to see the owners, or agents of these suitable + houses, they asked much higher rents than those mentioned in the + unavailable answers—and this, notwithstanding the fact that they + always asserted that their terms were either very reasonable or else + greatly reduced on account of the season being advanced. (It was now the + fifteenth of May.) + </p> + <p> + Euphemia and I once wrote a book,—this was just before we were + married,—in which we told young married people how to go to + housekeeping and how much it would cost them. We knew all about it, for we + had asked several people. Now the prices demanded as yearly rental for + small furnished houses, by the owners and agents of whom I have been + speaking, were, in many cases, more than we had stated a house could be + bought and furnished for! + </p> + <p> + The advertisements of other people did not serve any better. There was + always something wrong about the houses when we made close inquiries, and + the trouble was generally in regard to the rent. With agents we had a + little better fortune. Euphemia sometimes went with me on my expeditions + to real estate offices, and she remarked that these offices were always in + the basement, or else you had to go up to them in an elevator. There was + nothing between these extremes. And it was a good deal the same way, she + said, with their houses. They were all very low indeed in price and + quality, or else too high. + </p> + <p> + One trouble was that we wanted a house in a country place, not very far + from the city, and not very far from the railroad station or steamboat + landing. We also wanted the house to be nicely shaded and fully furnished, + and not to be in a malarial neighborhood, or one infested by mosquitoes. + </p> + <p> + “If we do go to housekeeping,” said Euphemia, “we might as well get a + house to suit us while we are about it. Moving is more expensive than a + fire.” + </p> + <p> + There was one man who offered us a house that almost suited us. It was + near the water, had rooms enough, and some—but not very much—ground, + and was very accessible to the city. The rent, too, was quite reasonable. + But the house was unfurnished. The agent, however, did not think that this + would present any obstacle to our taking it. He was sure that the owner + would furnish it if we paid him ten per cent, on the value of the + furniture he put into it. We agreed that if the landlord would do this and + let us furnish the house according to the plans laid down in our book, + that we would take the house. But unfortunately this arrangement did not + suit the landlord, although he was in the habit of furnishing houses for + tenants and charging them ten per cent. on the cost. + </p> + <p> + I saw him myself and talked to him about it. + </p> + <p> + “But you see,” said he, when I had shown him our list of articles + necessary for the furnishing of a house, “it would not pay me to buy all + these things, and rent them out to you. If you only wanted heavy + furniture, which would last for years, the plan would answer, but you want + everything. I believe the small conveniences you have on this list come to + more money than the furniture and carpets.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said I. “We are not so very particular about furniture and + carpets, but these little conveniences are the things that make + housekeeping pleasant, and,—speaking from a common-sense point of + view,—profitable.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” he answered, “but I can't afford to make matters pleasant + and profitable for you in that way. Now, then, let us look at one or two + particulars. Here, on your list, is an ice-pick: twenty-five cents. Now, + if I buy that ice-pick and rent it to you at two and a-half cents a year, + I shall not get my money back unless it lasts you ten years. And even + then, as it is not probable that I can sell that ice-pick after you have + used it for ten years, I shall have made nothing at all by my bargain. And + there are other things in that list, such as feather-dusters and + lamp-chimneys, that couldn't possibly last ten years. Don't you see my + position?” + </p> + <p> + I saw it. We did not get that furnished house. Euphemia was greatly + disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “It would have been just splendid,” she said, “to have taken our book and + have ordered all these things at the stores, one after another, without + even being obliged to ask the price.” + </p> + <p> + I had my private doubts in regard to this matter of price. I am afraid + that Euphemia generally set down the lowest price and the best things. She + did not mean to mislead, and her plan certainly made our book attractive. + But it did not work very well in practice. We have a friend who undertook + to furnish her house by our book, and she never could get the things as + cheaply as we had them quoted. + </p> + <p> + “But you see,” said Euphemia, to her, “we had to put them down at very low + prices, because the model house we speak of in the book is to be entirely + furnished for just so much.” + </p> + <p> + But, in spite of this explanation, the lady was not satisfied. + </p> + <p> + We found ourselves obliged to give up the idea of a furnished house. We + would have taken an unfurnished one and furnished it ourselves, but we had + not money enough. We were dreadfully afraid that we should have to + continue to board. + </p> + <p> + It was now getting on toward summer, at least there was only a part of a + month of spring left, and whenever I could get off from my business + Euphemia and I made little excursions into the country round about the + city. One afternoon we went up the river, and there we saw a sight that + transfixed us, as it were. On the bank, a mile or so above the city, stood + a canal-boat. I say stood, because it was so firmly imbedded in the ground + by the river-side, that it would have been almost as impossible to move it + as to have turned the Sphinx around. This boat we soon found was inhabited + by an oyster-man and his family. They had lived there for many years and + were really doing quite well. The boat was divided, inside, into rooms, + and these were papered and painted and nicely furnished. There was a + kitchen, a living-room, a parlor and bedrooms. There were all sorts of + conveniences—carpets on the floors, pictures, and everything, at + least so it seemed to us, to make a home comfortable. This was not all + done at once, the oyster-man told me. They had lived there for years and + had gradually added this and that until the place was as we saw it. He had + an oyster-bed out in the river and he made cider in the winter, but where + he got the apples I don't know. There was really no reason why he should + not get rich in time. + </p> + <p> + Well, we went all over that house and we praised everything so much that + the oyster-man's wife was delighted, and when we had some stewed oysters + afterward,—eating them at a little table under a tree near by,—I + believe that she picked out the very largest oysters she had, to stew for + us. When we had finished our supper and had paid for it, and were going + down to take our little boat again,—for we had rowed up the river,—Euphemia + stopped and looked around her. Then she clasped her hands and exclaimed in + an ecstatic undertone: + </p> + <p> + “We must have a canal-boat!” + </p> + <p> + And she never swerved from that determination. + </p> + <p> + After I had seriously thought over the matter, I could see no good reason + against adopting this plan. It would certainly be a cheap method of + living, and it would really be housekeeping. I grew more and more in favor + of it. After what the oyster-man had done, what might not we do? HE had + never written a book on housekeeping, nor, in all probability, had he + considered the matter, philosophically, for one moment in all his life. + </p> + <p> + But it was not an easy thing to find a canal-boat. There were none + advertised for rent—at least, not for housekeeping purposes. + </p> + <p> + We made many inquiries and took many a long walk along the water-courses + in the vicinity of the city, but all in vain. Of course, we talked a great + deal about our project and our friends became greatly interested in it, + and, of course, too, they gave us a great deal of advice, but we didn't + mind that. We were philosophical enough to know that you can't have shad + without bones. They were good friends and, by being careful in regard to + the advice, it didn't interfere with our comfort. + </p> + <p> + We were beginning to be discouraged, at least Euphemia was. Her + discouragement is like water-cresses, it generally comes up in a very + short time after she sows her wishes. But then it withers away rapidly, + which is a comfort. One evening we were sitting, rather disconsolately, in + our room, and I was reading out the advertisements of country board in a + newspaper, when in rushed Dr. Heare—one of our old friends. He was + so full of something that he had to say that he didn't even ask us how we + were. In fact, he didn't appear to want to know. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what it is,” said he, “I have found just the very thing you + want.” + </p> + <p> + “A canal-boat?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he, “a canal-boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Furnished?” asked Euphemia, her eyes glistening. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no,” answered the doctor, “I don't think you could expect that.” + </p> + <p> + “But we can't live on the bare floor,” said Euphemia; “our house MUST be + furnished.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I suppose this won't do,” said the doctor, ruefully, “for + there isn't so much as a boot-jack in it. It has most things that are + necessary for a boat, but it hasn't anything that you could call + house-furniture; but, dear me, I should think you could furnish it very + cheaply and comfortably out of your book.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true,” said Euphemia, “if we could pick out the cheapest things and + then get some folks to buy a lot of the books.” + </p> + <p> + “We could begin with very little,” said I, trying hard to keep calm. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the doctor, “you need make no more rooms, at first, than + you could furnish.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there are no rooms,” said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “No, there is nothing but one vast apartment extending from stem to + stern.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't it be glorious!” said Euphemia to me. “We can first make a kitchen, + and then a dining-room, and a bedroom, and then a parlor—just in the + order in which our book says they ought to be furnished.” + </p> + <p> + “Glorious!” I cried, no longer able to contain my enthusiasm; “I should + think so. Doctor, where is this canal-boat?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor then went into a detailed statement. The boat was stranded on + the shore of the Scoldsbury river not far below Ginx's. We knew where + Ginx's was, because we had spent a very happy day there, during our + honeymoon. + </p> + <p> + The boat was a good one, but superannuated. That, however, did not + interfere with its usefulness as a dwelling. We could get it—the + doctor had seen the owner—for a small sum per annum, and here was + positively no end to its capabilities. + </p> + <p> + We sat up until twenty minutes past two, talking about that house. We + ceased to call it a boat at about a quarter of eleven. + </p> + <p> + The next day I “took” the boat and paid a month's rent in advance. Three + days afterward we moved into it. + </p> + <p> + We had not much to move, which was a comfort, looking at it from one point + of view. A carpenter had put up two partitions in it which made three + rooms—a kitchen, a dining-room and a very long bedroom, which was to + be cut up into a parlor, study, spare-room, etc., as soon as circumstances + should allow, or my salary should be raised. Originally, all the doors and + windows were in the roof, so to speak, but our landlord allowed us to make + as many windows to the side of the boat as we pleased, provided we gave + him the wood we cut out. It saved him trouble, he said, but I did not + understand him at the time. Accordingly, the carpenter made several + windows for us, and put in sashes, which opened on hinges like the hasp of + a trunk. Our furniture did not amount to much, at first. The very thought + of living in this independent, romantic way was so delightful, Euphemia + said, that furniture seemed a mere secondary matter. + </p> + <p> + We were obliged indeed to give up the idea of following the plan detailed + in our book, because we hadn't the sum upon which the furnishing of a + small house was therein based. + </p> + <p> + “And if we haven't the money,” remarked Euphemia, “it would be of no + earthly use to look at the book. It would only make us doubt our own + calculations. You might as well try to make brick without mortar, as the + children of Israel did.” + </p> + <p> + “I could do that myself, my dear,” said I, “but we won't discuss that + subject now. We will buy just what we absolutely need, and then work up + from that.” + </p> + <p> + Acting on this plan, we bought first a small stove, because Euphemia said + that we could sleep on the floor, if it were necessary, but we couldn't + make a fire on the floor—at least not often. Then we got a table and + two chairs. The next thing we purchased was some hanging shelves for our + books, and Euphemia suddenly remembered the kitchen things. These, which + were few, with some crockery, nearly brought us to the end of our + resources, but we had enough for a big easy-chair which Euphemia was + determined I should have, because I really needed it when I came home at + night, tired with my long day's work at the office. I had always been used + to an easy-chair, and it was one of her most delightful dreams to see me + in a real nice one, comfortably smoking my pipe in my own house, after + eating my own delicious little supper in company with my own dear wife. We + selected the chair, and then we were about to order the things sent out to + our future home, when I happened to think that we had no bed. I called + Euphemia's attention to the fact. + </p> + <p> + She was thunderstruck. + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of that,” she said. “We shall have to give up the stove.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said I, “we can't do that. We must give up the easy-chair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that would be too bad,” said she. “The house would seem like nothing + to me without the chair!” + </p> + <p> + “But we must do without it, my dear,” said I, “at least for a while. I can + sit out on deck and smoke of an evening, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Euphemia. “You can sit on the bulwarks and I can sit by you. + That will do very well. I'm sure I'm glad the boat has bulwarks.” + </p> + <p> + So we resigned the easy-chair and bought a bedstead and some very plain + bedding. The bedstead was what is sometimes called a “scissors-bed.” We + could shut it up when we did not want to sleep in it, and stand it against + the wall. + </p> + <p> + When we packed up our trunks and left the boarding-house Euphemia fairly + skipped with joy. + </p> + <p> + We went down to Ginx's in the first boat, having arranged that our + furniture should be sent to us in the afternoon. We wanted to be there to + receive it. The trip was just wildly delirious. The air was charming. The + sun was bright, and I had a whole holiday. When we reached Ginx's we found + that the best way to get our trunks and ourselves to our house was to take + a carriage, and so we took one. I told the driver to drive along the river + road and I would tell him where to stop. + </p> + <p> + When we reached our boat, and had alighted, I said to the driver: + </p> + <p> + “You can just put our trunks inside, anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at the trunks and then looked at the boat. Afterward he + looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “That boat ain't goin' anywhere,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I should think not,” said Euphemia. “We shouldn't want to live in it, if + it were.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to live in it?” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the man, and he took our trunks on board, without another word. + </p> + <p> + It was not very easy for him to get the trunks into our new home. In fact + it was not easy for us to get there ourselves. There was a gang-plank, + with a rail on one side of it, which inclined from the shore to the deck + of the boat at an angle of forty-five degrees, and when the man had + staggered up this plank with the trunks (Euphemia said I ought to have + helped him, but I really thought that it would be better for one person to + fall off the plank than for two to go over together), and we had paid him, + and he had driven away in a speechless condition, we scrambled up and + stood upon the threshold, or, rather, the after-deck of our home. + </p> + <p> + It was a proud moment. Euphemia glanced around, her eyes full of happy + tears, and then she took my arm and we went down stairs—at least we + tried to go down in that fashion, but soon found it necessary to go one at + a time. We wandered over the whole extent of our mansion and found that + our carpenter had done his work better than the woman whom we had engaged + to scrub and clean the house. Something akin to despair must have seized + upon her, for Euphemia declared that the floors looked dirtier than on the + occasion of her first visit, when we rented the boat. + </p> + <p> + But that didn't discourage us. We felt sure that we should get it clean in + time. + </p> + <p> + Early in the afternoon our furniture arrived, together with the other + things we had bought, and the men who brought them over from the steamboat + landing had the brightest, merriest faces I ever noticed among that class + of people. Euphemia said it was an excellent omen to have such cheerful + fellows come to us on the very first day of our housekeeping. + </p> + <p> + Then we went to work. I put up the stove, which was not much trouble, as + there was a place all ready in the deck for the stove-pipe to be run + through. Euphemia was somewhat surprised at the absence of a chimney, but + I assured her that boats were very seldom built with chimneys. My dear + little wife bustled about and arranged the pots and kettles on nails that + I drove into the kitchen walls. Then she made the bed in the bed-room and + I hung up a looking-glass and a few little pictures that we had brought in + our trunks. + </p> + <p> + Before four o'clock our house was in order. Then we began to be very + hungry. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Euphemia, “we ought to have thought to bring something to + cook.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very true,” said I, “but I think perhaps we had better walk up to + Ginx's and get our supper to-night. You see we are so tired and hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Euphemia, “go to a hotel the very first day? I think it + would be dreadful! Why, I have been looking forward to this first meal + with the greatest delight. You can go up to the little store by the hotel + and buy some things and I will cook them, and we will have our first dear + little meal here all alone by ourselves, at our own table and in our own + house.” + </p> + <p> + So this was determined upon and, after a hasty counting of the fund I had + reserved for moving and kindred expenses, and which had been sorely + depleted during the day, I set out, and in about an hour returned with my + first marketing. + </p> + <p> + I made a fire, using a lot of chips and blocks the carpenter had left, and + Euphemia cooked the supper, and we ate it from our little table, with two + large towels for a table-cloth. + </p> + <p> + It was the most delightful meal I ever ate! + </p> + <p> + And, when we had finished, Euphemia washed the dishes (the thoughtful + creature had put some water on the stove to heat for the purpose, while we + were at supper) and then we went on deck, or on the piazza, as Euphemia + thought we had better call it, and there we had our smoke. I say WE, for + Euphemia always helps me to smoke by sitting by me, and she seems to enjoy + it as much as I do. + </p> + <p> + And when the shades of evening began to gather around us, I hauled in the + gang-plank (just like a delightful old draw-bridge, Euphemia said, + although I hope for the sake of our ancestors that draw-bridges were + easier to haul in) and went to bed. + </p> + <p> + It is lucky we were tired and wanted to go to bed early, for we had + forgotten all about lamps or candles. + </p> + <p> + For the next week we were two busy and happy people. I rose about + half-past five and made the fire,—we found so much wood on the + shore, that I thought I should not have to add fuel to my expenses,—and + Euphemia cooked the breakfast. I then went to a well belonging to a + cottage near by where we had arranged for water-privileges, and filled two + buckets with delicious water and carried them home for Euphemia's use + through the day. Then I hurried off to catch the train, for, as there was + a station near Ginx's, I ceased to patronize the steamboat, the hours of + which were not convenient. After a day of work and pleasurable + anticipation at the office, I hastened back to my home, generally laden + with a basket of provisions and various household necessities. Milk was + brought to us daily from the above-mentioned cottage by a little toddler + who seemed just able to carry the small tin bucket which held a lacteal + pint. If the urchin had been the child of rich parents, as Euphemia + sometimes observed, he would have been in his nurse's arms—but being + poor, he was scarcely weaned before he began to carry milk around to other + people. + </p> + <p> + After I reached home came supper and the delightful evening hours, when + over my pipe (I had given up cigars, as being too expensive and + inappropriate, and had taken to a tall pipe and canaster tobacco) we + talked and planned, and told each other our day's experience. + </p> + <p> + One of our earliest subjects of discussion was the name of our homestead. + Euphemia insisted that it should have a name. I was quite willing, but we + found it no easy matter to select an appropriate title. I proposed a + number of appellations intended to suggest the character of our home. + Among these were: “Safe Ashore,” “Firmly Grounded,” and some other names + of that style, but Euphemia did not fancy any of them. She wanted a + suitable name, of course, she said, but it must be something that would + SOUND like a house and BE like a boat. + </p> + <p> + “Partitionville,” she objected to, and “Gangplank Terrace,” did not suit + her because it suggested convicts going out to work, which naturally was + unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + At last, after days of talk and cogitation, we named our house “Rudder + Grange.” + </p> + <p> + To be sure, it wasn't exactly a grange, but then it had such an enormous + rudder that the justice of that part of the title seemed to over-balance + any little inaccuracy in the other portion. + </p> + <p> + But we did not spend all our spare time in talking. An hour or two, every + evening was occupied in what we called “fixing the house,” and gradually + the inside of our abode began to look like a conventional dwelling. We put + matting on the floors and cheap but very pretty paper on the walls. We + added now a couple of chairs, and now a table or something for the + kitchen. Frequently, especially of a Sunday, we had company, and our + guests were always charmed with Euphemia's cunning little meals. The dear + girl loved good eating so much that she could scarcely fail to be a good + cook. + </p> + <p> + We worked hard, and were very happy. And thus the weeks passed on. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF BOARDER. + </h2> + <p> + In this delightful way of living, only one thing troubled us. We didn't + save any money. There were so many little things that we wanted, and so + many little things that were so cheap, that I spent pretty much all I + made, and that was far from the philosophical plan of living that I wished + to follow. + </p> + <p> + We talked this matter over a great deal after we had lived in our new home + for about a month, and we came at last to the conclusion that we would + take a boarder. + </p> + <p> + We had no trouble in getting a boarder, for we had a friend, a young man + who was engaged in the flour business, who was very anxious to come and + live with us. He had been to see us two or three times, and had expressed + himself charmed with our household arrangements. + </p> + <p> + So we made terms with him. The carpenter partitioned off another room, and + our boarder brought his trunk and a large red velvet arm-chair, and took + up his abode at “Rudder Grange.” + </p> + <p> + We liked our boarder very much, but he had some peculiarities. I suppose + everybody has them. Among other things, he was very fond of telling us + what we ought to do. He suggested more improvements in the first three + days of his sojourn with us than I had thought of since we commenced + housekeeping. And what made the matter worse, his suggestions were + generally very good ones. Had it been otherwise I might have borne his + remarks more complacently, but to be continually told what you ought to + do, and to know that you ought to do it, is extremely annoying. + </p> + <p> + He was very anxious that I should take off the rudder, which was certainly + useless to a boat situated as ours was, and make an ironing-table of it. I + persisted that the laws of symmetrical propriety required that the rudder + should remain where it was—that the very name of our home would be + interfered with by its removal, but he insisted that “Ironing-table + Grange” would be just as good a name, and that symmetrical propriety in + such a case did not amount to a row of pins. + </p> + <p> + The result was, that we did have the ironing-table, and that Euphemia was + very much pleased with it. A great many other improvements were projected + and carried out by him, and I was very much worried. He made a + flower-garden for Euphemia on the extreme forward-deck, and having + borrowed a wheelbarrow, he wheeled dozens of loads of arable dirt up our + gang-plank and dumped them out on the deck. When he had covered the garden + with a suitable depth of earth, he smoothed it off and then planted + flower-seeds. It was rather late in the season, but most of them came up. + I was pleased with the garden, but sorry I had not made it myself. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon I got away from the office considerably earlier than usual, + and I hurried home to enjoy the short period of daylight that I should + have before supper. It had been raining the day before, and as the bottom + of our garden leaked so that earthy water trickled down at one end of our + bed-room, I intended to devote a short time to stuffing up the cracks in + the ceiling or bottom of the deck—whichever seems the most + appropriate. + </p> + <p> + But when I reached a bend in the river road, whence I always had the + earliest view of my establishment, I did not have that view. I hurried on. + The nearer I approached the place where I lived, the more horror-stricken + I became. There was no mistaking the fact. + </p> + <p> + The boat was not there! + </p> + <p> + In an instant the truth flashed upon me. + </p> + <p> + The water was very high—the rain had swollen the river—my + house had floated away! + </p> + <p> + It was Wednesday. On Wednesday afternoons our boarder came home early. + </p> + <p> + I clapped my hat tightly on my head and ground my teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Confound that boarder!” I thought. “He has been fooling with the anchor. + He always said it was of no use, and taking advantage of my absence, he + has hauled it up, and has floated away, and has gone—gone with my + wife and my home!” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia and “Rudder Grange” had gone off together—where I knew not,—and + with them that horrible suggester! + </p> + <p> + I ran wildly along the bank. I called aloud, I shouted and hailed each + passing craft—of which there were only two—but their crews + must have been very inattentive to the woes of landsmen, or else they did + not hear me, for they paid no attention to my cries. + </p> + <p> + I met a fellow with an axe on his shoulder. I shouted to him before I + reached him: + </p> + <p> + “Hello! did you see a boat—a house, I mean,—floating up the + river?” + </p> + <p> + “A boat-house?” asked the man. + </p> + <p> + “No, a house-boat,” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't see nuthin' like it,” said the man, and he passed on, to his wife + and home, no doubt. But me! Oh, where was my wife and my home? + </p> + <p> + I met several people, but none of them had seen a fugitive canal-boat. + </p> + <p> + How many thoughts came into my brain as I ran along that river road! If + that wretched boarder had not taken the rudder for an ironing table he + might have steered in shore! Again and again I confounded—as far as + mental ejaculations could do it—his suggestions. + </p> + <p> + I was rapidly becoming frantic when I met a person who hailed me. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he said, “are you after a canal-boat adrift?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I panted. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you was,” he said. “You looked that way. Well, I can tell you + where she is. She's stuck fast in the reeds at the lower end o' Peter's + Pint.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's that?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's about a mile furder up. I seed her a-driftin' up with the tide—big + flood tide, to-day—and I thought I'd see somebody after her, afore + long. Anything aboard?” + </p> + <p> + Anything! + </p> + <p> + I could not answer the man. Anything, indeed! I hurried on up the river + without a word. Was the boat a wreck? I scarcely dared to think of it. I + scarcely dared to think at all. + </p> + <p> + The man called after me and I stopped. I could but stop, no matter what I + might hear. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, mister,” he said, “got any tobacco?” + </p> + <p> + I walked up to him. I took hold of him by the lapel of his coat. It was a + dirty lapel, as I remember even now, but I didn't mind that. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said I. “Tell me the truth, I can bear it. Was that vessel + wrecked?” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at me a little queerly. I could not exactly interpret his + expression. + </p> + <p> + “You're sure you kin bear it?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, my hand trembling as I held his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said he, “it's mor'n I kin,” and he jerked his coat out of + my hand, and sprang away. When he reached the other side of the road, he + turned and shouted at me, as though I had been deaf. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I think?” he yelled. “I think you're a darned lunatic,” + and with that he went his way. + </p> + <p> + I hastened on to Peter's Point. Long before I reached it, I saw the boat. + </p> + <p> + It was apparently deserted. But still I pressed on. I must know the worst. + When I reached the Point, I found that the boat had run aground, with her + head in among the long reeds and mud, and the rest of her hull lying at an + angle from the shore. + </p> + <p> + There was consequently no way for me to get on board, but to wade through + the mud and reeds to her bow, and then climb up as well as I could. + </p> + <p> + This I did, but it was not easy to do. Twice I sank above my knees in mud + and water, and had it not been for reeds, masses of which I frequently + clutched when I thought I was going over, I believe I should have fallen + down and come to my death in that horrible marsh. When I reached the boat, + I stood up to my hips in water and saw no way of climbing up. The + gang-plank had undoubtedly floated away, and if it had not, it would have + been of no use to me in my position. + </p> + <p> + But I was desperate. I clasped the post that they put in the bow of + canal-boats; I stuck my toes and my finger-nails in the cracks between the + boards—how glad I was that the boat was an old one and had cracks!—and + so, painfully and slowly, slipping part way down once or twice, and + besliming myself from chin to foot, I climbed up that post and scrambled + upon deck. In an instant, I reached the top of the stairs, and in another + instant I rushed below. + </p> + <p> + There sat my wife and our boarder, one on each side of the dining-room + table, complacently playing checkers! + </p> + <p> + My sudden entrance startled them. My appearance startled them still more. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia sprang to her feet and tottered toward me. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” she exclaimed; “has anything happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Happened!” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” cried the boarder, clutching me by the arm, “what a condition + you're in. Did you fall in?” + </p> + <p> + “Fall in!” said I. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia and the boarder looked at each other. I looked at them. Then I + opened my mouth in earnest. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you don't know,” I yelled, “that you have drifted away!” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried the boarder, and in two bounds he was on deck. + </p> + <p> + Dirty as I was, Euphemia fell into my arms. I told her all. She hadn't + known a bit of it! + </p> + <p> + The boat had so gently drifted off, and had so gently grounded among the + reeds, that the voyage had never so much as disturbed their games of + checkers. + </p> + <p> + “He plays such a splendid game,” Euphemia sobbed, “and just as you came, I + thought I was going to beat him. I had two kings and two pieces on the + next to last row, and you are nearly drowned. You'll get your death of + cold—and—and he had only one king.” + </p> + <p> + She led me away and I undressed and washed myself and put on my Sunday + clothes. + </p> + <p> + When I reappeared I went out on deck with Euphemia. The boarder was there, + standing by the petunia bed. His arms were folded and he was thinking + profoundly. As we approached, he turned toward us. + </p> + <p> + “You were right about that anchor,” he said, “I should not have hauled it + in; but it was such a little anchor that I thought it would be of more use + on board as a garden hoe.” + </p> + <p> + “A very little anchor will sometimes do very well,” said I, cuttingly, + “when it is hooked around a tree.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is something in that,” said he. + </p> + <p> + It was now growing late, and as our agitation subsided we began to be + hungry. Fortunately, we had everything necessary on board, and, as it + really didn't make any difference in our household economy, where we + happened to be located, we had supper quite as usual. In fact, the kettle + had been put on to boil during the checker-playing. + </p> + <p> + After supper, we went on deck to smoke, as was our custom, but there was a + certain coolness between me and our boarder. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning I arose and went upstairs to consider what had + better be done, when I saw the boarder standing on shore, near by. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he cried, “the tide's down and I got ashore without any trouble. + You stay where you are. I've hired a couple of mules to tow the boat back. + They'll be here when the tide rises. And, hello! I've found the + gang-plank. It floated ashore about a quarter of a mile below here.” + </p> + <p> + In the course of the afternoon the mules and two men with a long rope + appeared, and we were then towed back to where we belonged. + </p> + <p> + And we are there yet. Our boarder remains with us, as the weather is still + fine, and the coolness between us is gradually diminishing. But the boat + is moored at both ends, and twice a day I look to see if the ropes are all + right. + </p> + <p> + The petunias are growing beautifully, but the geraniums do not seem to + flourish. Perhaps there is not a sufficient depth of earth for them. + Several times our boarder has appeared to be on the point of suggesting + something in regard to them, but, for some reason or other, he says + nothing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF GIRL. + </h2> + <p> + One afternoon, as I was hurrying down Broadway to catch the five o'clock + train, I met Waterford. He is an old friend of mine, and I used to like + him pretty well. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” said he, “where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Home,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Is that so?” said he. “I didn't know you had one.” + </p> + <p> + I was a little nettled at this, and so I said, somewhat brusquely perhaps: + </p> + <p> + “But you must have known I lived somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! But I thought you boarded,” said he. “I had no idea that you had + a home.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have one, and a very pleasant home, too. You must excuse me for not + stopping longer, as I must catch my train.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I'll walk along with you,” said Waterford, and so we went down the + street together. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your little house?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Why in the world he thought it was a little house I could not at the time + imagine, unless he supposed that two people would not require a large one. + But I know, now, that he lived in a very little house himself. + </p> + <p> + But it was of no use getting angry with Waterford, especially as I saw he + intended walking all the way down to the ferry with me, so I told him I + didn't live in any house at all. + </p> + <p> + “Why, where DO you live?” he exclaimed, stopping short. + </p> + <p> + “I live in a boat,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “A boat! A sort of 'Rob Roy' arrangement, I suppose. Well, I would not + have thought that of you. And your wife, I suppose, has gone home to her + people?” + </p> + <p> + “She has done nothing of the kind,” I answered. “She lives with me, and + she likes it very much. We are extremely comfortable, and our boat is not + a canoe, or any such nonsensical affair. It is a large, commodious + canal-boat.” + </p> + <p> + Waterford turned around and looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a deck-hand?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Deck-grandmother!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you needn't get mad about it,” he said. “I didn't mean to hurt your + feelings; but I couldn't see what else you could be on a canal-boat. I + don't suppose, for instance, that you're captain.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” said Waterford; “this is coming it rather strong, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + As I saw he was getting angry, I told him all about it,—told him how + we had hired a stranded canal-boat and had fitted it up as a house, and + how we lived so cosily in it, and had called it “Rudder Grange,” and how + we had taken a boarder. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said he, “this is certainly surprising. I'm coming out to see you + some day. It will be better than going to Barnum's.” + </p> + <p> + I told him—it is the way of society—that we would be glad to + see him, and we parted. Waterford never did come to see us, and I merely + mention this incident to show how some of our friends talked about Rudder + Grange, when they first heard that we lived there. + </p> + <p> + After dinner that evening, when I went up on deck with Euphemia to have my + smoke, we saw the boarder sitting on the bulwarks near the garden, with + his legs dangling down outside. + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” said he. + </p> + <p> + I looked, but there was nothing unusual to see. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + He turned around and seeing Euphemia, said: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + It would be a very stupid person who could not take such a hint as that, + and so, after a walk around the garden, Euphemia took occasion to go below + to look at the kitchen fire. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she had gone, the boarder turned to me and said: + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what it is. She's working herself sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Sick?” said I. “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “No nonsense about it,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + The truth was, that the boarder was right and I was wrong. We had spent + several months at Rudder Grange, and during this time Euphemia had been + working very hard, and she really did begin to look pale and thin. Indeed, + it would be very wearying for any woman of culture and refinement, unused + to house-work, to cook and care for two men, and to do all the work of a + canal-boat besides. + </p> + <p> + But I saw Euphemia so constantly, and thought so much of her, and had her + image so continually in my heart, that I did not notice this until our + boarder now called my attention to it. I was sorry that he had to do it. + </p> + <p> + “If I were in your place,” said he, “I would get her a servant.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were in my place,” I replied, somewhat cuttingly, “you would + probably suggest a lot of little things which would make everything very + easy for her.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd try to,” he answered, without getting in the least angry. + </p> + <p> + Although I felt annoyed that he had suggested it, still I made up my mind + that Euphemia must have a servant. + </p> + <p> + She agreed quite readily when I proposed the plan, and she urged me to go + and see the carpenter that very day, and get him to come and partition off + a little room for the girl. + </p> + <p> + It was some time, of course, before the room was made (for who ever heard + of a carpenter coming at the very time he was wanted?) and, when it was + finished, Euphemia occupied all her spare moments in getting it in nice + order for the servant when she should come. I thought she was taking too + much trouble, but she had her own ideas about such things. + </p> + <p> + “If a girl is lodged like a pig, you must expect her to behave like a pig, + and I don't want that kind.” + </p> + <p> + So she put up pretty curtains at the girl's window, and with a box that + she stood on end, and some old muslin and a lot of tacks, she made a + toilet-table so neat and convenient that I thought she ought to take it + into our room and give the servant our wash-stand. + </p> + <p> + But all this time we had no girl, and as I had made up my mind about the + matter, I naturally grew impatient, and at last I determined to go and get + a girl myself. + </p> + <p> + So, one day at lunch-time, I went to an intelligence office in the city. + There I found a large room on the second floor, and some ladies, and one + or two men, sitting about, and a small room, back of it, crowded with + girls from eighteen to sixty-eight years old. There were also girls upon + the stairs, and girls in the hall below, besides some girls standing on + the sidewalk before the door. + </p> + <p> + When I made known my business and had paid my fee, one of the several + proprietors who were wandering about the front room went into the back + apartment and soon returned with a tall Irishwoman with a bony + weather-beaten face and a large weather-beaten shawl. This woman was told + to take a chair by my side. Down sat the huge creature and stared at me. I + did not feel very easy under her scrutinizing gaze, but I bore it as best + I could, and immediately began to ask her all the appropriate questions + that I could think of. Some she answered satisfactorily, and some she + didn't answer at all; but as soon as I made a pause, she began to put + questions herself. + </p> + <p> + “How many servants do you kape?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + I answered that we intended to get along with one, and if she understood + her business, I thought she would find her work very easy, and the place a + good one. + </p> + <p> + She turned sharp upon me and said: + </p> + <p> + “Have ye stationary wash-tubs?” + </p> + <p> + I hesitated. I knew our wash-tubs were not stationary, for I had helped to + carry them about. But they might be screwed fast and made stationary if + that was an important object. But, before making this answer, I thought of + the great conveniences for washing presented by our residence, surrounded + as it was, at high tide, by water. + </p> + <p> + “Why, we live in a stationary wash-tub,” I said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + The woman looked at me steadfastly for a minute, and then she rose to her + feet. Then she called out, as if she were crying fish or strawberries: + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Blaine!” + </p> + <p> + The female keeper of the intelligence office, and the male keeper, and a + thin clerk, and all the women in the back room, and all the patrons in the + front room, jumped up and gathered around us. + </p> + <p> + Astonished and somewhat disconcerted, I rose to my feet and confronted the + tall Irishwoman, and stood smiling in an uncertain sort of a way, as if it + were all very funny; but I couldn't see the point. I think I must have + impressed the people with the idea that I wished I hadn't come. + </p> + <p> + “He says,” exclaimed the woman, as if some other huckster were crying fish + on the other side of the street—“he says he lives in a wash-toob.” + </p> + <p> + “He's crazy!” ejaculated Mrs. Blaine, with an air that indicated + “policeman” as plainly as if she had put her thought into words. + </p> + <p> + A low murmur ran through the crowd of women, while the thin clerk edged + toward the door. + </p> + <p> + I saw there was no time to lose. I stepped back a little from the tall + savage, who was breathing like a hot-air engine in front of me, and made + my explanations to the company. I told the tale of “Rudder Grange,” and + showed them how it was like to a stationary wash-tub—at certain + stages of the tide. + </p> + <p> + I was listened to with great attention. When I had finished, the tall + woman turned around and faced the assemblage. + </p> + <p> + “An' he wants a cook to make soup! In a canal-boat!” said she, and off she + marched into the back-room, followed closely by all the other women. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think we have any one here who would suit you,” said Mrs. Blaine. + </p> + <p> + I didn't think so either. What on earth would Euphemia have done with that + volcanic Irishwoman in her little kitchen! I took up my hat and bade Mrs. + Blaine good morning. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning,” said she, with a distressing smile. + </p> + <p> + She had one of those mouths that look exactly like a gash in the face. + </p> + <p> + I went home without a girl. In a day or two Euphemia came to town and got + one. Apparently she got her without any trouble, but I am not sure. + </p> + <p> + She went to a “Home”—Saint Somebody's Home—a place where they + keep orphans to let, so to speak. Here Euphemia selected a light-haired, + medium-sized orphan, and brought her home. + </p> + <p> + The girl's name was Pomona. Whether or not her parents gave her this name + is doubtful. At any rate, she did not seem quite decided in her mind about + it herself, for she had not been with us more than two weeks before she + expressed a desire to be called Clare. This longing of her heart, however, + was denied her. So Euphemia, who was always correct, called her Pomona. I + did the same whenever I could think not to say Bologna—which seemed + to come very pat for some reason or other. + </p> + <p> + As for the boarder, he generally called her Altoona, connecting her in + some way with the process of stopping for refreshments, in which she was + an adept. + </p> + <p> + She was an earnest, hearty girl. She was always in a good humor, and when + I asked her to do anything, she assented in a bright, cheerful way, and in + a loud tone full of good-fellowship, as though she would say: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my high old cock! To be sure I will. Don't worry about it—give + your mind no more uneasiness on that subject. I'll bring the hot water.” + </p> + <p> + She did not know very much, but she was delighted to learn, and she was + very strong. Whatever Euphemia told her to do, she did instantly with a + bang. What pleased her better than anything else was to run up and down + the gang-plank, carrying buckets of water to water the garden. She + delighted in out-door work, and sometimes dug so vigorously in our garden + that she brought up pieces of the deck-planking with every shovelful. + </p> + <p> + Our boarder took the greatest interest in her, and sometimes watched her + movements so intently that he let his pipe go out. + </p> + <p> + “What a whacking girl that would be to tread out grapes in the vineyards + of Italy! She'd make wine cheap,” he once remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'm glad she isn't there,” said Euphemia, “for wine oughtn't to be + cheap.” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia was a thorough little temperance woman. + </p> + <p> + The one thing about Pomona that troubled me more than anything else was + her taste for literature. It was not literature to which I objected, but + her very peculiar taste. She would read in the kitchen every night after + she had washed the dishes, but if she had not read aloud, it would not + have made so much difference to me. But I am naturally very sensitive to + external impressions, and I do not like the company of people who, like + our girl, cannot read without pronouncing in a measured and distinct voice + every word of what they are reading. And when the matter thus read appeals + to one's every sentiment of aversion, and there is no way of escaping it, + the case is hard indeed. + </p> + <p> + From the first, I felt inclined to order Pomona, if she could not attain + the power of silent perusal, to cease from reading altogether; but + Euphemia would not hear to this. + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing!” said she; “it would be cruel to take from her her only + recreation. And she says she can't read any other way. You needn't listen + if you don't want to.” + </p> + <p> + That was all very well in an abstract point of view; but the fact was, + that in practice, the more I didn't want to listen, the more I heard. + </p> + <p> + As the evenings were often cool, we sat in our dining-room, and the + partition between this room and the kitchen seemed to have no influence + whatever in arresting sound. So that when I was trying to read or to + reflect, it was by no means exhilarating to my mind to hear from the next + room that: + </p> + <p> + “The la dy ce sel i a now si zed the weep on and all though the boor ly + vil ly an re tain ed his vy gor ous hold she drew the blade through his + fin gers and hoorl ed it far be hind her dryp ping with jore.” + </p> + <p> + This sort of thing, kept up for an hour or so at a time, used to drive me + nearly wild. But Euphemia did not mind it. I believe that she had so + delicate a sense of what was proper, that she did not hear Pomona's + private readings. + </p> + <p> + On one occasion, even Euphemia's influence could scarcely restrain me from + violent interference. + </p> + <p> + It was our boarder's night out (when he was detained in town by his + business), and Pomona was sitting up to let him in. This was necessary, + for our front-door (or main-hatchway) had no night-latch, but was fastened + by means of a bolt. Euphemia and I used to sit up for him, but that was + earlier in the season, when it was pleasant to be out on deck until quite + a late hour. But Pomona never objected to sitting (or getting) up late, + and so we allowed this weekly duty to devolve on her. + </p> + <p> + On this particular night I was very tired and sleepy, and soon after I got + into bed I dropped into a delightful slumber. But it was not long before I + was awakened by the fact that: + </p> + <p> + “Sa rah did not fl inch but gras ped the heat ed i ron in her un in jur ed + hand and when the ra bid an i mal a proach ed she thr ust the lur id po + ker in his—” + </p> + <p> + “My conscience!” said I to Euphemia, “can't that girl be stopped?” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't have her sit there and do nothing, would you?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “No; but she needn't read out that way.” + </p> + <p> + “She can't read any other way,” said Euphemia, drowsily. + </p> + <p> + “Yell af ter yell res oun ded as he wil dly spr rang—” + </p> + <p> + “I can't stand that, and I won't,” said I. “Why don't she go into the + kitchen?—the dining-room's no place for her.” + </p> + <p> + “She must not sit there,” said Euphemia. “There's a window-pane out. Can't + you cover up your head?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not be able to breathe if I do; but I suppose that's no matter,” + I replied. + </p> + <p> + The reading continued. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha! Lord Mar mont thun der ed thou too shalt suf fer all that this + poor—” + </p> + <p> + I sprang out of bed. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia thought I was going for my pistol, and she gave one bound and + stuck her head out of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Pomona, fly!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sma'am,” said Pomona; and she got up and flew—not very fast, I + imagine. Where she flew to I don't know, but she took the lamp with her, + and I could hear distant syllables of agony and blood, until the boarder + came home and Pomona went to bed. + </p> + <p> + I think that this made an impression upon Euphemia, for, although she did + not speak to me upon the subject (or any other) that night, the next time + I heard Pomona reading, the words ran somewhat thus: + </p> + <p> + “The as ton ish ing che ap ness of land is ac count ed for by the want of + home mar kets, of good ro ads and che ap me ans of trans por ta ti on in + ma ny sec ti ons of the State.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF BURGLAR. + </h2> + <p> + I have spoken of my pistol. During the early part of our residence at + Rudder Grange I never thought of such a thing as owning a pistol. + </p> + <p> + But it was different now. I kept a Colt's revolver loaded in the bureau + drawer in our bedroom. + </p> + <p> + The cause of this change was burglars. Not that any of these unpleasant + persons had visited us, but we much feared they would. Several houses in + the vicinity had been entered during the past month, and we could never + tell when our turn would come. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, our boarder suggested that if we were to anchor out a little + further at night, no burglar would risk catching his death of cold by + swimming out to us; but Euphemia having replied that it would be rather + difficult to move a canal-boat every night without paddle-wheels, or + sails, or mules, especially if it were aground, this plan was considered + to be effectually disposed of. + </p> + <p> + So we made up our minds that we must fasten up everything very securely, + and I bought a pistol and two burglar-alarms. One of these I affixed to + the most exposed window, and the other to the door which opened on the + deck. These alarms were very simple affairs, but they were good enough. + When they were properly attached to a window or door, and it was opened, a + little gong sounded like a violently deranged clock, striking all the + hours of the day at once. + </p> + <p> + The window did not trouble us much, but it was rather irksome to have to + make the attachment to the door every night and to take it off every + morning. However, as Euphemia said, it was better to take a little trouble + than to have the house full of burglars, which was true enough. + </p> + <p> + We made all the necessary arrangements in case burglars should make an + inroad upon us. At the first sound of the alarm, Euphemia and the girl + were to lie flat on the floor or get under their beds. Then the boarder + and I were to stand up, back to back, each with pistol in hand, and fire + away, revolving on a common centre the while. In this way, by aiming + horizontally at about four feet from the floor, we could rake the + premises, and run no risk of shooting each other or the women of the + family. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, there were some slight objections to this plan. The boarder's + room was at some distance from ours, and he would probably not hear the + alarm, and the burglars might not be willing to wait while I went forward + and roused him up, and brought him to our part of the house. But this was + a minor difficulty. I had no doubt but that, if it should be necessary, I + could manage to get our boarder into position in plenty of time. + </p> + <p> + It was not very long before there was an opportunity of testing the plan. + </p> + <p> + About twelve o'clock one night one of the alarms (that on the kitchen + window) went off with a whirr and a wild succession of clangs. For a + moment I thought the morning train had arrived, and then I woke up. + Euphemia was already under the bed. + </p> + <p> + I hurried on a few clothes, and then I tried to find the bureau in the + dark. This was not easy, as I lost my bearings entirely. But I found it at + last, got the top drawer open and took out my pistol. Then I slipped out + of the room, hurried up the stairs, opened the door (setting off the alarm + there, by the way), and ran along the deck (there was a cold night wind), + and hastily descended the steep steps that led into the boarder's room. + The door that was at the bottom of the steps was not fastened, and, as I + opened it, a little stray moonlight illumed the room. I hastily stepped to + the bed and shook the boarder by the shoulder. He kept HIS pistol under + his pillow. + </p> + <p> + In an instant he was on his feet, his hand grasped my throat, and the cold + muzzle of his Derringer pistol was at my forehead. It was an awfully big + muzzle, like the mouth of a bottle. + </p> + <p> + I don't know when I lived so long as during the first minute that he held + me thus. + </p> + <p> + “Rascal!” he said. “Do as much as breathe, and I'll pull the trigger.” + </p> + <p> + I didn't breathe. + </p> + <p> + I had an accident insurance on my life. Would it hold good in a case like + this? Or would Euphemia have to go back to her father? + </p> + <p> + He pushed me back into the little patch of moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! is it you?” he said, relaxing his grasp. “What do you want? A mustard + plaster?” + </p> + <p> + He had a package of patent plasters in his room. You took one and dipped + it in hot water, and it was all ready. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, gasping a little. “Burglars.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said, and he put down his pistol and put on his clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” he said, and away we went over the deck. + </p> + <p> + When we reached the stairs all was dark and quiet below. + </p> + <p> + It was a matter of hesitancy as to going down. + </p> + <p> + I started to go down first, but the boarder held me back. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go down,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “my wife is there.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the very reason you should not go,” he said. “She is safe enough + yet, and they would fire only at a man. It would be a bad job for her if + you were killed. I'll go down.” + </p> + <p> + So he went down, slowly and cautiously, his pistol in one hand, and his + life in the other, as it were. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the bottom of the steps I changed my mind. I could not + remain above while the burglar and Euphemia were below, so I followed. + </p> + <p> + The boarder was standing in the middle of the dining-room, into which the + stairs led. I could not see him, but I put my hand against him as I was + feeling my way across the floor. + </p> + <p> + I whispered to him: + </p> + <p> + “Shall we put our backs together and revolve and fire?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he whispered back, “not now; he may be on a shelf by this time, or + under a table. Let's look him up.” + </p> + <p> + I confess that I was not very anxious to look him up, but I followed the + boarder, as he slowly made his way toward the kitchen door. As we opened + the door we instinctively stopped. + </p> + <p> + The window was open, and by the light of the moon that shone in, we saw + the rascal standing on a chair, leaning out of the window, evidently just + ready to escape. Fortunately, we were unheard. + </p> + <p> + “Let's pull him in,” whispered the boarder. + </p> + <p> + “No,” I whispered in reply. “We don't want him in. Let's hoist him out.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” returned the boarder. + </p> + <p> + We laid our pistols on the floor, and softly approached the window. Being + barefooted, out steps were noiseless. + </p> + <p> + “Hoist when I count three,” breathed the boarder into my ear. + </p> + <p> + We reached the chair. Each of us took hold of two of its legs. + </p> + <p> + “One—two—three!” said the boarder, and together we gave a + tremendous lift and shot the wretch out of the window. + </p> + <p> + The tide was high, and there was a good deal of water around the boat. We + heard a rousing splash outside. + </p> + <p> + Now there was no need of silence. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we run on deck and shoot him as he swims?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the boarder, “we'll get the boat-hook, and jab him if he tries + to climb up.” + </p> + <p> + We rushed on deck. I seized the boat-hook and looked over the side. But I + saw no one. + </p> + <p> + “He's gone to the bottom!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't go very far then,” said the boarder, “for it's not more than + two feet deep there.” + </p> + <p> + Just then our attention was attracted by a voice from the shore. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please let down the gang-plank?” We looked ashore, and there + stood Pomona, dripping from every pore. + </p> + <p> + We spoke no words, but lowered the gangplank. + </p> + <p> + She came aboard. + </p> + <p> + “Good night!” said the boarder, and he went to bed. + </p> + <p> + “Pomona!” said I, “what have you been doing?” + </p> + <p> + “I was a lookin' at the moon, sir, when pop! the chair bounced, and out I + went.” + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't do that,” I said, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Some day you'll be drowned. Take off your wet things and go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sma'am—sir, I mean,” said she, as she went down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + When I reached my room I lighted the lamp, and found Euphemia still under + the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all right?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I answered. “There was no burglar. Pomona fell out of the window.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you get her a plaster?” asked Euphemia, drowsily. + </p> + <p> + “No, she did not need one. She's all right now. Were you worried about me, + dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I trusted in you entirely, and I think I dozed a little under the + bed.” + </p> + <p> + In one minute she was asleep. + </p> + <p> + The boarder and I did not make this matter a subject of conversation + afterward, but Euphemia gave the girl a lecture on her careless ways, and + made her take several Dover's powders the next day. + </p> + <p> + An important fact in domestic economy was discovered about this time by + Euphemia and myself. Perhaps we were not the first to discover it, but we + certainly did find it out,—and this fact was, that housekeeping + costs money. At the end of every week we counted up our expenditures—it + was no trouble at all to count up our receipts—and every week the + result was more unsatisfactory. + </p> + <p> + “If we could only get rid of the disagreeable balance that has to be taken + along all the time, and which gets bigger and bigger like a snow-ball, I + think we would find the accounts more satisfactory,” said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + This was on a Saturday night. We always got our pencils and paper and + money at the end of the week. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, with an attempt to appear facetious and unconcerned, “but + it would be all well enough if we could take that snow-ball to the fire + and melt it down.” + </p> + <p> + “But there never is any fire where there are snow-balls,” said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “and that's just the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + It was on the following Thursday, when I came home in the evening, that + Euphemia met me with a glowing face. It rather surprised me to see her + look so happy, for she had been very quiet and preoccupied for the first + part of the week. So much so, indeed, that I had thought of ordering + smaller roasts for a week or two, and taking her to a Thomas Concert with + the money saved. But this evening she looked as if she did not need + Thomas's orchestra. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you so bright, my dear?” said I, when I had greeted her. “Has + anything jolly happened?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said she; “nothing yet, but I am going to make a fire to melt + snow-balls.” + </p> + <p> + Of course I was very anxious to know how she was going to do it, but she + would not tell me. It was a plan that she intended to keep to herself + until she saw how it worked. I did not press her, because she had so few + secrets, and I did not hear anything about this plan until it had been + carried out. + </p> + <p> + Her scheme was as follows: After thinking over our financial condition and + puzzling her brain to find out some way of bettering it, she had come to + the conclusion that she would make some money by her own exertions, to + help defray our household expenses. She never had made any money, but that + was no reason why she should not begin. It was too bad that I should have + to toil and toil and not make nearly enough money after all. So she would + go to work and earn something with her own hands. + </p> + <p> + She had heard of an establishment in the city, where ladies of limited + means, or transiently impecunious, could, in a very quiet and private way, + get sewing to do. They could thus provide for their needs without any one + but the officers of the institution knowing anything about it. + </p> + <p> + So Euphemia went to this place, and she got some work. It was not a very + large bundle, but it was larger than she had been accustomed to carry, + and, what was perfectly dreadful, it was wrapped up in a newspaper! When + Euphemia told me the story, she said that this was too much for her + courage. She could not go on the cars, and perhaps meet people belonging + to our church, with a newspaper bundle under her arm. + </p> + <p> + But her genius for expedients saved her from this humiliation. She had to + purchase some sewing-cotton, and some other little things, and when she + had bought them, she handed her bundle to the woman behind the counter, + and asked her if she would not be so good as to have that wrapped up with + the other things. It was a good deal to ask, she knew, and the woman + smiled, for the articles she had bought would not make a package as large + as her hand. However, her request was complied with, and she took away a + very decent package, with the card of the store stamped on the outside. I + suppose that there are not more than half a dozen people in this country + who would refuse Euphemia anything that she would be willing to ask for. + </p> + <p> + So she took the work home, and she labored faithfully at it for about a + week, She did not suppose it would take her so long; but she was not used + to such very plain sewing, and was much afraid that she would not do it + neatly enough. Besides this, she could only work on it in the daytime—when + I was away—and was, of course, interrupted a great deal by her + ordinary household duties, and the necessity of a careful oversight of + Pomona's somewhat erratic methods of doing her work. + </p> + <p> + But at last she finished the job and took it into the city. She did not + want to spend any more money on the trip than was absolutely necessary, + and so was very glad to find that she had a remnant of pocket-money + sufficient to pay her fare both ways. + </p> + <p> + When she reached the city, she walked up to the place where her work was + to be delivered, and found it much farther when she went on foot than it + had seemed to her riding in the street cars. She handed over her bundle to + the proper person, and, as it was soon examined and approved, she received + her pay therefor. + </p> + <p> + It amounted to sixty cents. She had made no bargain, but she was a little + astonished. However, she said nothing, but left the place without asking + for any more work. In fact she forgot all about it. She had an idea that + everything was all wrong, and that idea engrossed her mind entirely. There + was no mistake about the sum paid, for the lady clerk had referred to the + printed table of prices when she calculated the amount due. But something + was wrong, and, at the moment, Euphemia could not tell what it was. She + left the place, and started to walk back to the ferry. But she was so + tired and weak, and hungry—it was now an hour or two past her + regular luncheon time—that she thought she should faint if she did + not go somewhere and get some refreshments. + </p> + <p> + So, like a sensible little woman as she was, she went into a restaurant. + She sat down at a table, and a waiter came to her to see what she would + have. She was not accustomed to eating-houses, and perhaps this was the + first time that she had ever visited one alone. What she wanted was + something simple. So she ordered a cup of tea and some rolls, and a piece + of chicken. The meal was a very good one, and Euphemia enjoyed it. When + she had finished, she went up to the counter to settle. Her bill was sixty + cents. She paid the money that she had just received, and walked down to + the ferry—all in a daze, she said. When she got home she thought it + over, and then she cried. + </p> + <p> + After a while she dried her eyes, and when I came home she told me all + about it. + </p> + <p> + “I give it up,” she said. “I don't believe I can help you any.” + </p> + <p> + Poor little thing! I took her in my arms and comforted her, and before + bedtime I had convinced her that she was fully able to help me better than + any one else on earth, and that without puzzling her brains about + business, or wearing herself out by sewing for pay. + </p> + <p> + So we went on in our old way, and by keeping our attention on our weekly + balance, we prevented it from growing very rapidly. + </p> + <p> + We fell back on our philosophy (it was all the capital we had), and became + as calm and contented as circumstances allowed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. POMONA PRODUCES A PARTIAL REVOLUTION IN RUDDER GRANGE. + </h2> + <p> + Euphemia began to take a great deal of comfort in her girl. Every evening + she had some new instance to relate of Pomona's inventive abilities and + aptness in adapting herself to the peculiarities of our method of + housekeeping. + </p> + <p> + “Only to think!” said she, one afternoon, “Pomona has just done another + VERY smart thing. You know what a trouble it has always been for us to + carry all our waste water upstairs, and throw it over the bulwarks. Well, + she has remedied all that. She has cut a nice little low window in the + side of the kitchen, and has made a shutter of the piece she cut out, with + leather hinges to it, and now she can just open this window, throw the + water out, shut it again, and there it is! I tell you she's smart.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; there is no doubt of that,” I said; “but I think that there is + danger of her taking more interest in such extraordinary and novel duties + than in the regular work of the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't discourage the girl, my dear,” she said, “for she is of the + greatest use to me, and I don't want you to be throwing cold water about + like some people.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even if I throw it out of Pomona's little door, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Don't throw it at all. Encourage people. What would the world be if + everybody chilled our aspirations and extraordinary efforts? Like Fulton's + steamboat.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I said; “I'll not discourage her.” + </p> + <p> + It was now getting late in the season. It was quite too cool to sit out on + deck in the evening, and our garden began to look desolate. + </p> + <p> + Our boarder had wheeled up a lot of fresh earth, and had prepared a large + bed, in which he had planted turnips. They made an excellent fall crop, he + assured us. + </p> + <p> + From being simply cool it began to be rainy, and the weather grew + decidedly unpleasant. But our boarder bade us take courage. This was + probably the “equinoctial,” and when it was over there would be a + delightful Indian summer, and the turnips would grow nicely. + </p> + <p> + This sounded very well, but the wind blew up cold at night, and there was + a great deal of unpleasant rain. + </p> + <p> + One night it blew what Pomona called a “whirlicane,” and we went to bed + very early to keep warm. We heard our boarder on deck in the garden after + we were in bed, and Euphemia said she could not imagine what he was about, + unless he was anchoring his turnips to keep them from blowing away. + </p> + <p> + During the night I had a dream. I thought I was a boy again, and was + trying to stand upon my head, a feat for which I had been famous. But + instead of throwing myself forward on my hands, and then raising my heels + backward over my head, in the orthodox manner, I was on my back, and + trying to get on my head from that position. I awoke suddenly, and found + that the footboard of the bedstead was much higher than our heads. We were + lying on a very much inclined plane, with our heads downward. I roused + Euphemia, and we both got out of bed, when, at almost the same moment, we + slipped down the floor into ever so much water. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia was scarcely awake, and she fell down gurgling. It was dark, but + I heard her fall, and I jumped over the bedstead to her assistance. I had + scarcely raised her up, when I heard a pounding at the front door or + main-hatchway, and our boarder shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Get up! Come out of that! Open the door! The old boat's turning over!” + </p> + <p> + My heart fell within me, but I clutched Euphemia. I said no word, and she + simply screamed. I dragged her over the floor, sometimes in the water and + sometimes out of it. I got the dining-room door open and set her on the + stairs. They were in a topsy-turvy condition, but they were dry. I found a + lantern which hung on a nail, with a match-box under it, and I struck a + light. Then I scrambled back and brought her some clothes. + </p> + <p> + All this time the boarder was yelling and pounding at the door. When + Euphemia was ready I opened the door and took her out. + </p> + <p> + “You go dress yourself;” said the boarder. “I'll hold her here until you + come back.” + </p> + <p> + I left her and found my clothes (which, chair and all, had tumbled against + the foot of the bed and so had not gone into the water), and soon + reappeared on deck. The wind was blowing strongly, but it did not now seem + to be very cold. The deck reminded me of the gang-plank of a Harlem + steamboat at low tide. It was inclined at an angle of more than forty-five + degrees, I am sure. There was light enough for us to see about us, but the + scene and all the dreadful circumstances made me feel the most intense + desire to wake up and find it all a dream. There was no doubt, however, + about the boarder being wide awake. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” said he, “take hold of her on that side and we'll help her + over here. You scramble down on that side; it's all dry just there. The + boat's turned over toward the water, and I'll lower her down to you. I'll + let a rope over the sides. You can hold on to that as you go down.” + </p> + <p> + I got over the bulwarks and let myself down to the ground. Then the + boarder got Euphemia up and slipped her over the side, holding to her + hands, and letting her gently down until I could reach her. She said never + a word, but screamed at times. I carried her a little way up the shore and + set her down. I wanted to take her up to a house near by, where we bought + our milk, but she declined to go until we had saved Pomona. + </p> + <p> + So I went back to the boat, having carefully wrapped up Euphemia, to + endeavor to save the girl. I found that the boarder had so arranged the + gang-plank that it was possible, without a very great exercise of agility, + to pass from the shore to the boat. When I first saw him, on reaching the + shelving deck, he was staggering up the stairs with a dining-room chair + and a large framed engraving of Raphael's Dante—an ugly picture, but + full of true feeling; at least so Euphemia always declared, though I am + not quite sure that I know what she meant. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Pomona?” I said, endeavoring to stand on the hill-side of the + deck. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said he, “but we must get the things out. The tide's + rising and the wind's getting up. The boat will go over before we know + it.” + </p> + <p> + “But we must find the girl,” I said. “She can't be left to drown.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think it would matter much,” said he, getting over the side of + the boat with his awkward load. “She would be of about as much use drowned + as any other way. If it hadn't been for that hole she cut in the side of + the boat, this would never have happened.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think it was that!” I said, holding the picture and the chair + while he let himself down to the gang-plank. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was,” he replied. “The tide's very high, and the water got over + that hole and rushed in. The water and the wind will finish this old craft + before very long.” + </p> + <p> + And then he took his load from me and dashed down the gang-plank. I went + below to look for Pomona. The lantern still hung on the nail, and I took + it down and went into the kitchen. There was Pomona, dressed, and with her + hat on, quietly packing some things in a basket. + </p> + <p> + “Come, hurry out of this,” I cried. “Don't you know that this house—this + boat, I mean, is a wreck?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sma'am—sir, I mean—I know it, and I suppose we shall + soon be at the mercy of the waves.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, go as quickly as you can. What are you putting in that + basket?” + </p> + <p> + “Food,” she said. “We may need it.” + </p> + <p> + I took her by the shoulder and hurried her on deck, over the bulwark, down + the gang-plank, and so on to the place where I had left Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + I found the dear girl there, quiet and collected, all up in a little + bunch, to shield herself from the wind. I wasted no time, but hurried the + two women over to the house of our milk-merchant. There, with some + difficulty, I roused the good woman, and after seeing Euphemia and Pomona + safely in the house, I left them to tell the tale, and ran back to the + boat. + </p> + <p> + The boarder was working like a Trojan. He had already a pile of our + furniture on the beach. + </p> + <p> + I set about helping him, and for an hour we labored at this hasty and + toilsome moving. It was indeed a toilsome business. The floors were + shelving, the stairs leaned over sideways, ever so far, and the gang-plank + was desperately short and steep. + </p> + <p> + Still, we saved quite a number of household articles. Some things we broke + and some we forgot, and some things were too big to move in this way; but + we did very well, considering the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + The wind roared, the tide rose, and the boat groaned and creaked. We were + in the kitchen, trying to take the stove apart (the boarder was sure we + could carry it up, if we could get the pipe out and the legs and doors + off), when we heard a crash. We rushed on deck and found that the garden + had fallen in! Making our way as well as we could toward the gaping rent + in the deck, we saw that the turnip-bed had gone down bodily into the + boarder's room. He did not hesitate, but scrambled down his narrow stairs. + I followed him. He struck a match that he had in his pocket, and lighted a + little lantern that hung under the stairs. His room was a perfect rubbish + heap. The floor, bed, chairs, pitcher, basin—everything was covered + or filled with garden mold and turnips. Never did I behold such a scene. + He stood in the midst of it, holding his lantern high above his head. At + length he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “If we had time,” he said, “we might come down here and pick out a lot of + turnips.” + </p> + <p> + “But how about your furniture?” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's ruined!” he replied. + </p> + <p> + So we did not attempt to save any of it, but we got hold of his trunk and + carried that on shore. + </p> + <p> + When we returned, we found that the water was pouring through his + partition, making the room a lake of mud. And, as the water was rising + rapidly below, and the boat was keeling over more and more, we thought it + was time to leave, and we left. + </p> + <p> + It would not do to go far away from our possessions, which were piled up + in a sad-looking heap on the shore; and so, after I had gone over to the + milk-woman's to assure Euphemia of our safety, the boarder and I passed + the rest of the night—there was not much of it left—in walking + up and down the beach smoking some cigars which he fortunately had in his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + In the morning I took Euphemia to the hotel, about a mile away—and + arranged for the storage of our furniture there, until we could find + another habitation. This habitation, we determined, was to be in a + substantial house, or part of a house, which should not be affected by the + tides. + </p> + <p> + During the morning the removal of our effects was successfully + accomplished, and our boarder went to town to look for a furnished room. + He had nothing but his trunk to take to it. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon I left Euphemia at the hotel, where she was taking a nap + (she certainly needed it, for she had spent the night in a wooden + rocking-chair at the milk-woman's), and I strolled down to the river to + take a last look at the remains of old Rudder Grange. + </p> + <p> + I felt sadly enough as I walked along the well-worn path to the + canal-boat, and thought how it had been worn by my feet more than any + other's, and how gladly I had walked that way, so often during that + delightful summer. I forgot all that had been disagreeable, and thought + only of the happy times we had had. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, and the wind had entirely died away. + When I came within sight of our old home, it presented a doleful + appearance. The bow had drifted out into the river, and was almost + entirely under water. The stern stuck up in a mournful and ridiculous + manner, with its keel, instead of its broadside, presented to the view of + persons on the shore. As I neared the boat I heard a voice. I stopped and + listened. There was no one in sight. Could the sounds come from the boat? + I concluded that it must be so, and I walked up closer. Then I heard + distinctly the words: + </p> + <p> + “He grasp ed her by the thro at and yell ed, swear to me thou nev er wilt + re veal my se cret, or thy hot heart's blood shall stain this mar bel fib + or; she gave one gry vy ous gasp and—” + </p> + <p> + It was Pomona! + </p> + <p> + Doubtless she had climbed up the stern of the boat and had descended into + the depths of the wreck to rescue her beloved book, the reading of which + had so long been interrupted by my harsh decrees. Could I break in on this + one hour of rapture? I had not the heart to do it, and as I slowly moved + away, there came to me the last words that I ever heard from Rudder + Grange: + </p> + <p> + “And with one wild shry ik to heav en her heart's blo od spat ter ed that + prynce ly home of woe—” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE NEW RUDDER GRANGE. + </h2> + <p> + I have before given an account of the difficulties we encountered when we + started out house-hunting, and it was this doleful experience which made + Euphemia declare that before we set out on a second search for a + residence, we should know exactly what we wanted. + </p> + <p> + To do this, we must know how other people live, we must examine into the + advantages and disadvantages of the various methods of housekeeping, and + make up our minds on the subject. + </p> + <p> + When we came to this conclusion we were in a city boarding-house, and were + entirely satisfied that this style of living did not suit us at all. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture I received a letter from the gentleman who had boarded + with us on the canal-boat. Shortly after leaving us the previous fall, he + had married a widow lady with two children, and was now keeping house in a + French flat in the upper part of the city. We had called upon the happy + couple soon after their marriage, and the letter, now received, contained + an invitation for us to come and dine, and spend the night. + </p> + <p> + “We'll go,” said Euphemia. “There's nothing I want so much as to see how + people keep house in a French flat. Perhaps we'll like it. And I must see + those children.” So we went. + </p> + <p> + The house, as Euphemia remarked, was anything but flat. It was very tall + indeed—the tallest house in the neighborhood. We entered the + vestibule, the outer door being open, and beheld, on one side of us, a row + of bell-handles. Above each of these handles was the mouth of a + speaking-tube, and above each of these, a little glazed frame containing a + visiting-card. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't this cute?” said Euphemia, reading over the cards. “Here's his name + and this is his bell and tube! Which would you do first, ring or blow?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said I, “you don't blow up those tubes. We must ring the bell, + just as if it were an ordinary front-door bell, and instead of coming to + the door, some one will call down the tube to us.” + </p> + <p> + I rang the bell under the boarder's name, and very soon a voice at the + tube said: + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + Then I told our names, and in an instant the front door opened. + </p> + <p> + “Why, their flat must be right here,” whispered Euphemia. “How quickly the + girl came!” + </p> + <p> + And she looked for the girl as we entered. But there was no one there. + </p> + <p> + “Their flat is on the fifth story,” said I. “He mentioned that in his + letter. We had better shut the door and go up.” + </p> + <p> + Up and up the softly carpeted stairs we climbed, and not a soul we saw or + heard. + </p> + <p> + “It is like an enchanted cavern,” said Euphemia. “You say the magic word, + the door in the rock opens and you go on, and on, through the vaulted + passages—” + </p> + <p> + “Until you come to the ogre,” said the boarder, who was standing at the + top of the stairs. He did not behave at all like an ogre, for he was very + glad to see us, and so was his wife. After we had settled down in the + parlor and the boarder's wife had gone to see about something concerning + the dinner, Euphemia asked after the children. + </p> + <p> + “I hope they haven't gone to bed,” she said, “for I do so want to see the + dear little things.” + </p> + <p> + The ex-boarder, as Euphemia called him, smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “They're not so very little,” he said. “My wife's son is nearly grown. He + is at an academy in Connecticut, and he expects to go into a civil + engineer's office in the spring. His sister is older than he is. My wife + married—in the first instance—when she was very young—very + young in deed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Euphemia; and then, after a pause, “And neither of them is at + home now?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the ex-boarder. “By the way, what do you think of this dado? It + is a portable one; I devised it myself. You can take it away with you to + another house when you move. But there is the dinner-bell. I'll show you + over the establishment after we have had something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + After our meal we made a tour of inspection. The flat, which included the + whole floor, contained nine or ten rooms, of all shapes and sizes. The + corners in some of the rooms were cut off and shaped up into closets and + recesses, so that Euphemia said the corners of every room were in some + other room. + </p> + <p> + Near the back of the flat was a dumb-waiter, with bells and + speaking-tubes. When the butcher, the baker, or the kerosene-lamp maker, + came each morning, he rang the bell, and called up the tube to know what + was wanted. The order was called down, and he brought the things in the + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + All this greatly charmed Euphemia. It was so cute, so complete. There were + no interviews with disagreeable trades-people, none of the ordinary + annoyances of housekeeping. Everything seemed to be done with a bell, a + speaking-tube or a crank. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said the ex-boarder, “if it were not for people tripping over + the wires, I could rig up attachments by which I could sit in the parlor, + and by using pedals and a key-board, I could do all the work of this house + without getting out of my easy-chair.” + </p> + <p> + One of the most peculiar features of the establishment was the servant's + room. This was at the rear end of the floor, and as there was not much + space left after the other rooms had been made, it was very small; so + small, indeed, that it would accommodate only a very short bedstead. This + made it necessary for our friends to consider the size of the servant when + they engaged her. + </p> + <p> + “There were several excellent girls at the intelligence office where I + called,” said the ex-boarder, “but I measured them, and they were all too + tall. So we had to take a short one, who is only so so. There was one big + Scotch girl who was the very person for us, and I would have taken her if + my wife had not objected to my plan for her accommodation. + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “I first thought of cutting a hole in the partition wall + at the foot of the bed, for her to put her feet through.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” said his wife, emphatically. “I would never have allowed that.” + </p> + <p> + “And then,” continued he, “I thought of turning the bed around, and + cutting a larger hole, through which she might have put her head into the + little room on this side. A low table could have stood under the hole, and + her head might have rested on a cushion on the table very comfortably.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said his wife, “it would have frightened me to death to go into + that room and see that head on a cushion on a table—” + </p> + <p> + “Like John the Baptist,” interrupted Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said our ex-boarder, “the plan would have had its advantages.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Euphemia, looking out of a back window. “What a lovely little + iron balcony! Do you sit out there on warm evenings?” + </p> + <p> + “That's a fire-escape,” said the ex-boarder. “We don't go out there unless + it is very hot indeed, on account of the house being on fire. You see + there is a little door in the floor of the balcony and an iron ladder + leading to the balcony beneath, and so on, down to the first story.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have to creep through that hole and go down that dreadful steep + ladder every time there is a fire?” said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess we would never go down but once,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” said Euphemia; “you'd fall down and break your neck the + first time,” and she turned away from the window with a very grave + expression on her face. + </p> + <p> + Soon after this our hostess conducted Euphemia to the guest-chamber, while + her husband and I finished a bed-time cigar. + </p> + <p> + When I joined Euphemia in her room, she met me with a mysterious + expression on her face. She shut the door, and then said in a very earnest + tone: + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that little bedstead in the corner? I did not notice it until + I came in just now, and then, being quite astonished, I said, 'Why here's + a child's bed; who sleeps here?' 'Oh,' says she, 'that's our little + Adele's bedstead. We have it in our room when she's here.' 'Little Adele!' + said I, 'I didn't know she was little—not small enough for that bed, + at any rate.' 'Why, yes,' said she, 'Adele is only four years old. The + bedstead is quite large enough for her.' 'And she is not here now?' I + said, utterly amazed at all this. 'No,' she answered, 'she is not here + now, but we try to have her with us as much as we can, and always keep her + little bed ready for her.' 'I suppose she's with her father's people,' I + said, and she answered, 'Oh yes,' and bade me good-night. What does all + this mean? Our boarder told us that the daughter is grown up, and here his + wife declares that she is only four years old! I don't know what in the + world to make of this mystery!” + </p> + <p> + I could give Euphemia no clue. I supposed there was some mistake, and that + was all I could say, except that I was sleepy, and that we could find out + all about it in the morning. But Euphemia could not dismiss the subject + from her mind. She said no more,—but I could see—until I fell + asleep—that she was thinking about it. + </p> + <p> + It must have been about the middle of the night, perhaps later, when I was + suddenly awakened by Euphemia starting up in the bed, with the + exclamation: + </p> + <p> + “I have it!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I cried, sitting up in a great hurry. “What is it? What have you + got? What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it!” she said, “I know it. Our boarder is a GRANDFATHER! Little + Adele is the grown-up daughter's child. He was quite particular to say + that his wife married VERY young. Just to think of it! So short a time + ago, he was living with us—a bachelor—and now, in four short + months, he is a grandfather!” + </p> + <p> + Carefully propounded inquiries, in the morning, proved Euphemia's + conclusions to be correct. + </p> + <p> + The next evening, when we were quietly sitting in our own room, Euphemia + remarked that she did not wish to have anything to do with French flats. + </p> + <p> + “They seem to be very convenient,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, convenient enough, but I don't like them. I would hate to live + where everything let down like a table-lid, or else turned with a crank. + And when I think of those fire-escapes, and the boarder's grandchild, it + makes me feel very unpleasantly.” + </p> + <p> + “But the grandchild don't follow as a matter of course,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, “but I shall never like French flats.” + </p> + <p> + And we discussed them no more. + </p> + <p> + For some weeks we examined into every style of economic and respectable + housekeeping, and many methods of living in what Euphemia called + “imitation comfort” were set aside as unworthy of consideration. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Euphemia, one evening, “what we really ought to do is to + build. Then we would have exactly the house we want.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true,” I replied; “but to build a house, a man must have money.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” said she, “or at least not much. For one thing, you might join a + building association. In some of those societies I know that you only have + to pay a dollar a week.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you suppose the association builds houses for all its members?” I + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I suppose so. Else why is it called a building association?” + </p> + <p> + I had read a good deal about these organizations, and I explained to + Euphemia that a dollar a week was never received by any of them in payment + for a new house. + </p> + <p> + “Then build yourself,” she said; “I know how that can be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's easy enough,” I remarked, “if you have the money.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you needn't have any money,” said Euphemia, rather hastily. “Just let + me show you. Supposing, for instance, that you want to build a house worth—well, + say twenty thousand dollars, in some pretty town near the city.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather figure on a cheaper house than that for a country place,” + I interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Well then, say two thousand dollars. You get masons, and carpenters, and + people to dig the cellar, and you engage them to build your house. You + needn't pay them until it's done, of course. Then when it's all finished, + borrow two thousand dollars and give the house as security. After that you + see, you have only to pay the interest on the borrowed money. When you + save enough money to pay back the loan, the house is your own. Now, isn't + that a good plan?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, “if there could be found people who would build your house + and wait for their money until some one would lend you its full value on a + mortgage.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Euphemia, “I guess they could be found if you would only look + for them.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll look for them, when I go to heaven,” I said. + </p> + <p> + We gave up for the present, the idea of building or buying a house, and + determined to rent a small place in the country, and then, as Euphemia + wisely said, if we liked it, we might buy it. After she had dropped her + building projects she thought that one ought to know just how a house + would suit before having it on one's hands. + </p> + <p> + We could afford something better than a canal-boat now, and therefore we + were not so restricted as in our first search for a house. But, the one + thing which troubled my wife—and, indeed, caused me much anxious + thought, was that scourge of almost all rural localities—tramps. It + would be necessary for me to be away all day,—and we could not + afford to keep a man,—so we must be careful to get a house somewhere + off the line of ordinary travel, or else in a well-settled neighborhood, + where there would be some one near at hand in case of unruly visitors. + </p> + <p> + “A village I don't like,” said Euphemia: “there is always so much gossip, + and people know all about what you have, and what you do. And yet it would + be very lonely, and perhaps dangerous, for us to live off somewhere, all + by ourselves. And there is another objection to a village. We don't want a + house with a small yard and a garden at the back. We ought to have a dear + little farm, with some fields for corn, and a cow, and a barn and things + of that sort. All that would be lovely. I'll tell you what we want,” she + cried, seized with a sudden inspiration; “we ought to try to get the + end-house of a village. Then our house could be near the neighbors, and + our farm could stretch out a little way into the country beyond us. Let us + fix our minds upon such a house and I believe we can get it.” + </p> + <p> + So we fixed our minds, but in the course of a week or two we unfixed them + several times to allow the consideration of places, which otherwise would + have been out of range; and during one of these intervals of mental + disfixment we took a house. + </p> + <p> + It was not the end-house of a village, but it was in the outskirts of a + very small rural settlement. Our nearest neighbor was within vigorous + shouting distance, and the house suited us so well in other respects, that + we concluded that this would do. The house was small, but large enough. + There were some trees around it, and a little lawn in front. There was a + garden, a small barn and stable, a pasture field, and land enough besides + for small patches of corn and potatoes. The rent was low, the water good, + and no one can imagine how delighted we were. + </p> + <p> + We did not furnish the whole house at first, but what mattered it? We had + no horse or cow, but the pasture and barn were ready for them. We did not + propose to begin with everything at once. + </p> + <p> + Our first evening in that house was made up of hours of unalloyed bliss. + We walked from room to room; we looked out on the garden and the lawn; we + sat on the little porch while I smoked. + </p> + <p> + “We were happy at Rudder Grange,” said Euphemia; “but that was only a + canal-boat, and could not, in the nature of things, have been a permanent + home.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “it could not have been permanent. But, in many respects, it + was a delightful home. The very name of it brings pleasant thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a nice name,” said Euphemia, “and I'll tell you what we might do: + Let us call this place Rudder Grange—the New Rudder Grange! The name + will do just as well for a house as for a boat.” + </p> + <p> + I agreed on the spot, and the house was christened. + </p> + <p> + Our household was small; we had a servant—a German woman; and we had + ourselves, that was all. + </p> + <p> + I did not do much in the garden; it was too late in the season. The former + occupant had planted some corn and potatoes, with a few other vegetables, + and these I weeded and hoed, working early in the morning and when I came + home in the afternoon. Euphemia tied up the rose-vines, trimmed the + bushes, and with a little rake and hoe she prepared a flower-bed in front + of the parlor-window. This exercise gave us splendid appetites, and we + loved our new home more and more. + </p> + <p> + Our German girl did not suit us exactly at first, and day by day she grew + to suit us less. She was a quiet, kindly, pleasant creature, and delighted + in an out-of-door life. She was as willing to weed in the garden as she + was to cook or wash. At first I was very much pleased with this, because, + as I remarked to Euphemia, you can find very few girls who would be + willing to work in the garden, and she might be made very useful. + </p> + <p> + But, after a time, Euphemia began to get a little out of patience with + her. She worked out-of-doors entirely too much. And what she did there, as + well as some of her work in the house, was very much like certain German + literature—you did not know how it was done, or what it was for. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon I found Euphemia quite annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” she said, “and see what that girl has been at work at, nearly + all this afternoon. I was upstairs sewing and thought she was ironing. + Isn't it too provoking?” + </p> + <p> + It WAS provoking. The contemplative German had collected a lot of short + ham-bones—where she found them I cannot imagine—and had made + of them a border around my wife's flower-bed. The bones stuck up straight + a few inches above the ground, all along the edge of the bed, and the + marrow cavity of each one was filled with earth in which she had planted + seeds. + </p> + <p> + “'These,' she says, 'will spring up and look beautiful,'” said Euphemia; + “they have that style of thing in her country.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let her take them off with her to her country,” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Euphemia, hurriedly, “don't kick them out. It would only + wound her feelings. She did it all for the best, and thought it would + please me to have such a border around my bed. But she is too independent, + and neglects her proper work. I will give her a week's notice and get + another servant. When she goes we can take these horrid bones away. But I + hope nobody will call on us in the meantime.” + </p> + <p> + “Must we keep these things here a whole week?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can't turn her away without giving her a fair notice. That would be + cruel.” + </p> + <p> + I saw the truth of the remark, and determined to bear with the bones and + her rather than be unkind. + </p> + <p> + That night Euphemia informed the girl of her decision, and the next + morning, soon after I had left, the good German appeared with her bonnet + on and her carpet-bag in her hand, to take leave of her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Euphemia. “You are not going to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “If it is goot to go at all it is goot to go now,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “And you will go off and leave me without any one in the house, after my + putting myself out to give you a fair notice? It's shameful!” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is very goot for me to go now,” quietly replied the girl. + “This house is very loneful. I will go to-morrow in the city to see your + husband for my money. Goot morning.” And off she trudged to the station. + </p> + <p> + Before I reached the house that afternoon, Euphemia rushed out to tell + this story. I would not like to say how far I kicked those ham-bones. + </p> + <p> + This German girl had several successors, and some of them suited as badly + and left as abruptly as herself; but Euphemia never forgot the ungrateful + stab given her by this “ham-bone girl,” as she always called her. It was + her first wound of the kind, and it came in the very beginning of the + campaign when she was all unused to this domestic warfare. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. TREATING OF AN UNSUCCESSFUL BROKER AND A DOG. + </h2> + <p> + It was a couple of weeks, or thereabouts, after this episode that Euphemia + came down to the gate to meet me on my return from the city. I noticed a + very peculiar expression on her face. She looked both thoughtful and + pleased. Almost the first words she said to me were these: + </p> + <p> + “A tramp came here to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear that,” I exclaimed. “That's the worst news I have had + yet. I did hope that we were far enough from the line of travel to escape + these scourges. How did you get rid of him? Was he impertinent?” + </p> + <p> + “You must not feel that way about all tramps,” said she. “Sometimes they + are deserving of our charity, and ought to be helped. There is a great + difference in them.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” I said; “but what of this one? When was he here, and when + did he go?” + </p> + <p> + “He did not go at all. He is here now.” + </p> + <p> + “Here now!” I cried. “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not call out so loud,” said Euphemia, putting her hand on my arm. “You + will waken him. He is asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Asleep!” said I. “A tramp? Here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Stop, let me tell you about him. He told me his story, and it is a + sad one. He is a middle-aged man—fifty perhaps—and has been + rich. He was once a broker in Wall street, but lost money by the failure + of various railroads—the Camden and Amboy, for one.” + </p> + <p> + “That hasn't failed,” I interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Well then it was the Northern Pacific, or some other one of them—at + any rate I know it was either a railroad or a bank,—and he soon + became very poor. He has a son in Cincinnati, who is a successful + merchant, and lives in a fine house, with horses and carriages, and all + that; and this poor man has written to his son, but has never had any + answer. So now he is going to walk to Cincinnati to see him. He knows he + will not be turned away if he can once meet his son, face to face. He was + very tired when he stopped here,—and he has ever and ever so far to + walk yet, you know,—and so after I had given him something to eat, I + let him lie down in the outer kitchen, on that roll of rag-carpet that is + there. I spread it out for him. It is a hard bed for one who has known + comfort, but he seems to sleep soundly.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see him,” said I, and I walked back to the outer kitchen. + </p> + <p> + There lay the unsuccessful broker fast asleep. His face, which was turned + toward me as I entered, showed that it had been many days since he had + been shaved, and his hair had apparently been uncombed for about the same + length of time. His clothes were very old, and a good deal torn, and he + wore one boot and one shoe. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” said I. “Have you been giving him whisky?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” whispered Euphemia, “of course not. I noticed that smell, and he + said he had been cleaning his clothes with alcohol.” + </p> + <p> + “They needed it, I'm sure,” I remarked as I turned away. “And now,” said + I, “where's the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “This is her afternoon out. What is the matter? You look frightened.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not frightened, but I find I must go down to the station again. + Just run up and put on your bonnet. It will be a nice little walk for + you.” + </p> + <p> + I had been rapidly revolving the matter in my mind. What was I to do with + this wretch who was now asleep in my outer kitchen? If I woke him up and + drove him off,—and I might have difficulty in doing it,—there + was every reason to believe that he would not go far, but return at night + and commit some revengeful act. I never saw a more sinister-looking + fellow. And he was certainly drunk. He must not be allowed to wander about + our neighborhood. I would go for the constable and have him arrested. + </p> + <p> + So I locked the door from the kitchen into the house and then the outside + door of the kitchen, and when my wife came down we hurried off. On the way + I told her what I intended to do, and what I thought of our guest. She + answered scarcely a word, and I hoped that she was frightened. I think she + was. + </p> + <p> + The constable, who was also coroner of our township, had gone to a creek, + three miles away, to hold an inquest, and there was nobody to arrest the + man. The nearest police-station was at Hackingford, six miles away, on the + railroad. I held a consultation with the station-master, and the gentleman + who kept the grocery-store opposite. + </p> + <p> + They could think of nothing to be done except to shoot the man, and to + that I objected. + </p> + <p> + “However,” said I, “he can't stay there;” and a happy thought just then + striking me, I called to the boy who drove the village express-wagon, and + engaged him for a job. The wagon was standing at the station, and to save + time, I got in and rode to my house. Euphemia went over to call on the + groceryman's wife until I returned. + </p> + <p> + I had determined that the man should be taken away, although, until I was + riding home, I had not made up my mind where to have him taken. But on the + road I settled this matter. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the house, we drove into the yard as close to the kitchen as + we could go. Then I unlocked the door, and the boy—who was a big, + strapping fellow—entered with me. We found the ex-broker still + wrapped in the soundest slumber. Leaving the boy to watch him, I went + upstairs and got a baggage-tag which I directed to the chief of police at + the police station in Hackingford. I returned to the kitchen and fastened + this tag, conspicuously, on the lapel of the sleeper's coat. Then, with a + clothes-line, I tied him up carefully, hand and foot. To all this he + offered not the slightest opposition. When he was suitably packed, with + due regard to the probable tenderness of wrist and ankle in one brought up + in luxury, the boy and I carried him to the wagon. + </p> + <p> + He was a heavy load, and we may have bumped him a little, but his sleep + was not disturbed. Then we drove him to the express office. This was at + the railroad station, and the station-master was also express agent. At + first he was not inclined to receive my parcel, but when I assured him + that all sorts of live things were sent by express, and that I could see + no reason for making an exception in this case, he added my arguments to + his own disposition, as a house-holder, to see the goods forwarded to + their destination, and so gave me a receipt, and pasted a label on the + ex-broker's shoulder. I set no value on the package, which I prepaid. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” said the station-master, “he'll go all right, if the express + agent on the train will take him.” + </p> + <p> + This matter was soon settled, for, in a few minutes, the train stopped at + the station. My package was wheeled to the express car, and two porters, + who entered heartily into the spirit of the thing, hoisted it into the + car. The train-agent, who just then noticed the character of the goods, + began to declare that he would not have the fellow in his car; but my + friend the station-master shouted out that everything was all right,—the + man was properly packed, invoiced and paid for, and the train, which was + behind time, moved away before the irate agent could take measures to get + rid of his unwelcome freight. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said I, “there'll be a drunken man at the police-station in + Hackingford in about half-an-hour. His offense will be as evident there as + here, and they can do what they please with him. I shall telegraph, to + explain the matter and prepare them for his arrival.” + </p> + <p> + When I had done this Euphemia and I went home. The tramp had cost me some + money, but I was well satisfied with my evening's work, and felt that the + township owed me, at least, a vote of thanks. + </p> + <p> + But I firmly made up my mind that Euphemia should never again be left + unprotected. I would not even trust to a servant who would agree to have + no afternoons out. I would get a dog. + </p> + <p> + The next day I advertised for a fierce watchdog, and in the course of a + week I got one. Before I procured him I examined into the merits, and + price, of about one hundred dogs. My dog was named Pete, but I determined + to make a change in that respect. He was a very tall, bony, powerful + beast, of a dull black color, and with a lower jaw that would crack the + hind-leg of an ox, so I was informed. He was of a varied breed, and the + good Irishman of whom I bought him said he had fine blood in him, and + attempted to refer him back to the different classes of dogs from which he + had been derived. But after I had had him awhile, I made an analysis based + on his appearance and character, and concluded that he was mainly + blood-hound, shaded with wolf-dog and mastiff, and picked out with touches + of bull-dog. + </p> + <p> + The man brought him home for me, and chained him up in an unused + wood-shed, for I had no doghouse as yet. + </p> + <p> + “Now thin,” said he, “all you've got to do is to keep 'im chained up there + for three or four days till he gets used to ye. An' I'll tell ye the best + way to make a dog like ye. Jist give him a good lickin'. Then he'll know + yer his master, and he'll like ye iver aftherward. There's plenty of + people that don't know that. And, by the way, sir, that chain's none too + strong for 'im. I got it when he wasn't mor'n half grown. Ye'd bether git + him a new one.” + </p> + <p> + When the man had gone, I stood and looked at the dog, and could not help + hoping that he would learn to like me without the intervention of a + thrashing. Such harsh methods were not always necessary, I felt sure. + </p> + <p> + After our evening meal—a combination of dinner and supper, of which + Euphemia used to say that she did not know whether to call it dinper or + supner—we went out together to look at our new guardian. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia was charmed with him. + </p> + <p> + “How massive!” she exclaimed. “What splendid limbs! And look at that + immense head! I know I shall never be afraid now. I feel that that is a + dog I can rely upon. Make him stand up, please, so I can see how tall he + is.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it would be better not to disturb him,” I answered, “he may be + tired. He will get up of his own accord very soon. And indeed I hope that + he will not get up until I go to the store and get him a new chain.” + </p> + <p> + As I said this I made a step forward to look at his chain, and at that + instant a low growl, like the first rumblings of an earthquake, ran + through the dog. + </p> + <p> + I stepped back again and walked over to the village for the chain. The + dog-chains shown me at the store all seemed too short and too weak, and I + concluded to buy two chains such as used for hitching horses and to join + them so as to make a long as well as a strong one of them. I wanted him to + be able to come out of the wood-shed when it should be necessary to show + himself. + </p> + <p> + On my way home with my purchase the thought suddenly struck me, How will + you put that chain on your dog? The memory of the rumbling growl was still + vivid. + </p> + <p> + I never put the chain on him. As I approached him with it in my hand, he + rose to his feet, his eyes sparkled, his black lips drew back from his + mighty teeth, he gave one savage bark and sprang at me. + </p> + <p> + His chain held and I went into the house. That night he broke loose and + went home to his master, who lived fully ten miles away. + </p> + <p> + When I found in the morning that he was gone I was in doubt whether it + would be better to go and look for him or not. But I concluded to keep up + a brave heart, and found him, as I expected, at the place where I had + bought him. The Irishman took him to my house again and I had to pay for + the man's loss of time as well as for his fare on the railroad. But the + dog's old master chained him up with the new chain and I felt repaid for + my outlay. + </p> + <p> + Every morning and night I fed that dog, and I spoke as kindly and gently + to him as I knew how. But he seemed to cherish a distaste for me, and + always greeted me with a growl. He was an awful dog. + </p> + <p> + About a week after the arrival of this animal, I was astonished and + frightened on nearing the house to hear a scream from my wife. I rushed + into the yard and was greeted with a succession of screams from two + voices, that seemed to come from the vicinity of the wood-shed. Hurrying + thither, I perceived Euphemia standing on the roof of the shed in perilous + proximity to the edge, while near the ridge of the roof sat our hired girl + with her handkerchief over her head. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry, hurry!” cried Euphemia. “Climb up here! The dog is loose! Be + quick! Be quick! Oh! he's coming, he's coming!” + </p> + <p> + I asked for no explanation. There was a rail-fence by the side of the shed + and I sprang on this, and was on the roof just as the dog came bounding + and barking from the barn. + </p> + <p> + Instantly Euphemia had me in her arms, and we came very near going off the + roof together. + </p> + <p> + “I never feared to have you come home before,” she sobbed. “I thought he + would tear you limb from limb.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did all this happen?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Och! I kin hardly remember,” said the girl from under her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn't ask you,” I said, somewhat too sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll tell you,” said Euphemia. “There was a man at the gate and he + looked suspicious and didn't try to come in, and Mary was at the barn + looking for an egg, and I thought this was a good time to see whether the + dog was a good watch-dog or not, so I went and unchained him—” + </p> + <p> + “Did you unchain that dog?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and the minute he was loose he made a rush at the gate, but the man + was gone before he got there, and as he ran down the road I saw that he + was Mr. Henderson's man, who was coming here on an errand, I expect, and + then I went down to the barn to get Mary to come and help me chain up the + dog, and when she came out he began to chase me and then her; and we were + so frightened that we climbed up here, and I don't know, I'm sure, how I + ever got up that fence; and do you think he can climb up here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no! my dear,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “An' he's just the beast to go afther a stip-ladder,” said the girl, in + muffled tones. + </p> + <p> + “And what are we to do?” asked Euphemia. “We can't eat and sleep up here. + Don't you think that if we were all to shout out together, we could make + some neighbor hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes!” I said, “there is no doubt of it. But then, if a neighbor came, + the dog would fall on him—” + </p> + <p> + “And tear him limb from limb,” interrupted Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and besides, my dear, I should hate to have any of the neighbors + come and find us all up here. It would look so utterly absurd. Let me try + and think of some other plan.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, please be as quick as you can. It's dreadful to be—who's + that?” + </p> + <p> + I looked up and saw a female figure just entering the yard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what shall we do” exclaimed Euphemia. “The dog will get her. Call to + her!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said I, “don't make a noise. It will only bring the dog. He + seems to have gone to the barn, or somewhere. Keep perfectly quiet, and + she may go up on the porch, and as the front door is not locked, she may + rush into the house, if she sees him coming.” + </p> + <p> + “I do hope she will do that,” said Euphemia, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said I, “it's not pleasant to have strangers going into the + house when there's no one there.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's better than seeing a stranger torn to pieces before your eyes,” + said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied, “it is. Don't you think we might get down now? The dog + isn't here.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” cried Euphemia. “There he is now, coming this way. And look at + that woman! She is coming right to this shed.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, our visitor had passed by the front door, and was walking + toward us. Evidently she had heard our voices. + </p> + <p> + “Don't come here!” cried Euphemia. “You'll be killed! Run! run! The dog is + coming! Why, mercy on us! It's Pomona!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. POMONA ONCE MORE. + </h2> + <p> + Sure enough, it was Pomona. There stood our old servant-girl, of the + canal-boat, with a crooked straw bonnet on her head, a faded yellow + parasol in her hand, a parcel done up in newspaper under her arm, and an + expression of astonishment on her face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, truly!” she ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “Into the house, quick!” I said. “We have a savage dog!” + </p> + <p> + “And here he is!” cried Euphemia. “Oh! she will be torn to atoms.” + </p> + <p> + Straight at Pomona came the great black beast, barking furiously. But the + girl did not move; she did not even turn her head to look at the dog, who + stopped before he reached her and began to rush wildly around her, barking + terribly. + </p> + <p> + We held our breath. I tried to say “get out!” or “lie down!” but my tongue + could not form the words. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you get up here?” gasped Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + The dog now stopped barking, and stood looking at Pomona, occasionally + glancing up at us. Pomona took not the slightest notice of him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, ma'am,” said she to Euphemia, “that if I had come here + yesterday, that dog would have had my life's blood.” + </p> + <p> + “And why don't he have it to-day?” said Euphemia, who, with myself, was + utterly amazed at the behavior of the dog. + </p> + <p> + “Because I know more to-day than I did yesterday,” answered Pomona. “It is + only this afternoon that I read something, as I was coming here on the + cars. This is it,” she continued, unwrapping her paper parcel, and taking + from it one of the two books it contained. “I finished this part just as + the cars stopped, and I put my scissors in the place; I'll read it to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Standing there with one book still under her arm, the newspaper half + unwrapped from it, hanging down and flapping in the breeze, she opened the + other volume at the scissors-place, turned back a page or two, and began + to read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Lord Edward slowly san-ter-ed up the bro-ad anc-es-tral walk, when + sudden-ly from out a cop-se, there sprang a fur-i-ous hound. The + marsh-man, con-ce-al-ed in a tree expected to see the life's blood of the + young nob-le-man stain the path. But no, Lord Edward did not stop nor turn + his head. With a smile, he strode stead-i-ly on. Well he knew that if by + be-traying no em-otion, he could show the dog that he was walking where he + had a right, the bru-te would re-cog-nize that right and let him pass + un-sca-thed. Thus in this moment of peril his nob-le courage saved him. + The hound, abashed, returned to his cov-ert, and Lord Edward pass-ed on. + </p> + <p> + “Foi-led again,” mutter-ed the marsh-man. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” said Pomona, closing the book, “you see I remembered that, + the minute I saw the dog coming, and I didn't betray any emotion. + Yesterday, now, when I didn't know it, I'd 'a been sure to betray emotion, + and he would have had my life's blood. Did he drive you up there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Euphemia; and she hastily explained the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Then I guess I'd better chain him up,” remarked Pomona; and advancing to + the dog she took him boldly by the collar and pulled him toward the shed. + The animal hung back at first, but soon followed her, and she chained him + up securely. + </p> + <p> + “Now you can come down,” said Pomona. + </p> + <p> + I assisted Euphemia to the ground, and Pomona persuaded the hired girl to + descend. + </p> + <p> + “Will he grab me by the leg?” asked the girl. + </p> + <p> + “No; get down, gump,” said Pomona, and down she scrambled. + </p> + <p> + We took Pomona into the house with us and asked her news of herself. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, “there ain't much to tell. I staid awhile at the + institution, but I didn't get much good there, only I learned to read to + myself, because if I read out loud they came and took the book away. Then + I left there and went to live out, but the woman was awful mean. She + throwed away one of my books and I was only half through it. It was a real + good book, named 'The Bridal Corpse, or Montregor's Curse,' and I had to + pay for it at the circulatin' library. So I left her quick enough, and + then I went on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + “On the stage!” cried Euphemia. “What did you do on the stage?” + </p> + <p> + “Scrub,” replied Pomona. “You see that I thought if I could get anything + to do at the theayter, I could work my way up, so I was glad to get + scrubbin'. I asked the prompter, one morning, if he thought there was a + chance for me to work up, and he said yes, I might scrub the galleries, + and then I told him that I didn't want none of his lip, and I pretty soon + left that place. I heard you was akeepin' house out here, and so I thought + I'd come along and see you, and if you hadn't no girl I'd like to live + with you again, and I guess you might as well take me, for that other girl + said, when she got down from the shed, that she was goin' away to-morrow; + she wouldn't stay in no house where they kept such a dog, though I told + her I guessed he was only cuttin' 'round because he was so glad to get + loose.” + </p> + <p> + “Cutting around!” exclaimed Euphemia. “It was nothing of the kind. If you + had seen him you would have known better. But did you come now to stay? + Where are your things?” + </p> + <p> + “On me,” replied Pomona. + </p> + <p> + When Euphemia found that the Irish girl really intended to leave, we + consulted together and concluded to engage Pomona, and I went so far as to + agree to carry her books to and from the circulating library to which she + subscribed, hoping thereby to be able to exercise some influence on her + taste. And thus part of the old family of Rudder Grange had come together + again. True, the boarder was away, but, as Pomona remarked, when she heard + about him, “You couldn't always expect to ever regain the ties that had + always bound everybody.” + </p> + <p> + Our delight and interest in our little farm increased day by day. In a + week or two after Pomona's arrival I bought a cow. Euphemia was very + anxious to have an Alderney,—they were such gentle, beautiful + creatures,—but I could not afford such a luxury. I might possibly + compass an Alderney calf, but we would have to wait a couple of years for + our milk, and Euphemia said it would be better to have a common cow than + to do that. + </p> + <p> + Great was our inward satisfaction when the cow, our OWN cow, walked slowly + and solemnly into our yard and began to crop the clover on our little + lawn. Pomona and I gently drove her to the barn, while Euphemia endeavored + to quiet the violent demonstrations of the dog (fortunately chained) by + assuring him that this was OUR cow and that she was to live here, and that + he was to take care of her and never bark at her. All this and much more, + delivered in the earnest and confidential tone in which ladies talk to + infants and dumb animals, made the dog think that he was to be let loose + to kill the cow, and he bounded and leaped with delight, tugging at his + chain so violently that Euphemia became a little frightened and left him. + This dog had been named Lord Edward, at the earnest solicitation of + Pomona, and he was becoming somewhat reconciled to his life with us. He + allowed me to unchain him at night and I could generally chain him up in + the morning without trouble if I had a good big plate of food with which + to tempt him into the shed. + </p> + <p> + Before supper we all went down to the barn to see the milking. Pomona, who + knew all about such things, having been on a farm in her first youth, was + to be the milkmaid. But when she began operations, she did no more than + begin. Milk as industriously as she might, she got no milk. + </p> + <p> + “This is a queer cow,” said Pomona. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that you know how to milk?” asked Euphemia anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Can I milk?” said Pomona. “Why, of course, ma'am. I've seen 'em milk + hundreds of times.” + </p> + <p> + “But you never milked, yourself?” I remarked. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, but I know just how it's done.” + </p> + <p> + That might be, but she couldn't do it, and at last we had to give up the + matter in despair, and leave the poor cow until morning, when Pomona was + to go for a man who occasionally worked on the place, and engage him to + come and milk for us. + </p> + <p> + That night as we were going to bed I looked out of the window at the barn + which contained the cow, and was astonished to see that there was a light + inside of the building. + </p> + <p> + “What!” I exclaimed. “Can't we be left in peaceful possession of a cow for + a single night?” And, taking my revolver, I hurried down-stairs and + out-of-doors, forgetting my hat in my haste. Euphemia screamed after me to + be careful and keep the pistol pointed away from me. + </p> + <p> + I whistled for the dog as I went out, but to my surprise he did not + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Has he been killed?” I thought, and, for a moment, I wished that I was a + large family of brothers—all armed. + </p> + <p> + But on my way to the barn I met a person approaching with a lantern and a + dog. It was Pomona, and she had a milk-pail on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “See here, sir,” she said, “it's mor'n half full. I just made up my mind + that I'd learn to milk—if it took me all night. I didn't go to bed + at all, and I've been at the barn fur an hour. And there ain't no need of + my goin' after no man in the mornin',” said she, hanging up the barn key + on its nail. + </p> + <p> + I simply mention this circumstance to show what kind of a girl Pomona had + grown to be. + </p> + <p> + We were all the time at work in some way, improving our little place. + “Some day we will buy it,” said Euphemia. We intended to have some wheat + put in in the fall and next year we would make the place fairly crack with + luxuriance. We would divide the duties of the farm, and, among other + things, Euphemia would take charge of the chickens. She wished to do this + entirely herself, so that there might be one thing that should be all her + own, just as my work in town was all my own. As she wished to buy the + chickens and defray all the necessary expenses out of her own private + funds, I could make no objections, and, indeed, I had no desire to do so. + She bought a chicken-book, and made herself mistress of the subject. For a + week, there was a strong chicken flavor in all our conversation. + </p> + <p> + This was while the poultry yard was building. There was a chicken-house on + the place, but no yard, and Euphemia intended to have a good big one, + because she was going into the business to make money. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps my chickens may buy the place,” she said, and I very much hoped + they would. + </p> + <p> + Everything was to be done very systematically. She would have Leghorns, + Brahmas, and common fowls. The first, because they laid so many eggs; the + second, because they were such fine, big fowls, and the third, because + they were such good mothers. + </p> + <p> + “We will eat, and sell the eggs of the first and third classes,” she said, + “and set the eggs of the second class, under the hens of the third class.” + </p> + <p> + “There seems to be some injustice in that arrangement,” I said, “for the + first class will always be childless; the second class will have nothing + to do with their offspring, while the third will be obliged to bring up + and care for the children of others.” + </p> + <p> + But I really had no voice in this matter. As soon as the carpenter had + finished the yard, and had made some coops and other necessary + arrangements, Euphemia hired a carriage and went about the country to buy + chickens. It was not easy to find just what she wanted, and she was gone + all day. + </p> + <p> + However, she brought home an enormous Brahma cock and ten hens, which + number was pretty equally divided into her three classes. She was very + proud of her purchases, and indeed they were fine fowls. In the evening I + made some allusion to the cost of all this carpenter work, carriage-hire, + etc., besides the price of the chickens. + </p> + <p> + “O!” said she, “you don't look at the matter in the right light. You + haven't studied it up as I have. Now, just let me show you how this thing + will pay, if carried on properly.” Producing a piece of paper covered with + figures, she continued: “I begin with ten hens—I got four common + ones, because it would make it easier to calculate. After a while, I set + these ten hens on thirteen eggs each; three of these eggs will probably + spoil,—that leaves ten chickens hatched out. Of these, I will say + that half die, that will make five chickens for each hen; you see, I leave + a large margin for loss. This makes fifty chickens, and when we add the + ten hens, we have sixty fowls at the end of the first year. Next year I + set these sixty and they bring up five chickens each,—I am sure + there will be a larger proportion than this, but I want to be safe,—and + that is three hundred chickens; add the hens, and we have three hundred + and sixty at the end of the second year. In the third year, calculating in + the same safe way, we shall have twenty-one hundred and sixty chickens; in + the fourth year there will be twelve thousand nine hundred and sixty, and + at the end of the fifth year, which is as far as I need to calculate now, + we shall have sixty-four thousand and eight hundred chickens. What do you + think of that? At seventy-five cents apiece,—a very low price,—that + would be forty-eight thousand and six hundred dollars. Now, what is the + petty cost of a fence, and a few coops, by the side of a sum like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all,” I answered. “It is lost like a drop in the ocean. I + hate, my dear, to interfere in any way with such a splendid calculation as + that, but I would like to ask you one question.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course,” she said, “I suppose you are going to say something about + the cost of feeding all this poultry. That is to come out of the chickens + supposed to die. They won't die. It is ridiculous to suppose that each hen + will bring up but five chickens. The chickens that will live, out of those + I consider as dead, will more than pay for the feed.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not what I was going to ask you, although of course it ought to + be considered. But you know you are only going to set common hens, and you + do not intend to raise any. Now, are those four hens to do all the setting + and mother-work for five years, and eventually bring up over sixty-four + thousand chickens?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I DID make a mistake there,” she said, coloring a little. “I'll + tell you what I'll do; I'll set every one of my hens every year.” + </p> + <p> + “But all those chickens may not be hens. You have calculated that every + one of them would set as soon as it was old enough.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped a minute to think this over. + </p> + <p> + “Two heads are better than one, I see,” she said, directly. “I'll allow + that one-half of all the chickens are roosters, and that will make the + profits twenty-four thousand three hundred dollars—more than enough + to buy this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Ever so much more,” I cried. “This Rudder Grange is ours!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. WE CAMP OUT. + </h2> + <p> + My wife and I were both so fond of country life and country pursuits that + month after month passed by at our little farm in a succession of + delightful days. Time flew like a “limited express” train, and it was + September before we knew it. + </p> + <p> + I had been working very hard at the office that summer, and was glad to + think of my two weeks' vacation, which were to begin on the first Monday + of the month. I had intended spending these two weeks in rural retirement + at home, but an interview in the city with my family physician caused me + to change my mind. I told him my plan. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “if I were you, I'd do nothing of the kind. You have been + working too hard; your face shows it. You need rest and change. Nothing + will do you so much good as to camp out; that will be fifty times better + than going to any summer resort. You can take your wife with you. I know + she'll like it. I don't care where you go so that it's a healthy spot. Get + a good tent and an outfit, be off to the woods, and forget all about + business and domestic matters for a few weeks.” + </p> + <p> + This sounded splendid, and I propounded the plan to Euphemia that evening. + She thought very well of it, and was sure we could do it. Pomona would not + be afraid to remain in the house, under the protection of Lord Edward, and + she could easily attend to the cow and the chickens. It would be a holiday + for her too. Old John, the man who occasionally worked for us, would come + up sometimes and see after things. With her customary dexterity Euphemia + swept away every obstacle to the plan, and all was settled before we went + to bed. + </p> + <p> + As my wife had presumed, Pomona made no objections to remaining in charge + of the house. The scheme pleased her greatly. So far, so good. I called + that day on a friend who was in the habit of camping out to talk to him + about getting a tent and the necessary “traps” for a life in the woods. He + proved perfectly competent to furnish advice and everything else. He + offered to lend me all I needed. He had a complete outfit; had done with + them for the year, and I was perfectly welcome. Here was rare luck. He + gave me a tent, camp-stove, dishes, pots, gun, fishing-tackle, a big + canvas coat with dozens of pockets riveted on it, a canvas hat, rods, + reels, boots that came up to my hips, and about a wagon-load of things in + all. He was a real good fellow. + </p> + <p> + We laid in a stock of canned and condensed provisions, and I bought a book + on camping out so as to be well posted on the subject. On the Saturday + before the first Monday in September we would have been entirely ready to + start had we decided on the place where we were to go. + </p> + <p> + We found it very difficult to make this decision. There were thousands of + places where people went to camp out, but none of them seemed to be the + place for us. Most of them were too far away. We figured up the cost of + taking ourselves and our camp equipage to the Adirondacks, the lakes, the + trout-streams of Maine, or any of those well-known resorts, and we found + that we could not afford such trips, especially for a vacation of but + fourteen days. + </p> + <p> + On Sunday afternoon we took a little walk. Our minds were still troubled + about the spot toward which we ought to journey next day, and we needed + the soothing influences of Nature. The country to the north and west of + our little farm was very beautiful. About half a mile from the house a + modest river ran; on each side of it were grass-covered fields and hills, + and in some places there were extensive tracks of woodlands. + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” exclaimed Euphemia, stopping short in the little path that + wound along by the river bank. “Do you see this river, those woods, those + beautiful fields, with not a soul in them or anywhere near them; and those + lovely blue mountains over there?”—as she spoke she waved her + parasol in the direction of the objects indicated, and I could not mistake + them. “Now what could we want better than this?” she continued. “Here we + can fish, and do everything that we want to. I say, let us camp here on + our own river. I can take you to the very spot for the tent. Come on!” And + she was so excited about it that she fairly ran. + </p> + <p> + The spot she pointed out was one we had frequently visited in our rural + walks. It was a grassy peninsula, as I termed it, formed by a sudden turn + of a creek which, a short distance below, flowed into the river. It was a + very secluded spot. The place was approached through a pasture-field,—we + had found it by mere accident,—and where the peninsula joined the + field (we had to climb a fence just there), there was a cluster of + chestnut and hickory trees, while down near the point stood a + wide-spreading oak. + </p> + <p> + “Here, under this oak, is the place for the tent,” said Euphemia, her face + flushed, her eyes sparkling, and her dress a little torn by getting over + the fence in a hurry. “What do we want with your Adirondacks and your + Dismal Swamps? This is the spot for us!” + </p> + <p> + “Euphemia,” said I, in as composed a tone as possible, although my whole + frame was trembling with emotion, “Euphemia, I am glad I married you!” + </p> + <p> + Had it not been Sunday, we would have set up our tent that night. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning, old John's fifteen-dollar horse drew from our + house a wagon-load of camp-fixtures. There was some difficulty in getting + the wagon over the field, and there were fences to be taken down to allow + of its passage; but we overcame all obstacles, and reached the camp-ground + without breaking so much as a teacup. Old John helped me pitch the tent, + and as neither of us understood the matter very well, it took us some + time. It was, indeed, nearly noon when old John left us, and it may have + been possible that he delayed matters a little so as to be able to charge + for a full half-day for himself and horse. Euphemia got into the wagon to + ride back with him, that she might give some parting injunctions to + Pomona. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to stop a bit to put up the fences, ma'am,” said old John, “or + Misther Ball might make a fuss.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this Mr. Ball's land?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, sir, it's Mr. Ball's land.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how he'll like our camping on it?” I said, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I'd 'a' thought, sir, you'd 'a' asked him that before you came,” said old + John, in a tone that seemed to indicate that he had his doubts about Mr. + Ball. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there'll be no trouble about that,” cried Euphemia. “You can drive me + past Mr. Ball's,—it's not much out of the way,—and I'll ask + him.” + </p> + <p> + “In that wagon?” said I. “Will you stop at Mr. Ball's door in that?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said she, as she arranged herself on the board which served + as a seat. “Now that our campaign has really commenced, we ought to begin + to rough it, and should not be too proud to ride even in a—in a—” + </p> + <p> + She evidently couldn't think of any vehicle mean enough for her purpose. + </p> + <p> + “In a green-grocery cart,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, or in a red one. Go ahead, John.” + </p> + <p> + When Euphemia returned on foot, I had a fire in the camp-stove and the + kettle was on. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Euphemia, “Mr. Ball says it's all right, if we keep the fence + up. He don't want his cows to get into the creek, and I'm sure we don't + want 'em walking over us. He couldn't understand, though, why we wanted to + live out here. I explained the whole thing to him very carefully, but it + didn't seem to make much impression on him. I believe he thinks Pomona has + something the matter with her, and that we have come to stay out here in + the fresh air so as not to take it.” + </p> + <p> + “What an extremely stupid man Mr. Ball must be!” I said. + </p> + <p> + The fire did not burn very well, and while I was at work at it, Euphemia + spread a cloth upon the grass, and set forth bread and butter, cheese, + sardines, potted ham, preserves, biscuits, and a lot of other things. + </p> + <p> + We did not wait for the kettle to boil, but concluded to do without tea or + coffee, for this meal, and content ourselves with pure water. For some + reason or other, however, the creek water did not seem to be very pure, + and we did not like it a bit. + </p> + <p> + “After lunch,” said I, “we will go and look for a spring; that will be a + good way of exploring the country.” + </p> + <p> + “If we can't find one,” said Euphemia, “we shall have to go to the house + for water, for I can never drink that stuff.” + </p> + <p> + Soon after lunch we started out. We searched high and low, near and far, + for a spring, but could not find one. + </p> + <p> + At length, by merest accident, we found ourselves in the vicinity of old + John's little house. I knew he had a good well, and so we went in to get a + drink, for our ham and biscuits had made us very thirsty. + </p> + <p> + We told old John, who was digging potatoes, and was also very much + surprised to see us so soon, about our unexpected trouble in finding a + spring. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, very slowly, “there is no spring very near to you. Didn't + you tell your gal to bring you water?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I replied; “we don't want her coming down to the camp. She is to + attend to the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” said John; “I will bring you water, morning and night,—good, + fresh water,—from my well, for,—well, for ten cents a day.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be nice,” said Euphemia, “and cheap, too. And then it will be + well to have John come every day; he can carry our letters.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't expect to write any letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I,” said Euphemia; “but it will be pleasant to have some + communication with the outer world.” + </p> + <p> + So we engaged old John to bring us water twice a day. I was a little + disappointed at this, for I thought that camping on the edge of a stream + settled the matter of water. But we have many things to learn in this + world. + </p> + <p> + Early in the afternoon I went out to catch some fish for supper. We agreed + to dispense with dinner, and have breakfast, lunch, and a good solid + supper. + </p> + <p> + For some time I had poor luck. There were either very few fish in the + creek, or they were not hungry. + </p> + <p> + I had been fishing an hour or more when I saw Euphemia running toward me. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! nothing. I've just come to see how you were getting along. Haven't + you been gone an awfully long time? And are those all the fish you've + caught? What little bits of things they are! I thought people who camped + out caught big fish and lots of them?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends a good deal upon where they go,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose so,” replied Euphemia; “but I should think a stream as big + as this would have plenty of fish in it. However, if you can't catch any, + you might go up to the road and watch for Mr. Mulligan. He sometimes comes + along on Mondays.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to the road to watch for any fish-man,” I replied, a little + more testily than I should have spoken. “What sort of a camping out would + that be? But we must not be talking here or I shall never get a bite. + Those fish are a little soiled from jumping about in the dust. You might + wash them off at that shallow place, while I go a little further on and + try my luck.” + </p> + <p> + I went a short distance up the creek, and threw my line into a dark, + shadowy pool, under some alders, where there certainly should be fish. + And, sure enough, in less than a minute I got a splendid bite,—not + only a bite, but a pull. I knew that I had certainly hooked a big fish! + The thing actually tugged at my line so that I was afraid the pole would + break. I did not fear for the line, for that, I knew, was strong. I would + have played the fish until he was tired, and I could pull him out without + risk to the pole, but I did not know exactly how the process of “playing” + was conducted. I was very much excited. Sometimes I gave a jerk and a + pull, and then the fish would give a jerk and a pull. + </p> + <p> + Directly I heard some one running toward me, and then I heard Euphemia cry + out: + </p> + <p> + “Give him the butt! Give him the butt!” + </p> + <p> + “Give him what?” I exclaimed, without having time even to look up at her. + </p> + <p> + “The butt! the butt!” she cried, almost breathlessly. “I know that's + right! I read how Edward Everett Hale did it in the Adirondacks.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it wasn't Hale at all,” said I, as I jumped about the bank; “it was + Mr. Murray.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was one of those fishing ministers, and I know that it caught + the fish.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know. I read it, but I don't know how to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you ought to punch him with it,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “No! no!” I hurriedly replied, “I can't do anything like that. I'm going + to try to just pull him out lengthwise. You take hold of the pole and go + in shore as far as you can and I'll try and get hold of the line.” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia did as I bade her, and drew the line in so that I could reach it. + As soon as I had a firm hold of it, I pulled in, regardless of + consequences, and hauled ashore an enormous cat-fish. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah!” I shouted, “here is a prize.” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia dropped the pole, and ran to me. + </p> + <p> + “What a horrid beast!” she exclaimed. “Throw it in again.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all!” said I. “This is a splendid fish, if I can ever get him off + the hook. Don't come near him! If he sticks that back-fin into you, it + will poison you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I should think it would poison us to eat him,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “No; it's only his fin.” + </p> + <p> + “I've eaten cat-fish, but I never saw one like that,” she said. “Look at + its horrible mouth! And it has whiskers like a cat!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you never saw one with its head on,” I said. “What I want to do is to + get this hook out.” + </p> + <p> + I had caught cat-fish before, but never one so large as this, and I was + actually afraid to take hold of it, knowing, as I did, that you must be + very careful how you clutch a fish of the kind. I finally concluded to + carry it home as it was, and then I could decapitate it, and take out the + hook at my leisure. So back to camp we went, Euphemia picking up the + little fish as we passed, for she did not think it right to catch fish and + not eat them. They made her hands smell, it is true; but she did not mind + that when we were camping. + </p> + <p> + I prepared the big fish (and I had a desperate time getting the skin off), + while my wife, who is one of the daintiest cooks in the world, made the + fire in the stove, and got ready the rest of the supper. She fried the + fish, because I told her that was the way cat-fish ought to be cooked, + although she said that it seemed very strange to her to camp out for the + sake of one's health, and then to eat fried food. + </p> + <p> + But that fish was splendid! The very smell of it made us hungry. + Everything was good, and when supper was over and the dishes washed, I + lighted my pipe and we sat down under a tree to enjoy the evening. + </p> + <p> + The sun had set behind the distant ridge; a delightful twilight was gently + subduing every color of the scene; the night insects were beginning to hum + and chirp, and a fire that I had made under a tree blazed up gayly, and + threw little flakes of light into the shadows under the shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + “Now isn't this better than being cooped up in a narrow, constricted + house?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Ever so much better!” said Euphemia. “Now we know what Nature is. We are + sitting right down in her lap, and she is cuddling us up. Isn't that sky + lovely? Oh! I think this is perfectly splendid,” said she, making a little + dab at her face,—“if it wasn't for the mosquitoes.” + </p> + <p> + “They ARE bad,” I said. “I thought my pipe would keep them off, but it + don't. There must be plenty of them down at that creek.” + </p> + <p> + “Down there!” exclaimed Euphemia. “Why there are thousands of them here! I + never saw anything like it. They're getting worse every minute.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what we must do,” I exclaimed, jumping up. “We must make a + smudge.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that? do you rub it on yourself?” asked Euphemia, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's only a great smoke. Come, let us gather up dry leaves and make a + smoldering fire of them.” + </p> + <p> + We managed to get up a very fair smudge, and we stood to the leeward of + it, until Euphemia began to cough and sneeze, as if her head would come + off. With tears running from her eyes, she declared that she would rather + go and be eaten alive, than stay in that smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we were too near it,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” she answered, “but I have had enough smoke. Why didn't I + think of it before? I brought two veils! We can put these over our faces, + and wear gloves.” + </p> + <p> + She was always full of expedients. + </p> + <p> + Veiled and gloved, we bade defiance to the mosquitoes, and we sat and + talked for half an hour or more. I made a little hole in my veil, through + which I put the mouth-piece of my pipe. + </p> + <p> + When it became really dark, I lighted the lantern, and we prepared for a + well-earned night's rest. The tent was spacious and comfortable, and we + each had a nice little cot-bed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to leave the front-door open all night?” said Euphemia, as + I came in after a final round to see that all was right. + </p> + <p> + “I should hardly call this canvas-flap a front-door,” I said, “but I think + it would be better to leave it open; otherwise we should smother. You need + not be afraid. I shall keep my gun here by my bedside, and if any one + offers to come in, I'll bring him to a full stop quick enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you are awake. But I suppose we ought not to be afraid of + burglars here. People in tents never are. So you needn't shut it.” + </p> + <p> + It was awfully quiet and dark and lonely, out there by that creek, when + the light had been put out, and we had gone to bed. For some reason I + could not go to sleep. After I had been lying awake for an hour or two, + Euphemia spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Are you awake?” said she, in a low voice, as if she were afraid of + disturbing the people in the next room. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I. “How long have you been awake?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't been asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither have I.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we light the lantern,” said she. “Don't you think it would be + pleasanter?” + </p> + <p> + “It might be,” I replied; “but it would draw myriads of mosquitoes. I wish + I had brought a mosquito-net and a clock. It seems so lonesome without the + ticking. Good-night! We ought to have a long sleep, if we do much tramping + about to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + In about half an hour more, just as I was beginning to be a little sleepy, + she said: + </p> + <p> + “Where is that gun?” + </p> + <p> + “Here by me,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if a man should come in, try and be sure to put it up close to him + before you fire. In a little tent like this, the shot might scatter + everywhere, if you're not careful.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I said. “Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + “There's one thing we never thought of!” she presently exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “What's that,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Snakes,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't let's think of them. We must try and get a little sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear knows! I've been trying hard enough,” she said, plaintively, and all + was quiet again. + </p> + <p> + We succeeded this time in going to sleep, and it was broad daylight before + we awoke. + </p> + <p> + That morning, old John came with our water before breakfast was ready. He + also brought us some milk, as he thought we would want it. We considered + this a good idea, and agreed with him to bring us a quart a day. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want some wegetables?” said he. “I've got some nice corn and + some tomatoes, and I could bring you cabbage and peas.” + </p> + <p> + We had hardly expected to have fresh vegetables every day, but there + seemed to be no reason why old John should not bring them, as he had to + come every day with the water and milk. So we arranged that he should + furnish us daily with a few of the products of his garden. + </p> + <p> + “I could go to the butcher's and get you a steak or some chops, if you'd + let me know in the morning,” said he, intent on the profits of further + commissions. + </p> + <p> + But this was going too far. We remembered we were camping out, and + declined to have meat from the butcher. + </p> + <p> + John had not been gone more than ten minutes before we saw Mr. Ball + approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope he isn't going to say we can't stay!” exclaimed Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “How d'ye do?” said Mr. Ball, shaking hands with us. “Did you stick it out + all night?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, indeed,” I replied, “and expect to stick it out for a many more + nights if you don't object to our occupying your land.” + </p> + <p> + “No objection in the world,” said he; “but it seems a little queer for + people who have a good house to be living out here in the fields in a + tent, now, don't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you see,” said I, and I went on and explained the whole thing to + him,—the advice of the doctor, the discussion about the proper place + to go to, and the good reasons for fixing on this spot. + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” said he, “that's all very well, no doubt. But how's the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “What girl?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Your girl. The hired girl you left at the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's all right,” said I; “she's always well.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. Ball, slowly turning on his heel, “if you say so, I + suppose she is. But you're going up to the house to-day to see about her, + aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Euphemia. “We don't intend to go near the house until our + camping is over.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,—just so,” said Mr. Ball; “I expected as much. But look + here, don't you think it would be well for me to ask Dr. Ames to stop in + and see how she is gettin' along? I dare say you've fixed everything for + her, but that would be safer, you know. He's coming this morning to + vaccinate my baby, and he might stop there, just as well as not, after he + has left my house.” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia and I could see no necessity for this proposed visit of the + doctor, but we could not well object to it, and so Mr. Ball said he would + be sure and send him. + </p> + <p> + After our visitor had gone, the significance of his remarks flashed on me. + He still thought that Pomona was sick with something catching, and that we + were afraid to stay in the house with her. But I said nothing about this + to Euphemia. It would only worry her, and our vacation was to be a season + of unalloyed delight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. WET BLANKETS. + </h2> + <p> + We certainly enjoyed our second day in camp. All the morning, and a great + part of the afternoon, we “explored.” We fastened up the tent as well as + we could, and then, I with my gun, and Euphemia with the fishing-pole, we + started up the creek. We did not go very far, for it would not do to leave + the tent too long. I did not shoot anything, but Euphemia caught two or + three nice little fish, and we enjoyed the sport exceedingly. + </p> + <p> + Soon after we returned in the afternoon, and while we were getting things + in order for supper, we had a call from two of our neighbors, Captain + Atkinson and wife. The captain greeted us hilariously. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he cried. “Why, this is gay. Who would ever have thought of a + domestic couple like you going on such a lark as this. We just heard about + it from old John, and we came down to see what you are up to. You've got + everything very nice. I think I'd like this myself. Why, you might have a + rifle-range out here. You could cut down those bushes on the other side of + the creek, and put up your target over there on that hill. Then you could + lie down here on the grass and bang away all day. If you'll do that, I'll + come down and practice with you. How long are you going to keep it up?” + </p> + <p> + I told him that we expected to spend my two weeks' vacation here. + </p> + <p> + “Not if it rains, my boy,” said he. “I know what it is to camp out in the + rain.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Mrs. Atkinson had been with Euphemia examining the tent, and + our equipage generally. + </p> + <p> + “It would be very nice for a day's picnic,” she said; “but I wouldn't want + to stay out-of-doors all night.” + </p> + <p> + And then, addressing me, she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Do you have to breathe the fresh air all the time, night as well as day? + I expect that is a very good prescription, but I would not like to have to + follow it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “If the fresh air is what you must have,” said the captain, “you might + have got all you wanted of that without taking the trouble to come out + here. You could have sat out on your back porch night and day for the + whole two weeks, and breathed all the fresh air that any man could need.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, “and I might have gone down cellar and put my head in the + cold-air box of the furnace. But there wouldn't have been much fun in + that.” + </p> + <p> + “There are a good many things that there's no fun in,” said the captain. + “Do you cook your own meals, or have them sent from the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Cook them ourselves, of course,” said Euphemia. “We are going to have + supper now. Won't you wait and take some?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Mrs. Atkinson, “but we must go.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we must be going,” said the captain. “Good-bye. If it rains I'll + come down after you with an umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not trouble yourself about that,” said I. “We shall rough it + out, rain or shine.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd stay here now,” said Euphemia, when they had gone, “if it rained + pitch.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean pitchforks,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, anything,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know about the pitchforks,” I said, looking over the creek + at the sky; “but am very much afraid that it is going to rain rain-water + to-morrow. But that won't drive us home, will it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed!” said she. “We're prepared for it. But I wish they'd staid at + home.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, it commenced to rain that night, and we had showers all the + next day. We staid in camp during the morning, and I smoked and we played + checkers, and had a very cosy time, with a wood fire burning under a tree + near by. We kept up this fire, not to dry the air, but to make things look + comfortable. In the afternoon I dressed myself up in water-proof coat, + boots and hat, and went out fishing. I went down to the water and fished + along the banks for an hour, but caught nothing of any consequence. This + was a great disappointment, for we had expected to live on fresh fish for + a great part of the time while we were camping. With plenty of fish, we + could do without meat very well. + </p> + <p> + We talked the matter over on my return, and we agreed that as it seemed + impossible to depend upon a supply of fish, from the waters about our + camp, it would be better to let old John bring fresh meat from the + butcher, and as neither of us liked crackers, we also agreed that he + should bring bread. + </p> + <p> + Our greatest trouble, that evening, was to make a fire. The wood, of which + there was a good deal lying about under the trees, was now all wet and + would not burn. However, we managed to get up a fire in the stove, but I + did not know what we were going to do in the morning. We should have + stored away some wood under shelter. + </p> + <p> + We set our little camp-table in the tent, and we had scarcely finished our + supper, when a very heavy rain set in, accompanied by a violent wind. The + canvas at one end of our tent must have been badly fastened, for it was + blown in, and in an instant our beds were deluged. I rushed out to fasten + up the canvas, and got drenched almost to the skin, and although Euphemia + put on her waterproof cloak as soon as she could, she was pretty wet, for + the rain seemed to dash right through the tent. + </p> + <p> + This gust of wind did not last long, and the rain soon settled down into a + steady drizzle, but we were in a sad plight. It was after nine o'clock + before we had put things into tolerable order. + </p> + <p> + “We can't sleep in those beds,” said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “They're as wet as sop, and we shall have to go up to the house and get + something to spread over them. I don't want to do it, but we mustn't catch + our deaths of cold.” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to be said against this, and we prepared to start out. I + would have gone by myself, but Euphemia would not consent to be left + alone. It was still raining, though not very hard, and I carried an + umbrella and a lantern. Climbing fences at night with a wife, a lantern, + and an umbrella to take care of, is not very agreeable, but we managed to + reach the house, although once or twice we had an argument in regard to + the path, which seemed to be very different at night from what it was in + the day-time. + </p> + <p> + Lord Edward came bounding to the gate to meet us, and I am happy to say + that he knew me at once, and wagged his tail in a very sociable way. + </p> + <p> + I had the key of a side-door in my pocket, for we had thought it wise to + give ourselves command of this door, and so we let ourselves in without + ringing or waking Pomona. + </p> + <p> + All was quiet within, and we went upstairs with the lantern. Everything + seemed clean and in order, and it is impossible to convey any idea of the + element of comfort which seemed to pervade the house, as we quietly made + our way upstairs, in our wet boots and heavy, damp clothes. + </p> + <p> + The articles we wanted were in a closet, and while I was making a bundle + of them, Euphemia went to look for Pomona. She soon returned, walking + softly. + </p> + <p> + “She's sound asleep,” said she, “and I didn't think there was any need of + waking her. We'll send word by John that we've been here. And oh! you + can't imagine how snug and happy she did look, lying there in her + comfortable bed, in that nice, airy room. I'll tell you what it is, if it + wasn't for the neighbors, and especially the Atkinsons, I wouldn't go back + one step.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “I don't know that I care so particularly about it, + myself. But I suppose I couldn't stay here and leave all Thompson's things + out there to take care of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” said Euphemia. “And we're not going to back down. Are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + On our way down-stairs we had to pass the partly open door of our own + room. I could not help holding up the lantern to look in. There was the + bed, with its fair white covering and its smooth, soft pillows; there were + the easy-chairs, the pretty curtains, the neat and cheerful carpet, the + bureau, with Euphemia's work-basket on it; there was the little table with + the book that we had been reading together, turned face downward upon it; + there were my slippers; there was— + </p> + <p> + “Come!” said Euphemia, “I can't bear to look in there. It's like a dead + child.” + </p> + <p> + And so we hurried out into the night and the rain. We stopped at the + wood-shed and got an armful of dry kindling, which Euphemia was obliged to + carry, as I had the bundle of bed-clothing, the umbrella, and the lantern. + </p> + <p> + Lord Edward gave a short, peculiar bark as we shut the gate behind us, but + whether it was meant as a fond farewell, or a hoot of derision, I cannot + say. + </p> + <p> + We found everything as we left it at the camp, and we made our beds + apparently dry. But I did not sleep well. I could not help thinking that + it was not safe to sleep in a bed with a substratum of wet mattress, and I + worried Euphemia a little by asking her several times if she felt the + dampness striking through. + </p> + <p> + To our great delight, the next day was fine and clear, and I thought I + would like, better than anything else, to take Euphemia in a boat up the + river and spend the day rowing about, or resting in shady places on the + shore. + </p> + <p> + But what could we do about the tent? It would be impossible to go away and + leave that, with its contents, for a whole day. + </p> + <p> + When old John came with our water, milk, bread, and a basket of + vegetables, we told him of our desired excursion, and the difficulty in + the way. This good man, who always had a keen scent for any advantage to + himself, warmly praised the boating plan, and volunteered to send his wife + and two of his younger children to stay with the tent while we were away. + </p> + <p> + The old woman, he said, could do her sewing here as well as anywhere, and + she would stay all day for fifty cents. + </p> + <p> + This plan pleased us, and we sent for Mrs. Old John, who came with three + of her children,—all too young to leave behind, she said,—and + took charge of the camp. + </p> + <p> + Our day proved to be as delightful as we had anticipated, and when we + returned, hungry and tired, we were perfectly charmed to find that Mrs. + Old John had our supper ready for us. + </p> + <p> + She charged a quarter, extra, for this service, and we did not begrudge it + to her, though we declined her offer to come every day and cook and keep + the place in order. + </p> + <p> + “However,” said Euphemia, on second thoughts, “you may come on Saturday + and clean up generally.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, which was Friday, I went out in the morning with the gun. As + yet I had shot nothing, for I had seen no birds about the camp, which, + without breaking the State laws, I thought I could kill, and so I started + off up the river-road. + </p> + <p> + I saw no game, but after I had walked about a mile, I met a man in a + wagon. + </p> + <p> + “Hello,” said he, pulling up; “you'd better be careful how you go popping + around here on the public roads, frightening horses.” + </p> + <p> + As I had not yet fired a single shot, I thought this was a very impudent + speech, and I think so still. + </p> + <p> + “You had better wait until I begin to pop,” said I, “before you make such + a fuss about it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, “I'd rather make the fuss before you begin. My horse is + skittish,” and he drove off. + </p> + <p> + This man annoyed me; but as I did not, of course, wish to frighten horses, + I left the road and made my way back to the tent over some very rough + fields. It was a poor day for birds, and I did not get a shot. + </p> + <p> + “What a foolish man!” said Euphemia, when I told her the above incident, + “to talk that way when you stood there with a gun in your hand. You might + have raked his wagon, fore and aft.” + </p> + <p> + That afternoon, as Euphemia and I were sitting under a tree by the tent, + we were very much surprised to see Pomona come walking down the peninsula. + </p> + <p> + I was annoyed and provoked at this. We had given Pomona positive orders + not to leave the place, under any pretense, while we were gone. If + necessary to send for anything, she could go to the fence, back of the + barn, and scream across a small field to some of the numerous members of + old John's family. Under this arrangement, I felt that the house was + perfectly safe. + </p> + <p> + Before she could reach us, I called out: + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave the house, Pomona? Don't you know you should never come + away and leave the house empty? I thought I had made you understand that.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't empty,” said Pomona, in an entirely unruffled tone. “Your old + boarder is there, with his wife and child.” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia and I looked at each other in dismay. + </p> + <p> + “They came early this afternoon,” continued Pomona, “by the 1:14 train, + and walked up, he carrying the child.” + </p> + <p> + “It can't be,” cried Euphemia. “Their child's married.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have married very young, then,” said Pomona, “for it isn't over + four years old now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Euphemia, “I know! It's his grandchild.” + </p> + <p> + “Grandchild!” repeated Pomona, with her countenance more expressive of + emotion than I had ever yet seen it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Euphemia; “but how long are they going to stay? Where did you + tell them we were?” + </p> + <p> + “They didn't say how long they was goin' to stay,” answered Pomona. “I + told them you had gone to be with some friends in the country, and that I + didn't know whether you'd be home to-night or not.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you tell them such a falsehood?” cried Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “That was no falsehood,” said Pomona; “it was true as truth. If you're not + your own friends, I don't know who is. And I wasn't a-goin' to tell the + boarder where you was till I found out whether you wanted me to do it or + not. And so I left 'em and run over to old John's, and then down here.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to find fault with the excellent management of Pomona. + </p> + <p> + “What were they doing?” asked Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “I opened the parlor, and she was in there with the child,—putting + it to sleep on the sofa, I think. The boarder was out in the yard, tryin' + to teach Lord Edward some tricks.” + </p> + <p> + “He had better look out!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the dog's chained and growlin' fearful! What am I to do with 'em?” + </p> + <p> + This was a difficult point to decide. If we went to see them, we might as + well break up our camp, for we could not tell when we should be able to + come back to it. + </p> + <p> + We discussed the matter very anxiously, and finally concluded that under + the circumstances, and considering what Pomona had said about our + whereabouts, it would be well for us to stay where we were and for Pomona + to take charge of the visitors. If they returned to the city that evening, + she was to give them a good supper before they went, sending John to the + store for what was needed. If they stayed all night, she could get + breakfast for them. + </p> + <p> + “We can write,” said Euphemia, “and invite them to come and spend some + days with us, when we are at home and everything is all right. I want + dreadfully to see that child, but I don't see how I can do it now.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I. “They're sure to stay all night if we go up to the house, + and then I should have to have the tent and things hauled away, for I + couldn't leave them here.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” said Euphemia, “if we were miles away, in the woods of + Maine, we couldn't leave our camp to see anybody. And this is practically + the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said I; and so Pomona went away to her new charge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE BOARDER'S VISIT. + </h2> + <p> + For the rest of the afternoon, and indeed far into the night, our + conversation consisted almost entirely of conjectures regarding the + probable condition of things at the house. We both thought we had done + right, but we felt badly about it. It was not hospitable, to be sure; but + then I should have no other holiday until next year, and our friends could + come at any time to see us. + </p> + <p> + The next morning old John brought a note from Pomona. It was written with + pencil on a small piece of paper torn from the margin of a newspaper, and + contained the words, “Here yit.” + </p> + <p> + “So you've got company,” said old John, with a smile. “That's a queer gal + of yourn. She says I mustn't tell 'em you're here. As if I'd tell 'em!” + </p> + <p> + We knew well enough that old John was not at all likely to do anything + that would cut off the nice little revenue he was making out of our camp, + and so we felt no concern on that score. + </p> + <p> + But we were very anxious for further news, and we told old John to go to + the house about ten o'clock and ask Pomona to send us another note. + </p> + <p> + We waited, in a very disturbed condition of mind, until nearly eleven + o'clock, when old John came with a verbal message from Pomona: + </p> + <p> + “She says she's a-comin' herself as soon as she can get a chance to slip + off.” + </p> + <p> + This was not pleasant news. It filled our minds with a confused mass of + probabilities, and it made us feel mean. How contemptible it seemed to be + a party to this concealment and in league with a servant-girl who has to + “slip off!” + </p> + <p> + Before long, Pomona appeared, quite out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “In all my life,” said she, “I never see people like them two. I thought I + was never goin' to get away.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they there yet?” cried Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “How long are they going to stay?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear knows!” replied Pomona. “Their valise came up by express last + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we'll have to go up to the house,” said Euphemia. “It won't do to + stay away any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Pomona, fanning herself with her apron, “if you know'd all I + know, I don't think you'd think so.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am, they've just settled down and taken possession of the whole + place. He says to me that he know'd you'd both want them to make + themselves at home, just as if you was there, and they thought they'd + better do it. He asked me did I think you would be home by Monday, and I + said I didn't know, but I guessed you would. So says he to his wife, + 'Won't that be a jolly lark? We'll just keep house for them here till they + come. And he says he would go down to the store and order some things, if + there wasn't enough in the house, and he asked her to see what would be + needed, which she did, and he's gone down for 'em now. And she says that, + as it was Saturday, she'd see that the house was all put to rights; and + after breakfast she set me to sweepin'; and it's only by way of her + dustin' the parlor and givin' me the little girl to take for a walk that I + got off at all.” + </p> + <p> + “But what have you done with the child?” exclaimed Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I left her at old Johnses.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you think they're pleased with having the house to themselves?” I + said. + </p> + <p> + “Pleased, sir?” replied Pomona; “they're tickled to death.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you like having strangers telling you what to do?” asked + Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said Pomona, “he's no stranger, and she's real pleasant, and + if it gives you a good camp out, I don't mind.” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia and I looked at each other. Here was true allegiance. We would + remember this. + </p> + <p> + Pomona now hurried off, and we seriously discussed the matter, and soon + came to the conclusion that while it might be the truest hospitality to + let our friends stay at our house for a day or two and enjoy themselves, + still it would not do for us to allow ourselves to be governed by a too + delicate sentimentality. We must go home and act our part of host and + hostess. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Old John had been at the camp ever since breakfast-time, giving the + place a Saturday cleaning. What she had found to occupy her for so long a + time I could not imagine, but in her efforts to put in a full half-day's + work, I have no doubt she scrubbed some of the trees. We had been so fully + occupied with our own affairs that we had paid very little attention to + her, but she had probably heard pretty much all that had been said. + </p> + <p> + At noon we paid her (giving her, at her suggestion, something extra in + lieu of the midday meal, which she did not stay to take), and told her to + send her husband, with his wagon, as soon as possible, as we intended to + break up our encampment. We determined that we would pack everything in + John's wagon, and let him take the load to his house, and keep it there + until Monday, when I would have the tent and accompaniments expressed to + their owner. We would go home and join our friends. It would not be + necessary to say where we had been. + </p> + <p> + It was hard for us to break up our camp. In many respects we had enjoyed + the novel experience, and we had fully expected, during the next week, to + make up for all our short-comings and mistakes. It seemed like losing all + our labor and expenditure, to break up now, but there was no help for it. + Our place was at home. + </p> + <p> + We did not wish to invite our friends to the camp. They would certainly + have come had they known we were there, but we had no accommodations for + them, neither had we any desire for even transient visitors. Besides, we + both thought that we would prefer that our ex-boarder and his wife should + not know that we were encamped on that little peninsula. + </p> + <p> + We set to work to pack up and get ready for moving, but the afternoon + passed away without bringing old John. Between five and six o'clock along + came his oldest boy, with a bucket of water. + </p> + <p> + “I'm to go back after the milk,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Hold up!” I cried. “Where is your father and his wagon? We've been + waiting for him for hours.” + </p> + <p> + “The horse is si—— I mean he's gone to Ballville for oats.” + </p> + <p> + “And why didn't he send and tell me?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “There wasn't nobody to send,” answered the boy. + </p> + <p> + “You are not telling the truth,” exclaimed Euphemia; “there is always some + one to send, in a family like yours.” + </p> + <p> + To this the boy made no answer, but again said that he would go after the + milk. + </p> + <p> + “We want you to bring no milk,” I cried, now quite angry. “I want you to + go down to the station, and tell the driver of the express-wagon to come + here immediately. Do you understand? Immediately.” + </p> + <p> + The boy declared he understood, and started off quite willingly. We did + not prefer to have the express-wagon, for it was too public a conveyance, + and, besides, old John knew exactly how to do what was required. But we + need not have troubled ourselves. The express-wagon did not come. + </p> + <p> + When it became dark, we saw that we could not leave that night. Even if a + wagon did come, it would not be safe to drive over the fields in the + darkness. And we could not go away and leave the camp-equipage. I proposed + that Euphemia should go up to the house, while I remained in camp. But she + declined. We would keep together, whatever happened, she said. + </p> + <p> + We unpacked our cooking-utensils and provisions, and had supper. There was + no milk for our coffee, but we did not care. The evening did not pass + gayly. We were annoyed by the conduct of old John and the express-boy, + though, perhaps, it was not their fault. I had given them no notice that I + should need them. + </p> + <p> + And we were greatly troubled at the continuance of the secrecy and + subterfuge which now had become really necessary, if we did not wish to + hurt our friends' feelings. + </p> + <p> + The first thing that I thought of, when I opened my eyes in the morning, + was the fact that we would have to stay there all day, for we could not + move on Sunday. + </p> + <p> + But Euphemia did not agree with me. After breakfast (we found that the + water and the milk had been brought very early, before we were up) she + stated that she did not intend to be treated in this way. She was going up + to old John's house herself; and away she went. + </p> + <p> + In less than half an hour, she returned, followed by old John and his + wife, both looking much as if they had been whipped. + </p> + <p> + “These people,” said she, “have entered into a conspiracy against us. I + have questioned them thoroughly, and have made them answer me. The horse + was at home yesterday, and the boy did not go after the express-wagon. + They thought that if they could keep us here, until our company had gone, + we would stay as long as we originally intended, and they would continue + to make money out of us. But they are mistaken. We are going home + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + At this point I could not help thinking that Euphemia might have consulted + me in regard to her determination, but she was very much in earnest, and I + would not have any discussion before these people. + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen!” said Euphemia, addressing the down-cast couple, “we are + going home, and you two are to stay here all this day and to-night, and + take care of these things. You can't work to-day, and you can shut up your + house, and bring your whole family here if you choose. We will pay you for + the service,—although you do not deserve a cent,—and we will + leave enough here for you to eat. You must bring your own sheets and + pillowcases, and stay here until we see you on Monday morning.” + </p> + <p> + Old John and his wife agreed to this plan with the greatest alacrity, + apparently well pleased to get off so easily; and, having locked up the + smaller articles of camp-furniture, we filled a valise with our personal + baggage and started off home. + </p> + <p> + Our house and grounds never looked prettier than they did that morning, as + we stood at the gate. Lord Edward barked a welcome from his shed, and + before we reached the door, Pomona came running out, her face radiant. + </p> + <p> + “I'm awful glad to see you back,” she said; “though I'd never have said so + while you was in camp.” + </p> + <p> + I patted the dog and looked into the garden. Everything was growing + splendidly. Euphemia rushed to the chicken-yard. It was in first-rate + order, and there were two broods of little yellow puffy chicks. + </p> + <p> + Down on her knees went my wife, to pick up the little creatures, one by + one, press their downy bodies to her cheek, and call them tootsy-wootsies, + and away went I to the barn, followed by Pomona, and soon afterward by + Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + The cow was all right. + </p> + <p> + “I've been making butter,” said Pomona, “though it don't look exactly like + it ought to, yet, and the skim-milk I didn't know what to do with, so I + gave it to old John. He came for it every day, and was real mad once + because I had given a lot of it to the dog, and couldn't let him have but + a pint.” + </p> + <p> + “He ought to have been mad,” said I to Euphemia, as we walked up to the + house. “He got ten cents a quart for that milk.” + </p> + <p> + We laughed, and didn't care. We were too glad to be at home. + </p> + <p> + “But where are our friends?” I asked Pomona. We had actually forgotten + them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! they're gone out for a walk,” said she. “They started off right after + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + We were not sorry for this. It would be so much nicer to see our dear home + again when there was nobody there but ourselves. In-doors we rushed. Our + absence had been like rain on a garden. Everything now seemed fresher and + brighter and more delightful. We went from room to room, and seemed to + appreciate better than ever what a charming home we had. + </p> + <p> + We were so full of the delights of our return that we forgot all about the + Sunday dinner and our guests, but Pomona, whom my wife was training to be + an excellent cook, did not forget, and Euphemia was summoned to a + consultation in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Dinner was late; but our guests were later. We waited as long as the state + of the provisions and our appetites would permit, and then we sat down to + the table and began to eat slowly. But they did not come. We finished our + meal, and they were still absent. We now became quite anxious, and I + proposed to Euphemia that we should go and look for them. + </p> + <p> + We started out, and our steps naturally turned toward the river. An + unpleasant thought began to crowd itself into my mind, and perhaps the + same thing happened to Euphemia, for, without saying anything to each + other, we both turned toward the path that led to the peninsula. We + crossed the field, climbed the fence, and there, in front of the tent sat + our old boarder splitting sticks with the camp-hatchet. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah!” he cried, springing to his feet when he saw us. “How glad I am + to see you back! When did you return? Isn't this splendid?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I said, as we shook hands. + </p> + <p> + “Why this,” he cried, pointing to the tent. “Don't you see? We're camping + out.” + </p> + <p> + “You are?” I exclaimed, looking around for his wife, while Euphemia stood + motionless, actually unable to make a remark. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly we are. It's the rarest bit of luck. My wife and Adele will be + here directly. They've gone to look for water-cresses. But I must tell you + how I came to make this magnificent find. We started out for a walk this + morning, and we happened to hit on this place, and here we saw this + gorgeous tent with nobody near but a little tow-headed boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a boy?” cried Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a young shaver of about nine or ten. I asked him what he was doing + here, and he told me that this tent belonged to a gentleman who had gone + away, and that he was here to watch it until he came back. Then I asked + him how long the owner would probably be away, and he said he supposed for + a day or two. Then a splendid idea struck me. I offered the boy a dollar + to let me take his place: I knew that any sensible man would rather have + me in charge of his tent, than a young codger like that. The boy agreed as + quick as lightning, and I paid him and sent him off. You see how little he + was to be trusted! The owner of this tent will be under the greatest + obligations to me. Just look at it!” he cried. “Beds, table, stove,—everything + anybody could want. I've camped out lots of times, but never had such a + tent as this. I intended coming up this afternoon after my valise, and to + tell your girl where we are. But here is my wife and little Adele.” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the salutations and the mutual surprise, Euphemia cried: + </p> + <p> + “But you don't expect to camp out, now? You are coming back to our house?” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said the ex-boarder, “we should never have thought of doing + anything so rude, had we supposed you would have returned so soon. But + your girl gave us to understand that you would not be back for days, and + so we felt free to go at any time; and I did not hesitate to make this + arrangement. And now that I have really taken the responsibility of the + tent and fixtures on myself, I don't think it would be right to go away + and leave the place, especially as I don't know where to find that boy. + The owner will be back in a day or two, and I would like to explain + matters to him and give up the property in good order into his hands. And, + to tell the truth, we both adore camping-out, and we may never have such a + chance again. We can live here splendidly. I went out to forage this + morning, and found an old fellow living near by who sold me a lot of + provisions—even some coffee and sugar—and he's to bring us + some milk. We're going to have supper in about an hour; won't you stay and + take a camp-meal with us? It will be a novelty for you, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + We declined this invitation, as we had so lately dined. I looked at + Euphemia with a question in my eye. She understood me, and gently shook + her head. It would be a shame to make any explanations which might put an + end to this bit of camp-life, which evidently was so eagerly enjoyed by + our old friend. But we insisted that they should come up to the house and + see us, and they agreed to dine with us the next evening. On Tuesday, they + must return to the city. + </p> + <p> + “Now, this is what I call real hospitality,” said the ex-boarder, warmly + grasping my hand. I could not help agreeing with him. + </p> + <p> + As we walked home, I happened to look back and saw old John going over the + fields toward the camp, carrying a little tin-pail and a water bucket. + </p> + <p> + The next day, toward evening, a storm set in, and at the hour fixed for + our dinner, the rain was pouring down in such torrents that we did not + expect our guests. After dinner the rain ceased, and as we supposed that + they might not have made any preparations for a meal, Euphemia packed up + some dinner for them in a basket, and I took it down to the camp. + </p> + <p> + They were glad to see me, and said they had a splendid time all day. They + were up before sunrise, and had explored, tramped, boated, and I don't + know what else. + </p> + <p> + My basket was very acceptable, and I would have stayed awhile with them, + but as they were obliged to eat in the tent, there was no place for me to + sit, it being too wet outside, and so I soon came away. + </p> + <p> + We were in doubt whether or not to tell our friends the true history of + the camp. I thought that it was not right to keep up the deception, while + Euphemia declared that if they were sensitive people, they would feel very + badly at having broken up our plans by their visit, and then having + appropriated our camp to themselves. She thought it would be the part of + magnanimity to say nothing about it. + </p> + <p> + I could not help seeing a good deal of force in her arguments, although I + wished very much to set the thing straight, and we discussed the matter + again as we walked down to the camp, after breakfast next morning. + </p> + <p> + There we found old John sitting on a stump. He said nothing, but handed me + a note written in lead-pencil on a card. It was from our ex-boarder, and + informed me that early that morning he had found that there was a tug + lying in the river, which would soon start for the city. He also found + that he could get passage on her for his party, and as this was such a + splendid chance to go home without the bother of getting up to the + station, he had just bundled his family and his valise on board, and was + very sorry they did not have time to come up and bid us good-bye. The tent + he left in charge of a very respectable man, from whom he had had + supplies. + </p> + <p> + That morning I had the camp-equipage packed up and expressed to its owner. + We did not care to camp out any more that season, but thought it would be + better to spend the rest of my vacation at the sea-shore. + </p> + <p> + Our ex-boarder wrote to us that he and his wife were anxious that we + should return their visit during my holidays; but as we did not see + exactly how we could return a visit of the kind, we did not try to do it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. LORD EDWARD AND THE TREE-MAN. + </h2> + <p> + It was winter at Rudder Grange. The season was the same at other places, + but that fact did not particularly interest Euphemia and myself. It was + winter with us, and we were ready for it. That was the great point, and it + made us proud to think that we had not been taken unawares, + notwithstanding the many things that were to be thought of on a little + farm like ours. + </p> + <p> + It is true that we had always been prepared for winter, wherever we had + lived; but this was a different case. In other days it did not matter much + whether we were ready or not; but now our house, our cow, our poultry, and + indeed ourselves, might have suffered,—there is no way of finding + out exactly how much,—if we had not made all possible preparations + for the coming of cold weather. + </p> + <p> + But there was a great deal yet to be thought of and planned out, although + we were ready for winter. The next thing to think of was spring. + </p> + <p> + We laid out the farm. We decided where we would have wheat, corn, + potatoes, and oats. We would have a man by the day to sow and reap. The + intermediate processes I thought I could attend to myself. + </p> + <p> + Everything was talked over, ciphered over, and freely discussed by my wife + and myself, except one matter, which I planned and worked out alone, doing + most of the necessary calculations at the office, so as not to excite + Euphemia's curiosity. + </p> + <p> + I had determined to buy a horse. This would be one of the most important + events of our married life, and it demanded a great deal of thought, which + I gave it. + </p> + <p> + The horse was chosen for me by a friend. He was an excellent beast (the + horse), excelling, as my friend told me, in muscle and wit. Nothing better + than this could be said about a horse. He was a sorrel animal, quite + handsome, gentle enough for Euphemia to drive, and not too high-minded to + do a little farm-work, if necessary. He was exactly the animal I needed. + </p> + <p> + The carriage was not quite such a success. The horse having cost a good + deal more than I expected to pay, I found that I could only afford a + second-hand carriage. I bought a good, serviceable vehicle, which would + hold four persons, if necessary, and there was room enough to pack all + sorts of parcels and baskets. It was with great satisfaction that I + contemplated this feature of the carriage, which was a rather + rusty-looking affair, although sound and strong enough. The harness was + new, and set off the horse admirably. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon when my purchases were completed, I did not come home by + the train. I drove home in my own carriage, drawn by my own horse! The ten + miles' drive was over a smooth road, and the sorrel traveled splendidly. + If I had been a line of kings a mile long, all in their chariots of state, + with gold and silver, and outriders, and music, and banners waving in the + wind, I could not have been prouder than when I drew up in front of my + house. + </p> + <p> + There was a wagon-gate at one side of the front fence which had never been + used except by the men who brought coal, and I got out and opened this, + very quietly, so as not to attract the attention of Euphemia. It was + earlier than I usually returned, and she would not be expecting me. I was + then about to lead the horse up a somewhat grass-grown carriage-way to the + front door, but I reflected that Euphemia might be looking out of some of + the windows and I had better drive up. So I got in and drove very slowly + to the door. + </p> + <p> + However, she heard the unaccustomed noise of wheels, and looked out of the + parlor window. She did not see me, but immediately came around to the + door. I hurried out of the carriage so quickly that, not being familiar + with the steps, I barely escaped tripping. + </p> + <p> + When she opened the front door she was surprised to see me standing by the + horse. + </p> + <p> + “Have you hired a carriage?” she cried. “Are we going to ride?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said I, as I took her by the hand, “we are going to ride. But I + have not hired a carriage. I have bought one. Do you see this horse? He is + ours—our own horse.” + </p> + <p> + If you could have seen the face that was turned up to me,—all you + other men in the world,—you would have torn your hair in despair. + </p> + <p> + Afterward she went around and around that horse; she patted his smooth + sides; she looked, with admiration, at his strong, well-formed legs; she + stroked his head; she smoothed his mane; she was brimful of joy. + </p> + <p> + When I had brought the horse some water in a bucket—and what a + pleasure it was to water one's own horse!—Euphemia rushed into the + house and got her hat and cloak, and we took a little drive. + </p> + <p> + I doubt if any horse ever drew two happier people. Euphemia said but + little about the carriage. That was a necessary adjunct, and it was good + enough for the present. But the horse! How nobly and with what vigor he + pulled us up the hills and how carefully and strongly he held the carriage + back as we went down! How easily he trotted over the level road, caring + nothing for the ten miles he had gone that afternoon! What a sensation of + power it gave us to think that all that strength and speed and endurance + was ours, that it would go where we wished, that it would wait for us as + long as we chose, that it was at our service day and night, that it was a + horse, and we owned it! + </p> + <p> + When we returned, Pomona saw us drive in,—she had not known of our + ride,—and when she heard the news she was as wild with proud delight + as anybody. She wanted to unharness him, but this I could not allow. We + did not wish to be selfish, but after she had seen and heard what we + thought was enough for her, we were obliged to send her back to the + kitchen for the sake of the dinner. + </p> + <p> + Then we unharnessed him. I say we, for Euphemia stood by and I explained + everything, for some day, she said, she might want to do it herself. Then + I led him into the stable. How nobly he trod, and how finely his hoofs + sounded on the stable floor! + </p> + <p> + There was hay in the mow and I had brought a bag of oats under the seat of + the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it just delightful,” said Euphemia, “that we haven't any man? If we + had a man he would take the horse at the door, and we should be deprived + of all this. It wouldn't be half like owning a horse.” + </p> + <p> + In the morning I drove down to the station, Euphemia by my side. She drove + back and Old John came up and attended to the horse. This he was to do, + for the present, for a small stipend. In the afternoon Euphemia came down + after me. How I enjoyed those rides! Before this I had thought it ever so + much more pleasant and healthful to walk to and from the station than to + ride, but then I did not own a horse. At night I attended to everything, + Euphemia generally following me about the stable with a lantern. When the + days grew longer we would have delightful rides after dinner, and even now + we planned to have early breakfasts, and go to the station by the longest + possible way. + </p> + <p> + One day, in the following spring, I was riding home from the station with + Euphemia,—we seldom took pleasure-drives now, we were so busy on the + place,—and as we reached the house I heard the dog barking savagely. + He was loose in the little orchard by the side of the house. As I drove + in, Pomona came running to the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Man up the tree!” she shouted. + </p> + <p> + I helped Euphemia out, left the horse standing by the door, and ran to the + dog, followed by my wife and Pomona. Sure enough, there was a man up the + tree, and Lord Edward was doing his best to get at him, springing wildly + at the tree and fairly shaking with rage. + </p> + <p> + I looked up at the man, he was a thoroughbred tramp, burly, dirty, + generally unkempt, but, unlike most tramps, he looked very much + frightened. His position, on a high crotch of an apple-tree, was not + altogether comfortable, and although, for the present, it was safe, the + fellow seemed to have a wavering faith in the strength of apple-tree + branches, and the moment he saw me, he earnestly besought me to take that + dog away, and let him down. + </p> + <p> + I made no answer, but turning to Pomona, I asked her what this all meant. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, you see,” said she, “I was in the kitchen bakin' pies, and this + fellow must have got over the fence at the side of the house, for the dog + didn't see him, and the first thing I know'd he was stickin' his head in + the window, and he asked me to give him somethin' to eat. And when I said + I'd see in a minute if there was anything for him, he says to me, 'Gim me + a piece of one of them pies,'—pies I'd just baked and was settin' to + cool on the kitchen table! 'No, sir,' says I, 'I'm not goin' to cut one of + them pies for you, or any one like you.' 'All right!' says he. 'I'll come + in and help myself.' He must have known there was no man about, and, + comin' the way he did, he hadn't seen the dog. So he come round to the + kitchen door, but I shot out before he got there and unchained Lord + Edward. I guess he saw the dog, when he got to the door, and at any rate + he heard the chain clankin', and he didn't go in, but just put for the + gate. But Lord Edward was after him so quick that he hadn't no time to go + to no gates. It was all he could do to scoot up this tree, and if he'd + been a millionth part of a minute later he'd 'a' been in another world by + this time.” + </p> + <p> + The man, who had not attempted to interrupt Pomona's speech, now began + again to implore me to let him down, while Euphemia looked pitifully at + him, and was about, I think, to intercede with me in his favor, but my + attention was drawn off from her, by the strange conduct of the dog. + Believing, I suppose, that he might leave the tramp for a moment, now that + I had arrived, he had dashed away to another tree, where he was barking + furiously, standing on his hind legs and clawing at the trunk. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter over there?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's the other fellow,” said Pomona. “He's no harm.” And then, as + the tramp made a movement as if he would try to come down, and make a rush + for safety, during the absence of the dog, she called out, “Here, boy! + here, boy!” and in an instant Lord Edward was again raging at his post, at + the foot of the apple-tree. + </p> + <p> + I was grievously puzzled at all this, and walked over to the other tree, + followed, as before, by Euphemia and Pomona. + </p> + <p> + “This one,” said the latter, “is a tree-man—” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so,” said I, as I caught sight of a person in gray + trowsers standing among the branches of a cherry-tree not very far from + the kitchen door. The tree was not a large one, and the branches were not + strong enough to allow him to sit down on them, although they supported + him well enough, as he stood close to the trunk just out of reach of Lord + Edward. + </p> + <p> + “This is a very unpleasant position, sir,” said he, when I reached the + tree. “I simply came into your yard, on a matter of business, and finding + that raging beast attacking a person in a tree, I had barely time to get + up into this tree myself, before he dashed at me. Luckily I was out of his + reach; but I very much fear I have lost some of my property.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he hasn't,” said Pomona. “It was a big book he dropped. I picked it + up and took it into the house. It's full of pictures of pears and peaches + and flowers. I've been lookin' at it. That's how I knew what he was. And + there was no call for his gittin' up a tree. Lord Edward never would have + gone after him if he hadn't run as if he had guilt on his soul.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, then,” said I, addressing the individual in the cherry-tree, + “that you came here to sell me some trees.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said he quickly, “trees, shrubs, vines, evergreens,—everything + suitable for a gentleman's country villa. I can sell you something quite + remarkable, sir, in the way of cherry-trees,—French ones, just + imported; bear fruit three times the size of anything that could be + produced on a tree like this. And pears—fruit of the finest flavor + and enormous size—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Pomona. “I seen them in the book. But they must grow on a + ground-vine. No tree couldn't hold such pears as them.” + </p> + <p> + Here Euphemia reproved Pomona's forwardness, and I invited the tree-agent + to get down out of the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said he; “but not while that dog is loose. If you will kindly + chain him up, I will get my book, and show you specimens of some of the + finest small fruit in the world, all imported from the first nurseries of + Europe—the Red-gold Amber Muscat grape,—the—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please let him down!” said Euphemia, her eyes beginning to sparkle. + </p> + <p> + I slowly walked toward the tramp-tree, revolving various matters in my + mind. We had not spent much money on the place during the winter, and we + now had a small sum which we intended to use for the advantage of the + farm, but had not yet decided what to do with it. It behooved me to be + careful. + </p> + <p> + I told Pomona to run and get me the dog-chain, and I stood under the tree, + listening, as well as I could, to the tree-agent talking to Euphemia, and + paying no attention to the impassioned entreaties of the tramp in the + crotch above me. When the chain was brought, I hooked one end of it in + Lord Edward's collar, and then I took a firm grasp of the other. Telling + Pomona to bring the tree-agent's book from the house, I called to that + individual to get down from his tree. He promptly obeyed, and taking the + book from Pomona, began to show the pictures to Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “You had better hurry, sir,” I called out. “I can't hold this dog very + long.” And, indeed, Lord Edward had made a run toward the agent, which + jerked me very forcibly in his direction. But a movement by the tramp had + quickly brought the dog back to his more desired victim. + </p> + <p> + “If you will just tie up that dog, sir,” said the agent, “and come this + way, I would like to show you the Meltinagua pear,—dissolves in the + mouth like snow, sir; trees will bear next year.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come look at the Royal Sparkling Ruby grape!” cried Euphemia. “It + glows in the sun like a gem.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the agent, “and fills the air with fragrance during the whole + month of September—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you,” I shouted, “I can't hold this dog another minute! The chain + is cutting the skin off my hands. Run, sir, run! I'm going to let go!” + </p> + <p> + “Run! run!” cried Pomona. “Fly for your life!” + </p> + <p> + The agent now began to be frightened, and shut up his book. + </p> + <p> + “If you only could see the plates, sir, I'm sure—” + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready?” I cried, as the dog, excited by Pomona's wild shouts, + made a bolt in his direction. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, if I must—” said the agent, as he hurried to the gate. + But there he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing, sir,” he said, “that would so improve your place as a + row of the Spitzenberg Sweet-scented Balsam fir along this fence. I'll + sell you three-year-old trees—” + </p> + <p> + “He's loose!” I shouted, as I dropped the chain. + </p> + <p> + In a second the agent was on the other side of the gate. Lord Edward made + a dash toward him; but, stopping suddenly, flew back to the tree of the + tramp. + </p> + <p> + “If you should conclude, sir,” said the tree-agent, looking over the + fence, “to have a row of those firs along here—” + </p> + <p> + “My good sir,” said I, “there is no row of firs there now, and the fence + is not very high. My dog, as you see, is very much excited and I cannot + answer for the consequences if he takes it into his head to jump over.” + </p> + <p> + The tree-agent turned and walked slowly away. + </p> + <p> + “Now, look-a-here,” cried the tramp from the tree, in the voice of a very + ill-used person, “ain't you goin' to fasten up that dog, and let me git + down?” + </p> + <p> + I walked up close to the tree and addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “I am not. When a man comes to my place, bullies a young + girl who was about to relieve his hunger, and then boldly determines to + enter my house and help himself to my property, I don't propose to fasten + up any dog that may happen to be after him. If I had another dog, I'd let + him loose, and give this faithful beast a rest. You can do as you please. + You can come down and have it out with the dog, or you can stay up there, + until I have had my dinner. Then I will drive down to the village and + bring up the constable, and deliver you into his hands. We want no such + fellows as you about.” + </p> + <p> + With that, I unhooked the chain from Lord Edward, and walked off to put up + the horse. The man shouted after me, but I paid no attention. I did not + feel in a good humor with him. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia was much disturbed by the various occurrences of the afternoon. + She was sorry for the man in the tree; she was sorry that the agent for + the Royal Ruby grape had been obliged to go away; and I had a good deal of + trouble during dinner to make her see things in the proper light. But I + succeeded at last. + </p> + <p> + I did not hurry through dinner, and when we had finished I went to my work + at the barn. Tramps are not generally pressed for time, and Pomona had + been told to give our captive something to eat. + </p> + <p> + I was just locking the door of the carriage-house, when Pomona came + running to me to tell me that the tramp wanted to see me about something + very important—just a minute, he said. I put the key in my pocket + and walked over to the tree. It was now almost dark, but I could see that + the dog, the tramp, and the tree still kept their respective places. + </p> + <p> + “Look-a-here,” said the individual in the crotch, “you don't know how + dreadful oneasy these limbs gits after you've been settin up here as long + as I have. And I don't want to have nuthin to do with no constables. I'll + tell you what I'll do if you'll chain up that dog, and let me go, I'll fix + things so that you'll not be troubled no more by no tramps.” + </p> + <p> + “How will you do that?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never you mind,” said he. “I'll give you my word of honor I'll do it. + There's a reg'lar understandin' among us fellers, you know.” + </p> + <p> + I considered the matter. The word of honor of a fellow such as he was + could not be worth much, but the merest chance of getting rid of tramps + should not be neglected. I went in to talk to Euphemia about it, although + I knew what she would say. I reasoned with myself as much as with her. + </p> + <p> + “If we put this one fellow in prison for a few weeks,” I said, “the + benefit is not very great. If we are freed from all tramps, for the + season, the benefit is very great. Shall we try for the greatest good?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Euphemia; “and his legs must be dreadfully stiff.” + </p> + <p> + So I went out, and after a struggle of some minutes, I chained Lord Edward + to a post at a little distance from the apple-tree. When he was secure, + the tramp descended nimbly from his perch, notwithstanding his stiff legs, + and hurried out of the gate. He stopped to make no remarks over the fence. + With a wild howl of disappointed ambition, Lord Edward threw himself after + him. But the chain held. + </p> + <p> + A lane of moderate length led from our house to the main road, and the + next day, as we were riding home, I noticed, on the trunk of a large tree, + which stood at the corner of the lane and road, a curious mark. I drew up + to see what it was, but we could not make it out. It was a very rude + device, cut deeply into the tree, and somewhat resembled a square, a + circle, a triangle, and a cross, with some smaller marks beneath it. I + felt sure that our tramp had cut it, and that it had some significance, + which would be understood by the members of his fraternity. + </p> + <p> + And it must have had, for no tramps came near us all that summer. We were + visited by a needy person now and then, but by no member of the regular + army of tramps. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, that fall, I walked home, and at the corner of the lane I + saw a tramp looking up at the mark on the tree, which was still quite + distinct. + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean?” I said, stepping up to him. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know?” said the man, “and what do you want to know fur?” + </p> + <p> + “Just out of curiosity,” I said; “I have often noticed it. I think you can + tell me what it means, and if you will do so, I'll give you a dollar.” + </p> + <p> + “And keep mum about it?” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied, taking out the dollar. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” said the tramp. “That sign means that the man that lives up + this lane is a mean, stingy cuss, with a wicked dog, and it's no good to + go there.” + </p> + <p> + I handed him the dollar and went away, perfectly satisfied with my + reputation. + </p> + <p> + I wish here to make some mention of Euphemia's methods of work in her + chicken-yard. She kept a book, which she at first called her “Fowl + Record,” but she afterward changed the name to “Poultry Register.” I never + could thoroughly understand this book, although she has often explained + every part of it to me. She had pages for registering the age, + description, time of purchase or of birth, and subsequent performances of + every fowl in her yard. She had divisions of the book for expenses, + profits, probable losses and positive losses; she noted the number of eggs + put under each setting hen; the number of eggs cracked per day, the number + spoiled, and finally, the number hatched. Each chick, on emerging from its + shell, was registered, and an account kept of its subsequent life and + adventures. There were frequent calculations regarding the advantages of + various methods of treatment, and there were statements of the results of + a great many experiments—something like this: “Set Toppy and her + sister Pinky, April 2nd 187-; Toppy with twelve eggs,—three Brahma, + four common, and five Leghorn; Pinky with thirteen eggs (as she weighs + four ounces more than her sister), of which three were Leghorn, five + common, and five Brahma. During the twenty-second and twenty-third of + April (same year) Toppy hatched out four Brahmas, two commons, and three + Leghorns, while her sister, on these days and the morning of the day + following, hatched two Leghorns, six commons, and only one Brahma. Now, + could Toppy, who had only three Brahma eggs, and hatched out four of that + breed, have exchanged eggs with her sister, thus making it possible for + her to hatch out six common chickens, when she only had five eggs of that + kind? Or, did the eggs get mixed up in some way before going into the + possession of the hens? Look into probabilities.” + </p> + <p> + These probabilities must have puzzled Euphemia a great deal, but they + never disturbed her equanimity. She was always as tranquil and + good-humored about her poultry-yard as if every hen laid an egg every day, + and a hen-chick was hatched out of every egg. + </p> + <p> + For it may be remembered that the principle underlying Euphemia's + management of her poultry was what might be designated as the “cumulative + hatch.” That is, she wished every chicken hatched in her yard to become + the mother of a brood of her own during the year, and every one of this + brood to raise another brood the next year, and so on, in a kind of + geometrical progression. This plan called for a great many mother-fowls, + and so Euphemia based her highest hopes on a great annual preponderance of + hens. + </p> + <p> + We ate a good many young roosters that fall, for Euphemia would not allow + all the products of her yard to go to market, and, also, a great many eggs + and fowls were sold. She had not contented herself with her original stock + of poultry, but had bought fowls during the winter, and she certainly had + extraordinary good luck, or else her extraordinary system worked + extraordinarily well. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. POMONA'S NOVEL. + </h2> + <p> + It was in the latter part of August of that year that it became necessary + for some one in the office in which I was engaged to go to St. Louis to + attend to important business. Everything seemed to point to me as the fit + person, for I understood the particular business better than any one else. + I felt that I ought to go, but I did not altogether like to do it. I went + home, and Euphemia and I talked over the matter far into the regulation + sleeping-hours. + </p> + <p> + There were very good reasons why we should go (for, of course, I would not + think of taking such a journey without Euphemia). In the first place, it + would be of advantage to me, in my business connection, to take the trip, + and then it would be such a charming journey for us. We had never been + west of the Alleghanies, and nearly all the country we would see would be + new to us. We would come home by the great lakes and Niagara, and the + prospect was delightful to both of us. But then we would have to leave + Rudder Grange for at least three weeks, and how could we do that? + </p> + <p> + This was indeed a difficult question to answer. Who could take care of our + garden, our poultry, our horse and cow, and all their complicated + belongings? The garden was in admirable condition. Our vegetables were + coming in every day in just that fresh and satisfactory condition—altogether + unknown to people who buy vegetables—for which I had labored so + faithfully, and about which I had had so many cheerful anticipations. As + to Euphemia's chicken-yard,—with Euphemia away,—the subject + was too great for us. We did not even discuss it. But we would give up all + the pleasures of our home for the chance of this most desirable excursion, + if we could but think of some one who would come and take care of the + place while we were gone. Rudder Grange could not run itself for three + weeks. + </p> + <p> + We thought of every available person. Old John would not do. We did not + feel that we could trust him. We thought of several of our friends; but + there was, in both our minds, a certain shrinking from the idea of handing + over the place to any of them for such a length of time. For my part, I + said, I would rather leave Pomona in charge than any one else; but, then, + Pomona was young and a girl. Euphemia agreed with me that she would rather + trust her than any one else, but she also agreed in regard to the + disqualifications. So, when I went to the office the next morning, we had + fully determined to go on the trip, if we could find some one to take + charge of our place while we were gone. When I returned from the office in + the afternoon, I had agreed to go to St. Louis. By this time, I had no + choice in the matter, unless I wished to interfere very much with my own + interests. We were to start in two days. If in that time we could get any + one to stay at the place, very well; if not, Pomona must assume the + charge. We were not able to get any one, and Pomona did assume the charge. + It is surprising how greatly relieved we felt when we were obliged to come + to this conclusion. The arrangement was exactly what we wanted, and now + that there was no help for it, our consciences were easy. + </p> + <p> + We felt sure that there would be no danger to Pomona. Lord Edward would be + with her, and she was a young person who was extraordinarily well able to + take care of herself. Old John would be within call in case she needed + him, and I borrowed a bull-dog to be kept in the house at night. Pomona + herself was more than satisfied with the plan. + </p> + <p> + We made out, the night before we left, a long and minute series of + directions for her guidance in household, garden and farm matters, and + directed her to keep a careful record of everything note worthy that might + occur. She was fully supplied with all the necessaries of life, and it has + seldom happened that a young girl has been left in such a responsible and + independent position as that in which we left Pomona. She was very proud + of it. + </p> + <p> + Our journey was ten times more delightful than we had expected it would + be, and successful in every way; and yet, although we enjoyed every hour + of the trip, we were no sooner fairly on our way home than we became so + wildly anxious to get there, that we reached Rudder Grange on Wednesday, + whereas we had written that we would be home on Thursday. We arrived early + in the afternoon and walked up from the station, leaving our baggage to be + sent in the express wagon. As we approached our dear home, we wanted to + run, we were so eager to see it. + </p> + <p> + There it was, the same as ever. I lifted the gate-latch; the gate was + locked. We ran to the carriage-gate; that was locked too. Just then I + noticed a placard on the fence; it was not printed, but the lettering was + large, apparently made with ink and a brush. It read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO BE SOLD + + For TAXES. +</pre> + <p> + We stood and looked at each other. Euphemia turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” said I. “Has our landlord—” + </p> + <p> + I could say no more. The dreadful thought arose that the place might pass + away from us. We were not yet ready to buy it. But I did not put the + thought in words. There was a field next to our lot, and I got over the + fence and helped Euphemia over. Then we climbed our side-fence. This was + more difficult, but we accomplished it without thinking much about its + difficulties; our hearts were too full of painful apprehensions. I hurried + to the front door; it was locked. All the lower windows were shut. We went + around to the kitchen. What surprised us more than anything else was the + absence of Lord Edward. Had HE been sold? + </p> + <p> + Before we reached the back part of the house, Euphemia said she felt faint + and must sit down. I led her to a tree near by, under which I had made a + rustic chair. The chair was gone. She sat on the grass and I ran to the + pump for some water. I looked for the bright tin dipper which always hung + by the pump. It was not there. But I had a traveling-cup in my pocket, and + as I was taking it out I looked around me. There was an air of bareness + over everything. I did not know what it all meant, but I know that my hand + trembled as I took hold of the pump-handle and began to pump. + </p> + <p> + At the first sound of the pump-handle I heard a deep bark in the direction + of the barn, and then furiously around the corner came Lord Edward. Before + I had filled the cup he was bounding about me. I believe the glad welcome + of the dog did more to revive Euphemia than the water. He was delighted to + see us, and in a moment up came Pomona, running from the barn. Her face + was radiant, too. We felt relieved. Here were two friends who looked as if + they were neither sold nor ruined. + </p> + <p> + Pomona quickly saw that we were ill at ease, and before I could put a + question to her, she divined the cause. Her countenance fell. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” said she, “you said you wasn't comin' till to-morrow. If you + only HAD come then—I was goin' to have everything just exactly right—an' + now you had to climb in—” + </p> + <p> + And the poor girl looked as if she might cry, which would have been a + wonderful thing for Pomona to do. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me one thing,” said I. “What about—those taxes?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right,” she cried. “Don't think another minute about that. + I'll tell you all about it soon. But come in first, and I'll get you some + lunch in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + We were somewhat relieved by Pomona's statement that it was “all right” in + regard to the tax-poster, but we were very anxious to know all about the + matter. Pomona, however, gave us little chance to ask her any questions. + As soon as she had made ready our lunch, she asked us, as a particular + favor, to give her three-quarters of an hour to herself, and then, said + she, “I'll have everything looking just as if it was to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + We respected her feelings, for, of course, it was a great disappointment + to her to be taken thus unawares, and we remained in the dining-room until + she appeared, and announced that she was ready for us to go about. We + availed ourselves quickly of the privilege, and Euphemia hurried to the + chicken-yard, while I bent my steps toward the garden and barn. As I went + out I noticed that the rustic chair was in its place, and passing the pump + I looked for the dipper. It was there. I asked Pomona about the chair, but + she did not answer as quickly as was her habit. + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather,” said she, “hear it all together, when you come in, or + have it in little bits, head and tail, all of a jumble?” + </p> + <p> + I called to Euphemia and asked her what she thought, and she was so + anxious to get to her chickens that she said she would much rather wait + and hear it all together. We found everything in perfect order,—the + garden was even free from weeds, a thing I had not expected. If it had not + been for that cloud on the front fence, I should have been happy enough. + Pomona had said it was all right, but she could not have paid the taxes—however, + I would wait; and I went to the barn. + </p> + <p> + When Euphemia came in from the poultry-yard, she called me and said she + was in a hurry to hear Pomona's account of things. So I went in, and we + sat on the side porch, where it was shady, while Pomona, producing some + sheets of foolscap paper, took her seat on the upper step. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote down the things of any account what happened,” said she, “as you + told me to, and while I was about it, I thought I'd make it like a novel. + It would be jus' as true, and p'r'aps more amusin'. I suppose you don't + mind?” + </p> + <p> + No, we didn't mind. So she went on. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got no name for my novel. I intended to think one out to-night. + I wrote this all of nights. And I don't read the first chapters, for they + tell about my birth and my parentage and my early adventures. I'll just + come down to what happened to me while you was away, because you'll be + more anxious to hear about that. All that's written here is true, jus' the + same as if I told it to you, but I've put it into novel language because + it seems to come easier to me.” + </p> + <p> + And then, in a voice somewhat different from her ordinary tones, as if the + “novel language” demanded it, she began to read: + </p> + <p> + “Chapter Five. The Lonely house and the Faithful friend. Thus was I left + alone. None but two dogs to keep me com-pa-ny. I milk-ed the lowing kine + and water-ed and fed the steed, and then, after my fru-gal repast, I + clos-ed the man-si-on, shutting out all re-collections of the past and + also foresights into the future. That night was a me-mor-able one. I slept + soundly until the break of morn, but had the events transpired which + afterward occur-red, what would have hap-pen-ed to me no tongue can tell. + Early the next day nothing hap-pened. Soon after breakfast, the vener-able + John came to bor-row some ker-osene oil and a half a pound of sugar, but + his attempt was foil-ed. I knew too well the in-sid-ious foe. In the very + out-set of his vil-li-an-y I sent him home with a empty can. For two long + days I wander-ed amid the ver-dant pathways of the gar-den and to the + barn, whenever and anon my du-ty call-ed me, nor did I ere neg-lect the + fowlery. No cloud o'er-spread this happy pe-ri-od of my life. But the + cloud was ri-sing in the horizon although I saw it not. + </p> + <p> + “It was about twenty-five minutes after eleven, on the morning of a + Thursday, that I sat pondering in my mind the ques-ti-on what to do with + the butter and the veg-et-ables. Here was butter, and here was green corn + and lima-beans and trophy tomats, far more than I ere could use. And here + was a horse, idly cropping the fol-i-age in the field, for as my employer + had advis-ed and order-ed I had put the steed to grass. And here was a + wagon, none too new, which had it the top taken off, or even the curtains + roll-ed up, would do for a li-cen-ced vender. With the truck and butter, + and mayhap some milk, I could load that wagon—” + </p> + <p> + “O, Pomona,” interrupted Euphemia. “You don't mean to say that you were + thinking of doing anything like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was just beginning to think of it,” said Pomona, “but of course I + couldn't have gone away and left the house. And you'll see I didn't do + it.” And then she continued her novel. “But while my thoughts were thus + employ-ed, I heard Lord Edward burst into bark-ter—” + </p> + <p> + At this Euphemia and I could not help bursting into laughter. Pomona did + not seem at all confused, but went on with her reading. + </p> + <p> + “I hurried to the door, and, look-ing out, I saw a wagon at the gate. + Re-pair-ing there, I saw a man. Said he, 'Wilt open this gate?' I had + fasten-ed up the gates and remov-ed every steal-able ar-ticle from the + yard.” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia and I looked at each other. This explained the absence of the + rustic seat and the dipper. + </p> + <p> + “Thus, with my mind at ease, I could let my faith-ful fri-end, the dog + (for he it was), roam with me through the grounds, while the fi-erce + bull-dog guard-ed the man-si-on within. Then said I, quite bold, unto him, + 'No. I let in no man here. My em-ploy-er and employ-er-ess are now from + home. What do you want?' Then says he, as bold as brass, 'I've come to put + the light-en-ing rods upon the house. Open the gate.' 'What rods?' says I. + 'The rods as was ordered,' says he, 'open the gate.' I stood and gaz-ed at + him. Full well I saw through his pinch-beck mask. I knew his tricks. In + the ab-sence of my em-ployer, he would put up rods, and ever so many more + than was wanted, and likely, too, some miser-able trash that would attrack + the light-ening, instead of keep-ing it off. Then, as it would spoil the + house to take them down, they would be kept, and pay demand-ed. 'No, sir,' + says I. 'No light-en-ing rods upon this house whilst I stand here,' and + with that I walk-ed away, and let Lord Edward loose. The man he storm-ed + with pas-si-on. His eyes flash-ed fire. He would e'en have scal-ed the + gate, but when he saw the dog he did forbear. As it was then near noon, I + strode away to feed the fowls; but when I did return, I saw a sight which + froze the blood with-in my veins—” + </p> + <p> + “The dog didn't kill him?” cried Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, ma'am!” said Pomona. “You'll see that that wasn't it. At one + corn-er of the lot, in front, a base boy, who had accompa-ni-ed this man, + was bang-ing on the fence with a long stick, and thus attrack-ing to + hisself the rage of Lord Edward, while the vile intrig-er of a + light-en-ing rod-der had brought a lad-der to the other side of the house, + up which he had now as-cend-ed, and was on the roof. What horrors fill-ed + my soul! How my form trembl-ed! This,” continued Pomona, “is the end of + the novel,” and she laid her foolscap pages on the porch. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia and I exclaimed, with one voice, against this. We had just + reached the most exciting part, and, I added, we had heard nothing yet + about that affair of the taxes. + </p> + <p> + “You see, sir,” said Pomona, “it took me so long to write out the chapters + about my birth, my parentage, and my early adventures, that I hadn't time + to finish up the rest. But I can tell you what happened after that jus' as + well as if I had writ it out.” And so she went on, much more glibly than + before, with the account of the doings of the lightning-rod man. + </p> + <p> + “There was that wretch on top of the house, a-fixin' his old rods and + hammerin' away for dear life. He'd brought his ladder over the side fence, + where the dog, a-barkin' and plungin' at the boy outside, couldn't see + him. I stood dumb for a minute, an' then I know'd I had him. I rushed into + the house, got a piece of well-rope, tied it to the bull-dog's collar, an' + dragged him out and fastened him to the bottom rung of the ladder. Then I + walks over to the front fence with Lord Edward's chain, for I knew that if + he got at that bull-dog there'd be times, for they'd never been allowed to + see each other yet. So says I to the boy, 'I'm goin' to tie up the dog, so + you needn't be afraid of his jumpin' over the fence,'—which he + couldn't do, or the boy would have been a corpse for twenty minutes, or + may be half an hour. The boy kinder laughed, and said I needn't mind, + which I didn't. Then I went to the gate, and I clicked to the horse which + was standin' there, an' off he starts, as good as gold, an' trots down the + road. The boy, he said somethin' or other pretty bad, an' away he goes + after him; but the horse was a-trottin' real fast, an' had a good start.” + </p> + <p> + “How on earth could you ever think of doing such things?” said Euphemia. + “That horse might have upset the wagon and broken all the lightning-rods, + besides running over I don't know how many people.” + </p> + <p> + “But you see, ma'am, that wasn't my lookout,” said Pomona. “I was + a-defendin' the house, and the enemy must expect to have things happen to + him. So then I hears an awful row on the roof, and there was the man just + coming down the ladder. He'd heard the horse go off, and when he got about + half-way down an' caught a sight of the bull-dog, he was madder than ever + you seed a lightnin'-rodder in all your born days. 'Take that dog off of + there!' he yelled at me. 'No, I wont, says I. 'I never see a girl like you + since I was born,' he screams at me. 'I guess it would 'a' been better fur + you if you had,' says I; an' then he was so mad he couldn't stand it any + longer, and he comes down as low as he could, and when he saw just how + long the rope was,—which was pretty short,—he made a jump, and + landed clear of the dog. Then he went on dreadful because he couldn't get + at his ladder to take it away; and I wouldn't untie the dog, because if I + had he'd 'a' torn the tendons out of that fellow's legs in no time. I + never see a dog in such a boiling passion, and yet never making no sound + at all but blood-curdlin' grunts. An' I don't see how the rodder would 'a' + got his ladder at all if the dog hadn't made an awful jump at him, and + jerked the ladder down. It just missed your geranium-bed, and the rodder, + he ran to the other end of it, and began pullin' it away, dog an' all. + 'Look-a-here,' says I, 'we can fix him now; and so he cooled down enough + to help me, and I unlocked the front door, and we pushed the bottom end of + the ladder in, dog and all; an' then I shut the door as tight as it would + go, an' untied the end of the rope, an' the rodder pulled the ladder out + while I held the door to keep the dog from follerin', which he came pretty + near doin', anyway. But I locked him in, and then the man began stormin' + again about his wagon; but when he looked out an' see the boy comin' back + with it,—for somebody must 'a' stopped the horse,—he stopped + stormin' and went to put up his ladder ag'in. 'No, you don't,' says I; + 'I'll let the big dog loose next time, and if I put him at the foot of + your ladder, you'll never come down.' 'But I want to go and take down what + I put up,' he says; 'I aint a-goin' on with this job.' 'No,' says I, 'you + aint; and you can't go up there to wrench off them rods and make + rain-holes in the roof, neither.' He couldn't get no madder than he was + then, an' fur a minute or two he couldn't speak, an' then he says, 'I'll + have satisfaction for this.' An' says I, 'How? 'An' says he, 'You'll see + what it is to interfere with a ordered job.' An' says I, 'There wasn't no + order about it;' an' says he, 'I'll show you better than that;' an' he + goes to his wagon an' gits a book. 'There,' says he, 'read that.' 'What of + it? 'says I 'there's nobody of the name of Ball lives here.' That took the + man kinder aback, and he said he was told it was the only house on the + lane, which I said was right, only it was the next lane he oughter 'a' + gone to. He said no more after that, but just put his ladder in his wagon, + and went off. But I was not altogether rid of him. He left a trail of his + baleful presence behind him. + </p> + <p> + “That horrid bull-dog wouldn't let me come into the house! No matter what + door I tried, there he was, just foamin' mad. I let him stay till nearly + night, and then went and spoke kind to him; but it was no good. He'd got + an awful spite ag'in me. I found something to eat down cellar, and I made + a fire outside an' roasted some corn and potatoes. That night I slep' in + the barn. I wasn't afraid to be away from the house, for I knew it was + safe enough, with that dog in it and Lord Edward outside. For three days, + Sunday an' all, I was kep' out of this here house. I got along pretty well + with the sleepin' and the eatin', but the drinkin' was the worst. I + couldn't get no coffee or tea; but there was plenty of milk.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you get some man to come and attend to the dog?” I asked. “It + was dreadful to live that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn't know no man that could do it,” said Pomona. “The dog would + 'a' been too much for Old John, and besides, he was mad about the + kerosene. Sunday afternoon, Captain Atkinson and Mrs. Atkinson and their + little girl in a push-wagon, come here, and I told 'em you was gone away; + but they says they would stop a minute, and could I give them a drink; an' + I had nothin' to give it to them but an old chicken-bowl that I had washed + out, for even the dipper was in the house, an' I told 'em everything was + locked up, which was true enough, though they must 'a' thought you was a + queer kind of people; but I wasn't a-goin' to say nothin' about the dog, + fur, to tell the truth, I was ashamed to do it. So as soon as they'd gone, + I went down into the cellar,—and it's lucky that I had the key for + the outside cellar door,—and I got a piece of fat corn-beef and the + meat-axe. I unlocked the kitchen door and went in, with the axe in one + hand and the meat in the other. The dog might take his choice. I know'd he + must be pretty nigh famished, for there was nothin' that he could get at + to eat. As soon as I went in, he came runnin' to me; but I could see he + was shaky on his legs. He looked a sort of wicked at me, and then he + grabbed the meat. He was all right then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my!” said Euphemia, “I am so glad to hear that. I was afraid you + never got in. But we saw the dog—is he as savage yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” said Pomona; “nothin' like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Pomona,” said I, “I want to know about those taxes. When do + they come into your story?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty soon, sir,” said she, and she went on: + </p> + <p> + “After that, I know'd it wouldn't do to have them two dogs so that they'd + have to be tied up if they see each other. Just as like as not I'd want + them both at once, and then they'd go to fightin', and leave me to settle + with some blood-thirsty lightnin'-rodder. So, as I know'd if they once had + a fair fight and found out which was master, they'd be good friends + afterwards, I thought the best thing to do would be to let 'em fight it + out, when there was nothin' else for 'em to do. So I fixed up things for + the combat.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Pomona!” cried Euphemia, “I didn't think you were capable of such a + cruel thing.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks that way, ma'am, but really it aint,” replied the girl. “It + seemed to me as if it would be a mercy to both of 'em to have the thing + settled. So I cleared away a place in front of the wood-shed and unchained + Lord Edward, and then I opened the kitchen door and called the bull. Out + he came, with his teeth a-showin', and his blood-shot eyes, and his + crooked front legs. Like lightnin' from the mount'in blast, he made one + bounce for the big dog, and oh! what a fight there was! They rolled, they + gnashed, they knocked over the wood-horse and sent chips a-flyin' all ways + at wonst. I thought Lord Edward would whip in a minute or two; but he + didn't, for the bull stuck to him like a burr, and they was havin' it, + ground and lofty, when I hears some one run up behind me, and turnin' + quick, there was the 'Piscopalian minister, 'My! my! my!' he hollers; + 'what a awful spectacle! Aint there no way of stoppin' it?' 'No, sir,' + says I, and I told him how I didn't want to stop it, and the reason why. + Then says he, 'Where's your master?' and I told him how you was away. + 'Isn't there any man at all about?' says he. 'No,' says I. 'Then,' says + he, 'if there's nobody else to stop it, I must do it myself.' An' he took + off his coat. 'No,' says I, 'you keep back, sir. If there's anybody to + plunge into that erena, the blood be mine;' an' I put my hand, without + thinkin', ag'in his black shirt-bosom, to hold him back; but he didn't + notice, bein' so excited. 'Now,' says I, 'jist wait one minute, and you'll + see that bull's tail go between his legs. He's weakenin'.' An' sure + enough, Lord Edward got a good grab at him, and was a-shakin' the very + life out of him, when I run up and took Lord Edward by the collar. 'Drop + it!' says I, and he dropped it, for he know'd he'd whipped, and he was + pretty tired hisself. Then the bull-dog, he trotted off with his tail + a-hangin' down. 'Now, then,' says I, 'them dogs will be bosom friends + forever after this.' 'Ah me!' says he, 'I'm sorry indeed that your + employer, for who I've always had a great respect, should allow you to get + into such habits.' That made me feel real bad, and I told him, mighty + quick, that you was the last man in the world to let me do anything like + that, and that, if you'd 'a' been here, you'd 'a' separated them dogs, if + they'd a-chawed your arms off; that you was very particular about such + things; and that it would be a pity if he was to think you was a + dog-fightin' gentleman, when I'd often heard you say that, now you was + fixed an' settled, the one thing you would like most would be to be made a + vestryman.” + </p> + <p> + I sat up straight in my chair. + </p> + <p> + “Pomona!” I exclaimed, “you didn't tell him that?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said, sir, for I wanted him to know what you really was; + an' he says, 'Well, well, I never knew that. It might be a very good + thing. I'll speak to some of the members about it. There's two vacancies + now in our vestry.” + </p> + <p> + I was crushed; but Euphemia tried to put the matter into the brightest + light. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it may all turn out for the best,” she said, “and you may be + elected, and that would be splendid. But it would be an awfully funny + thing for a dog-fight to make you a vestry-man.” + </p> + <p> + I could not talk on this subject. “Go on, Pomona,” I said, trying to feel + resigned to my shame, “and tell us about that poster on the fence.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be to that almost right away,” she said. “It was two or three days + after the dog-fight that I was down at the barn, and happenin' to look + over to Old John's, I saw that tree-man there. He was a-showin' his book + to John, and him and his wife and all the young ones was a-standin' there, + drinkin' down them big peaches and pears as if they was all real. I know'd + he'd come here ag'in, for them fellers never gives you up; and I didn't + know how to keep him away, for I didn't want to let the dogs loose on a + man what, after all, didn't want to do no more harm than to talk the life + out of you. So I just happened to notice, as I came to the house, how kind + of desolate everything looked, and I thought perhaps I might make it look + worse, and he wouldn't care to deal here. So I thought of puttin' up a + poster like that, for nobody whose place was a-goin' to be sold for taxes + would be likely to want trees. So I run in the house, and wrote it quick + and put it up. And sure enough, the man he come along soon, and when he + looked at that paper, and tried the gate, an' looked over the fence an' + saw the house all shut up an' not a livin' soul about,—for I had + both the dogs in the house with me,—he shook his head an' walked + off, as much as to say, 'If that man had fixed his place up proper with my + trees, he wouldn't 'a' come to this!' An' then, as I found the poster + worked so good, I thought it might keep other people from comin' + a-botherin' around, and so I left it up; but I was a-goin' to be sure and + take it down before you came.” + </p> + <p> + As it was now pretty late in the afternoon, I proposed that Pomona should + postpone the rest of her narrative until evening. She said that there was + nothing else to tell that was very particular; and I did not feel as if I + could stand anything more just now, even if it was very particular. + </p> + <p> + When we were alone, I said to Euphemia: + </p> + <p> + “If we ever have to go away from this place again—” + </p> + <p> + “But we wont go away,” she interrupted, looking up to me with as bright a + face as she ever had, “at least not for a long, long, long time to come. + And I'm so glad you're to be a vestryman.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. POMONA TAKES A BRIDAL TRIP. + </h2> + <p> + Our life at Rudder Grange seemed to be in no way materially changed by my + becoming a vestryman. The cow gave about as much milk as before, and the + hens laid the usual number of eggs. Euphemia went to church with a little + more of an air, perhaps, but as the wardens were never absent, and I was + never, therefore, called upon to assist in taking up the collection, her + sense of my position was not inordinately manifested. + </p> + <p> + For a year or two, indeed, there was no radical change in anything about + Rudder Grange, except in Pomona. In her there was a change. She grew up. + </p> + <p> + She performed this feat quite suddenly. She was a young girl when she + first came to us, and we had never considered her as anything else, when + one evening she had a young man to see her. Then we knew she had grown up. + </p> + <p> + We made no objections to her visitors,—she had several, from time to + time,—“for,” said Euphemia, “suppose my parents had objected to your + visits.” I could not consider the mere possibility of anything like this, + and we gave Pomona all the ordinary opportunities for entertaining her + visitors. To tell the truth, I think we gave her more than the ordinary + opportunities. I know that Euphemia would wait on herself to almost any + extent, rather than call upon Pomona, when the latter was entertaining an + evening visitor in the kitchen or on the back porch. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose my mother,” she once remarked, in answer to a mild remonstrance + from me in regard to a circumstance of this nature,—“suppose my + mother had rushed into our presence when we were plighting our vows, and + had told me to go down into the cellar and crack ice!” + </p> + <p> + It was of no use to talk to Euphemia on such subjects; she always had an + answer ready. + </p> + <p> + “You don't want Pomona to go off and be married, do you?” I asked, one day + as she was putting up some new muslin curtains in the kitchen. “You seem + to be helping her to do this all you can, and yet I don't know where on + earth you will get another girl who will suit you so well.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, either,” replied Euphemia, with a tack in her mouth, “and + I'm sure I don't want her to go. But neither do I want winter to come, or + to have to wear spectacles; but I suppose both of these things will + happen, whether I like it or not.” + </p> + <p> + For some time after this Pomona had very little company, and we began to + think that there was no danger of any present matrimonial engagement on + her part,—a thought which was very gratifying to us, although we did + not wish in any way to interfere with her prospects,—when, one + afternoon, she quietly went up into the village and was married. + </p> + <p> + Her husband was a tall young fellow, a son of a farmer in the county, who + had occasionally been to see her, but whom she must have frequently met on + her “afternoons out.” + </p> + <p> + When Pomona came home and told us this news we were certainly well + surprised. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth are we to do for a girl?” cried Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “You're to have me till you can get another one,” said Pomona quietly. “I + hope you don't think I'd go 'way, and leave you without anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “But a wife ought to go to her husband,” said Euphemia, “especially so + recent a bride. Why didn't you let me know all about it? I would have + helped to fit you out. We would have given you the nicest kind of a little + wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said Pomona; “you're jus' good enough. But I didn't want to + put you to all that trouble—right in preserving-time too. An' he + wanted it quiet, for he's awful backward about shows. An' as I'm to go to + live with his folks,—at least in a little house on the farm,—I + might as well stay here as anywhere, even if I didn't want to, for I can't + go there till after frost.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “The chills and fever,” said she. “They have it awful down in that valley. + Why, he had a chill while we was bein' married, right at the bridal + altar.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say so!” exclaimed Euphemia. “How dreadful!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said Pomona. “He must 'a' forgot it was his chill-day, and + he didn't take his quinine, and so it come on him jus' as he was + apromisin' to love an' pertect. But he stuck it out, at the minister's + house, and walked home by his-self to finish his chill.” + </p> + <p> + “And you didn't go with him?” cried Euphemia, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “He said, no. It was better thus. He felt it weren't the right thing to + mingle the agur with his marriage vows. He promised to take sixteen grains + to-morrow, and so I came away. He'll be all right in a month or so, an' + then we'll go an' keep house. You see it aint likely I could help him any + by goin' there an' gettin' it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Pomona,” said Euphemia, “this is dreadful. You ought to go and take a + bridal tour and get him rid of those fearful chills.” + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of that,” said Pomona, her face lighting up wonderfully. + </p> + <p> + Now that Euphemia had fallen upon this happy idea, she never dropped it + until she had made all the necessary plans, and had put them into + execution. In the course of a week she had engaged another servant, and + had started Pomona and her husband off on a bridal-tour, stipulating + nothing but that they should take plenty of quinine in their trunk. + </p> + <p> + It was about three weeks after this, and Euphemia and I were sitting on + our front steps,—I had come home early, and we had been potting some + of the tenderest plants,—when Pomona walked in at the gate. She + looked well, and had on a very bright new dress. Euphemia noticed this the + moment she came in. We welcomed her warmly, for we felt a great interest + in this girl, who had grown up in our family and under our care. + </p> + <p> + “Have you had your bridal trip?” asked Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes!” said Pomona. “It's all over an' done with, an' we're settled in + our house.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sit right down here on the steps and tell us all about it,” said + Euphemia, in a glow of delightful expectancy, and Pomona, nothing loth, + sat down and told her tale. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said she, untying her bonnet strings, to give an easier + movement to her chin, “we didn't say where we was goin' when we started + out, for the truth was we didn't know. We couldn't afford to take no big + trip, and yet we wanted to do the thing up jus' as right as we could, + seein' as you had set your heart on it, an' as we had, too, for that + matter. Niagery Fall was what I wanted, but he said that it cost so much + to see the sights there that he hadn't money to spare to take us there an' + pay for all the sight-seein', too. We might go, he said, without seein' + the sights, or, if there was any way of seein' the sights without goin', + that might do, but he couldn't do both. So we give that up, and after + thinkin' a good deal, we agreed to go to some other falls, which might + come cheaper, an' may-be be jus' as good to begin on. So we thought of + Passaic Falls, up to Paterson, an' we went there, an' took a room at a + little hotel, an' walked over to the falls. But they wasn't no good, after + all, for there wasn't no water runnin' over em. There was rocks and + precipicers, an' direful depths, and everything for a good falls, except + water, and that was all bein' used at the mills. 'Well, Miguel,' says I, + 'this is about as nice a place for a falls as ever I see,' but—” + </p> + <p> + “Miguel!” cried Euphemia. “Is that your husband's name?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no,” said Pomona, “it isn't. His given name is Jonas, but I hated + to call him Jonas, an' on a bridal trip, too. He might jus' as well have + had a more romantic-er name, if his parents had 'a' thought of it. So I + determined I'd give him a better one, while we was on our journey, anyhow, + an' I changed his name to Miguel, which was the name of a Spanish count. + He wanted me to call him Jiguel, because, he said, that would have a kind + of a floating smell of his old name, but I didn't never do it. Well, + neither of us didn't care to stay about no dry falls, so we went back to + the hotel and got our supper, and begun to wonder what we should do next + day. He said we'd better put it off and dream about it, and make up our + minds nex' mornin', which I agreed to, an', that evenin', as we was + sittin' in our room I asked Miguel to tell me the story of his life. He + said, at first, it hadn't none, but when I seemed a kinder put out at + this, he told me I mustn't mind, an' he would reveal the whole. So he told + me this story: + </p> + <p> + “'My grandfather,' said he, 'was a rich and powerful Portugee, a-livin' on + the island of Jamaica. He had heaps o' slaves, an' owned a black + brigantine, that he sailed in on secret voyages, an', when he come back, + the decks an' the gunnels was often bloody, but nobody knew why or + wherefore. He was a big man with black hair an' very violent. He could + never have kept no help, if he hadn't owned 'em, but he was so rich, that + people respected him, in spite of all his crimes. My grandmother was a + native o' the Isle o' Wight. She was a frail an' tender woman, with yeller + hair, and deep blue eyes, an' gentle, an' soft, an' good to the poor. She + used to take baskits of vittles aroun' to sick folks, an' set down on the + side o' their beds an' read “The Shepherd o' Salisbury Plains” to 'em. She + hardly ever speaked above her breath, an' always wore white gowns with a + silk kerchief a-folded placidly aroun' her neck.' 'Them was awful + different kind o' people,' I says to him, 'I wonder how they ever come to + be married.' 'They never was married,' says he. 'Never married!' I + hollers, a-jumpin' up from my chair, 'and you sit there carmly an' look me + in the eye.' 'Yes,' says he, 'they was never married. They never met; one + was my mother's father, and the other one my father's mother. 'Twas well + they did not wed.' 'I should think so,' said I, 'an' now, what's the good + of tellin' me a thing like that?' + </p> + <p> + “'It's about as near the mark as most of the stories of people's lives, I + reckon,' says he, 'an' besides I'd only jus' begun it.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well, I don't want no more,' says I, an' I jus' tell this story of his + to show what kind of stories he told about that time. He said they was + pleasant fictions, but I told him that if he didn't look out he'd hear 'em + called by a good deal of a worse kind of a name than that. The nex' + mornin' he asked me what was my dream, an' I told him I didn't have + exactly no dream about it, but my idea was to have somethin' real romantic + for the rest of our bridal days. + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' says he, 'what would you like? I had a dream, but it wasn't no + ways romantic, and I'll jus' fall in with whatever you'd like best.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says I, 'an' the most romantic-est thing that I can think of + is for us to make-believe for the rest of this trip. We can make-believe + we're anything we please, an' if we think so in real earnest it will be + pretty much the same thing as if we really was. We aint likely to have no + chance ag'in of being jus' what we've a mind to, an' so let's try it now.' + </p> + <p> + “'What would you have a mind to be?' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' says I, 'let's be an earl an' a earl-ess.' + </p> + <p> + “'Earl-ess'? says he, 'there's no such a person.' + </p> + <p> + “'Why, yes there is, of course,' I says to him. 'What's a she-earl if she + isn't a earl-ess?' + </p> + <p> + “'Well, I don't know,' says he, 'never havin' lived with any of 'em, but + we'll let it go at that. An' how do you want to work the thing out?' + </p> + <p> + “'This way,' says I. 'You, Miguel—' + </p> + <p> + “'Jiguel,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'The earl,' says I, not mindin' his interruption, 'an' me, your noble + earl-ess, will go to some good place or other—it don't matter much + jus' where, and whatever house we live in we'll call our castle an' we'll + consider it's got draw-bridges an' portcullises an' moats an' secrit + dungeons, an' we'll remember our noble ancesters, an' behave accordin'. + An' the people we meet we can make into counts and dukes and princes, + without their knowin' anything about it; an' we can think our clothes is + silk an' satin an' velwet, all covered with dimuns an' precious stones, + jus' as well as not.' + </p> + <p> + “'Jus' as well,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'An' then,' I went on, 'we can go an' have chi-VAL-rous adventures,—or + make believe we're havin' 'em,—an' build up a atmosphere of + romanticness aroun' us that'll carry us back—' + </p> + <p> + “'To ole Virginny,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'No,' says I, 'for thousands of years, or at least enough back for the + times of tournaments and chi-VAL-ry.' + </p> + <p> + “'An' so your idea is that we make believe all these things, an' don't pay + for none of 'em, is it?' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' says I; 'an' you, Miguel—' + </p> + <p> + “'Jiguel,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'Can ask me, if you don't know what chi-VAL-ric or romantic thing you + ought to do or to say so as to feel yourself truly an' reely a earl, for + I've read a lot about these people, an' know jus' what ought to be did.' + </p> + <p> + “Well, he set himself down an' thought a while, an' then he says, 'All + right. We'll do that, an' we'll begin to-morrow mornin', for I've got a + little business to do in the city which wouldn't be exactly the right + thing for me to stoop to after I'm a earl, so I'll go in an' do it while + I'm a common person, an' come back this afternoon, an you can walk about + an' look at the dry falls, an' amuse yourself gen'rally, till I come + back.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says I, an' off he goes. + </p> + <p> + “He come back afore dark, an' the nex' mornin' we got ready to start off. + </p> + <p> + “'Have you any particular place to go?' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'No,' says I, 'one place is as likely to be as good as another for our + style o' thing. If it don't suit, we can imagine it does.' + </p> + <p> + “'That'll do,' says he, an' we had our trunk sent to the station, and + walked ourselves. When we got there, he says to me, + </p> + <p> + “Which number will you have, five or seven?' + </p> + <p> + “'Either one will suit me, Earl Miguel,' says I. + </p> + <p> + “'Jiguel,' says he, 'an' we'll make it seven. An' now I'll go an' look at + the time-table, an' we'll buy tickets for the seventh station from here. + The seventh station,' says he, comin' back, 'is Pokus. We'll go to Pokus.' + </p> + <p> + “So when the train come we got in, an' got out at Pokus. It was a pretty + sort of a place, out in the country, with the houses scattered a long ways + apart, like stingy chicken-feed. + </p> + <p> + “'Let's walk down this road,' says he, 'till we come to a good house for a + castle, an' then we can ask 'em to take us to board, an' if they wont do + it we'll go to the next, an' so on.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says I, glad enough to see how pat he entered into the + thing. + </p> + <p> + “We walked a good ways, an' passed some little houses that neither of us + thought would do, without more imaginin' than would pay, till we came to a + pretty big house near the river, which struck our fancy in a minute. It + was a stone house, an' it had trees aroun' it, there was a garden with a + wall, an' things seemed to suit first-rate, so we made up our minds right + off that we'd try this place. + </p> + <p> + “'You wait here under this tree,' says he, 'an' I'll go an' ask 'em if + they'll take us to board for a while.' + </p> + <p> + “So I waits, an' he goes up to the gate, an' pretty soon he comes out an' + says, 'All right, they'll take us, an' they'll send a man with a + wheelbarrer to the station for our trunk.' So in we goes. The man was a + country-like lookin' man, an' his wife was a very pleasant woman. The + house wasn't furnished very fine, but we didn't care for that, an' they + gave us a big room that had rafters instid of a ceilin', an' a big + fire-place, an' that, I said, was jus' exac'ly what we wanted. The room + was almos' like a donjon itself, which he said he reckoned had once been a + kitchin, but I told him that a earl hadn't nothin' to do with kitchins, + an' that this was a tapestry chamber, an' I'd tell him all about the + strange figgers on the embroidered hangin's, when the shadders begun to + fall. + </p> + <p> + “It rained a little that afternoon, an' we stayed in our room, an' hung + our clothes an' things about on nails an' hooks, an' made believe they was + armor an' ancient trophies an' portraits of a long line of ancesters. I + did most of the make-believin' but he agreed to ev'rything. The man who + kep' the house's wife brought us our supper about dark, because she said + she thought we might like to have it together cozy, an' so we did, an' was + glad enough of it; an' after supper we sat before the fire-place, where we + made-believe the flames was a-roarin' an' cracklin' an' a-lightin' up the + bright places on the armor a-hangin' aroun', while the storm—which + we made-believe—was a-ragin' an' whirlin' outside. I told him a long + story about a lord an' a lady, which was two or three stories I had read, + run together, an' we had a splendid time. It all seemed real real to me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. IN WHICH TWO NEW FRIENDS DISPORT THEMSELVES. + </h2> + <p> + “The nex' mornin' was fine an' nice,” continued Pomona, “an' after our + breakfast had been brought to us, we went out in the grounds to take a + walk. There was lots of trees back of the house, with walks among 'em, an' + altogether it was so ole-timey an' castleish that I was as happy as a + lark. + </p> + <p> + “'Come along, Earl Miguel,' I says; 'let us tread a measure 'neath these + mantlin' trees.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says he. 'Your Jiguel attends you. An' what might our noble + second name be? What is we earl an' earl-ess of?' + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, anything,' says I. 'Let's take any name at random.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says he. 'Let it be random. Earl an' Earl-ess Random. Come + along.' + </p> + <p> + “So we walks about, I feelin' mighty noble an' springy, an' afore long we + sees another couple a-walkin' about under the trees. + </p> + <p> + “'Who's them?' says I. + </p> + <p> + “'Don't know,' says he, 'but I expect they're some o' the other boarders. + The man said he had other boarders when I spoke to him about takin' us.' + </p> + <p> + “'Let's make-believe they're a count an' count says I. 'Count an' Countess + of—' + </p> + <p> + “'Milwaukee,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think much of this for a noble name, but still it would do well + enough, an' so we called 'em the Count an' Countess of Milwaukee, an' we + kep' on a meanderin'. Pretty soon he gets tired an' says he was agoin' + back to the house to have a smoke because he thought it was time to have a + little fun which weren't all imaginations, an' I says to him to go along, + but it would be the hardest thing in this world for me to imagine any fun + in smokin'. He laughed an' went back, while I walked on, a-makin'-believe + a page, in blue puffed breeches, was a-holdin' up my train, which was of + light-green velvet trimmed with silver lace. Pretty soon, turnin' a little + corner, I meets the Count and Countess of Milwaukee. She was a small lady, + dressed in black, an' he was a big fat man about fifty years old, with a + grayish beard. They both wore little straw hats, exac'ly alike, an' had on + green carpet-slippers. + </p> + <p> + “They stops when they sees me, an' the lady she bows and says + 'good-mornin',' an' then she smiles, very pleasant, an' asks if I was + a-livin' here, an' when I said I was, she says she was too, for the + present, an' what was my name. I had half a mind to say the Earl-ess + Random, but she was so pleasant and sociable that I didn't like to seem to + be makin' fun, an' so I said I was Mrs. De Henderson. + </p> + <p> + “'An' I,' says she, 'am Mrs. General Andrew Jackson, widow of the + ex-President of the United States. I am staying here on business connected + with the United States Bank. This is my brother,' says she, pointin' to + the big man. + </p> + <p> + “'How d'ye do?' says he, a-puttin' his hands together, turnin' his toes + out an' makin' a funny little bow. 'I am General Tom Thumb,' he says in a + deep, gruff voice, 'an' I've been before all the crown-ed heads of Europe, + Asia, Africa, America an' Australia,—all a's but one,—an' I'm + waitin' here for a team of four little milk-white oxen, no bigger than + tall cats, which is to be hitched to a little hay-wagon, which I am to + ride in, with a little pitch-fork an' real farmer's clothes, only small. + This will come to-morrow, when I will pay for it an' ride away to exhibit. + It may be here now, an' I will go an' see. Good-bye.' + </p> + <p> + “'Good-bye, likewise,' says the lady. 'I hope you'll have all you're + thinkin' you're havin', an' more too, but less if you'd like it. + Farewell.' An' away they goes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may be sure, I stood there amazed enough, an' mad too when I + heard her talk about my bein' all I was a-thinkin' I was. I was sure my + husband—scarce two weeks old, a husband—had told all. It was + too bad. I wished I had jus' said I was the Earl-ess of Random an' brassed + it out. + </p> + <p> + “I rushed back an' foun' him smokin' a pipe on a back porch. I charged him + with his perfidy, but he vowed so earnest that he had not told these + people of our fancies, or ever had spoke to 'em, that I had to believe + him. + </p> + <p> + “'I expec',' says he, 'that they're jus' makin'-believe—as we are. + There aint no patent on make-believes.' + </p> + <p> + “This didn't satisfy me, an' as he seemed to be so careless about it I + walked away, an' left him to his pipe. I determined to go take a walk + along some of the country roads an' think this thing over for myself. I + went aroun' to the front gate, where the woman of the house was a-standin' + talkin' to somebody, an' I jus' bowed to her, for I didn't feel like + sayin' anything, an' walked past her. + </p> + <p> + “'Hello!' said she, jumpin' in front of me an' shuttin' the gate. 'You + can't go out here. If you want to walk you can walk about in the grounds. + There's lots of shady paths.' + </p> + <p> + “'Can't go out!' says I. 'Can't go out! What do you mean by that?' + </p> + <p> + “'I mean jus' what I say,' said she, an' she locked the gate. + </p> + <p> + “I was so mad that I could have pushed her over an' broke the gate, but I + thought that if there was anything of that kind to do I had a husband + whose business it was to attend to it, an' so I runs aroun' to him to tell + him. He had gone in, but I met Mrs. Jackson an' her brother. + </p> + <p> + “'What's the matter?' said she, seein' what a hurry I was in. + </p> + <p> + “'That woman at the gate,' I said, almost chokin' as I spoke, 'wont let me + out.' + </p> + <p> + “'She wont?' said Mrs. Jackson. 'Well, that's a way she has. Four times + the Bank of the United States has closed its doors before I was able to + get there, on account of that woman's obstinacy about the gate. Indeed, I + have not been to the Bank at all yet, for of course it is of no use to go + after banking hours.' + </p> + <p> + “'An' I believe, too,' said her brother in his heavy voice, 'that she has + kept out my team of little oxen. Otherwise it would be here now.' + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't stand any more of this an' ran into our room where my husband + was. When I told him what had happened, he was real sorry. + </p> + <p> + “'I didn't know you thought of going out,' he said, 'or I would have told + you all about it. An' now sit down an' quiet yourself, an' I'll tell you + jus' how things is.' So down we sits, an' says he, jus' as carm as a + summer cloud, 'My dear, this is a lunertic asylum. Now, don't jump,' he + says; 'I didn't bring you here, because I thought you was crazy, but + because I wanted you to see what kind of people they was who imagined + themselves earls and earl-esses, an' all that sort o' thing, an' to have + an idea how the thing worked after you'd been doing it a good while an' + had got used to it. I thought it would be a good thing, while I was Earl + Jiguel and you was a noble earl-ess, to come to a place where people acted + that way. I knowed you had read lots o' books about knights and princes + an' bloody towers, an' that you knowed all about them things, but I didn't + suppose you did know how them same things looked in these days, an' a + lunertic asylum was the only place where you could see 'em. So I went to a + doctor I knowed,' he says, 'an' got a certificate from him to this private + institution, where we could stay for a while an' get posted on romantics.' + </p> + <p> + “'Then,' says I, 'the upshot was that you wanted to teach a lesson.' + </p> + <p> + “'Jus' that,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says I; 'it's teached. An' now let's get out of this as + quick as we kin.' + </p> + <p> + “'That'll suit me,' he says, 'an' we'll leave by the noon train. I'll go + an' see about the trunk bein' sent down.' + </p> + <p> + “So off he went to see the man who kept the house, while I falls to + packin' up the trunk as fast as I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Weren't you dreadfully angry at him?” asked Euphemia, who, having a + romantic streak in her own composition, did not sympathize altogether with + this heroic remedy for Pomona's disease. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am,” said Pomona, “not long. When I thought of Mrs. General + Jackson and Tom Thumb, I couldn't help thinkin' that I must have looked + pretty much the same to my husband, who, I knowed now, had only been + makin'-believe to make-believe. An' besides, I couldn't be angry very long + for laughin, for when he come back in a minute, as mad as a March hare, + an' said they wouldn't let me out nor him nuther, I fell to laughin' ready + to crack my sides. + </p> + <p> + “'They say,' said he, as soon as he could speak straight, 'that we can't + go out without another certificate from the doctor. I told 'em I'd go + myself an' see him about it but they said no, I couldn't, for if they did + that way everybody who ever was sent here would be goin' out the next day + to see about leavin'. I didn't want to make no fuss, so I told them I'd + write a letter to the doctor and tell him to send an order that would soon + show them whether we could go out or not. They said that would be the best + thing to do, an so I'm goin' to write it this minute,'—which he did. + </p> + <p> + “'How long will we have to wait?' says I, when the letter was done. + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' says he, 'the doctor can't get this before to-morrow mornin', an' + even if he answers right away, we won't get our order to go out until the + next day. So we'll jus' have to grin an' bear it for a day an' a half.' + </p> + <p> + “'This is a lively old bridal-trip,' said I,—'dry falls an' a + lunertic asylum.' + </p> + <p> + “'We'll try to make the rest of it better,' said he. + </p> + <p> + “But the next day wasn't no better. We staid in our room all day, for we + didn't care to meet Mrs. Jackson an' her crazy brother, an' I'm sure we + didn't want to see the mean creatures who kept the house. We knew well + enough that they only wanted us to stay so that they could get more + board-money out of us.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have broken out,” cried Euphemia. “I would never have staid an + hour in that place, after I found out what it was, especially on a bridal + trip.” + </p> + <p> + “If we'd done that,” said Pomona, “they'd have got men after us, an' then + everybody would have thought we was real crazy. We made up our minds to + wait for the doctor's letter, but it wasn't much fun. An' I didn't tell no + romantic stories to fill up the time. We sat down an' behaved like the + commonest kind o' people. You never saw anybody sicker of romantics than I + was when I thought of them two loons that called themselves Mrs. Andrew + Jackson and General Tom Thumb. I dropped Miguel altogether, an' he dropped + Jiguel, which was a relief to me, an' I took strong to Jonas, even callin' + him Jone, which I consider a good deal uglier an' commoner even than + Jonas. He didn't like this much, but said that if it would help me out of + the Miguel, he didn't care. + </p> + <p> + “Well, on the mornin' of the next day I went into the little front room + that they called the office, to see if there was a letter for us yet, an' + there wasn't nobody there to ask. But I saw a pile of letters under a + weight on the table, an' I jus' looked at these to see if one of 'em was + for us, an' if there wasn't the very letter Jone had written to the + doctor! They'd never sent it! I rushes back to Jone an' tells him, an' he + jus' set an' looked at me without sayin' a word. I didn't wonder he + couldn't speak. + </p> + <p> + “'I'll go an' let them people know what I think of 'em,' says I. + </p> + <p> + “'Don't do that,' said Jone, catchin' me by the sleeve. 'It wont do no + good. Leave the letter there, an' don't say nothin' about it. We'll stay + here till afternoon quite quiet, an' then we'll go away. That garden wall + isn't high.' + </p> + <p> + “'An' how about the trunk?' says I. + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, we'll take a few things in our pockets, an' lock up the trunk, an' + ask the doctor to send for it when we get to the city.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says I. An' we went to work to get ready to leave. + </p> + <p> + “About five o'clock in the afternoon, when it was a nice time to take a + walk under the trees, we meandered quietly down to a corner of the back + wall, where Jone thought it would be rather convenient to get over. He + hunted up a short piece of board which he leaned up ag'in the wall, an' + then he put his foot on the top of that an' got hold of the top of the + wall an' climbed up, as easy as nuthin'. Then he reached down to help me + step onto the board. But jus' as he was agoin' to take me by the hand: + 'Hello!' says he. 'Look a-there!' An' I turned round an' looked, an' if + there wasn't Mrs. Andrew Jackson an' General Tom Thumb a-walkin' down the + path. + </p> + <p> + “'What shall we do?' says I. + </p> + <p> + “'Come along,' says he. 'We aint a-goin' to stop for them. Get up, all the + same.' + </p> + <p> + “I tried to get up as he said, but it wasn't so easy for me on account of + my not bein' such a high stepper as Jone, an' I was a good while a-gettin' + a good footin' on the board. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Jackson an' the General, they came right up to us an' set down on a + bench which was fastened between two trees near the wall. An' there they + set, a-lookin' steady at us with their four little eyes, like four empty + thimbles. + </p> + <p> + “'You appear to be goin' away,' says Mrs. Jackson. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' says Jone from the top of the wall. We're a-goin' to take a slight + stroll outside, this salu-brious evenin'.' + </p> + <p> + “'Do you think,' says she, 'that the United States Bank would be open this + time of day?' + </p> + <p> + “'Oh no,' says Jone, 'the banks all close at three o'clock. It's a good + deal after that now.' + </p> + <p> + “'But if I told the officers who I was, wouldn't that make a difference?' + says she. 'Wouldn't they go down an' open the bank?' + </p> + <p> + “'Not much,' says Jone, givin' a pull which brought me right up to the top + o' the wall an' almost clean down the other side, with one jerk. 'I never + knowed no officers that would do that. But,' says he, a kind o' shuttin' + his eyes so that she shouldn't see he was lyin', 'we'll talk about that + when we come back.' + </p> + <p> + “'If you see that team of little oxen,' says the big man, 'send 'em 'round + to the front gate.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says Jone; an' he let me down the outside of the wall as if + I had been a bag o' horse-feed. + </p> + <p> + “'But if the bank isn't open you can't pay for it when it does come,' we + heard the old lady a-sayin' as we hurried off. + </p> + <p> + “We didn't lose no time agoin' down to that station, an' it's lucky we + didn't, for a train for the city was comin' jus' as we got there, an' we + jumped aboard without havin' no time to buy tickets. There wasn't many + people in our car, an we got a seat together. + </p> + <p> + “'Now then,' says Jone, as the cars went abuzzin' along, 'I feel as if I + was really on a bridal-trip, which I mus' say I didn't at that there + asylum.' + </p> + <p> + “An' then I said: 'I should think not,' an' we both bust out a-laughin', + as well we might, feelin' sich a change of surroundin's. + </p> + <p> + “'Do you think,' says somebody behind us, when we'd got through laughin', + 'that if I was to send a boy up to the cashier he would either come down + or send me the key of the bank?' + </p> + <p> + “We both turned aroun' as quick as lightnin', an' if there wasn't them two + lunertics in the seat behind us! + </p> + <p> + “It nearly took our breaths away to see them settin' there, staring at us + with their thimble eyes, an' a-wearin' their little straw hats, both + alike. + </p> + <p> + “'How on the livin' earth did you two got here?' says I, as soon as I + could speak. + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, we come by the same way you come—by the tem-per-ary stairs,' + says Mrs. Jackson. 'We thought if it was too late to draw any money + to-night, it might be well to be on hand bright an' early in the mornin'. + An' so we follered you two, as close as we could, because we knew you + could take us right to the very bank doors, an' we didn't know the way + ourselves, not never havin' had no occasion to attend to nothin' of this + kind before.' + </p> + <p> + “Jone an' I looked at each other, but we didn't speak for a minute. + </p> + <p> + “'Then,' says I, 'here's a pretty kittle o' fish.' + </p> + <p> + “'I should kinder say so,' says Jone. 'We've got these here two lunertics + on our hands, sure enough, for there ain't no train back to Pokus tonight, + an' I wouldn't go back with 'em if there was. We must keep an eye on 'em + till we can see the doctor to-morrow.' + </p> + <p> + “'I suppose we must,' said I, 'but this don't seem as much like a + bridal-trip as it did a while ago.' + </p> + <p> + “'You're right there,' says Jone. + </p> + <p> + “When the conductor came along we had to pay the fare of them two + lunertics, besides our own, for neither of 'em had a cent about 'em. When + we got to town we went to a smallish hotel, near the ferry, where Jone + knowed the man who kep' it, who wouldn't bother about none of us havin' a + scrap of baggage, knowin' he'd get his money all the same, out of either + Jone or his father. The General an' his sister looked a kind o' funny in + their little straw hats an' green carpet-slippers, an' the clerk didn't + know whether he hadn't forgot how to read writin' when the big man put + down the names of General Tom Thumb and Mrs. ex-President Andrew Jackson, + which he wasn't ex-President anyway, bein' dead; but Jone he whispered + they was travelin' under nommys dess plummys (I told him to say that), an' + he would fix it all right in the mornin'. An' then we got some supper, + which it took them two lunertics a long time to eat, for they was all the + time forgettin' what particular kind o' business they was about, an' then + we was showed to our rooms. They had two rooms right across the hall from + ours. We hadn't been inside our room five minutes before Mrs. General + Jackson come a-knockin' at the door. + </p> + <p> + “'Look a-here,' she says to me, 'there's a unforeseen contingency in my + room. An' it smells.' + </p> + <p> + “So I went right in, an' sure enough it did smell, for she had turned on + all the gases, besides the one that was lighted. + </p> + <p> + “'What did you do that for?' says I, a-turnin' them off as fast as I + could. + </p> + <p> + “'I'd like to know what they're made for,' says she, 'if they isn't to be + turned on.' + </p> + <p> + “When I told Jone about this he looked real serious, an' jus' then a + waiter came upstairs an' went into the big man's room. In a minute he come + out an' says to Jone an' me, a-grinnin': + </p> + <p> + “'We can't suit him no better in this house.' + </p> + <p> + “'What does he want?' asks Jone. + </p> + <p> + “'Why, he wants a smaller bed,' says the waiter. 'He says he can't sleep + in a bed as big as that, an' we haven't none smaller in this house, which + he couldn't get into if we had, in my opinion,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' says Jone. 'Jus' you go downstairs, an' I'll fix him.' So + the man goes off, still a-grinnin'. 'I tell you what it is,' says Jone, + 'it wont do to let them two lunertics have rooms to themselves. They'll + set this house afire or turn it upside down in the middle of the night, if + they has. There's nuthin' to be done but for you to sleep with the woman + an' for me to sleep with the man, an' to keep 'em from cuttin' up till + mornin'.' + </p> + <p> + “So Jone he went into the room where General Tom Thumb was a-settin' with + his hat on, a-lookin' doleful at the bed, an' says he: + </p> + <p> + “'What's the matter with the bed?' + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, it's too large entirely,' says the General. 'It wouldn't do for me + to sleep in a bed like that. It would ruin my character as a genuine + Thumb.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' says Jone, 'it's nearly two times too big for you, but if you an' + me was both to sleep in it, it would be about right, wouldn't it?' + </p> + <p> + “'Oh yes,' says the General. An' he takes off his hat, an' Jone says + good-night to me an' shuts the door. Our room was better than Mrs. General + Jackson's, so I takes her in there, an' the fust thing she does is to turn + on all the gases. + </p> + <p> + “'Stop that!' I hollers. 'If you do that again,—I'll—I'll + break the United States Bank tomorrow!' + </p> + <p> + “'How'll you do that?' says she. + </p> + <p> + “'I'll draw out all my capital,' says I. + </p> + <p> + “'I hope really you wont,' says she, 'till I've been there,' an' she leans + out of the open winder to look into the street, but while she was + a-lookin' out I see her left hand a-creepin' up to the gas by the winder, + that wasn't lighted. I felt mad enough to take her by the feet an' pitch + her out, as you an the boarder,” said Pomona, turning to me, “h'isted me + out of the canal-boat winder.” + </p> + <p> + This, by the way, was the first intimation we had had that Pomona knew how + she came to fall out of that window. + </p> + <p> + “But I didn't do it,” she continued, “for there wasn't no soft water + underneath for her to fall into. After we went to bed I kep' awake for a + long time, bein' afraid she'd get up in the night an' turn on all the + gases and smother me alive. But I fell asleep at last, an' when I woke up, + early in the mornin', the first thing I did was to feel for that lunertic. + But she was gone!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH AN OLD FRIEND APPEARS AND THE BRIDAL TRIP TAKES A + </h2> + <p> + FRESH START. + </p> + <p> + “Gone?” cried Euphemia, who, with myself, had been listening most intently + to Pomona's story. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Pomona, “she was gone. I give one jump out of bed and + felt the gases, but they was all right. But she was gone, an' her clothes + was gone. I dressed, as pale as death, I do expect, an' hurried to Jone's + room, an' he an' me an' the big man was all ready in no time to go an' + look for her. General Tom Thumb didn't seem very anxious, but we made him + hurry up an' come along with us. We couldn't afford to leave him nowheres. + The clerk down-stairs—a different one from the chap who was there + the night before—said that a middle-aged, elderly lady came down + about an hour before an' asked him to tell her the way to the United + States Bank, an' when he told her he didn't know of any such bank, she + jus' stared at him, an' wanted to know what he was put there for. So he + didn't have no more to say to her, an' she went out, an' he didn't take no + notice which way she went. We had the same opinion about him that Mrs. + Jackson had, but we didn't stop to tell him so. We hunted up an' down the + streets for an hour or more; we asked every policeman we met if he'd seen + her; we went to a police station; we did everything we could think of, but + no Mrs. Jackson turned up. Then we was so tired an' hungry that we went + into some place or other an' got our breakfast. When we started out ag'in, + we kep' on up one street an' down another, an' askin' everybody who looked + as if they had two grains of sense,—which most of 'em didn't look as + if they had mor'n one, an' that was in use to get 'em to where they was + goin.' At last, a little ways down a small street, we seed a crowd, an' + the minute we see it Jone an' me both said in our inside hearts: 'There + she is!' An' sure enough, when we got there, who should we see, with a + ring of street-loafers an' boys around her, but Mrs. Andrew Jackson, with + her little straw hat an' her green carpet-slippers, a-dancin' some kind of + a skippin' fandango, an' a-holdin' out her skirts with the tips of her + fingers. I was jus' agoin' to rush in an' grab her when a man walks quick + into the ring and touches her on the shoulder. The minute I seed him I + knowed him. It was our old boarder!” + </p> + <p> + “It was?” exclaimed Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes it was truly him, an' I didn't want him to see me there in such + company, an' he most likely knowin' I was on my bridal-trip, an' so I made + a dive at my bonnet to see if I had a vail on; an' findin' one, I hauled + it down. + </p> + <p> + “'Madam,' says the boarder, very respectful, to Mrs. Jackson, 'where do + you live? Can't I take you home?' 'No, sir,' says she, 'at least not now. + If you have a carriage, you may come for me after a while. I am waiting + for the Bank of the United States to open, an' until which time I must + support myself on the light fantastic toe,' an' then she tuk up her + skirts, an' begun to dance ag'in. But she didn't make mor'n two skips + before I rushed in, an' takin' her by the arm hauled her out o' the ring. + An' then up comes the big man with his face as red as fire. 'Look' here!' + says he to her, as if he was ready to eat her up. 'Did you draw every cent + of that money?' 'Not yet, not yet,' says she. 'You did, you purse-proud + cantalope,' says he. 'You know very well you did, an' now I'd like to know + where my ox-money is to come from.' But Jone an' me didn't intend to wait + for no sich talk as this, an' he tuk the man by the arm, and I tuk the old + woman, an' we jus' walked 'em off. The boarder he told the loafers to get + out an' go home, an' none of 'em follered us, for they know'd if they did + he'd a batted 'em over the head. But he comes up alongside o' me, as I was + a' walkin' behind with Mrs. Jackson, an' says he: 'How d'ye do, Pomona?' I + must say I felt as if I could slip in between two flagstones, but as I + couldn't get away, I said I was pretty well. 'I heared you was on your + bridal trip,' says he ag'in; 'is this it?' It was jus' like him to know + that, an' as there was no help for it, I said it was. 'Is that your + husband?' says he, pointin' to Jone. 'Yes,' says I. 'It was very good in + him to come along,' says he. 'Is these two your groomsman and bridesmaid?' + 'No sir,' says I. 'They're crazy.' 'No wonder,' says he. 'It's enough to + drive 'em so, to see you two,' an' then he went ahead an' shook hands with + Jone, an' told him he'd know'd me a long time; but he didn't say nuthin' + about havin' histed me out of a winder, for which I was obliged to him. + An' then he come back to me an' says he, 'Good-mornin', I must go to the + office. I hope you'll have a good time for the rest of your trip. If you + happen to run short o' lunertics, jus' let me know, and I'll furnish you + with another pair.' 'All right,' says I; 'but you mustn't bring your + little girl along.' + </p> + <p> + “He kinder laughed at this, as we walked away, an' then he turned around + an' come back, and says he, 'Have you been to any the-ay-ters, or + anything, since you've been in town?' 'No,' says I, 'not one.' 'Well,' + says he, 'you ought to go. Which do you like best, the the-ay-ter, the + cir-cus, or wild-beasts?' I did really like the the-ay-ter best, havin' + thought of bein' a play-actor, as you know, but I considered I'd better + let that kind o' thing slide jus' now, as bein' a little too romantic, + right after the 'sylum, an' so I says, 'I've been once to a circus, an' + once to a wild-beast garden, an' I like 'em both. I hardly know which I + like best—the roarin' beasts, a-prancin' about in their cages, with + the smell of blood an' hay, an' the towerin' elephants; or the horses, an' + the music, an' the gauzy figgers at the circus, an' the splendid knights + in armor an' flashin' pennants, all on fiery steeds, a-plungin' ag'in the + sides of the ring, with their flags a-flyin' in the grand entry,' says I, + real excited with what I remembered about these shows. + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' says he, 'I don't wonder at your feelin's. An' now, here's two + tickets for to-night, which you an' your husband can have, if you like, + for I can't go. They're to a meetin' of the Hudson County Enter-mo-logical + Society, over to Hoboken, at eight o'clock.' + </p> + <p> + “'Over to Hoboken!' says I; 'that's a long way.' + </p> + <p> + “'Oh no, it isn't,' says he. 'An' it wont cost you a cent, but the ferry. + They couldn't have them shows in the city, for, if the creatures was to + get loose, there's no knowin' what might happen. So take 'em, an' have as + much fun as you can for the rest of your trip. Good-bye!' An' off he went. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we kep' straight on to the doctor's, an' glad we was when we got + there, an' mad he was when we lef' Mrs. Jackson an' the General on his + hands, for we wouldn't have no more to do with 'em, an' he couldn't help + undertaking' to see that they got back to the asylum. I thought at first + he wouldn't lift a finger to get us our trunk; but he cooled down after a + bit, an' said he hoped we'd try some different kind of institution for the + rest of our trip, which we said we thought we would. + </p> + <p> + “That afternoon we gawked around, a-lookin' at all the outside shows, for + Jone said he'd have to be pretty careful of his money now, an' he was glad + when I told him I had two free tickets in my pocket for a show in the + evenin.' + </p> + <p> + “As we was a-walkin' down to the ferry, after supper, says he: + </p> + <p> + “'Suppose you let me have a look at them tickets.' + </p> + <p> + “So I hands 'em to him. He reads one of 'em, and then he reads the other, + which he needn't 'a' done, for they was both alike, an' then he turns to + me, an' says he: + </p> + <p> + “'What kind of a man is your boarder-as-was?' + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to say jus' what he was, but I + give Jone the idea, in a general sort of way, that he was pretty lively. + </p> + <p> + “'So I should think,' says he. 'He's been tryin' a trick on us, and + sendin' us to the wrong place. It's rather late in the season for a show + of the kind, but the place we ought to go to is a potato-field.' + </p> + <p> + “'What on earth are you talkin' about?' says I, dumbfoundered. + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' says he, 'it's a trick he's been playin'. He thought a bridal + trip like ours ought to have some sort of a outlandish wind-up, an' so he + sent us to this place, which is a meetin' of chaps who are agoin' to talk + about insec's,—principally potato-bugs, I expec'—an' anything + stupider than that, I s'pose your boarder-as-was couldn't think of, + without havin' a good deal o' time to consider.' + </p> + <p> + “'It's jus' like him,' says I. 'Let's turn round and go back,' which we + did, prompt. + </p> + <p> + “We gave the tickets to a little boy who was sellin' papers, but I don't + believe he went. + </p> + <p> + “'Now then,' says Jone, after he'd been thinkin' awhile, 'there'll be no + more foolin' on this trip. I've blocked out the whole of the rest of it, + an' we'll wind up a sight better than that boarder-as-was has any idea of. + To-morrow we'll go to father's an' if the old gentleman has got any money + on the crops, which I expec' he has, by this time, I'll take up a part o' + my share, an' we'll have a trip to Washington, an' see the President, an' + Congress, an' the White House, an' the lamp always a-burnin' before the + Supreme Court, an'—' + </p> + <p> + “'Don't say no more, says I, 'it's splendid!' + </p> + <p> + “So, early the nex' day, we goes off jus' as fast as trains would take us + to his father's, an' we hadn't been there mor'n ten minutes, before Jone + found out he had been summoned on a jury. + </p> + <p> + “'When must you go?' says I, when he come, lookin' a kind o' pale, to tell + me this. + </p> + <p> + “'Right off,' says he. 'The court meets this mornin'. If I don't hurry up, + I'll have some of 'em after me. But I wouldn't cry about it. I don't + believe the case'll last more'n a day.' + </p> + <p> + “The old man harnessed up an' took Jone to the court-house, an' I went + too, for I might as well keep up the idea of a bridal-trip as not. I went + up into the gallery, and Jone, he was set among the other men in the + jury-box. + </p> + <p> + “The case was about a man named Brown, who married the half-sister of a + man named Adams, who afterward married Brown's mother, and sold Brown a + house he had got from Brown's grandfather, in trade for half a grist-mill, + which the other half of was owned by Adams's half-sister's first husband, + who left all his property to a soup society, in trust, till his son should + come of age, which he never did, but left a will which give his half of + the mill to Brown, and the suit was between Brown and Adams and Brown + again, and Adams's half-sister, who was divorced from Brown, and a man + named Ramsey, who had put up a new over-shot wheel to the grist-mill.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh my!” exclaimed Euphemia. “How could you remember all that?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard it so often, I couldn't help remembering it,” replied Pomona. And + she went on with her narrative. + </p> + <p> + “That case wasn't a easy one to understand, as you may see for yourselves, + and it didn't get finished that day. They argyed over it a full week. When + there wasn't no more witnesses to carve up, one lawyer made a speech, an' + he set that crooked case so straight, that you could see through it from + the over-shot wheel clean back to Brown's grandfather. Then another feller + made a speech, and he set the whole thing up another way. It was jus' as + clear, to look through, but it was another case altogether, no more like + the other one than a apple-pie is like a mug o' cider. An' then they both + took it up, an' they swung it around between them, till it was all twisted + an' knotted an' wound up, an' tangled, worse than a skein o' yarn in a + nest o' kittens, an' then they give it to the jury. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when them jurymen went out, there wasn't none of 'em, as Jone tole + me afterward, as knew whether is was Brown or Adams as was dead, or + whether the mill was to grind soup, or to be run by soup-power. Of course + they couldn't agree; three of 'em wanted to give a verdict for the boy + that died, two of 'em was for Brown's grandfather, an' the rest was + scattered, some goin' in for damages to the witnesses, who ought to get + somethin' for havin' their char-ac-ters ruined. Jone he jus' held back, + ready to jine the other eleven as soon as they'd agree. But they couldn't + do it, an' they was locked up three days and four nights. You'd better + believe I got pretty wild about it, but I come to court every day an' + waited an' waited, bringin' somethin' to eat in a baskit. + </p> + <p> + “One day, at dinner-time, I seed the judge astandin' at the court-room + door, a-wipin' his forrid with a handkerchief, an' I went up to him an' + said, 'Do you think, sir, they'll get through this thing soon?' + </p> + <p> + “'I can't say, indeed,' said he. 'Are you interested in the case?' + </p> + <p> + “'I should think I was,' said I, an' then I told him about Jone's bein' a + juryman, an' how we was on our bridal-trip. + </p> + <p> + “'You've got my sympathy, madam,' says he, 'but it's a difficult case to + decide, an' I don't wonder it takes a good while.' + </p> + <p> + “'Nor I nuther,' says I, 'an' my opinion about these things is, that if + you'd jus' have them lawyers shut up in another room, an' make 'em do + their talkin' to theirselves, the jury could keep their minds clear, and + settle the cases in no time.' + </p> + <p> + “'There's some sense in that, madam,' says he, an' then he went into court + ag'in. + </p> + <p> + “Jone never had no chance to jine in with the other fellers, for they + couldn't agree, an' they were all discharged, at last. So the whole thing + went for nuthin. + </p> + <p> + “When Jone come out, he looked like he'd been drawn through a pump-log, + an' he says to me, tired-like, + </p> + <p> + “'Has there been a frost?' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' says I, 'two of 'em.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right, then,' says he. 'I've had enough of bridal-trips, with their + dry falls, their lunatic asylums, and their jury-boxes. Let's go home and + settle down. We needn't be afraid, now that there's been a frost.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why will you live in such a dreadful place?” cried Euphemia. “You + ought to go somewhere where you needn't be afraid of chills.” + </p> + <p> + “That's jus' what I thought, ma'am,” returned Pomona. “But Jone an' me got + a disease-map of this country an' we looked all over it careful, an' + wherever there wasn't chills there was somethin' that seemed a good deal + wuss to us. An' says Jone, 'If I'm to have anything the matter with me, + give me somethin' I'm used to. It don't do for a man o' my time o' life to + go changin' his diseases.'” + </p> + <p> + “So home we went. An' there we is now. An' as this is the end of the + bridal-trip story, I'll go an' take a look at the cow an' the chickens an' + the horse, if you don't mind.” + </p> + <p> + Which we didn't,—and we gladly went with her over the estate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH WE TAKE A VACATION AND LOOK FOR DAVID DUTTON. + </h2> + <p> + It was about noon of a very fair July day, in the next summer, when + Euphemia and myself arrived at the little town where we were to take the + stage up into the mountains. We were off for a two weeks' vacation and our + minds were a good deal easier than when we went away before, and left + Pomona at the helm. We had enlarged the boundaries of Rudder Grange, + having purchased the house, with enough adjoining land to make quite a + respectable farm. Of course I could not attend to the manifold duties on + such a place, and my wife seldom had a happier thought than when she + proposed that we should invite Pomona and her husband to come and live + with us. Pomona was delighted, and Jonas was quite willing to run our + farm. So arrangements were made, and the young couple were established in + apartments in our back building, and went to work as if taking care of us + and our possessions was the ultimate object of their lives. Jonas was such + a steady fellow that we feared no trouble from tree-man or lightning + rodder during this absence. + </p> + <p> + Our destination was a country tavern on the stage-road, not far from the + point where the road crosses the ridge of the mountain-range, and about + sixteen miles from the town. We had heard of this tavern from a friend of + ours, who had spent a summer there. The surrounding country was lovely, + and the house was kept by a farmer, who was a good soul, and tried to make + his guests happy. These were generally passing farmers and wagoners, or + stage-passengers, stopping for a meal, but occasionally a person from the + cities, like our friend, came to spend a few weeks in the mountains. + </p> + <p> + So hither we came, for an out-of-the-world spot like this was just what we + wanted. When I took our places at the stage-office, I inquired for David + Dutton, the farmer tavern-keeper before mentioned, but the agent did not + know of him. + </p> + <p> + “However,” said he, “the driver knows everybody on the road, and he'll set + you down at the house.” + </p> + <p> + So, off we started, having paid for our tickets on the basis that we were + to ride about sixteen miles. We had seats on top, and the trip, although + slow,—for the road wound uphill steadily,—was a delightful + one. Our way lay, for the greater part of the time, through the woods, but + now and then we came to a farm, and a turn in the road often gave us + lovely views of the foot-hills and the valleys behind us. + </p> + <p> + But the driver did not know where Dutton's tavern was. This we found out + after we had started. Some persons might have thought it wiser to settle + this matter before starting, but I am not at all sure that it would have + been so. We were going to this tavern, and did not wish to go anywhere + else. If people did not know where it was, it would be well for us to go + and look for it. We knew the road that it was on, and the locality in + which it was to be found. + </p> + <p> + Still, it was somewhat strange that a stage-driver, passing along the road + every week-day,—one day one way, and the next the other way,—should + not know a public-house like Dutton's. + </p> + <p> + “If I remember rightly,” I said, “the stage used to stop there for the + passengers to take supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it aint on this side o' the ridge,” said the driver; “we stop + for supper, about a quarter of a mile on the other side, at Pete Lowry's. + Perhaps Dutton used to keep that place. Was it called the 'Ridge House'?” + </p> + <p> + I did not remember the name of the house, but I knew very well that it was + not on the other side of the ridge. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the driver, “I'm sure I don't know where it is. But I've only + been on the road about a year, and your man may 'a' moved away afore I + come. But there aint no tavern this side the ridge, arter ye leave Delhi, + and, that's nowhere's nigh the ridge.” + </p> + <p> + There were a couple of farmers who were sitting by the driver, and who had + listened with considerable interest to this conversation. Presently, one + of them turned around to me and said: + </p> + <p> + “Is it Dave Dutton ye're askin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied, “that's his name.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think he's dead,” said he. + </p> + <p> + At this, I began to feel uneasy, and I could see that my wife shared my + trouble. + </p> + <p> + Then the other farmer spoke up. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe he's dead, Hiram,” said he to his companion “I heered of + him this spring. He's got a sheep-farm on the other side o' the mountain, + and he's a livin' there. That's what I heered, at any rate. But he don't + live on this road any more,” he continued, turning to us. “He used to keep + tavern on this road, and the stages did used to stop fur supper—or + else dinner, I don't jist ree-collect which. But he don't keep tavern on + this road no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said his companion, “if he's a livin' over the mountain. + But I b'lieve he's dead.” + </p> + <p> + I asked the other farmer if he knew how long it had been since Dutton had + left this part of the country. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know fur certain,” he said, “but I know he was keeping tavern + here two year' ago, this fall, fur I came along here, myself, and stopped + there to git supper—or dinner, I don't jist ree-collect which.” + </p> + <p> + It had been three years since our friend had boarded at Dutton's house. + There was no doubt that the man was not living at his old place now. My + wife and I now agreed that it was very foolish in us to come so far + without making more particular inquiries. But we had had an idea that a + man who had a place like Dutton's tavern would live there always. + </p> + <p> + “What are ye goin' to do?” asked the driver, very much interested, for it + was not every day that he had passengers who had lost their destination. + “Ye might go on to Lowry's. He takes boarders sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + But Lowry's did not attract us. An ordinary country-tavern, where + stage-passengers took supper, was not what we came so far to find. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where this house o' Dutton's is?” said the driver, to the man + who had once taken either dinner or supper there. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes! I'd know the house well enough, if I saw it. It's the fust house + this side o' Lowry's.” + </p> + <p> + “With a big pole in front of it?” asked the driver. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there was a sign-pole in front of it.” + </p> + <p> + “An a long porch?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! well!” said the driver, settling himself in his seat. “I know all + about that house. That's a empty house. I didn't think you meant that + house. There's nobody lives there. An' yit, now I come to remember, I have + seen people about, too. I tell ye what ye better do. Since ye're so set on + staying on this side the ridge, ye better let me put ye down at Dan + Carson's place. That's jist about quarter of a mile from where Dutton used + to live. Dan's wife can tell ye all about the Duttons, an' about everybody + else, too, in this part o' the country, and if there aint nobody livin' at + the old tavern, ye can stay all night at Carson's, and I'll stop an' take + you back, to-morrow, when I come along.” + </p> + <p> + We agreed to this plan, for there was nothing better to be done, and, late + in the afternoon, we were set down with our small trunk—for we were + traveling under light weight—at Dan Carson's door. The stage was + rather behind time, and the driver whipped up and left us to settle our + own affairs. He called back, however, that he would keep a good lookout + for us to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Carson soon made her appearance, and, very naturally, was somewhat + surprised to see visitors with their baggage standing on her little porch. + She was a plain, coarsely dressed woman, with an apron full of chips and + kindling wood, and a fine mind for detail, as we soon discovered. + </p> + <p> + “Jist so,” said she, putting down the chips, and inviting us to seats on a + bench. “Dave Dutton's folks is all moved away. Dave has a good farm on the + other side o' the mountain, an' it never did pay him to keep that tavern, + 'specially as he didn't sell liquor. When he went away, his son Al come + there to live with his wife, an' the old man left a good deal o' furniter + and things fur him, but Al's wife aint satisfied here, and, though they've + been here, off an' on, the house is shet up most o' the time. It's fur + sale an' to rent, both, ef anybody wants it. I'm sorry about you, too, fur + it was a nice tavern, when Dave kept it.” + </p> + <p> + We admitted that we were also very sorry, and the kind-hearted woman + showed a great deal of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “You might stay here, but we haint got no fit room where you two could + sleep.” + </p> + <p> + At this, Euphemia and I looked very blank. “But you could go up to the + house and stay, jist as well as not,” Mrs. Carson continued. “There's + plenty o' things there, an' I keep the key. For the matter o' that, ye + might take the house for as long as ye want to stay; Dave 'd be glad + enough to rent it; and, if the lady knows how to keep house, it wouldn't + be no trouble at all, jist for you two. We could let ye have all the + victuals ye'd want, cheap, and there's plenty o' wood there, cut, and + everything handy.” + </p> + <p> + We looked at each other. We agreed. Here was a chance for a rare good + time. It might be better, perhaps, than anything we had expected. + </p> + <p> + The bargain was struck. Mrs. Carson, who seemed vested with all the + necessary powers of attorney, appeared to be perfectly satisfied with our + trustworthiness, and when I paid on the spot the small sum she thought + proper for two weeks' rent, she evidently considered she had done a very + good thing for Dave Dutton and herself. + </p> + <p> + “I'll jist put some bread, an' eggs, an' coffee, an' pork, an' things in a + basket, an' I'll have 'em took up fur ye, with yer trunk, an' I'll go with + ye an' take some milk. Here, Danny!” she cried, and directly her husband, + a long, thin, sun-burnt, sandy-headed man, appeared, and to him she told, + in a few words, our story, and ordered him to hitch up the cart and be + ready to take our trunk and the basket up to Dutton's old house. + </p> + <p> + When all was ready, we walked up the hill, followed by Danny and the cart. + We found the house a large, low, old-fashioned farm-house, standing near + the road with a long piazza in front, and a magnificent view of + mountain-tops in the rear. Within, the lower rooms were large and low, + with quite a good deal of furniture in them. There was no earthly reason + why we should not be perfectly jolly and comfortable here. The more we + saw, the more delighted we were at the odd experience we were about to + have. Mrs. Carson busied herself in getting things in order for our supper + and general accommodation. She made Danny carry our trunk to a bedroom in + the second story, and then set him to work building a fire in a great + fire-place, with a crane for the kettle. + </p> + <p> + When she had done all she could, it was nearly dark, and after lighting a + couple of candles, she left us, to go home and get supper for her own + family. + </p> + <p> + As she and Danny were about to depart in the cart, she ran back to ask us + if we would like to borrow a dog. + </p> + <p> + “There aint nuthin to be afeard of,” she said; “for nobody hardly ever + takes the trouble to lock the doors in these parts, but bein' city folks, + I thought ye might feel better if ye had a dog.” + </p> + <p> + We made haste to tell her that we were not city folks, but declined the + dog. Indeed, Euphemia remarked that she would be much more afraid of a + strange dog than of robbers. + </p> + <p> + After supper, which we enjoyed as much as any meal we ever ate in our + lives, we each took a candle, and after arranging our bedroom for the + night, we explored the old house. There were lots of curious things + everywhere,—things that were apparently so “old timey,” as my wife + remarked, that David Dutton did not care to take them with him to his new + farm, and so left them for his son, who probably cared for them even less + than his father did. There was a garret extending over the whole house, + and filled with old spinning-wheels, and strings of onions, and all sorts + of antiquated bric-a-brac, which was so fascinating to me that I could + scarcely tear myself away from it; but Euphemia, who was dreadfully afraid + that I would set the whole place on fire, at length prevailed on me to + come down. + </p> + <p> + We slept soundly that night, in what was probably the best bedroom of the + house, and awoke with a feeling that we were about to enter on a period of + some uncommon kind of jollity, which we found to be true when we went down + to get breakfast. I made the fire, Euphemia made the coffee, and Mrs. + Carson came with cream and some fresh eggs. The good woman was in high + spirits. She was evidently pleased at the idea of having neighbors, + temporary though they were, and it had probably been a long time since she + had had such a chance of selling milk, eggs and sundries. It was almost + the same as opening a country store. We bought groceries and everything of + her. + </p> + <p> + We had a glorious time that day. We were just starting out for a mountain + stroll when our stage-driver came along on his down trip. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he called out. “Want to go back this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” I cried. “We wont go back for a couple of weeks. We've + settled here for the present.” + </p> + <p> + The man smiled. He didn't seem to understand it exactly, but he was + evidently glad to see us so well satisfied. If he had had time to stop and + have the matter explained to him, he would probably have been better + satisfied; but as it was, he waved his whip to us and drove on. He was a + good fellow. + </p> + <p> + We strolled all day, having locked up the house and taken our lunch with + us; and when we came back, it seemed really like coming home. Mrs. Carson + with whom we had left the key, had brought the milk and was making the + fire. This woman was too kind. We determined to try and repay her in some + way. After a splendid supper we went to bed happy. + </p> + <p> + The next day was a repetition of this one, but the day after it rained. So + we determined to enjoy the old tavern, and we rummaged about everywhere. I + visited the garret again, and we went to the old barn, with its mows half + full of hay, and had rare times climbing about there. We were delighted + that it happened to rain. In a wood-shed, near the house, I saw a big + square board with letters on it. I examined the board, and found it was a + sign,—a hanging sign,—and on it was painted in letters that + were yet quite plain: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “FARMERS' + AND + MECHANICS' + HOTEL.” + </pre> + <p> + I called to Euphemia and told her that I had found the old tavern sign. + She came to look at it, and I pulled it out. + </p> + <p> + “Soldiers and sailors!” she exclaimed; “that's funny.” + </p> + <p> + I looked over on her side of the sign, and, sure enough, there was the + inscription: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “SOLDIERS + AND + SAILORS' + HOUSE.” + </pre> + <p> + “They must have bought this comprehensive sign in some town,” I said. + “Such a name would never have been chosen for a country tavern like this. + But I wish they hadn't taken it down. The house would look more like what + it ought to be with its sign hanging before it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Euphemia, “let's put it up.” I agreed instantly to this + proposition, and we went to look for a ladder. We found one in the + wagon-house, and carried it out to the sign-post in the front of the + house. It was raining, gently, during these performances, but we had on + our old clothes, and were so much interested in our work that we did not + care for a little rain. I carried the sign to the post, and then, at the + imminent risk of breaking my neck, I hung it on its appropriate hooks on + the transverse beam of the sign-post. Now our tavern was really what it + pretended to be. We gazed on the sign with admiration and content. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think we had better keep it up all the time?” I asked of my wife. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said she. “It's a part of the house. The place isn't complete + without it.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose some one should come along and want to be entertained?” + </p> + <p> + “But no one will. And if people do come, I'll take care of the soldiers + and sailors, if you will attend to the farmers and mechanics.” + </p> + <p> + I consented to this, and we went in-doors to prepare dinner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. OUR TAVERN. + </h2> + <p> + The next day was clear again, and we rambled in the woods until the sun + was nearly down, and so were late about supper. We were just taking our + seats at the table when we heard a footstep on the front porch. Instantly + the same thought came into each of our minds. + </p> + <p> + “I do believe,” said Euphemia, “that's somebody who has mistaken this for + a tavern. I wonder whether it's a soldier or a farmer or a sailor; but you + had better go and see.” + </p> + <p> + I went to see, prompted to move quickly by the new-comer pounding his cane + on the bare floor of the hall. I found him standing just inside of the + front door. He was a small man, with long hair and beard, and dressed in a + suit of clothes of a remarkable color,—something of the hue of faded + snuff. He had a big stick, and carried a large flat valise in one hand. + </p> + <p> + He bowed to me very politely. + </p> + <p> + “Can I stop here to-night?” he asked, taking off his hat, as my wife put + her head out of the kitchen-door. + </p> + <p> + “Why,—no, sir,” I said. “This is not a tavern.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a tavern!” he exclaimed. “I don't understand that. You have a sign + out.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” I said; “but that is only for fun, so to speak. We are + here temporarily, and we put up that sign just to please ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “That is pretty poor fun for me,” said the man. “I am very tired, and more + hungry than tired. Couldn't you let me have a little supper at any rate?” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia glanced at me. I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You are welcome to some supper,” she said, “Come in! We eat in the + kitchen because it is more convenient, and because it is so much more + cheerful than the dining-room. There is a pump out there, and here is a + towel, if you would like to wash your hands.” + </p> + <p> + As the man went out the back door I complimented my wife. She was really + an admirable hostess. + </p> + <p> + The individual in faded snuff-color was certainly hungry, and he seemed to + enjoy his supper. During the meal he gave us some account of himself. He + was an artist and had traveled, mostly on foot it would appear, over a + great part of the country. He had in his valise some very pretty little + colored sketches of scenes in Mexico and California, which he showed us + after supper. Why he carried these pictures—which were done on stiff + paper—about with him I do not know. He said he did not care to sell + them, as he might use them for studies for larger pictures some day. His + valise, which he opened wide on the table, seemed to be filled with + papers, drawings, and matters of that kind. I suppose he preferred to wear + his clothes, instead of carrying them about in his valise. + </p> + <p> + After sitting for about half an hour after supper, he rose, with an + uncertain sort of smile, and said he supposed he must be moving on,—asking, + at the same time, how far it was to the tavern over the ridge. + </p> + <p> + “Just wait one moment, if you please,” said Euphemia. And she beckoned me + out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think,” said she, “that we could keep him all night? There's no + moon, and it would be a fearful dark walk, I know, to the other side of + the mountain. There is a room upstairs that I can fix for him in ten + minutes, and I know he's honest.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know it?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, because he wears such curious-colored clothes. No criminal would + ever wear such clothes. He could never pass unnoticed anywhere; and being + probably the only person in the world who dressed that way, he could + always be detected.” + </p> + <p> + “You are doubtless correct,” I replied. “Let us keep him.” + </p> + <p> + When we told the good man that he could stay all night, he was extremely + obliged to us, and went to bed quite early. After we had fastened the + house and had gone to our room, my wife said to me, + </p> + <p> + “Where is your pistol?” + </p> + <p> + I produced it. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, “I think you ought to have it where you can get at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” I asked. “You generally want me to keep it out of sight and + reach.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but when there is a strange man in the house we ought to take extra + precautions.” + </p> + <p> + “But this man you say is honest,” I replied. “If he committed a crime he + could not escape,—his appearance is so peculiar.” + </p> + <p> + “But that wouldn't do us any good, if we were both murdered,” said + Euphemia, pulling a chair up to my side of the bed, and laying the pistol + carefully thereon, with the muzzle toward the bed. + </p> + <p> + We were not murdered, and we had a very pleasant breakfast with the + artist, who told us more anecdotes of his life in Mexico and other places. + When, after breakfast, he shut up his valise, preparatory to starting + away, we felt really sorry. When he was ready to go, he asked for his + bill. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! There is no bill,” I exclaimed. “We have no idea of charging you + anything. We don't really keep a hotel, as I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had known that,” said he, looking very grave, “I would not have + stayed. There is no reason why you should give me food and lodgings, and I + would not, and did not, ask it. I am able to pay for such things, and I + wish to do so.” + </p> + <p> + We argued with him for some time, speaking of the habits of country people + and so on, but he would not be convinced. He had asked for accommodation + expecting to pay for it, and would not be content until he had done so. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Euphemia, “we are not keeping this house for profit, and you + can't force us to make anything out of you. If you will be satisfied to + pay us just what it cost us to entertain you, I suppose we shall have to + let you do that. Take a seat for a minute, and I will make out your bill.” + </p> + <p> + So the artist and I sat down and talked of various matters, while my wife + got out her traveling stationery-box, and sat down to the dining-table to + make out the bill. After a long, long time, as it appeared to me, I said: + </p> + <p> + “My dear, if the amount of that bill is at all proportioned to the length + of time it takes to make it out, I think our friend here will wish he had + never said anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's nearly done,” said she, without raising her head, and, in about ten + or fifteen minutes more, she rose and presented the bill to our guest. As + I noticed that he seemed somewhat surprised at it, I asked him to let me + look over it with him. The bill, of which I have a copy, read as follows: + </p> + <p> + July 12th, 187- ARTIST, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To the S. and S. Hotel and F. and M. House. + + To 1/3 one supper, July 11th, which supper consisted of: + + 1/14 lb. coffee, at 35 cts. 2 cts. + + “ “ sugar, “ 14 “ 1 ” + + 1/6 qt. milk, “ 6 “ 1 ” + + 1/2 loaf bread “ 6 “ 3 ” + + 1/8 lb. butter “ 25 “ 3 1/8 ” + + 1/2 “ bacon “ 25 “ 12 1/2 ” + + 1/16 pk. potatoes at 60 cts. per bush 15/16 ” + + 1/2 pt. hominy at 6 cts 3 ” + ———— + 27 1/16 + + 1/3 of total 09 1/48 cts. + + To 1/3 one breakfast, July 12th (same as above, with exception of eggs + instead of bacon, and with hominy omitted), + ———— + 24 1/6 + + 1/3 total 08 1/48 ” + + To rent of one room and furniture, for one night, in furnished house of + fifteen rooms at $6.00 per week for whole house 05 3/8 ” + —————— + Amount due 22 17/24 cts. +</pre> + <p> + The worthy artist burst out laughing when he read this bill, and so did I. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't laugh,” said Euphemia, reddening a little. “That is exactly + what your entertainment cost, and we do not intend to take a cent more. We + get things here in such small quantities that I can tell quite easily what + a meal costs us, and I have calculated that bill very carefully.” + </p> + <p> + “So I should think, madam,” said the artist, “but it is not quite right. + You have charged nothing for your trouble and services.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said my wife, “for I took no additional trouble to get your meals. + What I did, I should have done if you had not come. To be sure I did spend + a few minutes preparing your room. I will charge you seven twenty-fourths + of a cent for that, thus making your bill twenty-three cents—even + money.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot gainsay reasoning like yours, madam,” he said, and he took a + quarter from a very fat old pocket-book, and handed it to her. She gravely + gave him two cents change, and then taking the bill, receipted it, and + handed it back to him. + </p> + <p> + We were sorry to part with our guest, for he was evidently a good fellow. + I walked with him a little way up the road, and got him to let me copy his + bill in my memorandum-book. The original, he said, he would always keep. + </p> + <p> + A day or two after the artist's departure, we were standing on the front + piazza. We had had a late breakfast—consequent upon a long tramp the + day before—and had come out to see what sort of a day it was likely + to be. We had hardly made up our minds on the subject when the morning + stage came up at full speed and stopped at our gate. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” cried the driver. He was not our driver. He was a tall man in + high boots, and had a great reputation as a manager of horses—so + Danny Carson told me afterward. There were two drivers on the line, and + each of them made one trip a day, going up one day in the afternoon, and + down the next day in the morning. + </p> + <p> + I went out to see what this driver wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you give my passengers breakfast?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no!” I exclaimed, looking at the stage loaded inside and out. “This + isn't a tavern. We couldn't get breakfast for a stage-load of people.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you got a sign up fur, then?” roared the driver, getting red in + the face. + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” cried two or three men from the top of the stage. “If it aint + a tavern, what's that sign doin' there?” + </p> + <p> + I saw I must do something. I stepped up close to the stage and looked in + and up. + </p> + <p> + “Are there any sailors in this stage?” I said. There was no response. “Any + soldiers? Any farmers or mechanics?” + </p> + <p> + At the latter question I trembled, but fortunately no one answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said I, “you have no right to ask to be accommodated; for, as you + may see from the sign, our house is only for soldiers, sailors, farmers, + and mechanics.” + </p> + <p> + “And besides,” cried Euphemia from the piazza, “we haven't anything to + give you for breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + The people in and on the stage grumbled a good deal at this, and looked as + if they were both disappointed and hungry, while the driver ripped out an + oath, which, had he thrown it across a creek, would soon have made a + good-sized millpond. + </p> + <p> + He gathered up his reins and turned a sinister look on me. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be even with you, yit,” he cried as he dashed off. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon Mrs. Carson came up and told us that the stage had + stopped there, and that she had managed to give the passengers some + coffee, bread and butter and ham and eggs, though they had had to wait + their turns for cups and plates. It appeared that the driver had quarreled + with the Lowry people that morning because the breakfast was behindhand + and he was kept waiting. So he told his passengers that there was another + tavern, a few miles down the road, and that he would take them there to + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “He's an awful ugly man, that he is,” said Mrs. Carson, “an' he'd better + 'a' stayed at Lowry's, fur he had to wait a good sight longer, after all, + as it turned out. But he's dreadful mad at you, an' says he'll bring ye + farmers, an' soldiers, and sailors, an' mechanics, if that's what ye want. + I 'spect he'll do his best to git a load of them particular people an' + drop 'em at yer door. I'd take down that sign, ef I was you. Not that me + an' Danny minds, fur we're glad to git a stage to feed, an' ef you've any + single man that wants lodgin' we've fixed up a room and kin keep him + overnight.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding this warning, Euphemia and I decided not to take in our + sign. We were not to be frightened by a stage-driver. The next day our own + driver passed us on the road as he was going down. + </p> + <p> + “So ye're pertickler about the people ye take in, are ye?” said he, + smiling. “That's all right, but ye made Bill awful mad.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite late on a Monday afternoon that Bill stopped at our house + again. He did not call out this time. He simply drew up, and a man with a + big black valise clambered down from the top of the stage. Then Bill + shouted to me as I walked down to the gate, looking rather angry I + suppose: + </p> + <p> + “I was agoin' to git ye a whole stage-load, to stay all night, but that + one'll do ye, I reckon. Ha, ha!” And off he went, probably fearing that I + would throw his passenger up on the top of the stage again. + </p> + <p> + The new-comer entered the gate. He was a dark man, with black hair and + black whiskers and mustache, and black eyes. He wore clothes that had been + black, but which were now toned down by a good deal of dust, and, as I + have said, he carried a black valise. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you stop here?” said I, rather inhospitably. “Don't you know that + we do not accommodate—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” he said, walking up on the piazza and setting down his + valise, “that you only take soldiers, sailors, farmers, and mechanics at + this house. I have been told all about it, and if I had not thoroughly + understood the matter I should not have thought of such a thing as + stopping here. If you will sit down for a few moments I will explain.” + Saying this, he took a seat on a bench by the door, but Euphemia and I + continued to stand. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he continued, “a soldier, a sailor, a farmer, and a mechanic. Do + not doubt my word; I will prove it to you in two minutes. When but + seventeen years of age, circumstances compelled me to take charge of a + farm in New Hampshire, and I kept up that farm until I was twenty-five. + During this time I built several barns, wagon-houses, and edifices of the + sort on my place, and, becoming expert in this branch of mechanical art, I + was much sought after by the neighboring farmers, who employed me to do + similar work for them. In time I found this new business so profitable + that I gave up farming altogether. But certain unfortunate speculations + threw me on my back, and finally, having gone from bad to worse, I found + myself in Boston, where, in sheer desperation, I went on board a coasting + vessel as landsman. I remained on this vessel for nearly a year, but it + did not suit me. I was often sick, and did not like the work. I left the + vessel at one of the Southern ports, and it was not long after she sailed + that, finding myself utterly without means, I enlisted as a soldier. I + remained in the army for some years, and was finally honorably discharged. + So you see that what I said was true. I belong to each and all of these + businesses and professions. And now that I have satisfied you on this + point, let me show you a book for which I have the agency in this + country.” He stooped down, opened his valise, and took out a good-sized + volume. “This book,” said he, “is the 'Flora and Fauna of Carthage + County;' it is written by one of the first scientific men of the country, + and gives you a description, with an authentic wood-cut, of each of the + plants and animals of the county—indigenous or naturalized. Owing to + peculiar advantages enjoyed by our firm, we are enabled to put this book + at the very low price of three dollars and seventy-five cents. It is sold + by subscription only, and should be on the center-table in every parlor in + this county. If you will glance over this book, sir, you will find it as + interesting as a novel, and as useful as an encyclopaedia—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want the book,” I said, “and I don't care to look at it.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you were to look at it you would want it, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a good reason for not looking at it, then,” I answered. “If you + came to get us to subscribe for that book we need not take up any more of + your time, for we shall not subscribe.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I did not come for that alone,” he said. “I shall stay here to-night + and start out in the morning to work up the neighborhood. If you would + like this book—and I'm sure you have only to look at it to do that—you + can deduct the amount of my bill from the subscription price, and—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say you charged for this book?” asked Euphemia, stepping + forward and picking up the volume. + </p> + <p> + “Three seventy-five is the subscription price, ma'am, but that book is not + for sale. That is merely a sample. If you put your name down on my list + you will be served with your book in two weeks. As I told your husband, it + will come very cheap to you, because you can deduct what you charge me for + supper, lodging, and breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said my wife, and then she remarked that she must go in the + house and get supper. + </p> + <p> + “When will supper be ready?” the man asked, as she passed him. + </p> + <p> + At first she did not answer him, but then she called back: + </p> + <p> + “In about half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said the man; “but I wish it was ready now. And now, sir, if you + would just glance over this book, while we are waiting for supper—” + </p> + <p> + I cut him very short and went out into the road. I walked up and down in + front of the house, in a bad humor. I could not bear to think of my wife + getting supper for this fellow, who was striding about on the piazza, as + if he was very hungry and very impatient. Just as I returned to the house, + the bell rang from within. + </p> + <p> + “Joyful sound!” said the man, and in he marched. I followed close behind + him. On one end of the table, in the kitchen, supper was set for one + person, and, as the man entered, Euphemia motioned him to the table. The + supper looked like a remarkably good one. A cup of coffee smoked by the + side of the plate; there was ham and eggs and a small omelette; there were + fried potatoes, some fresh radishes, a plate of hot biscuit, and some + preserves. The man's eyes sparkled. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said he, “that I am to eat alone, for I hoped to have your + good company; but, if this plan suits you, it suits me,” and he drew up a + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” said Euphemia, advancing between him and the table. “You are not + to eat that. This is a sample supper. If you order a supper like it, one + will be served to you in two weeks.” + </p> + <p> + At this I burst into a roar of laughter; my wife stood pale and + determined, and the man drew back, looking first at one of us, and then at + the other. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to understand—?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I interrupted, “you are. There is nothing more to be said on this + subject. You may go now. You came here to annoy us, knowing that we did + not entertain travelers, and now you see what you have made by it,” and I + opened the door. + </p> + <p> + The man evidently thought that a reply was not necessary, and he walked + out without a word. Taking up his valise, which he had put in the hall, he + asked if there was any public-house near by. + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said; “but there is a farm-house a short distance down the road, + where they will be glad to have you.” And down the road he went to Mrs. + Carson's. I am sorry to say that he sold her a “Flora and Fauna” before he + went to bed that night. + </p> + <p> + We were much amused at the termination of this affair, and I became, if + possible, a still greater admirer of Euphemia's talents for management. + But we both agreed that it would not do to keep up the sign any longer. We + could not tell when the irate driver might not pounce down upon us with a + customer. + </p> + <p> + “But I hate to take it down,” said Euphemia; “it looks so much like a + surrender.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not trouble yourself,” said I. “I have an idea.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning I went down to Danny Carson's little shop,—he was a + wheelwright as well as a farmer,—and I got from him two pots of + paint—one black and one white—and some brushes. I took down + our sign, and painted out the old lettering, and, instead of it, I + painted, in bold and somewhat regular characters, new names for our + tavern. + </p> + <p> + On one side of the sign I painted: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “SOAP-MAKER'S + AND + BOOK-BINDER'S + HOTEL.” + </pre> + <p> + And on the other side: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “UPHOLSTERERS' + AND + DENTISTS' + HOUSE.” + </pre> + <p> + “Now then,” I said, “I don't believe any of those people will be traveling + along the road while we are here, or, at any rate, they won't want to + stop.” + </p> + <p> + We admired this sign very much, and sat on the piazza, that afternoon, to + see how it would strike Bill, as he passed by. It seemed to strike him + pretty hard, for he gazed with all his eyes at one side of it, as he + approached, and then, as he passed it, he actually pulled up to read the + other side. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” he called out, as he drove off. “All right! All right!” + </p> + <p> + Euphemia didn't like the way he said “all right.” It seemed to her, she + said, as if he intended to do something which would be all right for him, + but not at all so for us. I saw she was nervous about it, for that evening + she began to ask me questions about the traveling propensities of + soap-makers, upholsterers, and dentists. + </p> + <p> + “Do not think anything more about that, my dear,” I said. “I will take the + sign down in the morning. We are here to enjoy ourselves, and not to be + worried.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said she, “it would worry me to think that that driver + frightened us into taking down the sign. I tell you what I wish you would + do. Paint out those names, and let me make a sign. Then I promise you I + will not be worried.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, therefore, I took down the sign and painted out my + inscriptions. It was a good deal of trouble, for my letters were fresh, + but it was a rainy day, and I had plenty of time, and succeeded tolerably + well. Then I gave Euphemia the black-paint pot and the freedom of the + sign. + </p> + <p> + I went down to the creek to try a little fishing in wet weather, and when + I returned the new sign was done. On one side it read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FLIES' + AND + WASPS' + HOTEL. +</pre> + <p> + On the other: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HUNDRED-LEGGERS' + AND + RED-ANTS' + HOUSE. +</pre> + <p> + “You see,” said euphemia, “if any individuals mentioned thereon apply for + accommodation, we can say we are full.” + </p> + <p> + This sign hung triumphantly for several days, when one morning, just as we + had finished breakfast, we were surprised to hear the stage stop at the + door, and before we could go out to see who had arrived, into the room + came our own stage-driver, as we used to call him. He had actually left + his team to come and see us. + </p> + <p> + “I just thought I'd stop an' tell ye,” said he, “that ef ye don't look + out, Bill'll get ye inter trouble. He's bound to git the best o' ye, an' I + heared this mornin', at Lowry's, that he's agoin' to bring the county + clerk up here to-morrow, to see about yer license fur keepin' a hotel. He + says ye keep changin' yer signs, but that don't differ to him, for he kin + prove ye've kept travelers overnight, an' ef ye haven't got no license + he'll make the county clerk come down on ye heavy, I'm sure o' that, fur I + know Bill. An' so, I thought I'd stop an' tell ye.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked him, and admitted that this was a rather serious view of the + case. Euphemia pondered a moment. Then said she: + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why we should stay here any longer. It's going to rain again, + and our vacation is up to-morrow, anyway. Could you wait a little while, + while we pack up?” she said to the driver. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes!” he replied. “I kin wait, as well as not. I've only got one + passenger, an' he's on top, a-holdin' the horses. He aint in any hurry, I + know, an' I'm ahead o' time.” + </p> + <p> + In less than twenty minutes we had packed our trunk, locked up the house, + and were in the stage, and, as we drove away, we cast a last admiring look + at Euphemia's sign, slowly swinging in the wind. I would much like to know + if it is swinging there yet. I feel certain there has been no lack of + custom. + </p> + <p> + We stopped at Mrs. Carson's, paid her what we owed her, and engaged her to + go up to the tavern and put things in order. She was very sorry we were + going, but hoped we would come back again some other summer. We said that + it was quite possible that we might do so; but that, next time, we did not + think we would try to have a tavern of our own. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE BABY AT RUDDER GRANGE. + </h2> + <p> + For some reason, not altogether understood by me, there seemed to be a + continued series of new developments at our home. I had supposed, when the + events spoken of in the last chapter had settled down to their proper + places in our little history, that our life would flow on in an even, + commonplace way, with few or no incidents worthy of being recorded. But + this did not prove to be the case. After a time, the uniformity and quiet + of our existence was considerably disturbed. + </p> + <p> + This disturbance was caused by a baby, not a rude, imperious baby, but a + child who was generally of a quiet and orderly turn of mind. But it + disarranged all our plans; all our habits; all the ordinary disposition of + things. + </p> + <p> + It was in the summer-time, during my vacation, that it began to exert its + full influence upon us. A more unfortunate season could not have been + selected. At first, I may say that it did not exert its full influence + upon me. I was away, during the day, and, in the evening, its influence + was not exerted, to any great extent, upon anybody. As I have said, its + habits were exceedingly orderly. But, during my vacation, the things came + to pass which have made this chapter necessary. + </p> + <p> + I did not intend taking a trip. As in a former vacation, I proposed + staying at home and enjoying those delights of the country which my + business in town did not allow me to enjoy in the working weeks and months + of the year. I had no intention of camping out, or of doing anything of + that kind, but many were the trips, rides, and excursions I had planned. + </p> + <p> + I found, however, that if I enjoyed myself in this wise, I must do it, for + the most part, alone. It was not that Euphemia could not go with me—there + was really nothing to prevent—it was simply that she had lost, for + the time, her interest in everything except that baby. + </p> + <p> + She wanted me to be happy, to amuse myself, to take exercise, to do + whatever I thought was pleasant, but she, herself, was so much engrossed + with the child, that she was often ignorant of what I intended to do, or + had done. She thought she was listening to what I said to her, but, in + reality, she was occupied, mind and body, with the baby, or listening for + some sound which should indicate that she ought to go and be occupied with + it. + </p> + <p> + I would often say to her: “Why can't you let Pomona attend to it? You + surely need not give up your whole time and your whole mind to the child.” + </p> + <p> + But she would always answer that Pomona had a great many things to do, and + that she couldn't, at all times, attend to the baby. Suppose, for + instance, that she should be at the barn. + </p> + <p> + I once suggested that a nurse should be procured, but at this she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “There is very little to do,” she said, “and I really like to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, “but you spend so much of your time in thinking how glad + you will be to do that little, when it is to be done, that you can't give + me any attention, at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you have no cause to say that,” she exclaimed. “You know very well—, + there!” and away she ran. It had just begun to cry! + </p> + <p> + Naturally, I was getting tired of this. I could never begin a sentence and + feel sure that I would be allowed to finish it. Nothing was important + enough to delay attention to an infantile whimper. + </p> + <p> + Jonas, too, was in a state of unrest. He was obliged to wear his good + clothes, a great part of the time, for he was continually going on errands + to the village, and these errands were so important that they took + precedence of everything else. It gave me a melancholy sort of pleasure, + sometimes, to do Jonas's work when he was thus sent away. + </p> + <p> + I asked him, one day, how he liked it all? + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, reflectively, “I can't say as I understand it, exactly. + It does seem queer to me that such a little thing should take up pretty + nigh all the time of three people. I suppose, after a while,” this he said + with a grave smile, “that you may be wanting to turn in and help.” I did + not make any answer to this, for Jonas was, at that moment, summoned to + the house, but it gave me an idea. In fact, it gave me two ideas. + </p> + <p> + The first was that Jonas's remark was not entirely respectful. He was my + hired man, but he was a very respectable man, and an American man, and + therefore might sometimes be expected to say things which a foreigner, not + known to be respectable, would not think of saying, if he wished to keep + his place. The fact that Jonas had always been very careful to treat me + with much civility, caused this remark to make more impression on me. I + felt that he had, in a measure, reason for it. + </p> + <p> + The other idea was one which grew and developed in my mind until I + afterward formed a plan upon it. I determined, however, before I carried + out my plan, to again try to reason with Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “If it was our own baby,” I said, “or even the child of one of us, by a + former marriage, it would be a different thing; but to give yourself up so + entirely to Pomona's baby, seems, to me, unreasonable. Indeed, I never + heard of any case exactly like it. It is reversing all the usages of + society for the mistress to take care of the servant's baby.” + </p> + <p> + “The usages of society are not worth much, sometimes,” said Euphemia, “and + you must remember that Pomona is a very different kind of a person from an + ordinary servant. She is much more like a member of the family—I + can't exactly explain what kind of a member, but I understand it myself. + She has very much improved since she has been married, and you know, + yourself, how quiet and—and, nice she is, and as for the baby, it's + just as good and pretty as any baby, and it may grow up to be better than + any of us. Some of our presidents have sprung from lowly parents.” + </p> + <p> + “But this one is a girl,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Well then,” replied Euphemia, “she may be a president's wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Another thing,” I remarked, “I don't believe Jonas and Pomona like your + keeping their baby so much to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Euphemia, “a girl in Pomona's position couldn't help + being glad to have a lady take an interest in her baby, and help bring it + up. And as for Jonas, he would be a cruel man if he wasn't pleased and + grateful to have his wife relieved of so much trouble. Pomona! is that + you? You can bring it here, now, if you want to get at your + clear-starching.” + </p> + <p> + I don't believe that Pomona hankered after clear-starching, but she + brought the baby and I went away. I could not see any hope ahead. Of + course, in time, it would grow up, but then it couldn't grow up during my + vacation. + </p> + <p> + Then it was that I determined to carry out my plan. + </p> + <p> + I went to the stable and harnessed the horse to the little carriage. Jonas + was not there, and I had fallen out of the habit of calling him. I drove + slowly through the yard and out of the gate. No one called to me or asked + where I was going. How different this was from the old times! Then, some + one would not have failed to know where I was going, and, in all + probability, she would have gone with me. But now I drove away, quietly + and undisturbed. + </p> + <p> + About three miles from our house was a settlement known as New Dublin. It + was a cluster of poor and doleful houses, inhabited entirely by Irish + people, whose dirt and poverty seemed to make them very contented and + happy. The men were generally away, at their work, during the day, but + there was never any difficulty in finding some one at home, no matter at + what house one called. I was acquainted with one of the matrons of this + locality, a Mrs. Duffy, who had occasionally undertaken some odd jobs at + our house, and to her I made a visit. + </p> + <p> + She was glad to see me, and wiped off a chair for me. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Duffy,” said I, “I want to rent a baby.” + </p> + <p> + At first, the good woman could not understand me, but when I made plain to + her that I wished for a short time, to obtain the exclusive use and + control of a baby, for which I was willing to pay a liberal rental, she + burst into long and violent laughter. It seemed to her like a person + coming into the country to purchase weeds. Weeds and children were so + abundant in New Dublin. But she gradually began to see that I was in + earnest, and as she knew I was a trusty person, and somewhat noted for the + care I took of my live stock, she was perfectly willing to accommodate me, + but feared she had nothing on hand of the age I desired. + </p> + <p> + “Me childther are all agoin' about,” she said. “Ye kin see a poile uv 'em + out yon, in the road, an' there's more uv 'em on the fince. But ye nade + have no fear about gittin' wan. There's sthacks of 'em in the place. I'll + jist run over to Mrs. Hogan's, wid ye. She's got sixteen or siventeen, + mostly small, for Hogan brought four or five wid him when he married her, + an' she'll be glad to rint wan uv 'em.” So, throwing her apron over her + head, she accompanied me to Mrs. Hogan's. + </p> + <p> + That lady was washing, but she cheerfully stopped her work while Mrs. + Duffy took her to one side and explained my errand. Mrs. Hogan did not + appear to be able to understand why I wanted a baby-especially for so + limited a period,—but probably concluded that if I would take good + care of it and would pay well for it, the matter was my own affair, for + she soon came and said, that if I wanted a baby, I'd come to the right + place. Then she began to consider what one she would let me have. I + insisted on a young one—there was already a little baby at our + house, and the folks there would know how to manage it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ye want it fer coompany for the ither one, is that it?” said Mrs. + Hogan, a new light breaking in upon her. “An' that's a good plan, sure. It + must be dridful lownly in a house wid ownly wan baby. Now there's one—Polly—would + she do?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she can run,” I said. “I don't want one that can run.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” said Mrs. Hogan, with a sigh, “they all begin to run, very + airly. Now Polly isn't owld, at all, at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I can see that,” said I, “but I want one that you can put in a cradle—one + that will have to stay there, when you put it in.” + </p> + <p> + It was plain that Mrs. Hogan's present stock did not contain exactly what + I wanted, and directly Mrs. Duffy exclaimed! “There's Mary McCann—an' + roight across the way!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hogan said “Yis, sure,” and we all went over to a little house, + opposite. + </p> + <p> + “Now, thin,” said Mrs. Duffy, entering the house, and proudly drawing a + small coverlid from a little box-bed in a corner, “what do you think of + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there are two of them,” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” said Mrs. Duffy. “They're tweens. There's always two uv em, + when they're tweens. An' they're young enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, doubtfully, “but I couldn't take both. Do you think their + mother would rent one of them?” + </p> + <p> + The women shook their heads. “Ye see, sir,” said Mrs. Hogan, “Mary McCann + isn't here, bein' gone out to a wash, but she ownly has four or foive + childther, an' she aint much used to 'em yit, an' I kin spake fer her that + she'd niver siparate a pair o' tweens. When she gits a dozen hersilf, and + marries a widow jintleman wid a lot uv his own, she'll be glad enough to + be lettin' ye have yer pick, to take wan uv 'em fer coompany to yer own + baby, at foive dollars a week. Moind that.” + </p> + <p> + I visited several houses after this, still in company with Mrs. Hogan and + Mrs. Duffy, and finally secured a youngish infant, who, having been left + motherless, had become what Mrs. Duffy called a “bottle-baby,” and was in + charge of a neighboring aunt. It seemed strange that this child, so + eminently adapted to purposes of rental, was not offered to me, at first, + but I suppose the Irish ladies, who had the matter in charge, wanted to + benefit themselves, or some of their near friends, before giving the + general public of New Dublin a chance. + </p> + <p> + The child suited me very well, and I agreed to take it for as many days as + I might happen to want it, but to pay by the week, in advance. It was a + boy, with a suggestion of orange-red bloom all over its head, and what + looked, to me, like freckles on its cheeks; while its little nose turned + up, even more than those of babies generally turn—above a very long + upper lip. His eyes were blue and twinkling, and he had the very mouth + “fer a leetle poipe,” as Mrs. Hogan admiringly remarked. + </p> + <p> + He was hastily prepared for his trip, and when I had arranged the + necessary business matters with his aunt, and had assured her that she + could come to see him whenever she liked, I got into the carriage, and + having spread the lap-robe over my knees, the baby, carefully wrapped in a + little shawl, was laid in my lap. Then his bottle, freshly filled, for he + might need a drink on the way, was tucked between the cushions on the seat + beside me, and taking the lines in my left hand, while I steadied my + charge with the other, I prepared to drive away. + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “It's Pat,” said his aunt, “afther his dad, who's away in the moines.” + </p> + <p> + “But ye kin call him onything ye bike,” Mrs. Duffy remarked, “fer he don't + ansther to his name yit.” + </p> + <p> + “Pat will do very well,” I said, as I bade the good women farewell, and + carefully guided the horse through the swarms of youngsters who had + gathered around the carriage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE OTHER BABY AT RUDDER GRANGE. + </h2> + <p> + I drove slowly home, and little Pat lay very quiet, looking up steadily at + me with his twinkling blue eyes. For a time, everything went very well, + but happening to look up, I saw in the distance a carriage approaching. It + was an open barouche, and I knew it belonged to a family of our + acquaintance, in the village, and that it usually contained ladies. + </p> + <p> + Quick as thought, I rolled up Pat in his shawl and stuffed him under the + seat. Then rearranging the lap-robe over my knees, I drove on, trembling a + little, it is true. + </p> + <p> + As I supposed, the carriage contained ladies, and I knew them all. The + coachman instinctively drew up, as we approached. We always stopped and + spoke, on such occasions. + </p> + <p> + They asked me after my wife, apparently surprised to see me alone, and + made a number of pleasant observations, to all of which I replied with as + unconcerned and easy an air as I could assume. The ladies were in + excellent spirits, but in spite of this, there seemed to be an air of + repression about them, which I thought of when I drove on, but could not + account for, for little Pat never moved or whimpered, during the whole of + the interview. + </p> + <p> + But when I took him again in my lap, and happened to turn, as I arranged + the robe, I saw his bottle sticking up boldly by my side from between the + cushions. Then I did not wonder at the repression. + </p> + <p> + When I reached home, I drove directly to the barn. Fortunately, Jonas was + there. When I called him and handed little Pat to him I never saw a man + more utterly amazed. He stood, and held the child without a word. But when + I explained the whole affair to him, he comprehended it perfectly, and was + delighted. I think he was just as anxious for my plan to work as I was + myself, although he did not say so. + </p> + <p> + I was about to take the child into the house, when Jonas remarked that it + was barefooted. + </p> + <p> + “That won't do,” I said. “It certainly had socks on, when I got it. I saw + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,” said Jonas, fishing them out from the shawl, “he's kicked + them off.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must put them on,” I said, “it won't do to take him in, that + way. You hold him.” + </p> + <p> + So Jonas sat down on the feed-box, and carefully taking little Pat, he + held him horizontally, firmly pressed between his hands and knees, with + his feet stuck out toward me, while I knelt down before him and tried to + put on the little socks. But the socks were knit or worked very loosely, + and there seemed to be a good many small holes in them, so that Pat's + funny little toes, which he kept curling up and uncurling, were + continually making their appearance in unexpected places through the sock. + But, after a great deal of trouble, I got them both on, with the heels in + about the right places. + </p> + <p> + “Now they ought to be tied on,” I said, “Where are his garters?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe babies have garters,” said Jonas, doubtfully, “but I + could rig him up a pair.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I; “we wont take the time for that. I'll hold his legs apart, + as I carry him in. It's rubbing his feet together that gets them off.” + </p> + <p> + As I passed the kitchen window, I saw Pomona at work. She looked at me, + dropped something, and I heard a crash. I don't know how much that crash + cost me. Jonas rushed in to tell Pomona about it, and in a moment I heard + a scream of laughter. At this, Euphemia appeared at an upper window, with + her hand raised and saying, severely: “Hush-h!” But the moment she saw me, + she disappeared from the window and came down-stairs on the run. She met + me, just as I entered the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “What IN the world!” she breathlessly exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said I, taking Pat into a better position in my arms, “is my + baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Your—baby!” said Euphemia. “Where did you get it? what are you + going to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “I got it in New Dublin,” I replied, “and I want it to amuse and occupy me + while I am at home. I haven't anything else to do, except things that take + me away from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, little Pat gave his first whimper. Perhaps he felt the + searching glance that fell upon him from the lady in the middle of the + room. + </p> + <p> + I immediately began to walk up and down the floor with him, and to sing to + him. I did not know any infant music, but I felt sure that a soothing tune + was the great requisite, and that the words were of small importance. So I + started on an old Methodist tune, which I remembered very well, and which + was used with the hymn containing the lines: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Weak and wounded, sick and sore,” + </pre> + <p> + and I sang, as soothingly as I could: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Lit-tle Pat-sy, Wat-sy, Sat-sy, + Does he feel a lit-ty bad? + Me will send and get his bot-tle + He sha'n't have to cry-wy-wy.” + </pre> + <p> + “What an idiot!” said Euphemia, laughing in spite of her vexation. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “No, we aint no id-i-otses + What we want's a bot-ty mik.” + </pre> + <p> + So I sang as I walked to the kitchen door, and sent Jonas to the barn for + the bottle. + </p> + <p> + Pomona was in spasms of laughter in the kitchen, and Euphemia was trying + her best not to laugh at all. + </p> + <p> + “Who's going to take care of it, I'd like to know?” she said, as soon as + she could get herself into a state of severe inquiry. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Some-times me, and some-times Jonas,” + </pre> + <p> + I sang, still walking up and down the room with a long, slow step, + swinging the baby from side to side, very much as if it were grass-seed in + a sieve, and I were sowing it over the carpet. + </p> + <p> + When the bottle came, I took it, and began to feed little Pat. Perhaps the + presence of a critical and interested audience embarrassed us, for Jonas + and Pomona were at the door, with streaming eyes, while Euphemia stood + with her handkerchief to the lower part of her face, or it may have been + that I did not understand the management of bottles, but, at any rate, I + could not make the thing work, and the disappointed little Pat began to + cry, just as the whole of our audience burst into a wild roar of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Here! Give me that child!” cried Euphemia, forcibly taking Pat and the + bottle from me. “You'll make it swallow the whole affair, and I'm sure its + mouth's big enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You really don't think,” she said, when we were alone, and little Pat, + with his upturned blue eyes serenely surveying the features of the good + lady who knew how to feed him, was placidly pulling away at his + india-rubber tube, “that I will consent to your keeping such a creature as + this in the house? Why, he's a regular little Paddy! If you kept him he'd + grow up into a hod-carrier.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said I. “I never thought of that. What a novel thing it would be + to witness the gradual growth of a hod-carrier! I'll make him a little + hod, now, to begin with. He couldn't have a more suitable toy.” + </p> + <p> + “I was talking in earnest,” she said. “Take your baby, and please carry + him home as quick as you can, for I am certainly not going to take care of + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said I. “Now that I see how it's done, I'm going to do it + myself. Jonas will mix his feed and I will give it to him. He looks sleepy + now. Shall I take him upstairs and lay him on our bed?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” cried Euphemia. “You can put him on a quilt on the floor, + until after luncheon, and then you must take him home.” + </p> + <p> + I laid the young Milesian on the folded quilt which Euphemia prepared for + him, where he turned up his little pug nose to the ceiling and went + contentedly to sleep. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon I nailed four legs on a small packing-box and made a + bedstead for him. This, with a pillow in the bottom of it, was very + comfortable, and instead of taking him home, I borrowed, in the evening, + some baby night-clothes from Pomona, and set about preparing Pat for the + night. + </p> + <p> + This Euphemia would not allow, but silently taking him from me, she put + him to bed. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” she said, “you must positively take him away. I wont stand + it. And in our room, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't talk in that way about the baby you adopted,” I said. + </p> + <p> + To this she made no answer, but went away to attend, as usual, to Pomona's + baby, while its mother washed the dishes. + </p> + <p> + That night little Pat woke up, several times, and made things unpleasant + by his wails. On the first two occasions, I got up and walked him about, + singing impromptu lines to the tune of “weak and wounded,” but the third + time, Euphemia herself arose, and declaring that that doleful tune was a + great deal worse than the baby's crying, silenced him herself, and + arranging his couch more comfortably, he troubled us no more. + </p> + <p> + In the morning, when I beheld the little pad of orange fur in the box, my + heart almost misgave me, but as the day wore on, my courage rose again, + and I gave myself up, almost entirely, to my new charge, composing a vast + deal of blank verse, while walking him up and down the house. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia scolded and scolded, and said she would put on her hat and go for + the mother. But I told her the mother was dead, and that seemed to be an + obstacle. She took a good deal of care of the child, for she said she + would not see an innocent creature neglected, even if it was an incipient + hod-carrier, but she did not relax in the least in her attention to + Pomona's baby. + </p> + <p> + The next day was about the same, in regard to infantile incident, but, on + the day after, I began to tire of my new charge, and Pat, on his side, + seemed to be tired of me, for he turned from me when I went to take him + up, while he would hold out his hands to Euphemia, and grin delightedly + when she took him. + </p> + <p> + That morning I drove to the village and spent an hour or two there. On my + return I found Euphemia sitting in our room, with little Pat on her lap. I + was astonished at the change in the young rascal. He was dressed, from + head to foot, in a suit of clothes belonging to Pomona's baby; the glowing + fuzz on his head was brushed and made as smooth as possible, while his + little muslin sleeves were tied up with blue ribbon. + </p> + <p> + I stood speechless at the sight. + </p> + <p> + “Don't he look nice?” said Euphemia, standing him up on her knees. “It + shows what good clothes will do. I'm glad I helped Pomona make up so many. + He's getting ever so fond of me, ze itty Patsy, watsy! See how strong he + is! He can almost stand on his legs! Look how he laughs! He's just as + cunning as he can be. And oh! I was going to speak about that box. I + wouldn't have him sleep in that old packing-box. There are little wicker + cradles at the store—I saw them last week—they don't cost + much, and you could bring one up in the carriage. There's the other baby, + crying, and I don't know where Pomona is. Just you mind him a minute, + please!” and out she ran. + </p> + <p> + I looked out of the window. The horse still stood harnessed to the + carriage, as I had left him. I saw Pat's old shawl lying in a corner. I + seized it, and rolling him in it, new clothes and all, I hurried + down-stairs, climbed into the carriage, hastily disposed Pat in my lap, + and turned the horse. The demeanor of the youngster was very different + from what it was when I first took him in my lap to drive away with him. + There was no confiding twinkle in his eye, no contented munching of his + little fists. He gazed up at me with wild alarm, and as I drove out of the + gate, he burst forth into such a yell that Lord Edward came bounding + around the house to see what was the matter. Euphemia suddenly appeared at + an upper window and called out to me, but I did not hear what she said. I + whipped up the horse and we sped along to New Dublin. Pat soon stopped + crying, but he looked at me with a tear-stained and reproachful visage. + </p> + <p> + The good women of the settlement were surprised to see little Pat return + so soon. + </p> + <p> + “An' wasn't he good?” said Mrs. Hogan as she took him from my hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” I said. “He was as good as he could be. But I have no further + need of him.” + </p> + <p> + I might have been called upon to explain this statement, had not the whole + party of women, who stood around burst into wild expressions of delight at + Pat's beautiful clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! jist look at 'em!” cried Mrs. Duffy. “An' see thim leetle pittycoots, + thrimmed wid lace! Oh, an' it was good in ye, sir, to give him all thim, + an' pay the foive dollars, too.” + </p> + <p> + “An' I'm glad he's back,” said the fostering aunt, “for I was a coomin' + over to till ye that I've been hearin' from owle Pat, his dad, an' he's a + coomin' back from the moines, and I don't know what he'd a' said if he'd + found his leetle Pat was rinted. But if ye iver want to borry him, for a + whoile, after owle Pat's gone back, ye kin have him, rint-free; an' it's + much obloiged I am to ye, sir, fur dressin' him so foine.” + </p> + <p> + I made no encouraging remarks as to future transactions in this line, and + drove slowly home. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia met me at the door. She had Pomona's baby in her arms. We walked + together into the parlor. + </p> + <p> + “And so you have given up the little fellow that you were going to do so + much for?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have given him up,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been a dreadful trial to you,” she continued. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dreadful!” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you thought he would take up so much of your time and thoughts, + that we couldn't be to each other what we used to be, didn't you?” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly,” I replied. “I only thought that things promised to be twice + as bad as they were before.” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer to this, but going to the back door of the parlor she + opened it and called Pomona. When that young woman appeared, Euphemia + stepped toward her and said: “Here, Pomona, take your baby.” + </p> + <p> + They were simple words, but they were spoken in such a way that they meant + a good deal. Pomona knew what they meant. Her eyes sparkled, and as she + went out, I saw her hug her child to her breast, and cover it with kisses, + and then, through the window, I could see her running to the barn and + Jonas. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” said Euphemia, closing the door and coming toward me, with + one of her old smiles, and not a trace of preoccupation about her, “I + suppose you expect me to devote myself to you.” + </p> + <p> + I did expect it, and I was not mistaken. + </p> + <p> + Since these events, a third baby has come to Rudder Grange. It is not + Pomona's, nor was it brought from New Dublin. It is named after a little + one, who died very young, before this story was begun, and the strangest + thing about it is that never, for a moment, does it seem to come between + Euphemia and myself. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rudder Grange, by Frank R. 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