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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mrs. Tree's Will, by Laura E. Richards
+
+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/license
+
+
+Title: Mrs. Tree's Will
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Release Date: April 29, 2012 [EBook #39558]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS. TREE'S WILL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          MRS. TREE'S WILL
+
+                        By Laura E. Richards
+
+    _Author of_ "Captain January," "Melody," "Marie," "Mrs. Tree," etc.
+
+
+    Boston
+    Dana Estes & Company
+    Publishers
+
+    _Copyright, 1905_
+    BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+
+    _All rights reserved_
+
+    MRS. TREE'S WILL
+
+    _COLONIAL PRESS
+    Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+    Boston, U.S.A._
+
+    TO
+    MY DAUGHTER
+    Alice
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'HOMER HOLLOPETER,' SHE SAID, 'WHAT IS THE NAME OF THIS
+VILLAGE?'"]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER PAGE
+
+I. THE WILL ITSELF 11
+
+II. WHAT THE MEN SAID 33
+
+III. WHAT THE WOMEN SAID 51
+
+IV. MOSTLY GOSSIP 79
+
+V. IN MISS PENNY'S SHOP 95
+
+VI. THE SORROWS OF MR. HOMER 111
+
+VII. CONCHOLOGY AND OTHER THINGS 130
+
+VIII. MR. PINDAR 147
+
+IX. "QUAND ON CONSPIRE" 164
+
+X. A PLEASANT HOUR 186
+
+XI. SPINNING YARNS 199
+
+XII. MISS WAX AT HOME 224
+
+XIII. THE SORROWS OF MR. PINDAR 240
+
+XIV. THE DRAMATIC MOMENT 255
+
+XV. AFTER ALL! 283
+
+XVI. MARRIAGE BELLS 297
+
+XVII. THE LAST WORD 309
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+PAGE
+
+"'HOMER HOLLOPETER,' SHE SAID, 'WHAT IS THE NAME OF THIS VILLAGE?'"
+_FRONTISPIECE_
+
+"'GOOD MORNING, SETH!' SAID THE LITTLE MINISTER" 80
+
+"AS HE HELD THE CANDLE HIGH, ITS WAVERING LIGHT FELL ON THE COUNTENANCE
+OF THE STRANGER" 143
+
+"'BILE IN, SALEM!' SAID SETH WEAVER, 'YOU AIN'T FORGOT, HAVE YE?'" 197
+
+
+
+
+MRS. TREE'S WILL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE WILL ITSELF
+
+
+"Suppose you tell me all about it, Mr. Hollopeter!" said Mr. Bliss.
+
+Mr. Homer Hollopeter sighed deeply; wiped his brow with a
+sky-blue article, evidently under the impression that it was a
+pocket-handkerchief; sighed again yet more deeply on perceiving that it
+was a necktie; put it back in his pocket, and looked plaintively at the
+minister.
+
+"I should be pleased to do so, Mr. Bliss," he said. "It would be--a
+relief; a--an unburdening; an--outlet to imprisoned nature."
+
+"You see," the little minister went on soothingly, "our dear old
+friend's death occurring while I was away, and I returning only just in
+time for the funeral, I have not really heard the particulars yet. I
+might--that is--Mrs. Weight kindly called on me last evening, probably
+with a view to giving me some information, but I was unable to see her,
+and I should prefer to hear from you how it all happened."
+
+"Yes--a--yes!" said Mr. Homer, nervously. "Mrs. Weight is a--a
+person--a--in short, she is a person not connected with the family.
+Well, Mr. Bliss, the end came very suddenly; very suddenly indeed. It
+was a great shock; a great--blow; a great--unsettling of the equilibrium
+of daily life. The village has never known such a sensation, sir,
+never."
+
+"Mrs. Tree died in the evening, I believe?" said Mr. Bliss.
+
+"At nine o'clock, sir," said Mr. Homer. "Jocko, the parrot, had had some
+trifling indisposition, and Cousin Marcia had sent for Miss Penelope
+Pardon, who, as you are doubtless aware, has some knowledge of the
+feathered tribes and their peculiar ailments. It chanced that I came in
+to bring a letter, which would, I fancied, give Cousin Marcia singular
+pleasure. It was from little Vesta--I would say from Mrs. Geoffrey
+Strong, Mr. Bliss: she has always been a favorite niece--grandniece, I
+should say, of Mrs. Tree. I found my cousin somewhat excited; she was
+speaking to Miss Pardon with emphasis, and, as I entered, she struck the
+floor with her stick and said: 'Cat's foot! don't tell me! folderol!'
+and other expressions of that nature, as was her custom when moved.
+Seeing me, she turned upon me with some abruptness and addressed me in
+the following words: 'Well, Homer, here you are mooning about as usual.
+You ought to be in a cage, and have Penny to take care of you. How would
+you like this for a cage?' She waved her stick round the room, and then,
+grasping it nervously, shook it at me with violence.
+
+"'Homer Hollopeter,' she said, 'what is the name of this village?'
+
+"Somewhat startled at this outburst, I repeated her remark. 'The name,
+Cousin Marcia?'
+
+"'The name!' she said, violently. 'The real name! out with it,
+ninnyhammer!'
+
+"I replied firmly,--it is a point on which I have always felt strongly,
+Mr. Bliss,--'The real name of this village, Cousin Marcia, is Quahaug.'
+
+"Mrs. Tree sat bolt upright in her chair. 'Homer Hollopeter,' she said,
+'you have some sense, after all! Hooray for Quahaug!'
+
+"Mr. Bliss, they were her last words. She sat looking at me,
+erect, vivacious, the very picture of life; and the next instant
+the stick dropped from her hand. She was gone, sir. The spirit
+had--departed;--a--removed itself;--a--winged its way to the empyrean."
+
+He paused, half-drew out the blue necktie, then replaced it hurriedly.
+
+"It was a great shock," he said; "I shall never be the same man again,
+never! Miss Pardon was most kind and attentive. She supplied me
+with--a--volatile salts, and in other ways ministered to my
+outer man till I was somewhat restored; but the inner man, sir,
+the--a--rainbow-hued spirit, as the poet has it, is--a--bruised;
+is--a--battered; is--a--marked with the impress of a grievous blow. At
+my age I can hardly hope to recover the equilibrium which--"
+
+"Come! come! Mr. Hollopeter," said the little minister; "you must not be
+despondent. Consider, our dear old friend had rounded out her century;
+the ripe fruit dropped quietly from the bough. It is true that her loss
+is a grievous one to all our community."
+
+"It is, sir! it is, sir!" said Mr. Homer. "To imagine this community
+without Cousin Marcia is to imagine the hive without its queen;
+the--a--flock without its leader; the--a--finny tribe--but this is not a
+metaphor which can be pursued, Mr. Bliss; and, indeed, I see our friends
+even now approaching to join in the ceremony--a--the--I may say
+solemnity, which we have come hither to observe."
+
+The foregoing conversation was held in Mrs. Tree's parlor. I say Mrs.
+Tree's, advisedly, for, though the bright, energetic spirit that had so
+lately held sway there was gone, her presence still remained to fill the
+room. Indeed, this room, with its dim antique richness, its glimmer of
+gold lacquer, its soft duskiness of brocade and damask, its treasures of
+rare and precious woods, and, above all, its fragrance of sandalwood and
+roses, had always seemed the fit and perfect setting for the ancient
+jewel it held. To the poetic imagination of Mr. Homer Hollopeter, Mrs.
+Tree had always seemed out of place elsewhere. He had almost grudged the
+occasions, rare of late years, when she went abroad in her camel's-hair
+shawl and her great velvet bonnet. There seemed no reason why she should
+ever stir from her high-backed chair of carved ebony. He saw her in it
+at this moment, almost as plainly as he had seen her three days ago; the
+tiny satin-clad figure, erect, alert, the little hands resting on the
+ebony crutch-stick, the eyes darting black fire, the lips uttering
+pungent words that bit like cayenne pepper, yet were wholesome in their
+biting,--was it possible that she was no longer there? Mr. Homer had
+feared his cousin Marcia more than any earthly thing, but still he had
+loved her sincerely; and now the tears were in his mild blue eyes as he
+turned from this vision of her to greet the incoming guests. Since the
+death of Doctor Stedman and his dear wife the year before, Mr. Homer was
+Mrs. Tree's only kinsman living in the village, and Doctor Strong, now
+staying at the Blyth house with his wife, had begged him to take up his
+quarters at Mrs. Tree's for the present. He had a special reason for
+asking it, he said. Mr. Homer would find out later what it was. So,
+meekly and sadly, Mr. Homer had brought a limp carpet-bag, and asked
+Direxia Hawkes, the old servant, to put him wherever it would be least
+inconvenient; and the old woman, half-blind with weeping, had fiercely
+made ready the best bedroom, and was trying with bitter energy to feed
+him to death.
+
+Who are these who enter the quiet room, greeting Mr. Homer with a silent
+nod or a low-toned word or two? We know most of them. First come Dr.
+Geoffrey Strong and Vesta, his wife, a noble-looking pair. Geoffrey
+holds his head as high, and his eyes are as bright and keen as ever;
+and, if a silver thread shows here and there in his crisp brown hair,
+Vesta thinks him none the less handsome for that. There is no silver in
+Vesta's own hair; the tawny masses are as beautiful as ever. Her figure
+is a little fuller, as becomes the mother of four. Geoffrey tells the
+children in confidence that their mother is the exact counterpart of the
+Venus of Milo, and says he has no doubt that the latter lady had tawny
+hair. Vesta has put on a simple black dress, but there is no special
+sign of "mourning" about it.
+
+"If anybody puts on crape for me," Mrs. Tree used to say, "I'll get up
+and pull it off 'em. So now they know. Nasty, unhealthy stuff! There's a
+piece to go on the door. Tommy Candy knows where it is; and that's all
+I'll have."
+
+Here is Tommy Candy now, a tall lad of twenty, walking lame and leaning
+on a stick; his hair, which used to stand up in stiff spikes all over
+his head, is brought under some control, but there is no suppressing the
+twinkle in his gray eyes. Even now, when he is in sincere grief for his
+best friend, his eyes will twinkle as he looks out of the window and
+sees the elephantine form of Mrs. Weight lumbering up the garden path.
+And who is this behind her? Talk of crape,--why, here is a figure
+literally swathed in it. The heavy veil is only pushed aside to give
+play to a handkerchief with an inch-deep black border, which is pressed
+to the eyes; a sob shakes the buxom figure. Who is this grief-smitten
+lady? Why, this is Mrs. Maria Darracott Pryor, Mrs. Tree's own and only
+lawful niece, the Next of Kin. She brushes past Vesta and her husband
+with a curt nod, rustles across the room, and lays her head on the arm
+of the ebony chair. At this Homer Hollopeter and Geoffrey Strong both
+start from their seats. Mr. Homer's gentle eyes gleam with unaccustomed
+fire; he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again; for the intruder
+stops--falters--gives a scared look about her, and, tottering back,
+subsides on a sofa at the side of the room. Here she sobs ostentatiously
+behind her handkerchief, and takes eager note of the rest of the
+company.
+
+She was followed by Mrs. Deacon Weight, from across the way, whom
+Direxia admitted "this once!" as she said to herself with silent
+ferocity; William Jaquith and his lovely wife; finally, the lawyer, a
+brisk, dapper little man, who came in quickly, sat down by the
+violet-wood table, and proceeded without delay to open his budget.
+
+"I, Marcia Darracott Tree, being of sound mind, which is more than most
+folks I know are--"
+
+There was a movement, slight but general, among the company. No one
+quite smiled, but the faces of those who had loved Mrs. Tree lightened,
+while those of the others stiffened into a rigidity of disapproval. To
+one and all it seemed as if the ancient woman were speaking to them. The
+little lawyer paused and gave a quick glance around the room.
+
+"It may be well for me to state in the beginning," he said, "that this
+instrument, though beyond question irregular in its form of expression,
+is--equally beyond question--perfectly regular in its substance; an
+entirely valid instrument. To resume: 'of sound mind,'--I need not
+repeat the excursus,--'do hereby dispose of my various belongings, all
+of which are absolutely and without qualification within my own control
+and possession, in the following manner, to wit, namely, and any other
+folderol this man may want to put in.' Ahem! My venerable friend was
+very pleasant with me while I was drawing up this instrument,--very
+pleasant; but she insisted on my writing her exact words.
+
+"'To Vesta Strong I give and bequeath my jewels, with the exceptions
+hereinafter specified; my lace; the velvet and satin dresses in the
+cedar chests; the camel's-hair shawls; the silver, both Darracott and
+Tree; and anything else in the house that she may fancy, with the
+exceptions hereinafter mentioned. She'd better not clutter up her house
+with too many things; it is full enough already, with Blyth and Meredith
+truck.
+
+"'To Geoffrey Strong I give any of my books that he likes, except the
+blue Keats; the engraved sapphire ring, and fifty thousand dollars.
+
+"'Homer Hollopeter is to have the blue morocco Keats, presented by the
+author to my father, because he has always wanted it and never expected
+to get it.'"
+
+The tears brimmed over in Mr. Homer's eyes. "I certainly never did
+expect this," he said, with emotion. "I have held the precious volume in
+my hands reverently--a--humbly--a--with abasement of spirit, but I never
+thought to possess it. I am indeed overcome. Pardon the interruption,
+sir, I beg of you."
+
+The lawyer gave Mr. Homer a look, half-quizzical, half-compassionate.
+"Your name occurs again in this instrument, Homer," he said; "I will not
+say more at present. To resume:
+
+"'To Direxia Hawkes I give five thousand dollars and a home in this
+house as long as she lives, on condition that she never cleans more than
+one room in it at a time, and that she makes the orange cordial every
+year according to my rule, without making any fool changes.'"
+
+Direxia Hawkes, a tiny withered brownie, had been standing by the door
+since she admitted the last comer. She now threw her apron over her head
+and began to sob. "Did you ever?" she cried. "Tell me that woman is
+dead! She's more alive than the hull bilin' of this village, I tell you.
+Sixty years I've been trying to get a mite of ginger into that cordial,
+and now I never shall. There! I don't want to no more, now she ain't
+here to tell me I sha'n't. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
+
+Vesta Strong went to the old woman's side and comforted her tenderly.
+The sobs died away into sniffs, and the lawyer continued:
+
+"'To William Jaquith I leave twenty thousand dollars and the house he
+now occupies; also all the property, real and personal, of my grandson,
+Arthur Blyth, deceased.
+
+"'To my niece, Maria Darracott Pryor,'"--the little lawyer paused and
+glanced over his spectacles. With each of the bequests enumerated, Mrs.
+Pryor had become more and more rigid. The black-edged handkerchief was
+forgotten, and she sat with her chin raised and her prominent
+short-sighted eyes glancing from one to another of the fortunate
+legatees with an expression which, to say the least, was not
+affectionate. "From envy, hatred, and malice," Geoffrey had whispered a
+moment before.
+
+"Hush, Geoffrey," said Vesta.
+
+But at the mention of her own name, Mrs. Pryor's expression changed; the
+rigor yielded to a drooping softness; she heaved a deep sigh and raised
+the handkerchief to her eyes again.
+
+"Dearest Cousin Marcia!" she murmured; "she remembered even in her
+closing moments that I was her next of kin; so touching. The Darracott
+blood--"
+
+"'To my niece, Maria Darracott Pryor, I give and bequeath--the sum
+of--three dollars and sixty-seven cents, being the price of a ticket
+back where she came from. If she tries to stay in my house, tell her to
+remember the _last time_.'
+
+"I greatly regret these discourteous observations," said the little
+lawyer, deprecatingly, "but my venerable friend was--a--positively
+determined on inserting them, and I had no alternative, I assure you."
+
+He looked with some alarm at Mrs. Pryor as he spoke, and, indeed, that
+lady's countenance was dreadful to look upon. Every part of her seemed
+to clink and crackle as she rose to her feet, her eyes snapping, her
+teeth fairly chattering with rage.
+
+"You call this a will, do you?" she cried. "You call this law, do you?
+We'll see about that. We'll see if the next of kin is to be insulted and
+trodden upon by a low attorney and a set of beggars on horseback. We'll
+see--"
+
+But the little lawyer, who came from the neighboring town, had gone to
+the Academy with Maria Darracott, and, though a man of punctilious
+courtesy, had no idea of being called a low attorney by any such person.
+He therefore interrupted her with scant ceremony.
+
+"We must, I fear, postpone discussion," he said, "until the instrument
+has been heard in its entirety by all present. To resume."
+
+Mrs. Pryor glanced about her with challenging eyes and heaving breast,
+but, seeing that no one paid much heed to her, all looks being bent on
+the reader, she subsided once more into her seat, a statue of vindictive
+protest.
+
+"'To Thomas Candy I give five thousand dollars, and another five
+thousand dollars on his attaining the age of twenty-five if he shall
+have been able by that time to carry out the plan and maintain the
+condition now to be specified.'"
+
+The little lawyer paused again and glanced round the expectant circle.
+His shrewd brown face was immovable, but his black eyes twinkled in
+spite of himself.
+
+"I have already observed," he said, "that this instrument is an
+unusual, I may say, a singular one. My venerable friend was most
+emphatic in her enunciation of the following--a--condition, which--which
+I forbear to characterize." He glanced at the empty chair. One would
+have thought that for him it was not empty. Then he went on:
+
+"'The condition now to be specified.
+
+"'To Homer Hollopeter and Thomas Candy I give and bequeath this house
+and garden, the furniture, etc. (after Vesta Strong has taken what she
+wants), the collections of foreign woods, uncut gems, butterflies,
+carved ivories, natural curiosities, shells, coins, etc., etc., etc., to
+be held by them in trust, and arranged by them as a museum for the
+perpetual benefit of this village; and I give them over and above the
+before mentioned legacies two thousand dollars yearly for the
+maintenance of this museum and for additions thereto: all this on
+condition that this village shall resume and maintain its original and
+true name of Quahaug, which it would never have lost if Captain Tree and
+I had not been in the South Seas while that old noddy, Melancthon Swain,
+was minister here.
+
+"'All the rest and residue of my estate I give and bequeath to the
+aforesaid Homer Hollopeter, and I appoint him my residuary legatee, and
+I hope there's fuss enough about it.'"
+
+The little lawyer stopped reading and pushed back his chair. In doing
+so, he may have inadvertently touched the empty chair, for at that
+instant an ebony crutch-stick, which had been leaning against it, fell
+forward on the floor with a loud rattle. Mrs. Pryor shrieked and fell
+into real and violent hysterics. She was supported out of the room by
+Doctor Strong and his wife. Mrs. Weight rolled out after them, snorting
+indignant sympathy, and the assembly broke up in confusion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+WHAT THE MEN SAID
+
+
+I have elsewhere described the village post-office, both as it appeared
+at the time of Mr. Homer Hollopeter's election as postmaster and as
+later adorned and beautified by him.[1] It had been a labor of love with
+Mr. Homer, not only to make the office itself pleasant, to transform it,
+as he said, "into a fitting shrine for the genius of epistolary
+intercourse," but to make the outside of the building pleasant to the
+eye. Clematis and woodbine were trained up the walls and round the
+windows, and the once forlorn-looking veranda was a veritable bower of
+morning-glory and climbing roses.
+
+[Footnote 1: "Mrs. Tree."]
+
+On this veranda, the day after the reading of Mrs. Tree's will, the
+village elders were gathered, as was their custom, awaiting the arrival
+of the afternoon mail. They sat in a row, their chairs tilted back
+against the wall, their faces set seaward. The faces were all grave, and
+a certain solemnity seemed to brood over the little assembly. From time
+to time one or another would take his pipe from his mouth, and the
+others would look at him doubtfully, as if half-expecting a remark, but
+the pipe would be replaced in silence. At length Salem Rock, a massive
+gray-haired man of dignified and sober aspect, spoke.
+
+"Well, boys," he said, "somebody's got to say something, and, as nobody
+else seems inclined, I s'pose it's up to me as the oldest here. Not but
+what I feel like a child to-day,--a little mite of a child. Boys, this
+village has met with a great loss."
+
+There was a general murmur of "That's so!" "It has." "That's what it's
+met with!"
+
+"I can't seem to sense it!" Salem Rock continued. "I can't seem to make
+it anyways real, that Mis' Tree is gone. I can't help but think that if
+I went there to that house to-day, as I was free to go any time I wanted
+anything as good advice could give--or help either--or anybody else in
+this village as ever needed anything--I can't help but think that if I
+went there to that house to-day I should find Mis' Tree sittin' in her
+chair, chirk as a chipmunk, and hear her say, 'Now, Salem Rock, what
+mischief have you been up to?' I was allus a boy to her--we was all
+boys."
+
+"That's so!" the chorus murmured again. "That was what we was; boys!"
+
+"And when I think," Salem Rock went on, "that I shall never more so go
+and so find her again--sittin' in that chair--nor hear her so speak--I
+tell you, boys, it breaks me all up; it doos so."
+
+Again there was a sympathetic murmur; heads were shaken, and feet
+shuffled uneasily. The men were all glad to have a voice for their
+grief, but all had not the gift of speech.
+
+"I remember"--Salem Rock was still the speaker; he was a slow,
+thoughtful man, and gathered momentum as he went on--"the first time
+ever I saw Mis' Tree, to remember it. I couldn't ha' been more than six
+years old, and I was sittin' in the front dooryard makin' mud pies, and
+she came in on some errand to mother. Mother used to spin yarn for her,
+same as my woman does now--did, I'm obleeged to say. Wal, she had on her
+grand bunnit and shawl, and I had never seen nothin' like her before.
+Ma'rm never took me to meetin' till I was seven, and she showed
+judgment. Wal, sirs, that ancient woman--she wasn't ancient then, of
+course, but yet she wasn't young, and she appeared ancient to me--looked
+me over, and spoke up sharp and crisp. 'Stand up, boy,' she says, 'and
+take your hat off; quick!'
+
+"I tell ye, there didn't no grass grow under me! I was up fast as my
+legs could scramble.
+
+"'That's right!' she says; 'always stand up and take off your hat when a
+lady comes into the yard.'
+
+"'Be you a lady?' says I. Lord knows what kind of notion I had; children
+don't always know what they are saying.
+
+"'I am the Queen of the Cannibal Islands!' says she.
+
+"I never misdoubted but what she was, and I didn't know what Cannibal
+Islands meant.
+
+"'What's your name?' says I.
+
+"'I'll tell you what my husband's name is,' says she. 'His name is
+
+    "'Chingy Fungy Wong,
+    Putta-potee da Kubbala Kong,
+    Flipperty Flapperty Busky Bong,
+    The King of the Cannibal Islands.'
+
+"Then she went into the house, and I stood starin' after her with my
+mouth gappin' open. She didn't stay long, and, when she came out again,
+up I jumps without waitin' to be told. She looks at me ag'in, that quick
+way she had, like a bird. 'Finished your pie?' says she.
+
+"'Yes'm,' says I.
+
+"'Is it a good pie?' says she.
+
+"'I guess so!' says I.
+
+"'I'll buy it,' says she. 'Here's the money!' and she gives me a bright
+new ten-cent piece,--it was the first ever I had in my life,--and walked
+off quick and light before ever I could say a word. Well, now, sirs, if
+children ain't cur'us things! I was a slow child most ways,--ben slow
+all my life long, but it come over me then quick as winkin', she had
+paid for that pie, and it was hers, and she'd got to have it. I never
+said a word, but just toddled after down street, holdin' that mud pie as
+if it was Thanksgivin' mince. I couldn't catch up with her; she walked
+almighty fast them days, and my legs were short, but I kep' her red
+shawl in sight, and I see where she went in. Time I got up to the door
+it was shut, but I banged on it in good shape, and D'reckshy Hawkes come
+and opened it. She was allus sharp, D'reckshy was, and she couldn't
+abide no boys but her two, as she called 'em, Arthur and Willy, and they
+weren't neither one of 'em born then.
+
+"'What do you want, boy?' she says, sharp enough.
+
+"'I don't want nothin'!' says I. 'I brung the pie.'
+
+"'What pie?' says she.
+
+"'Her'n,' says I. 'She bought it off'n me; her that went in just now,
+with the red shawl.'
+
+"D'reckshy looked me over, and looked at the pie. I make no doubt but
+she was just goin' to send me about my business, but before she could
+speak I heard Mis' Tree's voice. She had seen me from the window, I
+expect.
+
+"'D'reckshy Hawkes,' she says, 'take that pie into the pantry and send
+the child to me.'
+
+"'My sakes, Mis' Tree!' said D'reckshy, 'it ain't a pie; it's a _mud_
+pie!'
+
+"'Do as I tell you!' says Mis' Tree, and D'reckshy went; but she give me
+a shove toward the parlor door, and there I see Mis' Tree sittin' in her
+chair. That was the first time. Well, sirs, we are all perishable
+clay."
+
+Another silence fell; the pensive pipes puffed; the keen eyes scanned
+the prospect.
+
+"Looks as if 'twas tryin' to git up some kind o' weather out there!"
+said Seth Weaver.
+
+"Doos so!" responded Ebenezer Hoppin. "It's ben tryin' two-three days,
+but it don't seem to have no pertickler _suc_cess."
+
+"Old Mis' Tree hadn't no use for weather," said Jordan Tooke. "Some
+women-folks are scairt to death of a rainstorm; you'd think they were
+afraid of washin' out themselves, same as they be about their clo'es;
+but she wa'n't that kind; rain or snow, shine or shower, she did what
+she had a mind to.
+
+"'Weather never took no heed of me,' she used to say, 'and I ain't goin'
+to take no heed of it.' No more she did!"
+
+Seth Weaver shook his head, with a reminiscent chuckle. "Ever hear what
+she said to that feller that come here one time from Salt Marsh and druv
+the ten-cent team a spell?"
+
+The others shook their heads and turned toward him with an air of
+relief. Collective sorrow is embarrassing to men.
+
+"There wa'n't much to him," said Seth, "and what there was was full half
+the time. He didn't stay here long. This village didn't appreciate him
+the way he liked to be appreciated. Wal, it was snowin' one day, quite a
+storm it was, and Mis' Tree had sent for him,--Anthony bein' laid up or
+somethin'. Ezra Doolittle--that was his name, and it suited him--had bit
+off more jobs than he could swaller, and when he got round to Mis'
+Tree's he was half an hour late, and she told him so pretty plain. He
+had just enough liquor aboard to make him saucy. 'Wal,' he says,
+'you're lucky to git me at all. I've druv from Hell to Jerusalem to git
+here now.'
+
+"Mis' Tree was all ready for him; she spoke up quick as kindlin':
+'You'll git back quicker,' she says, ''cause you know the way.'
+
+"I was just drivin' by on my milk route, and she caught sight of me.
+
+"'Seth,' she says, 'I want to go to Mis' Jaquith's. Can you take me?'
+
+"'I'd be pleased to,' says I, 'if you don't mind the pung, Mis' Tree.'
+
+"She was into that pung before you could say 'sausage!'
+
+"'Whip up!' she says; 'get ahead of that feller!' and I laid into my old
+mare, and off we went kingdom-comin' down the ro'd, me in my old red
+pung and my buffalo coat, and Mis' Tree in her velvet bunnit and fur
+cloak, and that feller standin' in the ro'd with his mouth open, same
+as you were, Salem, with your mud pie. Well, sir, that was a meal o'
+victuals for me. I sent the old mare along for all she was wuth, and we
+got down to Jaquiths' inside of ten minutes. Pretty good time,
+considerin' what the ro'd was. Got there, and out that old lady hops
+like a girl.
+
+"'Good boy, Seth!' she says.
+
+"She wanted to give me a dollar, 'cause she had taken me off my route,
+but I says, 'I guess not, Mis' Tree!' I says. 'I've ben layin' for you
+ever since you helped mother when she had the fever, and now I've got my
+chance!' So she laughs and says, call for her on my way back, and I did;
+but when I found a fourteen-pound turkey sittin' up against my door
+Christmas mornin',--I wasn't buyin' turkeys that year myself,--I knowed
+where it come from, and no words said. But what took me was the way she
+spoke up to that feller. Now some women would have complained, and some
+would have scol't, and they'd all have gone with the feller 'cause he
+had a covered team,--but not she! 'You'll get back quicker,' she says,
+'from knowin' the way!' and into my team like a flash. Gorry! that's the
+kind of woman I like to see."
+
+"You'll never see another like her!" said Salem Rock. "The likes of Mis'
+Tree never has ben seen and never will be seen, not in this deestrick.
+Her tongue was as quick as her heart was kind, and when you say that
+you've said all there is to say. I s'pose there ain't one of us but
+could tell a dozen stories like yours, Seth. I dunno as it's proper to
+tell 'em just now," he paused; "and yet," he continued, "I dunno _but_
+it is. She was--so to say--she was all of a piece. You can't think of
+her without the sharp way she had."
+
+"That's so," Seth assented; "that's so every time. There wa'n't nobody
+thought more of Mis' Tree than what I did, but yet what keeps comin' up
+to me ever since she was laid away is them quick, sharp kind o' things
+she'd say. Now take what she said to Mis' Nudd, Isril Nudd's widder. You
+all know what Isril was; he was mean as dirt and sour as pickles. He'd
+scrimped his wife, and he'd half-starved her, and some said he'd beat
+her, but I never knew how that was. Anyway, Marthy Nudd had as poor a
+time of it as any woman in this village, and everybody knew it. And yet,
+when he died she mourned for him as if he was Moses and Simeon and the
+Angel Gabriel all in one. Well, she come to Mis' Tree beggin' for the
+loan of some shawl or bunnit or toggery to wear, I dunno what; and she
+was goin' on about her poor husband, and how she had tried to do her
+duty by him, and hoped he knew it now he was in heaven, and all that
+kind of talk. Old Mis' Tree let her say about so much and then she
+stopped her. You know the way she'd hit the floor with her stick. Rap!
+that stick would go, and any one's heart would sit right up in their
+boosum.
+
+"'That'll do, Marthy!' she says. 'Now listen to me. You say Isril is in
+heaven?'
+
+"'Oh, yes'm, yes, Mis' Tree,' says Marthy. 'He's numbered with the
+blest, I don't make no doubt on it.'
+
+"'And you've got the four hundred dollars life insurance that you told
+me was due?'
+
+"'Yes'm, that's all safe; my brother's put it in the bank for me.'
+
+"'Very well, Marthy Nudd; if you've got Isril into heaven and got four
+hundred dollars life insurance on him, that's the best piece of work
+ever you done in your life, or ever will do. Cat's foot!' she says;
+'folderol!' she says, 'don't talk to me!' and she shoved her out with
+her stick and wouldn't hear another word. Gorry! I wouldn't ben Marthy
+Nudd--"
+
+"Didn't hurt Marthy none, I expect," said Ebenezer Hoppin. "She's one of
+them kind, sorter betwixt putty and Injia rubber; you can double her up
+easy, but first thing you know she's out smooth again. Some say she's
+liable to marry Elihu Wick, over to the Corner. She'd find him some
+different from Isril."
+
+"What kind of feller is he?" asked Jordan Tooke.
+
+"Oh, a string and shingle man. Give him pork and give him sunset, and he
+won't ask nothin' more. Marthy won't get no four hundred dollars
+insurance on him, but he'll go to heaven all right. There isn't a mite
+o' harm in 'Lihu, and Marthy has earned her rest, I will say."
+
+"Speakin' of insurance," said Salem, slowly, "reminds me we ain't said
+anything about Mis' Tree's will. It is a sing'lar will, boys."
+
+There was a moment's pause. Heads were shaken and feet were shuffled
+uneasily.
+
+"Mighty sing'lar," said Hiram Gray.
+
+"Beats all I ever heard of," said Jordan Tooke.
+
+Seth Weaver kept a loyal silence. Salem gave him a look, and, receiving
+a nod in reply, went on:
+
+"Seth and myself was talkin' it over as we came along, kinder takin' our
+bearin's, and this is the way it looks to us. Mis' Tree was born in this
+village, and lived in it a hundred and two years, and died in it; and
+her folks, the Trees and the Darracotts, have lived and died here since
+there was a village to die in. Not one of them hundred 'n' two
+years--since she was of knowledgeable age,--but she was doin' good--in
+her own way--from the first day of January to the last day of December.
+Not one of us sittin' here on this piazzy but she's done good _to_, one
+way or another. Therefore and thereon-account of--" Salem was obviously
+and justifiably proud of this phrase, and repeated it with evident
+enjoyment; "therefore and thereon-account of, I say, and Seth says with
+me, that if Mis' Tree wanted this village should be called Cat's-foot,
+or Fiddlesticks, or Folderol, or Fudge, I for one and he for another
+would give our votes to have it so called."
+
+A confusion of tongues ensued, some agreeing, some protesting, but,
+while the discussion was at its height, the stage drove up and the day's
+session was over.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+WHAT THE WOMEN SAID
+
+
+A few days after this, the Ladies' Society met at the house of Miss
+Bethia Wax. There had been much discussion among the members of the
+Society as to whether it were fitting to hold a meeting so soon after
+the death of the foremost woman of the parish. Mrs. Worritt said she for
+one would be loth to be found wanting in respect for one who had been,
+as it were, a mile-stone and a beacon-light in that village. Mrs.
+Weight, on the other hand, maintained that business was business, and
+that the heathen in their blindness needed flannel petticoats just as
+much as they did last week. Miss Wax herself, a lady with a strong
+sense of the proprieties, was in doubt as to which course would preserve
+them most strictly. Finally the matter was submitted to Mrs. Geoffrey
+Strong for decision.
+
+"There is only one wish in my mind, Vesta," said Miss Wax, "and that is
+to show the highest respect for our venerable friend, and I speak, I am
+sure, for the whole Society. The question is, how best _to_ show it."
+
+Vesta Strong reflected a moment. "I think, Miss Wax," she said, "it will
+be wisest to hold the meeting. I am quite sure Aunt Marcia would have
+wished it. But you might, perhaps, give it a rather special character;
+make it something of a memorial meeting. What do you think of that?"
+
+Miss Wax's face brightened.
+
+"Excellent," she said. "Vesta, I do think that would be excellent. I am
+real glad I came to you. I will have the room draped in mourning. Tapes
+has some nice black bombazine, a little injured by water, but--"
+
+Vesta suppressed a shudder. "Oh, no, Miss Wax!" she said. "I wouldn't do
+that. Aunt Marcia did not like display of any kind, you know. Your
+pleasant parlors just as they are will be much better, I am sure."
+
+"I do aim at showing my respect!" pleaded Miss Wax. "Perhaps we might
+all wear a crape rosette, or streamer. What do you think of that?"
+
+But Vesta did not think well even of this, and Miss Wax reluctantly
+abandoned the plan of official mourning, though determined to show her
+respect in her own way as regarded her own person. She was a very tall
+woman, with a figure which, in youth, had been called willowy, and was
+now unkindly termed scraggy. She had been something of a beauty, and
+there was a note of the pathetic in her ringlets and the few girlish
+trinkets she habitually wore,--a coral necklace, which at sixteen had
+set off admirably the whiteness of her neck, but which at fifty did not
+harmonize so well with the prevailing sallow tint; a blue enamel locket
+on a slender gold chain, etc. She was very fond of pink, and could never
+forget, poor lady, that Pindar Hollopeter had once called her a lily
+dressed in rose-leaves. But, though a trifle fantastic, Miss Bethia was
+as good a soul as ever wore prunella shoes, and her desire to do honor
+to Mrs. Tree's memory was genuine and earnest. Her soul yearned for the
+black bombazine hangings, but she was loyal to Vesta's expressed wish,
+and contented herself with removing certain rose-colored scarfs and
+sofa-pillows, which on ordinary occasions of entertainment were the
+delight of her eyes. She had gathered all the white flowers she could
+find, and had arranged a kind of trophy of silver coffee-spoons on the
+mantelpiece, surrounding a black velvet band, on which was worked in
+silver tinsel the inscription:
+
+     "HER WE HONOR."
+
+Miss Bethia had meant to have a photograph of Mrs. Tree in the centre of
+this sombre glory, but no photograph was to be had. Mrs. Tree had
+stoutly refused to be photographed, or to have her portrait painted in
+her later years.
+
+"Folderol!" she used to say, when urged by loving friends or relatives.
+"When I go, I'm going, all there is of me. I shall leave my gowns,
+because they are good satin, but I'm not going to leave my old rags, nor
+the likeness of old rags. Cat's foot! don't talk to me!"
+
+So, except the miniature which was Vesta Strong's choicest treasure,
+the portrait of the brilliant, flashing little beauty whom Ethan Tree
+named the Pocket Venus when first he saw her, and whom he vowed then and
+there to woo and win, there was no portrait of Mrs. Tree; but Miss Wax
+put a cluster of immortelles above the inscription, and hoped it would
+"convey the idea."
+
+In her own person, as has already been said, Miss Bethia felt that she
+could brook no dictation, even from Vesta. Accordingly, as the hour of
+the meeting approached, she arrayed herself in a trailing robe of black
+cashmere, with long bands of crape hanging from the shoulders. Examining
+with anxious care her slender stock of trinkets, she selected a mourning
+brooch of the size of a small saucer, which displayed under glass an urn
+and weeping willow in the choicest style of hair jewelry, and two hair
+bracelets, one a broad, massive band clasped with a miniature, the
+other a chain of globules not unlike the rockweed bladders that children
+love to dry and "pop" between their fingers. Hair jewelry survived in
+Elmerton long after it was forgotten in other places. Miss Wax herself
+was a skilful worker in it, and might often be seen bending over the
+curious little round table, from the centre of which radiated numerous
+fine strands of hair, black, brown, or golden, hanging over the edge and
+weighted with leaden pellets. To see Miss Bethia's long fingers weaving
+the strands into braids or chains was a quaint and pleasant sight.
+
+Her toilet completed, the good lady surveyed herself earnestly in the
+oval mirror, gave a gentle sigh, half approval, half regretful
+reminiscence, and went down to the parlor. Here she seated herself in
+her favorite chair and her favorite attitude. The chair was an ancient
+one, of slender and graceful shape; and the attitude--somehow--was a
+good deal like the chair. Both were as accurate reproductions as might
+be of a picture that hung over Miss Bethia's head as she sat, the
+portrait of a handsome young woman with long, black ringlets, arched
+eyebrows, and dark, expressive eyes. Miss Bethia had been said to
+resemble this portrait of her great-great-aunt, and the resemblance was
+one which she was loth to relinquish. Accordingly, she loved to sit
+under it, in the same chair that the picture showed, leaning one elbow
+on the same little table, her cheek resting on the same fingers of the
+same hand,--the index and middle fingers,--while the others curved
+outward at a graceful angle. When seated thus, somebody was pretty sure
+to call attention to the resemblance, and not the most ill-natured
+gossip could grudge Miss Bethia the mild pleasure that beamed in her
+eyes whenever it was noted.
+
+There might be a slight resemblance, she would say modestly. It had been
+remarked upon, she might say, more than once. The lady was her relative,
+and likenesses ran strong in her family.
+
+Tommy Candy had once irreverently named Miss Wax's parlor "the Wax
+Works," and the name had stuck, as naughty nicknames are apt to do. It
+was indeed quite a little museum in itself of the fruit of bygone
+accomplishments. Wax fruit, wax flowers--chiefly roses--in profusion,
+all carefully guarded by glass; pictures in worsted work, pictures in
+hair work, all in home-made frames of pinked leather, of varnished
+acorns, of painted velvet; vases and jars decorated with potichomanie,
+with decalcomanie, with spatter-work. One would think that not one, but
+seven, Misses Wax had spent their entire lives in adorning this one
+room.
+
+But the first guests to arrive on this occasion gave little heed either
+to the room or to the attitude of their hostess, even though, as usual,
+Miss Wax sat still for a moment, with an air of gentle appeal, before
+rising to receive them. Mrs. Deacon Weight is older than when we last
+met her, and her surname is even more appropriate than it was then;
+three hundred pounds of too, too solid flesh are encased in that brown
+alpaca dress, and her inspiration in trimming it with transverse bands
+of black velvet was not a happy one. Mrs. Weight was accompanied by Miss
+Eliza Goby, a lady whose high complexion and protruding eyes made her
+look rather more like a boiled lobster than anything else.
+
+These two ladies, having obeyed the injunction of Miss Wax's handmaid to
+"lay off their things" in the best bedroom, entered the parlor with an
+eager air.
+
+Miss Wax, after her little pause, came forward to meet them.
+
+"Good afternoon, Malvina," she said; "Eliza, I am pleased to see you, I
+am sure. Be seated, ladies, please." She waved her hand gracefully
+toward a couple of chairs, and resumed her attitude, though more from
+force of habit and a consciousness that others more appreciative were
+coming than from any sense of impressing these first comers.
+
+Mrs. Weight seated herself with emphasis, and drew her chair near to
+that of her hostess, motioning her companion to do likewise.
+
+"Bethia," she said, "we came early o' purpose, because we were wishful
+to see you alone for a minute before folks came. We want to know what
+stand you are prepared to take."
+
+"That's it!" said Miss Goby, who had a short, snapping utterance, such
+as a lobster might have if it were endowed with powers of speech. "What
+stand you are prepared to take!"
+
+"Stand?" repeated Miss Wax. "I do not quite comprehend you, ladies. I
+usually rise to receive each guest, and then resume my seat; it seems
+less formal and more friendly; and it fatigues me very much to stand
+long," added the poor lady, with a glance at the portrait.
+
+"Land!" said Mrs. Weight. "That isn't what we mean, Bethia. We mean
+about this will of Mis' Tree's."
+
+"Oh!" said Miss Wax. As she spoke, she sat upright, and the attitude was
+forgotten.
+
+"We are wishful to know," said Mrs. Weight, "whether you think that the
+name of a place is to be changed back and forth to suit the fancy of
+folks as weren't in their right minds, and are dead and buried besides.
+What I say is for this room only, ladies. I am not one to spread abroad,
+and I should be lawth indeed to speak ill of the dead, and them I've
+lived opposite neighbors to for thirty years,--whether neighborly in
+their actions or not, I will not say. But what I do say is, there's them
+in this village as has been browbeat and gormineered over for the hull
+of their earthly sojourn, and _they_ don't propose to be browbeat and
+gormineered over from beyond the grave, in which direction forbid it as
+a Christian and the widder of a sainted man that I should say."
+
+Before Miss Wax could reply, a murmur of voices was heard in the hall,
+and the next moment the Society entered in a body. There were women of
+all ages, from old Mrs. Snow, who now stood in the proud position of
+oldest inhabitant, down to Annie Lizzie Weight, who was only seventeen.
+Miss Penny Pardon was there; Mrs. Pottle, the doctor's wife; and little
+Mrs. Bliss from the parsonage. There were perhaps thirty women in all,
+representing the best society of Elmerton.
+
+Miss Wax received them with a troubled air, very different from her
+usual pensive calm. A red spot burned in the centre of each cheek, and
+her eyes were bright with suppressed excitement. Mrs. Pottle, observing
+her, decided that she was in for a fever, and cast her mind's eye over
+the doctor's engagements for the next few weeks. "She's liable to have a
+long run of it!" said Mrs. Pottle to herself. "I'm thankful that Doctor
+Strong went back yesterday, so the poor soul will have proper
+treatment."
+
+This was not a social, but a working, meeting. Every woman came armed
+with thimble and work-bag, and a large basket being produced, flannel
+and calico were dealt out by Miss Wax, and all set busily to work. But
+Miss Wax, instead of taking up her own needle, exchanged a few words
+with Mrs. Bliss. Mrs. Ware, a sweet-faced woman of fifty, invited by a
+look, joined them, and there was a low-voiced consultation; then Miss
+Wax rose and stood under the portrait and beside the mantelpiece with
+its trophy of black and silver.
+
+"Ladies of the Society," she said; her thin treble voice trembled at
+first, and she fingered her bead reticule nervously, but she gathered
+strength as she went on. "Ladies of the Society, I asked our pastor's
+wife to address you, but Mrs. Bliss has a cold and feels unable so to
+do. I will therefore say a few words, though well aware how unfitted I
+am for such a task." She paused, and touched her lips delicately with a
+black-bordered handkerchief.
+
+"This occasion, ladies, is a mournful one to most--I trust I may say to
+all--in this village. It is some years since--owing to advancing
+years--we have seen Her we honor at the meetings of this Society; but
+she was in former years a prop and a pillar of this Society, as she was
+of this village; and it is the desire of many, as expressed to me, that
+this meeting should be a memorial in honor of--of Her we honor,--Mrs.
+Ethan Tree."
+
+She waved her hand toward the trophy with an air of introducing the
+ladies to it. For the life of her, little Mrs. Bliss could not help
+thinking of the Red Queen's introduction: "Pudding--Alice;
+Alice--Pudding!" Most of the ladies had a confused feeling that they
+ought to rise, and glanced at each other, half getting their work
+together, but Mrs. Bliss remained seated, and they followed her example.
+The little minister's wife had loved Mrs. Tree devotedly, but she had a
+keen sense of the ludicrous; and, after the unseemly recollections
+referred to, she could not help recalling certain words spoken to her in
+a clear, incisive voice not so many weeks ago: "Ladies' Society, child?
+Bah! Parcel of fools! I get all of their society I want, sitting here in
+this chair."
+
+"It would have been my wish," Miss Wax continued, "that the Society
+should have testified _as_ a Society to the fact that this was a
+memorial meeting; it would have been my wish that each lady should wear
+a crape rosette, or the like of that, in token of mourning; but it was
+not agreeable to the family, and, if we wear them in our own hearts,
+ladies, it may do equally as well, if worn sincerely, which I am sure
+most, if not all, do."
+
+She paused again to sigh and lift the handkerchief, with her favorite
+delicate action of the third and fourth fingers.
+
+"This small token," she continued, introducing the trophy anew, "is
+_but_ a small one, and I could wish that gold instead of silver were
+procurable, for gold was the heart of Her we honor, and, though velvet
+does not precisely describe her manner, ladies, still well we know that
+out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh, and the heart being
+golden, the velvet is--a--I am sure--that is to say, velvet and gold are
+often associated as tokens of richness, and--and the nature of Her we
+honor was rich in goodness, and--"
+
+Here poor Miss Wax became hopelessly involved, and taking refuge in a
+fit of coughing, looked imploringly at Mrs. Bliss. Thus silently
+adjured, the little lady rose, and in a few quiet words expressed the
+hearty sympathy of all present in Miss Wax's feeling, and their
+gratitude to her for the graceful tribute she had preferred. A rising
+vote of thanks was then passed, and the Society settled to their labors.
+
+For some time nothing was heard but requests for the shears and
+wonderings, who cut this gore? and the like; but the same thought was in
+all the ladies' minds, and as soon as was practicable the talk began
+again. Miss Eliza Goby nudged Miss Luella Slocum, a sharp-nosed lady
+with one eye that rolled like a marble and another that bored like a
+gimlet.
+
+"You speak, Luella!" she said in a half-whisper. "Speak up and say what
+you said to me and Mrs. Weight this morning."
+
+"I think Mrs. Weight ought to speak up herself," replied Miss Slocum, in
+the same tone. "She's older than me; it behooves her, a deacon's widow
+and all. I don't feel any call to begin, Eliza; though I am ready to
+testify when it comes my turn."
+
+Apparently Mrs. Weight was of the same opinion, for she now began the
+attack cautiously.
+
+"The Society having expressed its views on this subject, Miss Wax and
+ladies, there is another on which I feel we have a call to speak
+together. As one of the oldest present, and the widder of a sainted man,
+I may have my own opinions, and they may be of consequence, or they may
+not; but howbeit, there is them present as has sojourned longer than me
+in this earthly pilgrimage, and I should wish to hear from Mrs. Philena
+Snow as to what are her sentiments in regards to changing the name of
+this village."
+
+Mrs. Snow, an old lady of somewhat bewildered aspect, had learned in the
+course of eighty-odd years that a decided opinion was sometimes a
+dangerous thing. Replying to Mrs. Weight's request, she said that she
+didn't know as it made any perticklar difference to her what the village
+was called; she hadn't very much longer to stay in it, she presumed
+likely. It used to be Quahaug, but some thought that wasn't a pretty
+sounding name, and she didn't know but Elmerton was prettier; and yet
+there was others thought--and so the old lady murmured herself away into
+silence. A confused hubbub of voices arose, but little Mrs. Bliss,
+saying to herself, "Oh, for one hour of Dundee,--one minute of Mrs.
+Tree!" rose to the occasion.
+
+"Ladies," she said, "though this village, Elmerton or Quahaug, whichever
+it is, has grown to seem like home, and a very dear home, to me, I still
+am comparatively speaking a newcomer. I should be very glad if some one
+lady would tell me in a few words how and why the change was originally
+made. Mrs. Ware, perhaps you will be so good!"
+
+Mrs. Ware's gentle face wore a disturbed look, but she responded
+promptly.
+
+"The change was made many years ago, but I remember it distinctly. The
+old Indian name was Quahaug, and no one ever thought of any other name
+till Mr. Swain came to be pastor here. Mrs. Swain had a poetic turn, and
+she thought Quahaug an awkward-sounding name, and made considerable talk
+to that effect round the village. A petition to the Legislature was
+circulated, and many people signed it, and so the name was changed to
+Elmerton. Mrs. Tree was away at the time, on a voyage around the world,
+and when she came back she was much incensed, I remember, and expressed
+herself strongly. I always thought it a pity myself to change the old
+name."
+
+"Phoebe Blyth was for the change," said Miss Eliza Goby. "Phoebe
+and I were of one mind on the subject."
+
+"It's the only time you ever were!" thought Miss Wax, but she did not
+speak the thought.
+
+"Phoebe Blyth had some peculiar ideas," said Mrs. Weight, "but she
+showed her sense that time. Mis' Swain was a beautiful woman, and her
+ideas was beautiful simularly. Why, she wrote an elegant poem about it:
+
+    "'Sure ne'er a village 'neath the sun
+    More lovely is than Elmerton.'
+
+Those were the first lines. I've got it copied out at home. I never
+thought Homer Hollopeter's poetry was a patch on Mis' Swain's."
+
+"Homer was strong against the change," said Miss Wax. "Both Homer and
+Pindar, and two more intellectual men this village has never seen. I
+don't wish to say anything against Mrs. Swain, but I for one never
+thought she had anything like Homer's gift. He was asked to write a poem
+on the subject, but he said his Muse scorned such a name as Elmerton."
+
+"It's the first thing ever his Muse did scorn, I guess," retorted Miss
+Luella Slocum. "It's my belief Homer would write verses to a scarecrow
+if he had nothing else to write about."
+
+"I didn't know he ever wrote any to you, Luella," said Miss Penny
+Pardon, her usually gentle spirit roused to anger by this attack on one
+whom she considered a great though unappreciated poet.
+
+"Ladies! ladies!" said little Mrs. Bliss, "pray let us keep to the
+point. We are not here to discuss Mr. Hollopeter's poetry. Perhaps we
+would better change the subject altogether, and confine our conversation
+to subjects connected with our work."
+
+"Excuse _me_, Mrs. Bliss!" said Mrs. Weight. "Though well aware that
+since the death of the sainted man whose name I bear, I am of no account
+in this village, still I _have_ my feelings and I _am_ a human
+being,--deny it who can,--and, while I have breath to speak,--which by
+reason of spasms growing on me may not be long,--I will protest against
+changing the name of this village back to heathen and publican names,
+from which it was rescued by them as now fills mansions in the sky. I
+would not wish to be understood as reflecting on anybody, and I name no
+names; but them as has lived on flowery beds of ease, no matter how
+long, cannot expect to gormineer over this village to all eternity; and
+so I proclaim,--hear me who will."
+
+Mrs. Weight had risen to her feet, and stood heaving and panting, a
+mountain of protest. Mrs. Bliss would have interfered, to pour oil on
+the troubled meeting, but before she could speak the tall form of Miss
+Bethia Wax had risen, and stood rigid, pointing to the trophy.
+
+"Ladies of the Society," she said, "and our honored pastor's wife: I
+cannot sit still and listen to words which are aimed at Her we honor.
+This is a memorial meeting, sanctioned as such by the family of Her we
+honor. She died as she lived, with this village on her mind and in her
+heart, and she has given of her basket and her store, her treasures of
+earth and treasures of sea, and gems of purest ray serene; she has given
+all, save such as needed by the family, to this village, to have and to
+hold till death do them part; and what I say is, shame upon us if we
+cannot obey the wishes of Her we honor, our benefactress, who wafts us
+from the other shore her parting benediction!"
+
+But neither Mrs. Bliss nor Miss Wax could longer stem the tide of
+speech. It ran, swelled, overflowed, a torrent of talk.
+
+"Never in my born days!"
+
+"I'd like to know who had the right if she hadn't!"
+
+"I s'pose we've got some rights of our own, if we ain't rich in this
+world's goods."
+
+"I should laugh if we were to change back at this time of day."
+
+"I should like to remind you, Mrs. Weight, that--
+
+    "'While the lamp holds out to burn,
+    The vilest sinner may return!'"
+
+"Mrs. Bliss and ladies: I have not lived in this village seventy years
+to be called the vilest sinner in it. I appeal to this society if names
+is to be called at a meeting where the members are supposed to be
+Christians--"
+
+But Mrs. Bliss, though little, could, like Hermia, be fierce, and it
+was in a very peremptory tone that she exclaimed:
+
+"The discussion on this subject is closed. Sister Slocum, will you give
+out the hymn?" and Miss Luella Slocum, one eye gleaming hatred and the
+other malice, announced that the Society would now join in singing
+"Blest be the tie that binds!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MOSTLY GOSSIP
+
+
+     "MY DEAR DOCTOR STRONG:--The deed is done! The selectmen met last
+     night, and voted to memorialize the Legislature in regard to
+     changing the name of the village; and, as the rest is a mere matter
+     of business routine, I think we may regard the thing as settled.
+     So, as dear Mrs. Tree said, 'Hooray for Quahaug!' The vote was not
+     unanimous; that was hardly to be expected. John Peavey was opposed
+     to the change, so was George Goby; but the general sentiment was
+     strong in favor of carrying out Mrs. Tree's wishes. That, of
+     course, is the real issue, and it is beautiful to see the spirit
+     of affection and loyalty that animates the majority of our people.
+     Surely, our beloved old friend has built herself a monument _ære
+     perennio_ in the hearts of her neighbors.
+
+     "I write this hasty line, feeling sure that you and Mrs. Strong
+     will be anxious to hear the outcome of the meeting.
+
+     "With kindest regards to both, and affectionate greeting to the
+     little flock, believe me always
+
+     "Faithfully yours,
+
+     "JOHN BLISS."
+
+The little minister sealed and addressed his note, then took his hat and
+stick and started for the post-office.
+
+"You won't forget my pink worsted, John!" and Mrs. Bliss popped her
+pretty head out of the window.
+
+"Certainly not, my dear! certainly not!" said Mr. Bliss, with an air of
+collecting his wits hurriedly. "Pink worsted; to be sure! At Miss
+Pardon's, I presume?"
+
+"Of course! Saxony; you have the sample in your pocket, pinned into an
+envelope. Two skeins, John dear. Now do you think you can get that
+right? It is a shame to make you do such things, but I cannot leave
+Baby, and he really needs the jacket."
+
+"Of course, Marietta; of course, my dear! You know I am only too glad to
+help in little ways; I wish I could do more!"
+
+"It is so little a man can do!" he reflected, as he paced along the
+village street; "and Marietta's care is incessant. Motherhood is a
+blessed but a most laborious state."
+
+Arrived at the post-office, he found Seth Weaver perched on a ladder,
+inspecting the weather-beaten sign-board, which bore the legend,
+"Elmerton Post-office."
+
+"Good morning, Seth!" said the little minister.
+
+[Illustration: "'GOOD MORNING, SETH!' SAID THE LITTLE MINISTER"]
+
+"Same to you, Elder!" replied Seth, taking his pipe from his mouth.
+"Nice day! I was lookin' to see whether we'd need us a new sign, but I
+guess this board'll do, come to scrape and plane it. It's a good pine
+board; stood a lot o' weather, this board has. My father painted this."
+
+"Did he so, Seth?" said Mr. Bliss. "I was not aware that your father was
+a painter."
+
+"Painter, carpenter, odd-job man, same's me! He learned me all his
+trades, and too many of 'em. It would be money in my pocket to-day if I
+didn't know the half of 'em."
+
+Seth sat down on the top round of the ladder--it was a short one--and
+took out his knife and a bit of soft wood. The minister sighed, thinking
+of his sermon at home half-written, but accepted the unspoken
+invitation.
+
+"How is that, Seth?" he asked, cheerfully.
+
+Seth settled himself comfortably--it is not every man who can sit
+comfortably on a ladder--and, squaring his shoulders, began to whittle
+complacently.
+
+"Wal, Elder, it stands to reason," he said. "A man can be one thing, or
+he can be two things; but when he starts out to be the hull string of
+fish, he ends by not bein' nary one of 'em. It takes all of a thing to
+make the hull of it; yes, sir. I don't mean that Father was that way;
+Father was a smart man; and I've tried to make a shift to keep up with
+the tail of the procession myself; but I tell ye there's ben times when
+I've wished I didn't know how to handle a livin' thing except my
+paint-brush. Come spring, I tell ye I lose weight, projeckin' round this
+village. One wants his blinds painted right off day before yesterday,
+and another'll get his everlastin' if his roof isn't mended before
+sundown. It's 'Oh, Seth, when be you comin' to hang that bell-wire?' and
+'Seth, where was you yesterday when you wasn't mendin' that gate-post?'
+and--I dono! sometimes I get so worked up I think I'll do the way Father
+did. Father never bothered with 'em. He just laid out his week to suit
+himself. Two days he'd paint, and two days he'd odd-job, and two days
+he'd fish. Further and moreover, whatever he was doin', he'd do it his
+own way. Paintin' days, he'd use the paint he had till he used it up.
+Didn't make no difference what folks said to him; he was just that deef
+he only heard what he wanted to, and he didn't care. Gorry! I can see
+him now, layin' on the blue paint on old Mis' Snow's door, and she
+screechin' at him, 'Green! green, I tell ye! I want it green!' Old
+Father, he never took no notice, and that door stayed blue till it wore
+off. Yes, sir! that was the way to handle 'em; but I can't seem to fetch
+it. Guess I was whittled out of a softer stick, kind o' popple stuff,
+without no spunk to it. A woman tells me she must have a new spout to
+her pump or she'll die, and I'm that kind of fool I think she will, and
+leave all else to whittle out that pump-spout. Wal, it takes all kinds.
+That was quite a meetin' last night, Elder."
+
+"It was indeed," Mr. Bliss assented. "A notable meeting, Seth. As I have
+just been writing to Doctor Strong, it was a great pleasure to find the
+feeling so nearly unanimous in regard to carrying out the wishes of our
+revered friend."
+
+Seth grinned.
+
+"Yes!" he said. "Me and Salem saw to that."
+
+"Saw to it?" repeated Mr. Bliss.
+
+"We went round and sized folks up, kind of; you know the way, Elder;
+same as you do come parish-meetin' time. No offence! There don't
+everybody know which way they're goin' to jump till you tell 'em. Most
+of 'em was all right enough, and saw reason good, same as we did, for
+doin' as Mis' Tree wished done; but there's some poor sticks in every
+wood-pile; John Peavey's one of 'em. Gorry! I guess likely he'll be some
+further down the ro'd before he gets _his_ shack painted, unless he doos
+it himself. That'll be somethin' tangible for him, as Old Man Butters
+said."
+
+He paused, and a twinkle came into his eyes; but the minister did not
+twinkle back.
+
+"You've heerd of Uncle Ithe's last prayer-meetin'?" said Seth. "No? now
+ain't that a sight!"
+
+He came down a round or two, and settled himself afresh, the twinkle
+deepening. "Uncle Ithe--Old Man Butters, Buffy Landin' Ro'd--you
+remember him, Elder?"
+
+"Surely! surely! I remember Mr. Butters well, but I cannot recall his
+having attended a prayer-meeting during my incumbency in Elm--I would
+say Quahaug."
+
+Seth chuckled. "No more you would," he said. "No more he did. 'Twas
+before you come, in Mr. Peake's time. Elder Peake, he was a good man;
+I've nothin' to say against him; he meant well, every time. But he was
+one of those kind o' men, he had his two-foot rule in his pants pocket,
+and, if you squared with that, you was all right, and, if you didn't,
+you was all wrong. Now some folks is like a two-foot rule, and some is
+like a kedge-anchor, and the Lord made 'em both, I expect; but Elder
+Peake, he couldn't see it that way, and he took it into his head that
+Uncle Ithe warn't doin' as he should. Old Uncle Ithe--I dono! he had a
+kind o' large way with him, as you might say; swore some, and made too
+free with Scripture, some thought; did pretty much as he was a mind to,
+but cal'lated to live square, and so did--'cordin' to his idees, and
+mine. You might say Uncle Ithe was like--wal, like this hammer. He
+couldn't rule a straight line, mebbe, but he'd hit the nail every time.
+Wal, Elder Peake met up with him one day, and spoke to him about his way
+of life. 'I'd like to see things a trifle different with you, Mr.
+Butters,' he says; 'man of your age and standin',' he says, 'ought to be
+an example,' he says. You know the way they talk--excuse me, Elder. Some
+of 'em, I would say. Nothin' personal, you understand."
+
+"I understand, Seth; pray go on."
+
+"'What do ye mean?' says Uncle Ithe. 'What have I been a-doin' of,
+Elder?'
+
+"'Oh, nothin' tangible,' says Mr. Peake, 'nothin' tangible, Mr.
+Butters. I hear things now and again that don't seem just what they
+should be in regards to your spiritual condition,--man of your age and
+standin', you understand,--but nothin' tangible, nothin' tangible!' And
+he waved himself off, a way he had, as if he was tryin' to fly before
+his time.
+
+"Old Uncle Ithe, he never said a word, only grunted, and worked his
+eyebrows up and down, the way _he_ had; but come next prayer-meetin',
+there he was, settin' up in his pew, stiff as a bobstay, with his eye on
+the elder. Elder Peake was tickled to death to think he'd got the old
+man out, and when he'd had his own say, he sings out: 'Brother Butters,
+we should be pleased to hear a few remarks from you.'
+
+"Old Uncle Ithe, he riz up kind o' slow, a j'int at a time, till he
+stood his full hei'th. Gorry! I can see him now; he seemed to fill the
+place. He looks square at Elder Peake, and he says: 'Darn your old
+prayer-meetin'!' he says. 'There's somethin' tangible for ye!' he says;
+and off he stumped out the room, and never set foot in it ag'in. I tell
+ye, he was a case, old Uncle Ithe."
+
+"I think he was, Seth!" said Mr. Bliss, laughing. "I am rather glad, do
+you know, that I only knew him later, when age had--in a
+degree--mellowed his disposition."
+
+At this moment Will Jaquith put his head out of the post-office window.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Bliss!" he said. "There's another story about Old Man
+Butters that Seth must tell you, if you have not already heard it,--
+about the trouble with his second wife."
+
+Seth twinkled more than ever. "Sho!" he said. "That's last year's
+p'tetters. I make no doubt Elder Bliss has heard that a dozen times."
+
+"Not once, I assure you, Seth," said Mr. Bliss. "I shall be glad to hear
+it, and then I really must--" he checked himself. Was not this an
+opportunity, come to him unsought? Seth Weaver was not as regular at
+church as could be wished.
+
+"Pray let me hear the anecdote!" he said, heartily. "And yet," he added
+to himself, "I caution my people against listening to gossip,--life is a
+tangled skein."
+
+"That was before I was born or thought of," said Seth. "Uncle Ithe's
+second wife was Drusilly Sharp (his fust was a Purrington), and she was
+a Tartar. Gra'm'ther Weaver told me this; she was own sister to Uncle
+Ithe. Gra'm'ther used to say there warn't another man under the canopy
+could have lived with Drusilly Sharp only her brother Ithuriel. As I was
+sayin' a spell back, he had a kind o' large way of lookin' at things.
+Gra'm'ther says to him once: 'I don't see how you stand it, Ithuriel,'
+she says. 'I don't stand it,' says Uncle Ithe. 'I git out from under
+foot, and wait till the clouds roll by,' he says. 'Spells she gets out
+of breath, and them's the times I come into the kitchen. There's where a
+farmer has the pull,' he says. 'Take a city man, and when he's in the
+house he's in it, and obleeged to stay there. But take a farmer, and, if
+it's hot in the kitchen, he's got the wood-shed, and, when you're
+choppin', you can't hear what she's sayin',' he says. 'Somebody's got to
+put up with Drusilly,' he says, 'and I'm used to it, same as I am red
+pepper on my hash.'
+
+"Wal, one day Uncle Ithe come home, and she warn't there. He found a
+note on the dresser, sayin' she warn't comin' back, she couldn't stand
+it no longer. Land knows what _she_ had to stand! She had baked bread
+and pies, she said (she was a master good cook), and the beans was in
+the oven, and that was all there was to it, from his truly Drusilly
+Butters.
+
+"Wal, Uncle Ithe studied over it a spell, and then he sot down and _he_
+wrote a note, and this was the way it read:
+
+"'Whereas my wife Drusilly has left my bed and board while I was down to
+Tupham diggin' clams, and whereas I never give her reason good for so
+doin', resolved that all persons is warned to pay no bills of her
+contractin' from now on; but the cars will run just the same.'
+
+"Signed his name out in full, and sent it to the paper. I got it now to
+home, in Gra'm'ther's scrap-book. Yes, sir, that was Uncle Ithe all
+over."
+
+"And what was the outcome of it, Seth?" asked Mr. Bliss.
+
+"Oh, she come back! He knew she would. She stayed with her folks a
+spell, and they reasoned with her; and then she saw the notice in the
+paper, and that made her so mad she run all the way home. Uncle Ithe was
+settin' in the kitchen smokin' his pipe, at peace with all mankind, when
+she run in, all out of breath, and mad as hops. 'You take that notice
+out the paper, Ithuriel Butters!' she hollers. 'You're the meanest
+actin' man ever I see in my life, and the ugliest, and so I've come to
+tell you.' And then she couldn't say another word, she'd run that fast
+and was that mad.
+
+"Uncle Ithe took his pipe out of his mouth, and turned round and give
+her a look, and then put it back.
+
+"'How do, Drusilly?' he says. 'I was lookin' for you,' he says. 'I'm on
+the last pie now.' And that was every word he said about it, or she,
+either."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+IN MISS PENNY'S SHOP
+
+
+The Reverend John Bliss walked homeward, revolving many things. Seth's
+stories, the vexed question of prayer-meetings, the Second Epistle to
+the Hebrews, from which his text was taken, Mrs. Tree's will, and the
+New England character (Mr. Bliss was a Minnesota man) made an intricate
+network of thought which so absorbed his mind that his feet carried him
+whithersoever they would.
+
+"A tangled skein!" he said aloud, shaking his head; "a tangled skein!"
+and then he stopped abruptly, looked about him, and began to retrace his
+steps hurriedly. He had forgotten the pink worsted.
+
+The little minister entered Miss Penny Pardon's shop with an air of
+nervous apology, and an inward shiver. He hated women's shops; he was
+always afraid of seeing crinoline, or hair-curlers, or some other
+reprehensibly feminine article.
+
+"Why will they?" he murmured to himself, as even now his unwilling eye
+lighted on a "Fluffy Fedora." "Why will--oh, good morning, Miss Pardon;
+a beautiful morning after the rain."
+
+"Good mornin', Mr. Bliss!" said Miss Penny, with a beaming smile.
+"You're quite a stranger, ain't you? Yes, sir, 'tis elegant weather; and
+the rain, too, so seasonable yesterday. I think weather most always _is_
+seasonable right along; far as I've noticed, that is. Pleasant to see
+spring comin', isn't it, Mr. Bliss? Not but what I've enjoyed the
+winter, too, real well. I think the snow's real pretty, specially _in_
+winter. That's right; yes, sir, we should be thankful for all. Was there
+anything I could do for you to-day, Mr. Bliss?"
+
+"Yes! yes, Miss Pardon," said Mr. Bliss, nervously. "I--that is--Mrs.
+Bliss desired some pink--pink--worsted, I think it was. Yes, I am quite
+positive it was pink worsted. Have you the article?"
+
+He looked relieved, and met Miss Penny's eye almost hardily.
+
+"Worsted, sir? Yes, indeed, we keep it. What kind did she wish, Mr.
+Bliss? Single zephyr, do you think it was, or Germantown?"
+
+Miss Penny's tone was warmly sympathetic; she always felt for gentlemen
+who came on such errands.
+
+"They feel like a fish on a sidewalk," she would say; "real homesick!"
+
+Mr. Bliss pondered. "I--I think it _was_ a German town," he said,
+slowly. "I am almost positive it was a German town,--or province; the
+exact name escapes me. Hanover, perhaps? Nassau? Saxe-Coburg? I incline
+to think it was Saxe-Coburg, Miss Pardon. Have you the article?"
+
+It was Miss Penny's turn to look puzzled. "We don't keep that, sir," she
+said. "I don't know as I ever heard of it. All we keep is Germantown and
+Saxony, and--"
+
+"That is it!" cried the little minister. "Saxony! to be sure! Saxony, of
+course. And--yes, I have a sample--somewhere!"
+
+He felt in his pockets, and produced a parish circular, a calendar, a
+note-book, a fishing-line, and finally the envelope containing the
+sample.
+
+Miss Penny beamed at sight of it. "Yes, sir, we have it," she announced,
+joyfully.
+
+"Mis' Bliss got it here only last week. How much did she say, Mr.
+Bliss?"
+
+"Two pounds," said Mr. Bliss, promptly and decidedly.
+
+"Two--" Miss Penny looked aghast. "Why, we don't generally--I doubt if
+we have that much in the store, Mr. Bliss. Was she goin' to make a
+slumber robe?"
+
+"It was--I think--for an infant's jacket," Mr. Bliss hazarded, looking
+sidelong at the door. These things were hard to bear; harder than
+Marietta knew; yet how gladly should he do it for her, on that very
+account. He turned an appealing glance on Miss Penny. "An infant's
+jacket would not, you think, require two pounds?" he asked.
+
+"A jacket for your little Beauty Darlin', to be sure! She bought a
+pattern, too, I remember, a shell border, and then--don't you believe
+p'r'aps it was skeins she said, Mr. Bliss, instead of pounds? I presume
+most likely it was." Her voice was tender now, as if addressing a little
+child.
+
+"You are probably right, Miss Penelope," said the minister, dejectedly.
+"I seem to have singularly little faculty for these matters. Two
+skeins--ah, yes! I perceive it is so written here on the envelope. I beg
+your pardon, Miss Penelope!"
+
+"You've no need to, Mr. Bliss, not a mite!" cried Miss Penny. "We all
+make mistakes, and, if you never done anything worse than this, you'd be
+sure of the Kingdom. Not but what you are anyways, I expect. Gentlemen
+don't have any call to know about fancy work as a rule, especially a
+pastor, whose mind on higher things is set; you remember the hymn. There
+is those, though, that finds comfort in it, same as a woman doos. I knew
+a gentleman once who used to come and get his worsted of me just as
+regular! _He_ crocheted for his nerves; helped him to sleep, so he
+thought, and it _is_ real soothin', but he's dead and buried now. I
+often think, times when I hear of a man bein' nervous and crotchety
+about the house, there! I think, if he'd only set down and crochet a
+spell, or knit, one of the two, what a comfort it would be to him and
+his folks. We're made as we are, though; that's right. Was there
+anything more, Mr. Bliss? Twenty cents; thank _you_, sir. Real pleased
+you came in; call again, won't you? _Good_ morning!"
+
+Miss Penny looked anxiously after the minister as he walked away. "I do
+hope he'll get that home safe!" she said. "I set out to ask him if he
+didn't think he'd better put it in his pocket, but I was afraid he might
+think me forth-puttin'. Like as not he'll forget every single thing
+about it, and drop it right in the street. There! I don't see _why_
+men-folks is so forgetful, do you, Sister? Not that they are all alike,
+of course."
+
+"Some ways they are," said Miss Prudence.
+
+Miss Prudence was invisible, but the door between the shop and her
+sanctum was always ajar, for she liked to hear what was going on.
+
+"I never see the man yet that I'd trust to carry a parcel home; not a
+small parcel, that is. If it's a whole dress, he'll take it all right,
+if he takes it at all; but give him a small parcel that wants to be
+carried careful, and he'll drop it, or else scrunch it up in his pocket
+and forget it. I've got to run up these brea'ths now; Miss Wax is comin'
+at eleven to try on."
+
+There was a silence, broken only by the cheerful whir of the
+sewing-machine, and the still more cheerful voice of Miss Penny cooing
+to her birds. She hopped from one cage to another, feeding, stroking,
+caressing.
+
+"You're lookin' dumpy to-day, darlin'," she said, addressing a rather
+battered-looking mino bird. "There! the fact is, you ain't so young as
+once you was. You're like the rest of us, only you don't know it, and we
+do--some of us! Here's a nice bit of egg for you, Beauty; that'll shine
+you up some, though I do expect you've seen your best days. Luella
+Slocum told me she expected me to make this bird over as good as new,
+Sister. I told her I guessed what ailed him was the same as did the rest
+of us. Stop the clock tickin', I told her, and she'd stop his trouble
+and hers as well. She was none too well pleased. She'd just got her a
+new front from Miss Wax, and not a scrap of gray in it. She'd ought to
+sing 'Backward, turn backward,' if anybody ought. There!" The
+exclamation had a note of dismay in it.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Miss Prudence; the machine had stopped, and
+her mouth was apparently full of pins.
+
+"Why, I never thought to ask Mr. Bliss how Mr. Homer was, and he just
+the one to tell us. Now did you ever! Fact is, when he come in, I hadn't
+got my face straight after that woman askin' for mesmerized petticoats.
+I was shakin' still when I see Mr. Bliss comin', and my wits flew every
+which way like a scairt hen. But speakin' of petticoats reminds me,
+Tommy Candy was in this mornin' while you was to market, and _he_ said
+Mr. Homer was re'l slim. 'Pestered with petticoats' was what he said,
+and I said, 'What do you mean, Tommy Candy?' and he said, 'Just what I
+say, Miss Penny,' he said. 'I guess you and Miss Prudence are the only
+single or widder women in Quahaug that ain't settin' their caps for Mr.
+Homer,' he said. And I said, 'Tommy Candy, that's no way for you to
+talk, if you _have_ had money left you!' I said. He said he knew it
+wasn't, but yet he couldn't help it, and you and I had always ben good
+to him sence his mother died. He has a good heart, Tommy has, only he
+doos speak up so queer, and love mischief. But he says it's a fact, they
+do pester Mr. Homer, Sister. There! it made me feel fairly ashamed.
+'Don't tell me Miss Bethia Wax is one of 'em,' I said, 'because I
+shouldn't believe you if you did,' I said. 'Well, I won't,' he said,
+'for she ain't; she's a lady.' But some, he said, was awful, and he
+means to stand between; he don't intend Mr. Homer should marry anybody
+except he wants to, and it's the right one. Seemed to have re'l good
+_i_deas, and he thinks the world of Mr. Homer. I like Tommy; he has a
+re'l pleasant way with him."
+
+"You'd make cream cheese out of 'most any skim-milk, Sister," said Miss
+Prudence, kindly. "Not but what Tommy has improved a vast deal to what
+he was. It's his lameness, I expect."
+
+"That's right!" cried little Miss Penny, the tears starting to her round
+brown eyes. "That's it, Sister, and that's what turns my heart to the
+boy, I expect. So young, and to be lame for life; it is pitiful."
+
+"He did what he had a mind to do," said Miss Prudence, grimly. "He had
+no call to climb that steeple, as I know of."
+
+"Oh, Sister, there's so many that has no call to do _as_ they do, and
+yet many times they don't seem to get their come-uppance, far as we can
+see; I expect they do, though, come to take it in the yard _or_ the
+piece. But, howsoever, Mis' Tree has done handsome by Tommy, and he has
+a grateful heart, and means to do his part by Mr. Homer and the
+_Mu_seum, I feel sure of that. Sister, do you suppose Pindar Hollopeter
+is alive? Seem's though if he was, he'd come home now, at least for a
+spell: Homer in affliction, as you may say, and left with means and all.
+How long is it since he went away?"
+
+"Thirty years," said Miss Prudence. "I always thought it was a good
+riddance to bad rubbidge when Pindar went away."
+
+"Why, Sister, he was an elegant man, flighty, but re'l elegant; at
+least, so he appeared to me; I was a child then. Why did he go, Sister?
+I never rightly understood about it."
+
+"He went from flightiness," said Miss Prudence. "Him and Homer was both
+crazy about Mary Ashton, and Pindar asked her to have him. She'd as soon
+have had the meetin'-house weathercock, and when she told him so,--I
+don't mean them words; Mary would have spoke pleasant to the Father of
+Evil."
+
+"Why, Sister!"
+
+"Well, she would. Anyhow, when she said no, he made sure she was going
+to have Homer, and off he went, and never come back. So that's _his_
+story."
+
+"I want to know!" said Miss Penny. "But she never--"
+
+"She never cast a look at ary one of 'em. She give her heart to George
+Jaquith to break, and he done it; and now he's dead, and so is she. But
+Homer is alive, and so is Pindar, for all I know. He never liked here as
+Homer did; he always wanted to get away, from a boy. Old Mis' Hollopeter
+run a great resk, I always thought, the way she brought up those two
+boys, fillin' their heads with poetry and truck. If she had learned 'em
+a good trade, now, it would be bread in their mouths this day; not that
+Homer is ever likely to want now. I wish't he'd marry Bethia Wax."
+
+"I don't know, Sister Prudence," said Miss Penny, who was romantic.
+"Some is cut out for a single life, and I think's it's real pretty to
+see a man faithful to the ch'ice of his youth."
+
+"Ch'ice of his grandmother!" retorted Miss Prudence, sharply. "Don't
+talk foolishness, Penny! A woman can get along single, and oftentimes do
+better, and it's meant some of 'em should, or there wouldn't be so many
+extry; but leave a man alone all his life, and either he dries up or
+else he sploshes out, and either way he don't amount to what he should.
+They ain't got enough _to_ 'em, someways. There! this is ready to try
+on, and Miss Wax ain't here. She said she'd be here by eleven."
+
+"I see her comin' now," cried Miss Penny. "It's just on the stroke;
+she's 'most always punctual. She has a re'l graceful, pretty walk. _I_
+think Miss Wax is a fine-lookin' woman, though a little mite more flesh
+would set good on her."
+
+"Her clo'es would set better on her if she had it," said Miss Prudence.
+"I know that. I don't know but I'd sooner fit a bolster than a
+bean-pole."
+
+"Hush, Sister, for pity's sake! Good mornin', Miss Wax. You're right on
+the dot, ain't you? I was just sayin' to Sister how punctual you always
+was. Yes'm, we're smart; the same old story, peace and poverty. You can
+go right in, Miss Wax; Sister's expectin' you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE SORROWS OF MR. HOMER
+
+
+"Morning, Direxia," said Will Jaquith. "How is Mr. Homer this morning?
+Better, I hope, than he was feeling yesterday."
+
+Direxia Hawkes laid down her duster, and turned a troubled face to the
+visitor. "There!" she said, "I'm glad you've come, Willy. I can't do
+nothin' with that man. He ain't eat a thing this day, only just a mossel
+of toast and a sosser of hominy. It's foolishness, I will say. Mis' Tree
+may have had her ways,--I expect we all do, if all was known,--but I
+will say she eat her victuals and relished 'em. I don't see why or
+wherfore I was left if there ain't anybody ever going to eat anythin'
+in this house again; there! I don't."
+
+"Oh, Dexy, don't be foolish!" said Will. "I'm coming out this minute to
+get a doughnut. You will have to live till my wife learns to make as
+good ones as yours, and that will be some time. Just wait till I see Mr.
+Homer a minute, and then I'll come out and make love to you, you dear
+old thing."
+
+Direxia brightened. "Don't she make 'em good?" she asked. "Well, she's
+young yet. I dono as I had just the hang of 'em when I was her age.
+Doughnuts is a thing you've got to have the hang of, I've always said."
+
+She retired, beaming, to heap goodies on fine china dishes for her
+darling, and Jaquith turned his steps toward "the Captain's room." This
+was a small room looking out over the harbor, and had been Captain
+Tree's special sanctum. It was fitted like a ship's cabin, with lockers
+and swinging shelves, all in teak-wood and brass. On the walls were
+ranged telescopes, spyglasses, and speaking-trumpets of all sizes and
+varieties, and over the desk hung a picture of the good ship _Marcia D._
+of Quahaug, Ethan Tree, master. This picture was a triumph of Japanese
+embroidery, having been done in colored silks while the ship lay in the
+harbor of Nagasaki, and, next to his wife's miniature, it was the
+Captain's most precious possession. The year after it was made, the
+_Marcia D._ had gone down in a typhoon in the South Seas: all hands were
+saved, to be tossed about for three days on a life-raft, and then tossed
+ashore on a wild island. The bright shells which framed the picture had
+been picked up by his wife on the shore, where she watched all day for a
+coming sail, while master and mariners caught fish and turtles, and
+gathered strange fruits for her, their lady and their queen. Ethan Tree
+used to say that that week on the island was one of the best in his
+life, even though he had lost his ship.
+
+"True blue!" he would murmur, looking up at the picture. "She showed her
+colors that time. She never flinched, little Marcia. Her baby coming,
+and not a woman or a doctor within a thousand miles; but she never
+flinched. Only her cheeks flew the flag and her eyes signalled, when I
+sung out, 'Sail ho!' True blue, little wife!"
+
+Now, instead of the stalwart figure of Captain Tree, the slender form of
+Mr. Homer Hollopeter occupied, but did not fill, the chair beneath the
+picture. The little gentleman sat huddled disconsolately over some
+papers, and it was a melancholy face that he lifted in response to Will
+Jaquith's cheery "How are you, Mr. Homer? pretty well this morning?"
+
+Mr. Homer sighed. "I thank you, William, I thank you!" he
+said. "My corporal envelope is, I am obliged to you,
+robust;--a--vigorous;--a--exempt for the moment from the ills that flesh
+is heir to--Shakespeare; we perceive that even our greatest did not
+disdain upon occasion to conclude a phrase with a preposition, though
+the practice is one generally reprehended;--a--condemned;--a--denied the
+sanction of the critics of our own day. I trust you find yourself in
+health and spirits, William?"
+
+"Capital!" said Will. "Lily and I and the boy, all as well as can be. I
+have brought the mail, Mr. Homer. I thought you might not feel like
+coming down this morning, as you were not well yesterday."
+
+As he spoke, he laid the mail-bag on the table, and, seating himself,
+proceeded to unlock it. Mr. Homer's eyes brightened in spite of
+himself; his face grew animated. "That was kind of you, William!" he
+said. "That was--a--considerate; that was--a--benevolent. I am greatly
+obliged to you; greatly obliged to you."
+
+He opened the bag with trembling fingers, and began to sort the letters
+it contained.
+
+"The occupation of twenty years," he continued, plaintively, "is not to
+be relinquished lightly. If I did not feel that I was leaving it in
+worthy hands, I--ah! here is a letter for Susan Jennings, from her son.
+There is an enclosure, William. Probably Jacob is doing better, and is
+sending his mother a little money. She is a worthy woman, a worthy
+woman; I rejoice for Susan. A dutiful son, sir, is an oasis in the
+desert; a--fountain in a sandy place; a--a number of gratifying things
+which I cannot at this moment name. You were a dutiful son, William.
+That must be an unspeakable satisfaction to you, now that your sainted
+mother has--a--departed; has--a--gone from us; has--a--ascended on wings
+of light to the empyrean. You were a dutiful son, sir."
+
+William Jaquith colored high. "Not always, Mr. Homer," he said. "In
+thinking of these late happy years, you must not forget the others that
+went before. I should be dead, or a castaway, this day, but for Mrs.
+Tree."
+
+"I rejoice at it, my dear sir!" cried Mr. Homer, his gentle eyes
+kindling. "That is to say--I would not wish to be understood as--but I
+am sure you apprehend me, William. I would say that my respect,
+my--a--reverence, my--a--affection and admiration for my cousin Marcia,
+sir, are enhanced a hundredfold by the knowledge of what she did for
+you. It cheers me, sir; it--a--invigorates me; it--a--causes a bud of
+spring to blow in a bosom which--a--was sealed, as I may say, with ice
+of--a--in short, with ice:--a--what is that pink envelope, William?"
+
+"For Joe Breck, sir; from S. E. Willow, South Verona. That is Sophy, I
+suppose?"
+
+Mr. Homer quivered with pleasure as he took the long, slim note in his
+hand. "This is from Sophia!" he said. "Sophia Willow is a sweet
+creature, William;--a--dewy flower, as the lamented Keats has it;
+a--milk-white lamb that bleats for man's protection, as he also
+observes. And Joseph Breck, sir, is a worthy youth. He has 'sighed and
+looked and sighed again' (Dryden, sir! a great poet, though unduly
+influenced by the age in which he lived) these two years past, I have
+had reason to think. Of late his letters to Sophia have been more
+frequent; there was one only yesterday, if you remember, a bulky one,
+probably containing--a--remarks of a tender nature;--a--outpourings
+of an ardent description. This is the response. Its rosy hue
+leads me to hope that it is a favorable one, William. The shape,
+too: a square envelope has always something of self-assertion
+about it; but this long, slender, graceful note has in its
+very appearance something--a--yielding; something--a--acquiescent;
+something--a--indicative of the budding of the tender passion. I augur
+happily from the aspect of this note. A--I trust your sentiments accord
+with mine, William?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, sir," said Will, heartily. "I am sure Sophy would not have
+the heart to say 'no' on such pretty paper as this; not that I think she
+ever meant to. But here is a letter for you, Mr. Homer, and this is a
+long envelope, too, only it is green instead of pink. Postmark Bexley."
+
+Mr. Homer started. "Not Bexley, William!" he said, nervously. "I trust
+you are mistaken; look again, if you will be so good. I cannot conceive
+why I should receive a letter from Bexley."
+
+"I'm sorry, sir," replied Will, "but Bexley it is. Would you like me to
+open it, Mr. Homer?"
+
+Mr. Homer cast a glance of aversion at the green envelope; it certainly
+was somewhat vivid in tint, and was rather liberally than delicately
+scented.
+
+"I should be glad if you would do so, William," he said. "I seem to
+feel--a--less vigorous than when you first came in. I should be obliged
+if you would look it over, William."
+
+With a glance wherein compassion struggled with amusement, Jaquith
+opened the letter and glanced through it.
+
+"From Mrs. Pryor," he said, briefly.
+
+Mr. Homer moved uneasily in his seat. "I--a--apprehended as much," he
+said. "Go on, William."
+
+With another compassionate twinkle, Will complied, and read as follows:
+
+     "'MY DEAREST HOMER:'"
+
+Mr. Homer winced, and wiped his forehead nervously.
+
+     "'Ever since that dreadful day which I _will not name_, I have been
+     _prostrated_ with grief and mortification; grief on my own account;
+     mortification--I blush to say it--for the sake of one whose present
+     condition _seals my lips_. Need I say that I allude to Aunt Marcia?
+     For some time I felt that all relations between me and Elmerton
+     must be _closed forever_.'"
+
+Mr. Homer looked up.
+
+     "'But in the end a more Christian spirit prevailed.'"
+
+Mr. Homer looked down again.
+
+     "'I have conquered my pride; you can imagine what a struggle it
+     was, for you know what the Darracott pride _is_, though the
+     Hollopeters only intermarried with us in your grandfather's time. I
+     came out of the struggle a _physical wreck_.'"
+
+Mr. Homer looked up once more.
+
+     "'But with me, as all who know me are aware, _flesh_ is _nothing,
+     spirit_ is _all_! I have resolved to let bygones be bygones, Homer;
+     to put all this sad and shocking business behind me, and strive to
+     forget that it ever existed. In this spirit, my dear cousin, I
+     write to offer you the _affection_ of a _sister_.'"
+
+Mr. Homer uttered a hollow groan, and dropped his head in his hands.
+
+     "'We are both alone, Homer. My girls are married; and, though the
+     greater portion of my heart is _in the grave_ with Mr. Pryor,
+     enough of it yet breathes to keep a _warm corner_ for you, my
+     nearest _living relative_. The extraordinary and iniquitous
+     document, which I will not further describe, has laid a heavy
+     burden on your shoulders; and I feel it a _duty_ to give you all
+     the aid in my power in the work of arranging and classifying the
+     collection of worldly trifles by which our late unhappy relative
+     set such store. _I_, Homer, have _outgrown_ such matters. It is for
+     Aunt Marcia's own sake that I feel, as you must, the necessity of
+     something like an equitable arrangement in regard to all this
+     trumpery. My _duty to my children_ obliges me, much against my
+     will, to protest against Vesta Strong's having all the lace and
+     jewelry. If she had any sense of decency, she would not accept what
+     was clearly the raving of _senile dementia_. As to the grasping and
+     mercenary spirit shown by her and her husband, I say nothing: let
+     their consciences deal with them, if they _own such an article; I_
+     am _above_ it.
+
+     "'Let me know, dearest Homer, when you are ready for me, and I will
+     come to you on the instant. I will bring an excellent maidservant
+     to replace the old creature, whom I trust you have dismissed ere
+     this. If not, let me urge you strongly to get rid of her at once.
+     She is not a fit person to have charge of you. I feel that the
+     _sooner_ I come to you the _better_; let us lose no time, so pray
+     write at once, dear Homer, to
+
+     "'Your loving cousin,
+
+     "'MARIA DARRACOTT PRYOR.'"
+
+Will's eyes were twinkling as he folded up the letter, but they were
+very tender as he turned them on Mr. Homer, sitting crumpled like a
+withered leaf in his chair.
+
+"Cheer up, Mr. Homer!" said the young postmaster. "Look up, my dear
+friend. You don't suppose we are going to let her come, do you? She
+shall not put her foot inside the door, I promise you."
+
+Mr. Homer groaned again. "She will come, William!" he said. "I feel it;
+I know it. She will come, and she will stay. I have not strength to
+resist her. Oh, Cousin Marcia, Cousin Marcia, you little thought what
+you were doing when you laid this burden on me. I don't think I can bear
+it, William! I will go away; I will leave the village. I
+do--not--think--I can bear it!"
+
+"Oh, I think you can, sir," said Will Jaquith. "Consider the wishes of
+our dear old friend. Think how hard it would be for us all to see
+strangers in this house, so full of memories of her. I hope that after
+awhile you can grow to feel at home, and to be happy here. Then, too,
+the work will be of a kind that will interest you. The arrangement of
+all these rare and curious objects, the formation of a museum,--why, Mr.
+Homer, you are made for the work, and the work for you. Cheer up, my
+good friend!"
+
+Mr. Homer sighed heavily. "I thank you, William," he said. "I thank you.
+You are always sympathetic and comforting to me. Your words are--are as
+balm; as--as dew upon Hermon; as--oil which runs down--" The poor
+gentleman broke off, and looked piteously at his companion. "My metaphor
+misleads me," he said. "It is often the case at the present time. I--I
+am apprehensive that my mind is not what it was; that I am in danger of
+loss of the intellect; of the--a--power of thought; of the--a--chair,
+where Reason sits--or in happier days did sit--enthroned. I am a wreck,
+William, a wreck."
+
+He sighed again, hesitated, and went on. "All you say is true, my
+friend, and I could, I think, find much interest and even inspiration in
+the task entrusted to me by my venerated and deplored relative, if--I
+could do it in my own way: but--I am hampered, sir. I am--trammelled; I
+am--a--set upon behind and before. The ladies--a--in short--Hark! what
+is that?"
+
+He started nervously as a knock was heard at the front door, and
+clutched Will Jaquith's coat with a feverish grasp. "Don't leave me,
+William!" he cried. "On no account leave me! It is a woman. I--I--cannot
+be left alone with them. They come about me--like locusts, William!
+Listen!"
+
+A wheezy, unctuous voice was heard:
+
+"Mr. Hollopeter feelin' any better to-day?"
+
+"No, he ain't," came the reply in Direxia's crisp accents.
+
+"I'm real sorry. I've brought him a little relish to eat with his
+supper. I made it myself, and it's nourishin' and palatable. Shall I
+take it in to him?"
+
+"I'll take it," said Direxia. "He won't tetch it, I can tell you that."
+
+"You never can tell," said the voice. "Sometimes a new hand will give
+victuals a freshness. Besides, Homer must be real lonesome. I'm comin'
+in to set with him a spell, and maybe read him a chapter. I've ben
+through affliction myself, Direxia, well you know, and the sufferin'
+seeks their like. You let me in now! You ain't no right to keep me out,
+Direxia Hawkes. This ain't your house, and I'll take no sarce from you,
+so now I tell you."
+
+Mr. Homer started from his seat with a wild look, but Will Jaquith laid
+a quiet hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Sit still, sir!" he said. "I'll take charge of this one, and Tommy
+will be back soon. Cheer up, Mr. Homer!"
+
+He passed out. Mr. Homer, listening feverishly, heard a few words spoken
+in a cheerful, decided voice; then the door closed. Mr. Homer drew a
+long breath, but started again nervously as Direxia's brown head popped
+in at the door.
+
+"Mis' Weight brung some stuff," she said, briefly. "Looks like skim-milk
+blue-monge bet up with tapioky. Want it?"
+
+"No!" cried Mr. Homer, with something as near a snarl as his gentle
+voice could compass.
+
+"Well, you needn't take my head off!" said Direxia. "I didn't make it.
+I'll give it to the parrot; he's rugged."
+
+She vanished, and Mr. Homer's head dropped in his hands again.
+
+"Like locusts!" he murmured. "Like locusts! Oh, Cousin Marcia, how could
+you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+CONCHOLOGY AND OTHER THINGS
+
+
+The two trustees had had a busy day. They had just begun upon the
+collection of shells which for years had lain packed away in boxes in
+the attic. There were thousands of them, and now as they lay spread out
+on long tables in the workshop, the glass-covered room where the Captain
+used to keep his tools and his turning-lathe, Mr. Homer's mind was
+divided between admiration of their beauty, and dismay at the clumsiness
+of the names which Tommy Candy read out--painfully, with finger on the
+page and frequent moppings of an anxious brow, for the polysyllabic was
+still something of a nightmare to Tommy, spite of his twenty years and
+his Academy diploma.
+
+"Look at this, Thomas," said Mr. Homer, carefully polishing on his
+sleeve a whorl of rosy pearl. "Observe this marvel of nature, Thomas!
+This should have a name of beauty, to match its aspect; a name
+of--a--poetry; of--divine affluence. 'Aurora's Tear' would, I am of
+opinion, fitly express this exquisite object. Number 742: how does it
+stand in the volume, Thomas?"
+
+"Spiral Snork," said Thomas.
+
+Mr. Homer sighed, and laid the shell down. "This is sad, Thomas," he
+said. "This is--a--painful; this is--a--productive of melancholy. I have
+never been of the opinion--though it is matter of distress to disagree
+in any opinion with the immortal Bard of Avon--that 'a rose by any other
+name'--you are doubtless familiar with the quotation, Thomas. To my
+mind there is much in a name--much. 'Snork!' The title is repellent;
+is--a--in a manner suggestive of swine. Pork--snort--snork! the
+connotation is imperative, I am of opinion. How, why, I ask you, Thomas,
+should such a name be applied to this exquisite object?"
+
+"Named for Simeon Snork, mariner, who first brought it to England," said
+Tommy, his finger on the paragraph. "Rare: value ten pounds sterling."
+
+The little gentleman sighed again. "We must put the name down, Thomas,"
+he said. "We must write it clearly and legibly; duty compels us so to
+do. But do you think that we should be violating our trust if we
+suggested--possibly in smaller type--the alternative, 'sometimes known
+as Aurora's Tear'? There could be no harm in that, I fancy, Thomas? It
+_is_ known as Aurora's Tear to me. I can never bring myself to think of
+this delicate production of--nature's loom--as 'Spiral--a--Snork.' My
+spirit rebels;--a--revolts;--a--"
+
+"Jibs?" suggested Tommy Candy.
+
+"I was about to say 'rises up in opposition,'" said Mr. Homer, gently.
+"Your expression is terse, Thomas, but--a--more colloquial than I
+altogether--but it is terse, and perhaps expressive. You see no
+objection to writing the alternative, Thomas?"
+
+"None in life!" said Tommy. "Have ten of 'em if you like, Mr. Homer;
+give folks their choice."
+
+"A--I think not, Thomas," said Mr. Homer. "I am of opinion that that
+would be unadvisable. We will put the single alternative, if you please.
+I thank you. Now to proceed. Here again."
+
+He selected another shell, breathed on it, and rubbed it on his
+coat-sleeve.
+
+"Here again is an exquisite--a--emanation from nature's loo--I would
+rather say from nature's workshop. Observe, Thomas, the rich blending of
+hues, violet and crimson, in this beautiful object. I trust that we
+shall be more fortunate this time in the matter of nomenclature. Number
+743, Thomas. How is it set down in the book?"
+
+"Hopkins's Blob," said Tommy.
+
+"Dear! dear!" said Mr. Homer. "This is sad, Thomas; this is sad, indeed.
+Blob! a most unlovely word. And yet"--he paused for a moment--"it
+rhymes--it rhymes with 'sob.' Do me the favor to pause an instant,
+Thomas. I have an idea: a--an effluence;--a--an abstraction of the
+spirit into the realms of poesy."
+
+He was silent, while Tommy Candy watched him with twinkling gray eyes.
+At first the little gentleman's face wore a look of intense gravity;
+but soon it lightened. He passed his hand twice or thrice across his
+brow, and sighed, a long, happy sigh; then he turned a beaming look on
+his companion.
+
+"I do not know, my young friend," he said, mildly, "whether you have
+ever given much thought to--a--the Muse; but it may interest you to note
+the manner in which she occasionally wings her flight. A moment ago,
+this gracious object"--he waved the shell gently--"was, so far as we are
+aware, unsung;--a--uncelebrated;--a--lacking its meed of mellifluous
+expression. Now--but you shall judge, sir. In this brief moment of
+silence, the following lines crystallized in my brain. Ahem!"
+
+He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and folded his hands
+meekly; then began to recite in a kind of runic chant:
+
+    "The poet-heart doth sigh,
+    The poet-soul doth sob,
+        To see a sight
+        Of beauty bright
+    Oppressed by name of 'blob'!
+
+    "O cacophonic crowd!
+    O unmellifluous mob!
+        The poet's lip
+        Would nectar sip,
+    But scorns to browse on 'blob'!
+
+The expression is condensed," said Mr. Homer, with modest pride; "but I
+am of opinion that condensation often lends strength;--a--are you also
+of that opinion, Thomas?"
+
+"Every time!" said Tommy Candy.
+
+Mr. Homer looked bewildered, but bowed gently, accepting the
+commendation expressed in Tommy's voice. "I am glad that my little
+effusion meets with your approval, Thomas," he said. "It is the first
+effort I have been able to make since the death of my lamented
+relative. A--a simple movement, sir, of the Muse's wing; a--a--"
+
+"Flap?" suggested Tommy Candy.
+
+Mr. Homer looked still more bewildered, but bowed again, waving his
+hands with a gesture of mingled protest and deprecation.
+
+"I am of opinion, Thomas," he said, "that prose is the vehicle in which
+your thoughts are most apt to find expression. The wings of the Muse do
+not, in my opinion,--a--a--flap. But it is a matter--a--scarcely germane
+to the occasion. We will pursue our researches, if you please."
+
+The next names were more fortunate. The Golden Gem was followed by the
+Mermaid's Comb, and Mr. Homer glowed with poetic joy as he placed the
+pretty things on the shelves of the cabinet that awaited them.
+
+"I foresee, Thomas," he exclaimed, joyfully, "a resuscitation of the
+poetic faculty. I feel that, surrounded by these shapes of beauty, and
+not oppressed by such inappropriate cacophonies as Blork and Snob--I
+would say Snork and Blob--I shall often joyfully, as well as strictly,
+meditate the--I find myself unable to characterize the Muse as
+'thankless,' in spite of my profound admiration for the immortal Milton.
+My spirit will, I feel it, once more sing, and--wing, sir! 'Mermaid's
+Comb!' In gazing on this symmetrical shape, my young friend, may we not
+in our mind's eye, Horatio--I would say Thomas--the remark is Hamlet's,
+as you are without doubt aware--behold it in the hand of some fair
+nymph, or siren, or--or person of that description--and behold her
+'sleeking her soft alluring locks,' in Milton's immortal phrase?
+A--candor compels me to state, Thomas, that on the few--the very
+few--occasions when--when I have seen the locks of the fair sex in a
+state of--a--dampness;--of--humidity;--a--of--moisture, I have not
+thought" (Mr. Homer blushed very red) "that the condition was one which
+enhanced; which--a--added to, the charms with which that sex is--in a
+large number of cases--endowed."
+
+"That's so!" said Tommy. "Take 'em after a shampoo, and they're a sight,
+even the good-lookin' ones."
+
+Mr. Homer blushed still redder, and took out his handkerchief. "I have
+never,--" he began, and then coughed, and waved the subject delicately
+away.
+
+"It is probable," he said, "that if--a--such semi-celestial individuals
+as those described by the poet existed--a--possessed a corporal
+envelope--a--were endowed with a local habitation and a
+name--Shakespeare--they would not be subject to conditions which--which
+tend to the--a--obscuration of beauty; but we will proceed, if you
+please, Thomas. Hark! was that a knock at the door?"
+
+They listened. There was a silence; then, beyond question, came a knock
+on the outer door; a loud, imperative rap, with a suggestion of rhythm,
+almost of flourish, in its repetition. "Rat-ta-tat, rat-ta-tat,
+rat-ta-tat!" Then silence again.
+
+"Direxia is in bed," said Tommy Candy. "I'll go."
+
+"Wait; wait a moment, Thomas!" said Mr. Homer, nervously. "Do you
+think--it is near nine o'clock--do you think that courtesy absolutely
+demands our opening the door?"
+
+Tommy looked at him in amazement.
+
+"It--it is probably a lady!" said Mr. Homer, piteously. "She is without
+doubt bringing me--a--food;--a--bodily pabulum;--a--refreshment for the
+inner man. Thomas, I--I do not feel as if I _could_ receive another
+dish at present. I have received four--have I not?--assaults--a--I would
+say, gifts, to-day, all tending to--overtax the digestive powers, even
+if Direxia's friendly ministrations did not invite--or more properly
+demand--all the powers of that description which I possess."
+
+"Pineapple cream, Miss Wax," replied Tommy Candy, briefly. "That was
+good; I ate it myself. Lobster salad, Miss Goby; claws round it; might
+have boiled her own for a garnish; calf's-foot jelly, Widder Ketchum;
+plum cake, Mis' Pottle. Seth Weaver says that when Doctor Pottle is
+short of patients, the old lady always bakes a batch of fruit-cake and
+sends it round. It's sure to fetch somebody; you could ballast a
+schooner with it, Seth says. Yes, that makes four, sir. But maybe this
+isn't a woman, Mr. Homer. I don't think it sounds like one, and anyhow,
+I wouldn't let one in, noways. You'd better let me go, sir."
+
+The knock sounded again, still more imperative; and now a voice was
+heard, a man's voice, thin and high, crying, impatiently: "Within there!
+house! what ho! within!"
+
+Mr. Homer gasped, and loosened his necktie convulsively.
+
+"My mind is probably failing," he said. "That voice--is probably a
+hallucination;--a--an aberration; a--you hear no voice, I should
+surmise, Thomas?"
+
+He gazed eagerly at Tommy, who, really alarmed for his friend's reason,
+stared at him in return.
+
+"Of course I hear it, sir," he said. "He's hollering fit to raise the
+roof. Riled, I expect; you'd better let me go, Mr. Homer."
+
+Mr. Homer relaxed his hold. "Thomas," he said, solemnly, "I think it
+improbable that you will find any corporal substance at that door:
+nevertheless, open it, if you will be so good! open it, Thomas!"
+
+Greatly wondering, Tommy Candy ran to the door and flung it wide open.
+There on the threshold stood a man, his hand raised in the act of
+knocking again. A little man, in a flyaway cloak, with a flyaway necktie
+and long, fluttering mustaches; a little man who looked in the dim light
+like a cross between a bat and the Flying Dutchman.
+
+"House!" said the little man. "Within there!"
+
+"Well," said Tommy, slowly, "I never said it was a monument!"
+
+The stranger made a gesture of brushing him away.
+
+"Minion," he said, "bandy no words, but straightway tell me, does Homer
+Hollopeter lurk within?"
+
+"Did you wish to see him?" inquired Tommy, civilly yet cautiously. A
+backward glance over his shoulder gave him a curious impression. Mr.
+Homer's shadow, as he stood just within the parlor door, was thrown on
+the pale shining wood of the hall floor; this shadow seemed to flutter,
+with motions singularly like those of the stranger. Another moment, and
+the little gentleman came forward, carrying a candle. He was trembling
+violently, and, as he held the candle high, its wavering light fell on
+the countenance of the stranger.
+
+[Illustration: "AS HE HELD THE CANDLE HIGH, ITS WAVERING LIGHT FELL ON
+THE COUNTENANCE OF THE STRANGER"]
+
+"Gee whiz!" muttered Tommy Candy. "It's himself over again in black."
+
+"It is my brother Pindar!" cried Mr. Homer, dropping the candle. "It is
+my only brother, whom I thought dead--a--defunct;--a--wafted to--my dear
+fellow, my dear brother, how are you? This is a joyful moment; this
+is--a--an auspicious occasion; this is--a--an oasis in the arid plains
+which--"
+
+"Encircle us!" said Mr. Pindar. "Precisely! Homer, embrace me!"
+
+He flung his arms abroad, and the batlike cloak fluttered out to its
+fullest width. Mr. Homer seemed to shrink together, and it was himself
+he embraced, with a frightened gesture.
+
+"Oh, quite so!" he cried, hurriedly. "Very much so, indeed, my dear
+brother. The spirit, Pindar, the spirit, returns your proffered salute;
+but foreign customs, sir, have never obtained in Quahaug. I bid you
+heartily, heartily welcome, my dear brother. Come in, come in!"
+
+Mr. Pindar flung up his hand with a lofty gesture. "My benison upon this
+house!" he cried. "The wanderer returns. The traveller--a--sets foot
+upon his native heath--I would say door-step. Flourish and exeunt. Set
+on!"
+
+The two brothers vanished. Tommy Candy, still standing on the threshold,
+stared after them with his mouth wide open, and slowly rumpled his hair
+till it stood on end in elfish spikes, as it had done in his childhood.
+
+"I swan!" said Tommy Candy. "I swan to everlastin' gosh! the Dutch is
+beat this time!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+MR. PINDAR
+
+
+Tommy Candy was about to reënter the house, when something seemed to
+attract his attention. He gazed keenly through the soft darkness at the
+house opposite; then he uttered a low whistle, and, leaning on his stick
+(for Miss Penny was right; poor Tommy was very lame, and had climbed his
+last steeple), made his way down the garden-path to the gate. "Annie
+Lizzie, is that you?" he asked, in a low tone.
+
+"Hush!" the answer came in a soft voice. "Yes, Tommy. How you scared me!
+I didn't think there was any one up. Ma thought she heard something,
+and wanted I should look out and see if there was any one round."
+
+"You tell her the Sheriff has come to get Isaac," said Tommy, "and he's
+stopping with us overnight. He'll be over in the morning, tell her, with
+the handcuffs, bright and early."
+
+"Oh, hush, Tommy! you hadn't ought to talk so!" said the soft voice, and
+a slender figure slipped across the road in the dark, and came to the
+gate. "Honest, Tommy, I wish you wouldn't talk so about Isaac and the
+rest of 'em. It don't seem right."
+
+"Annie Lizzie," said Tommy, "I never said a word against ary one of 'em,
+so long as I thought they was your kin; but since I found out that you
+was only adopted, why, I don't see no reason why or wherefore I
+shouldn't give 'em as good as they deserve, now I don't."
+
+"Well, they did adopt me," said Annie Lizzie. "Don't, Tommy, please! Ma
+says--"
+
+"She ain't your Ma!" interrupted Tommy; "and I don't want you should
+call her so, Annie Lizzie; there!"
+
+"Well, she says I would have gone on the town only for them," the soft
+voice went on. "You wouldn't want I should be ungrateful, would you,
+Tommy?"
+
+"No, I wouldn't," said Tommy, grimly. "I'm willing you should be
+grateful for all the chance you've had to wash and scrub and take care
+of them Weight brats. But this ain't what I called you over for, Annie
+Lizzie. Say, there did some one come just now; Mr. Homer's brother!"
+
+"I want to know!" said Annie Lizzie. In the darkness, Tommy could almost
+see her glow with gentle wonder and curiosity. "What is he like, Tommy?
+I didn't know Mr. Homer had a brother, nor any one belongin' to him
+nearer than Mis' Strong."
+
+"No more did I," said Tommy. "But here he is, as like Mr. Homer as two
+peas, only he's a black one."
+
+"For gracious' sake, Tommy Candy! you don't mean a colored man?"
+
+"No, no! I mean dark-complected, with black eyes. You make an errand
+over to-morrow, and you'll see him. He looks to be a queer one, I tell
+you!"
+
+"If he's as good as Mr. Homer," said Annie Lizzie, "I shouldn't care how
+queer he was."
+
+"No more should I," cried Tommy, warmly; "but he'd have to work pretty
+hard to ketch up with Mr. Homer in goodness. Say, Annie Lizzie, come a
+mite nearer, can't you?"
+
+"I can't, Tommy. I must go home this minute; Ma will be wonderin' where
+I am. There! do let me go, Tommy!"
+
+A window was raised in the house opposite, and the wheezy voice of Mrs.
+Weight was heard:
+
+"Annie Lizzie, where are you? Don't you l'iter there now, and me
+ketchin' my everlastin' hollerin' for you. Come in this minute, do you
+hear?"
+
+There was a soft sound that was not a voice; and Annie Lizzie slipped
+back like a shadow across the road.
+
+"I'm comin', Ma!" she said. "It's real warm and pleasant out, but I'm
+comin' right in."
+
+"Do you see any one round?" asked the Deacon's widow.
+
+Annie Lizzie shut her eyes tight, for she was a truthful girl. "No'm,"
+she said; "I don't."
+
+In the Captain's room, Mr. Homer's favorite apartment, the two brothers
+stood and looked each other in the face. As Tommy said, the likeness was
+intimate, spite of the difference in color: the same figure, the same
+gestures, the same general effect of waviness in outline, of flutter in
+motion; yet, to speak in paradox, with a difference in the very
+likeness. There was an abruptness of address in the newcomer, foreign to
+the gentle ambiguous flow of Mr. Homer's speech; where Mr. Homer waved,
+Mr. Pindar jerked; where Mr. Homer fluttered feebly, his brother
+fluttered vivaciously. They fluttered now, both of them, as they stood
+facing each other. For a moment neither found words, but it was Mr.
+Pindar who spoke first.
+
+"I have surprised you, brother!" he cried; "confess it! Surprise, chief
+tidbit at the Feast of Life! Alarums and excursions! enter King Henry,
+with forces marching. You did not expect to see the Wanderer?"
+
+"I certainly did not, my dear brother!" cried Mr. Homer, the tears
+standing in his mild eyes. "I have not even felt sure, Pindar, of your
+being alive in these latter years. Why, why have you kept this silence,
+my dear fellow? think how many years it is since I have heard a word
+from you!"
+
+Mr. Pindar fluttered vivaciously; he was certainly more like a bat than
+the Flying Dutchman. "I apologize!" he cried. "I have been at fault,
+Homer, I admit it. To own him wrong, the haughty spirit bows--no more of
+it! The past"--he swept it away with one wing--"is buried. This night
+its obsequies! Hung be the heavens with black; a pickaxe and a spade, a
+spade; other remarks of a similar nature. Homer, our cousin Marcia loved
+me not!" (it was true. "I can stand a beetle," Mrs. Tree was used to
+say, "or I can stand a bat; but a bat-beetle, and a dancing one at that,
+is more than I can abide. Cat's foot! don't talk to me!").
+
+"Yet when I heard--through the medium of the public prints--that she was
+no more, I felt a pang, sir, a pang. I would have assisted at the
+funeral solemnities; it would have been a pleasure to me to compose a
+dirge; the first strophe even suggested itself to me. 'Ta-ta, tarum,
+tarum' (muffled drums); 'ta tee, ta tidol' (trombones); but these things
+require time, sir, time."
+
+"Surely!" said Mr. Homer, with a meek bow; "surely; and indeed,
+Pindar, the ceremonies were of the simplest description, in accordance
+with the wishes of our revered and deceased relative. But sit
+down, my dear brother; sit down, and let me procure some
+refreshment;--a--sustenance;--a--bodily pabulum, for you. Have you come
+far, may I ask?"
+
+"From the metropolis, sir; from New York!" replied Mr. Pindar, seating
+himself and throwing back his little batlike cloak.
+
+"By rail to the Junction; the evening stage, a jolt, a rattle, and a
+crawl,--behold me! A crust, Homer, a crust! no disturbance of domestic
+equilibrium. A consort lurks within?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, Brother!" said Mr. Homer, with a bewildered look.
+
+"A wife, sir, a wife!" said Mr. Pindar. "Are you married, Homer?"
+
+"Oh, no; no, indeed, my dear brother!" said Mr. Homer, hastily, and
+blushing very red. "Nothing of the kind, I assure you. And you?"
+
+"Perish the thought!" said Mr. Pindar; and he waved the Sex out of
+existence.
+
+Mr. Homer looked troubled, but hastened out of the room, and, after some
+ineffective appeals to Tommy, who, as we know, was talking with Annie
+Lizzie at the gate, foraged for himself, and returned with crackers and
+cheese, doughnuts and cider. Seated together at this simple feast, the
+two brothers looked at each other once more, and both rubbed their hands
+with precisely the same gesture.
+
+"Food!" cried Mr. Pindar, vivaciously; "and drink! necessities, base if
+you will, but grateful, sir, grateful! Brother, I pledge you!"
+
+"Brother, I drink to you!" cried Mr. Homer, filling his glass with a
+trembling hand. "To our reunion, sir! the--the rekindling of--of
+affection's torch, my dear brother. Long may it--"
+
+"Blaze!" cried Mr. Pindar, with a sudden skip in his chair. "Snap!
+crackle! flame! crepitate! Pindar to Homer shall, bright glass to
+glass--enough!" He ceased suddenly, and fell upon the crackers and
+cheese with excellent appetite.
+
+Mr. Homer watched him in anxious and bewildered silence: once or twice
+he opened his lips as if about to speak, but closed them each time with
+a sigh and a shake of the head. The visitor was the first to speak,
+beginning, when the last cracker had disappeared, as suddenly as he had
+left off.
+
+"Brother," he said, "why am I here?"
+
+Mr. Homer repeated the words vaguely: "Why are you here, my dear
+brother? I doubt not that affection's call, the--voice of sympathy,
+of--a--brotherhood, of--consanguinity,--a--sounded in your ears--"
+
+"Trumpets!" Mr. Pindar struck a sonorous note, and nodded thrice with
+great solemnity. "Alarums and excursions; enter long-lost brother,
+centre. You are right, Homer; but this was not all. The Dramatic Moment,
+sir, had struck."
+
+With these words, he folded his arms, and, dropping his head on his
+breast, gazed up through his eyebrows in a manner which Mr. Homer found
+highly disconcerting.
+
+"Oh, indeed!" said Mr. Homer, with vague politeness.
+
+"Struck!" repeated Mr. Pindar, nodding solemnly. "Sounded. Knelled--no!
+tolled--not precisely! larumed, sir, larumed!"
+
+"'Larumed' is a fine word," said Mr. Homer, meekly, "but I fail to
+apprehend your precise meaning, Brother Pindar."
+
+"You know what 'dramatic' means, I suppose, Homer," replied Mr. Pindar,
+testily, "though you never had an atom of the quality in your
+composition. And you know what a moment is. The Dramatic Moment--I
+repeat it--in your life and the life of this village--has larumed, sir.
+Listen to it, Homer; look upon it, sir; grasp it! The old order--gone!"
+he swept it away. "The new--its foot upon the threshold!" he beckoned
+toward the door, and Mr. Homer looked round nervously. "Usher it in, to
+sound of trump and drum. We must celebrate, Homer, celebrate. To that
+end, behold me!"
+
+Mr. Homer passed his hand across his brow and sighed wearily. "My dear
+brother," he said, "you must excuse me if I do not yet altogether
+understand,--a--comprehend,--a--accord the hospitality of the intellect,
+to--to the idea that you desire to convey. I feel little if any
+resemblance at this moment to a watcher of the skies--Keats, as I need
+not remind you; but I cannot feel that this is a time for rejoicing,
+Pindar."
+
+"For celebration, sir! for celebration!" cried Mr. Pindar, eagerly.
+"The words are not synonymous, as you are no doubt aware. Let the
+mysteries be solemn, if you will, the sable scarf of cinerary pomp, the
+muffled drum, and wail of deep bassoon; but this was my idea, sir; thus
+the vision rose before my mind's eye, Horatio,--I would say, Homer. A
+procession, sir. Maidens, white-clad, flower-crowned, scattering roses;
+matrons, in kirtle and gown, twirling the distaff; village elders,
+in--in--our native costume is ill adapted, I confess, but suitable robes
+might be obtained at trifling cost, sir, at trifling cost. You in the
+midst, crowned with bays, the poet's robe your manly limbs enfolding.
+Following,--or preceding, as you will,--musicians, with brass
+instruments. You write an ode, I set it to music. Rhymes will readily
+suggest themselves: 'jog,' no! 'clog;' hardly! 'agog;' precisely!
+
+    "Ta-ta, ta-ta, with joy agog;
+    Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
+
+Kettledrums, you understand; cymbals; superb effect! You see it, Homer?
+you take it in?"
+
+He paused, and gazed on his brother with kindling eyes, his arms
+extended, the little cloak fluttering from them; certainly nothing human
+ever looked so like a bat.
+
+"A goblin!" said Mr. Homer to himself. "My only brother is a goblin!"
+
+He sighed again, yet more wearily, and once more passed his hand across
+his brow.
+
+"My dear brother," he said, "the hour is late. I find myself incapable
+of--of thought. The weary pinion of the brain--I find myself incapable
+even of metaphor, sir. You must excuse me. To-morrow--"
+
+"To fresh fields and pastures new!" cried Mr. Pindar, rising with a
+batlike wave. "Precisely! Enter attendants with torches. The minion
+waits without?"
+
+"Oh!" said Mr. Homer, "not exactly, Pindar. Direxia Hawkes
+has--a--retired to rest; has--a--sought the sleep which--which--"
+
+"Knits up the ravelled sleeve of care!" suggested Mr. Pindar.
+
+"Oh, very much so!" cried Mr. Homer. "You surely remember Direxia,
+brother, and will no doubt agree with me that the term 'minion' cannot
+properly be applied to Cousin Marcia's old and faithful retainer.
+And--the youth who--who admitted you, is Thomas Candy, my friend and
+fellow trustee. Thomas is an invaluable person, Pindar; he is like a son
+to me, I assure you. You will, I am sure, value Thomas. I will suggest
+to him the advisability of bringing candles. Oh, here he is! Thomas,
+this is my brother Pindar, my only brother, returned after the lapse of
+many years to--to his native heath, if I may so express myself. Thomas
+Candy, my dear brother!"
+
+"Son of Silas?" cried Mr. Pindar. "Ha! 'tis well. Stripling, thy hand!
+lives yet thy father, ha?"
+
+Tommy grinned, and rumpled his hair with an elfish look eminently
+unfitting a trustee.
+
+"You are the one he used to play ghost with, and scare the Weightses,"
+he said. "I've heard of you, sir. Father isn't livin', but Mis' Tree
+told me about it. Glad to see you, sir!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+"_QUAND ON CONSPIRE_"
+
+
+Mr. Pindar Hollopeter slept long and late the next morning, as became a
+gentleman of metropolitan habits; he had not yet made his appearance
+when Will Jaquith came swinging along the street and turned in at the
+gate. Tommy Candy was at work in the garden, trimming the roses, as Will
+himself had been used to do before he was a family man and a postmaster,
+and at sight of him Will stopped.
+
+"Just the man I was looking for, Tom!" he said. "I want to consult you."
+
+"Same here!" said Tommy, straightening himself and looking over the
+sweetbriar bush. "What's up your way?"
+
+"This!" said Will, taking a postal card from his pocket. "I don't make a
+practice of reading postal cards, Tom, but I thought I'd better do it
+this time, as I recognized the handwriting;" and he read aloud: "'Expect
+me to-morrow at eleven, for the day. M. DARRACOTT PRYOR.'"
+
+"Gee!" said Tommy Candy.
+
+"Whiz!" said Will Jaquith. "Exactly. Now what are we to do? I promised
+Mr. Homer that she should not torment him."
+
+"And I promised Her," said Tommy, slowly ("Her" was Mrs. Tree, once and
+for all time, with Tommy Candy), "that that woman should never stay in
+this house. Didn't I tell you? It was the last time ever I was sittin'
+with her. I'll never forget it; she knew she hadn't long to stay, for as
+brisk and chirk as she was; she knew it right enough. 'Tommy,' she
+says, 'when I'm gone, I look to you to keep cats off the place; do you
+hear?' She couldn't abide cats, you know. I says, 'There sha'n't any cat
+come on the place if I can help it, Mis' Tree,' I says, 'and I expect I
+can.' I didn't have no _i_dea at first what she meant. She raps her
+stick and looks at me. Gorry! when she looked at you, she hadn't hardly
+no need to speak; her eyes did the talkin'. 'Cats!' she says.
+'Four-legged cats, two-legged cats. Cats that say "miaouw!" cats that
+say "Maria!" keep 'em off, Tommy! worry 'em, Tommy! Worry 'em! do you
+hear?'
+
+"'I hear, Mis' Tree,' I says, 'and I'll do it.'
+
+"'Good boy, Tommy!' she says; and she pulls out the table-drawer, same
+as she always did--Gorry! I can't talk about it!" His voice faltered,
+and he turned away. "She was my best friend!" he said, brokenly; "she
+was the best friend ever a fellow had."
+
+"Mine, too, Tommy," said Will, laying his hand kindly on the lad's
+shoulder. "We'll think of her together, boy, and we'll carry out her
+wishes if it takes a--"
+
+He checked himself, with a glance at the stick that never left Tommy's
+side; but Tommy finished the sentence simply:
+
+"A leg! that's what we'll do. I'd give my good leg, let alone the poor
+one; I shouldn't have had that if it hadn't been for her; if she hadn't
+sent for Doctor Strong that day. Old Pottle was going to take it off,
+you know. 'I'll take off your ears first!' she says, and 'rap' goes her
+stick. 'Ninnyhammer!' she says; 'noodle!' she says; 'send for Geoffrey
+Strong.' That rap was the first thing I heard; I believe it brought me
+back, too, from--from wherever there is. Gorry! I wish't I could bring
+her back!"
+
+"We cannot do that, Tommy," said Will Jaquith, sadly; "but what we can
+do, we will. Now about this--lady!"
+
+"Look-a-here!" said Tommy, eagerly. "I don't believe but what this fays
+in with what has been goin' on here. Last night--" and he told briefly
+of the advent of Mr. Pindar.
+
+"He's plum crazy," he added, "crazy as a loon; but yet it's a knowin'
+kind of crazy, and I don't believe but what he could help us."
+
+Will pondered. "I should not wonder if he could, Tom," he said at
+length. "I'd like to see him, anyhow. Where is he, and where is Mr.
+Homer?"
+
+"Mr. Homer's gone for a walk," said Tommy. "He was all worked up about
+his brother's comin', and some kind of rinktum he wants to get up, here
+in the village; kind of crazy circus, near as I could make out from the
+little he said. He didn't eat hardly any breakfast, and Direxia was in a
+caniption, so I got him to go for a walk in the woods, to ca'm him down.
+That ca'ms him down better than 'most anything, generally, unless it's
+Miss Wax's barrel-organ, and she's busy mornin's. Come in, Will. The
+other one wasn't down when I come out, but I presume likely he is now. I
+tell you he's a queer one!"
+
+They went in; and, sure enough, Mr. Pindar was in the dining-room,
+eating toast and marmalade, and holding forth to Direxia Hawkes, who
+stood in the doorway, half-admiring, half-distrustful. Her early opinion
+of Pindar Hollopeter had been unfavorable, but he certainly had an
+elegant way with him, and used beautiful language.
+
+"The orange," he was saying, as he waved a spoonful of the translucent
+sweetmeat, "has ever been the friend of man; unless, indeed, we share
+the view of those who hold that it was the original Apple of Discord.
+The answer to this theory would appear to lie in the fact that it is not
+an apple at all. But soft! whom have we here? A stranger! alarums and
+entrances. Enter mysterious individual, r. u. e."
+
+"It's Willy Jaquith and Tommy," said Direxia. "I'll go now; if you want
+more toast, you can ring the bell."
+
+"Good morning, sir!" said Tommy, advancing. "I hope you slept well. Let
+me make you acquainted with Mr. Jaquith; this is Mr. Homer's brother,
+Will, that I was telling you about."
+
+"I am glad to meet you, sir!" said Will. "Mr. Homer is a great friend of
+mine."
+
+Mr. Pindar rose, and held out his hand with a superb gesture.
+
+"My brother's friends," he said, "find safe asylum in this rugged
+breast. Sir, I salute you. Can I offer you refreshment--the wheaten
+loaf, the smooth, unrifled egg, the bland emollience of the butter-pat?
+No?"
+
+"Thanks!" said Will. "I have breakfasted, Mr. Hollopeter; but don't let
+me interrupt you. Thanks." He seated himself in response to a
+magnificent wave. "Pray finish your breakfast, sir!"
+
+But Mr. Pindar had apparently finished, and was besides in a
+communicative mood. After explaining to them at great length the theory
+of Até's apple, he gave them a brief disquisition on the proper boiling
+of eggs, touched lightly on the use of butter among the Hebrews, and
+then, to their great delight, proceeded to advert to his own coming. It
+was a sudden inspiration, he informed them. Some thirty years had
+blossomed o'er his head since his foot had trod the soil from which he
+sprang. He left, a stripling in his early flower; he returned--"what you
+see!" His gesture transformed the little shabby bat-cloak into an ermine
+mantle. "A son of Thespis, gentlemen, at your command!"
+
+Tommy opened wide eyes at this, having always heard that Mr. Hollopeter
+senior had rejoiced in the name of Ecclesiastes Nudd; but Will bowed
+respectfully in response to the wave. "An actor, sir?" he asked,
+deferentially.
+
+Mr. Pindar bowed and waved again. "Actor, dramatist, musician, composer!
+
+    "By many names men know me,
+      In many lands I dwell;
+    Well Philadelphia knows me,
+      Manhattan knows me well.
+
+A man of cities, sir, of cities! I have come to assist at the
+celebration of the New Order, and shall be glad to count you among my
+aids." Here Mr. Pindar bowed profoundly, twirled his mustaches,
+fluttered his wings, and proceeded to unfold his scheme of a
+Processional Festival Jubilee, matrons, maidens, distaffs, and all. He
+declared that Will was the very figure of Apollo, and that Tommy, on
+account of his lameness, was evidently created for the part of Vulcan.
+
+"A disparity of years, I grant you, my young friend," he said,
+graciously; "but what! the gods were young when time was. The Boy
+Hephæstos! what say you?"
+
+Tommy Candy, probably for the first time in his young life, found
+nothing to say; but Will pronounced the scheme a most interesting one.
+Before going fully into it, however, he said, he was anxious to consult
+Mr. Pindar on a matter connected with his brother.
+
+Mr. Pindar bowed again, still more profoundly, and crossing his arms on
+his breast, nodded thrice, each time more impressively than the last.
+
+"Concerning Homer!" he said. "My father's son; my mother's fair-haired
+joy; in short, my brother. Gentles, say on; my ears are all your own."
+
+"We have--learned," Will began cautiously, "that a visitor is coming
+here this morning whom we think Mr. Homer would greatly prefer not to
+see. The lady is a cousin of yours, sir; Mrs. Pryor, formerly Miss
+Darracott--"
+
+He stopped, for Mr. Pindar fixed him with a gleaming eye and an
+outstretched forefinger, and uttered one word.
+
+"Maria?"
+
+"The same!" said Will.
+
+"Maria!" repeated Mr. Pindar. "Ye gods! Strike home, young man! my bosom
+to the knife--strike home!"
+
+"Mr. Homer has dreaded her coming," said Will, taking courage; "and Mrs.
+Tree--a--did not--was not fond of her, we will say. We thought that you
+might possibly help us, sir, in devising some plan by which, without
+being uncivil, we might spare Mr. Homer the distress which--which an
+interview with this lady could hardly fail to give him."
+
+Mr. Pindar still looked fixedly at him. "Maria!" he muttered once more.
+"My boyhood's knotted scourge! the most horrid child that ever--What
+does she want?"
+
+"She desires to be a sister to Mr. Homer, sir," said Will, simply.
+
+Mr. Pindar recoiled. "Perish the thought!" he exclaimed. "Sepulchred
+deep the curst conception lie! and you? ye seek assistance, ha?"
+
+"We thought you might be able to help us out, sir," said Will.
+
+"I bet you could fix her!" said Tommy.
+
+Mr. Pindar's eyes flashed. "Your hands!" he cried. "The Dramatic Moment
+strikes. Ding dong! But soft; we must dissemble!"
+
+Mr. Pindar laid his finger on his lips, and rolled his eyes on his
+visitors with a warning glance. Then rising, he stole with measured and
+elaborately noiseless steps to the door, and listened at the keyhole,
+then to the window, and peered out with dramatic caution; then, still
+with his finger on his lips, he turned to his companions.
+
+"All is well!" he said; he waved the little bat-cloak, and then drew it
+round him with a flap of mystery.
+
+"Approach!" he whispered, beckoning the two friends toward him,
+"Conspiracy is the soul of Drama: approach, friends, and give--or rather
+receive--the counter-sign!"
+
+It was a pleasant sight to see Mr. Pindar Hollopeter, his eyes gleaming
+with dramatic fire, yet with a twinkle in the black depths of them,
+waving his arms abroad (the gesture so like his brother's, yet so
+unlike), expounding, suggesting, illustrating. It was pleasant, too, to
+see the responsive twinkle that danced and deepened in the blue and gray
+eyes as they met his.
+
+"I said you would fix it, sir!" cried Tommy Candy, smiting his thigh.
+
+"That will be capital, sir!" said Will. "Your coming seems really
+providential just at this time. Of course we could not have shown any
+incivility to a member of your family; but if you can arrange this--"
+
+"Sir," said Mr. Pindar, dropping his head forward, and gazing up through
+his eyebrows. "I know not 'if.' Regard the thing as done!"
+
+Punctually at eleven o'clock, Mrs. Pryor bustled and crackled up the
+garden path, and rang a defiant peal at the bell. She had brought no
+luggage with her; this was a preliminary skirmish, so to speak, merely
+to try her ground and assert her rights; but she was prepared to do
+fierce battle with Direxia Hawkes or any one else who might attempt to
+impede her progress in the Path of Duty. Accordingly, when she heard
+footsteps approaching along the hall, she stood with heaving breast and
+glittering eye, ready and determined to effect an entrance the instant a
+crack of the door should be opened.
+
+But there was no question of a crack this time. The door swung open to
+its fullest extent, and, instead of the small and warlike figure of
+Direxia Hawkes, it was Tommy Candy who stood on the threshold, with
+subdued and sorrowful looks.
+
+"How do you do, Mis' Pryor?" he said. "I'm rejoiced you have come. I
+took the liberty of reading your postal, and it seemed as though I
+couldn't hardly wait till eleven o'clock came. We need you here, the
+wust way, Mis' Pryor."
+
+Mrs. Pryor's bristling panoply smoothed itself, and she even gave an
+approving look at the youth, who certainly was a good-looking youth, and
+had probably been subjected to evil influences in his childhood.
+
+"I am glad that I have come at the right moment, Tommy," she said,
+benignly. "People sometimes say that when I come, it is apt to be the
+right moment, but we will not speak of that now. What is wrong? Have you
+had difficulty in getting rid of the old woman? I will attend to that
+with pleasure; it is my duty." And she stepped into the hall, Tommy
+making way for her with alacrity.
+
+"Oh, no'm," said Tommy. "It wasn't that; I don't suppose you could hire
+Direxia to stay--now!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked the visitor. "What has happened? Mr. Homer is
+not ill? nothing contagious, I--" and she made a step backward.
+
+"Oh, no'm!" said Tommy, mournfully. "No, I never heard of its bein'
+contagious, any more than a person couldn't stand it long; but now you
+have come, you will see to everything, I expect, and how thankful shall
+we be. This way, mum!" and he opened the parlor door.
+
+"There can't but one go in at a time," he whispered. "It excites him too
+much; but he's been pretty quiet this last hour or so; I guess there
+won't be no danger, not for a spell at least."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Pryor, in alarm. "Tell me at once what
+has happened, Thomas Candy!"
+
+Tommy shook his head sadly, and turned away with something like a sob.
+"You'll find out soon enough!" he murmured. "There's things you don't
+care to put into words. I'm real glad you've come, Mis' Pryor."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I can't tell you all he said," said Tommy over the garden gate that
+evening, "for I wasn't in the room. I couldn't hear only a scrap now and
+again, when he'd give a kind of screech; but you'd sworn, to look at
+him, it was Mr. Homer gone crazy. He looks like him, anyway, and he put
+on one of his co'ts and blue neckties, and sort of flopped his hair down
+over his forehead,--I tell ye, he was complete! and of course she never
+suspicioned anything about the other--Mr. Pindar--bein' in the land of
+the livin', or this part of it anyway. We had the room darkened, and he
+sot there hunched up in a big chair with his back to the light, sort o'
+mutterin' to himself, when I shew her in.
+
+"I kinder prepared her mind, just as he told me, and she felt a mite
+scary, I guess; well, Annie Lizzie, he did the rest; I had no part or
+lot in it. I tell you he's a circus, that man! I heard him ask her right
+off the first thing would she marry him, and be his young gazelle: that
+pleased her, and yet she was took aback a mite, and said: 'Oh, Homer,
+this is very sudden!'
+
+"'We'll be married by candle-light,' he says, 'and go off in a balloon,
+by registered mail. The Emperor of China is expecting us to tea; we are
+to wear our skulls outside, and cross-bones in our clustering locks.
+Hark to the wedding knell! tzing boom! tzing boom! cymbals and bass
+drum!'
+
+"I heard that plain, but then he went on muttering for a spell, and I
+couldn't make out a word, till she said, kinder sharp and twittery: 'I
+must go now, Homer; I have an important engagement;' and she said
+something about coming back soon. But he hollers out:
+
+    "'Black sperits and white,
+    Red sperits and gray,
+    Mingle, mingle, mingle,
+    Ye that mingle may!'
+
+And I heard them fussin' round, as if she was tryin' to get out the room
+and he was keepin' between her and the door. At last and finally, he
+must have got right up close't the door, for I heard him as plain as I
+do you. 'Rats and bears! rats and bears!' he says, 'all over the room!
+all over the room! look at 'em! look at 'em!' She let one yell out--that
+was the one you heard--and come runnin' out, and he come as fur as the
+door after her, flappin' his arms and hoppin' up and down--great Jonas!
+I expect she'd ben runnin' now if she hadn't have caught the down
+stage. I tell ye, I won't forget that one while."
+
+"Oh, Tommy!" said Annie Lizzie, in her soft, reproachful voice. "I think
+'twas awful mean to scare a lady that way, now I do. I don't think you'd
+oughter have done it; 'twasn't pretty actin', no way, shape, or manner,
+don't tell me it was."
+
+"Annie Lizzie," said Tommy, "you don't know Mis' Pryor; you warn't
+nothin' but a child when she was here before. There's some folks you
+_have_ to scare; it's the only way to git red of 'em, and we _had_ to
+git red of her. Let alone what Mis' Tree said to me the last time ever I
+saw her,--though that was enough for me, and what she said goes, as long
+as I live,--but let that alone, do you think we was goin' to let that
+woman set right down on Mr. Homer, and smother him with sarce? I guess
+not. If Prov'dence hadn't sent his brother right in the nick of time,
+Will and me'd have had to do it ourselves, and like as not made a mess
+of it, and Mr. Homer found out, and ben worked up worse than what he is
+now; but, as it was, it was all done in the family, and there warn't a
+word said but what was polite, if 'twas crazy. He couldn't do no more
+than ask her to marry him, could he?"
+
+"Oh, well, Tommy, you can always talk!" said Annie Lizzie.
+
+"There's other things I can do besides talk," said Tommy Candy; and he
+did one of them.
+
+"Tommy!" said Annie Lizzie. "How you act!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A PLEASANT HOUR
+
+
+One of the spots I have always liked best in Quahaug (it is hard for me
+even now not to say "Elmerton," though I highly approve the change) is
+Salem Rock's back yard. The front yard is the special province of Mrs.
+Rock, a person whose mind runs to double petunias, and coleus; but the
+back premises are Salem's own, and quaint and homely as himself. A neat
+path of oyster shells pounded fine runs straight from the back porch to
+the little pier where the white dory lies sunning herself, and the
+sailboat dips and rises on the ripple. On either side of the path is a
+square space of green, with a few ancient apple-trees here and there, a
+white lilac-bush, and a little round summer-house so overgrown with
+honeysuckle and clematis, and so clustered round by bees that it looks
+like a quaint flowering beehive itself. There are real beehives, too,
+six of them, set along the wall; and in a narrow border that runs all
+round the yard are the flowers that bees like best, sweet rocket and
+foxglove, mignonette and sweet alyssum, and a dozen others. All these
+pleasant things may be found in other back yards, but there are some
+things that belong to this alone. In the exact centre of one green space
+is a ship's spar, set upright, with a tiny flag fluttering from its top;
+in the other stand two life-size figures, facing each other; the figures
+of a man and a woman. The man is in the dress of the thirties, high
+stock and collar, shirt-frill and frock-coat; the lady in flowing
+classical draperies; the man is painted in lively colors, his coat and
+wig (it is certainly a wig!) a bright snuff-brown, his eyes and
+waistcoat sky-blue, his cheeks and stock a vivid crimson; but the lady
+is all white, cheeks, lips, robes and all; she might be marble, if she
+were less palpably wood. The most singular thing about this singular
+pair is that they seem to be coming up out of the earth; to have got out
+as far as their knees, and then to have given it up and stopped. It is
+evident that they are not coming any farther, for the grass grows close
+about them, and a wild convolvulus has crept up into the lady's lap and
+round her arm, making the prettiest of bracelets; while, actually, a
+yellow warbler has built his nest in the gentleman's shirt-frill, and
+sings there all summer long.
+
+There the two stand, facing each other, with cheerful looks; and there
+they have stood for fifty years.
+
+On a certain pleasant morning, about the time of which I am writing,
+Salem Rock and Seth Weaver were having what they called their annual
+spree. Seth had brought his brushes and a variety of paint-pots; Salem,
+according to custom, had provided tobacco, and a great stone pitcher
+containing ginger, molasses, and water, with plenty of ice tinkling in
+it. This pitcher was set down between the two images, within reach of
+either man: Seth was at work on the white lady, while Salem, with
+infinite and loving care, went over the gentleman's attire, picking out
+the waistcoat pattern, and doing wonderful things to the buttons with a
+tiny brush dipped in gold leaf.
+
+"Old Sir's goin' to look tasty this time, now I tell ye!" he said,
+drawing back, with his head on one side, to study the effect. "I've
+give him a yeller sprig to his vest, see? I expect Old Marm'll say 'yes'
+this time, for as long as she's held out."
+
+"Yes!" grumbled Seth, pipe in mouth. "You never let me have a chanst at
+him, nor yet you won't let me brisk the Old Lady up to match. Give her a
+pink dress now, and hair her up some, and she'd be a fine-lookin' woman
+as there is in this village. I'll do it, too, some night; you'll see."
+
+"No, you don't!" said Salem, slowly, as he drew a scarlet line down the
+seams of "Old Sir's" coat. "White Old Marm begun, and white she'll stay.
+Wal, you was beginnin' to tell me about this ruction up to Home's. What
+is it Pindar's after? I ain't seen him yet."
+
+"He's after a strait-weskit, and he'll get it, don't you have no fears!"
+replied Seth. "He calls it a Pro-cessional Festival Jubilee. He's hired
+the band from the Corners, and he's got the women-folks churned up till
+they don't know whether they're butter or cheese. They're routin' out
+all their old clo'es from up attic, and tryin' of 'em on, and
+cacklin'--there! I thought I'd heerd hens before; but this mornin' I was
+in to Penny's store, and there was a passel of 'em in there talkin' it
+over, and I tell you there ain't a hen-yard in this State to ekal it. I
+come away without my bird seed. Gorry! there's times when it feels good
+to be a single man."
+
+"That may be so, Seth," replied Mr. Rock, soberly; "but there's other
+times--meal-times, and rheumatiz, and such--when it ain't so handy. How
+does Homer feel about all this ran-tan?"
+
+"Poor old Home!" said Seth, shaking his head. "He's pooty well broke up.
+He was jest beginnin' to take notice, and get used to things the new
+way, and sense it that it warn't goin' to kill him to have money in the
+bank; and now comes Pindar, flappin' and squeakin' like a
+ravin'-distracted June-bug, and stands him on his head, and he don't
+know where he is again; Home don't, I mean. He never could stand up
+against Pindar, you know. You remember at school we used to call 'em
+Loony and Moony; Homer was Moony. We used to call after 'em--
+
+    "'Loony and Moony,
+    Both got spoony,
+    Dance for Mame when she plays 'em a toony.'
+
+There! I ain't thought o' that for thirty years, I don't believe. There
+never was a single mite o' harm in Homer that I could see."
+
+"I left school before they come," said Salem. "I was on my fust voyage
+with Cap'n time they got there. But I ric'llect old Mis' Hollopeter,
+and the way she used to ride round in that old carryall of her'n. I can
+see her now, settin' straight as a broomstick, holdin' up that little
+mite of a green parasol. Covered carryall, too; I remember I used to
+wonder what on airth she wanted with that parasol."
+
+"Mebbe 'twas charity for the neighbors," said Seth. "She didn't handsome
+much, old Mis' Hollopeter didn't. I rec'llect the carryall, too. When
+the boys got big enough, one of them would drive her, and she'd set
+there and pour poetry into him like corn into a hopper. Home asked me to
+go one day, and I was so scairt I like t' ha' died. Not but what the old
+lady meant well, for she did; but what I mean is, them boys never had no
+chanst to _be_ boys--not like other boys do. Who's this comin'?"
+
+There was a flutter of pink beside the great mallow-bush at the corner
+of the house; a slender girl appeared, and paused bashfully, with a
+doubtful smile.
+
+"'Tis Annie Lizzie!" said Salem Rock. "Nice little gal! Come in, Annie
+Liz, come in! there's no one here only Seth and me. What can we do for
+ye? Want me to touch up them cheeks with a mite of this red paint?
+'Pears to me they ain't quite so rosy as common."
+
+Both men looked approvingly at the girl as she came slowly toward them
+across the grass. Annie Lizzie never seemed in haste; she was in fact
+rather slow, but it was a soft, graceful slowness, and her motions were
+so pretty that one could not wish to hurry them. Everything about the
+girl was soft, gentle, leisurely; she had little to say, but that little
+was so pleasantly said, and her soft voice lingered so sweetly over the
+vowels, that one was sorry when she had done speaking.
+
+She smiled very sweetly on the two middle-aged men. "Good mornin', Mr.
+Rock," she said. "'Mornin', Mr. Weaver! Ma sent me on an errand to you,
+Mr. Weaver; I went to the shop fust, and then I thought likely you might
+be here, so I come along down."
+
+"Yes!" said Seth. "You knew it was about time for all the foolishness
+there is in Salem Rock to bust out in paint. Look at the figuree he's
+makin' out of Old Sir there!"
+
+"Yay-us!" said Annie Lizzie, admiringly. "Don't he look nice? I think
+he's real handsome, Mr. Rock."
+
+Salem Rock nodded, and gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Seth's jealous,"
+he said. "Don't you take no notice of him, Annie Lizzie!"
+
+"She'll hev to take notice of me," said Seth, "or she won't get what
+she come for. What does your Ma want, little gal?"
+
+"She wanted to know if you was comin' to paint the stairs to-morrow.
+This festival comin' on and all, she says she's ashamed to have 'em look
+as they doos."
+
+"The festival ain't goin' up her back stairs, is it?" asked Seth. "I
+wish it was, and out the back winder and across lots to Tom Fool's
+Pastur, where it come from."
+
+"Why, Mr. Weaver, how you talk!" said Annie Lizzie, in soft reproach. "I
+think it'll be elegant. I'm jest as excited about it!"
+
+"Think likely!" grunted Seth. "What kind o' figuree is Pindar goin' to
+make out of you, young un? Psyche? Wal, it takes all kinds! You tell
+your Ma them stairs'll have to wait a spell. There's too many folks
+wantin' the outside o' their cups and platters done up, tell her, for me
+to 'tend to the insides yet awhile. I'll get round to it bumby, tell
+her; if ever I get done with this job!" he added, tilting back on his
+heels, and surveying the white lady. "I s'pose you've got to have three
+co'ts on her, Sale?"
+
+"That's what!" said Salem. "I'd never skimp Old Marm in her co'ts, not
+if I had to go in my shirt-sleeves to do it."
+
+"Mr. Rock," said Annie Lizzie, "you promised me you'd tell me some day
+about those images, and you never. What do they represent, may I ask?
+They ain't man and wife, be they?"
+
+"I guess not!" said Seth, with a chuckle. "I never heard 'em jaw each
+other, many times as I've been over 'em. Tell her about 'em, Sale. Annie
+Lizzie, you set down, and he'll tell the stories now, or, if he won't, I
+will."
+
+"Sho!" said Salem Rock. "What's the use of rakin' up old stories? These
+two figgers have set here so long they don't need no stories; they jest
+belong here, same as the trees doos."
+
+"But I _love_ stories, Mr. Rock!" said Annie Lizzie, in her soft,
+pleading voice. "Do tell me, Mr. Rock, now please!"
+
+She sat down on the grass, and gathered her pink skirts round her: she
+might have been a great, soft rose dropped on the green.
+
+"Bile in, Salem!" said Seth Weaver. "You ain't forgot, have ye?"
+
+[Illustration: "'BILE IN, SALEM!' SAID SETH WEAVER, 'YOU AIN'T FORGOT,
+HAVE YE?'"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+SPINNING YARNS
+
+
+"No, I ain't forgot," said the older man, slowly; "nor like to forget."
+
+He laid his brush down carefully after a critical glance at "Old Sir's"
+buttons.
+
+"I guess mebbe I'll let them buttons dry a spell before I put on the
+last co't," he said. "No, I ain't forgot, Seth; but it takes a kind of a
+h'ist to get back into things that seems so long ago you kinder think
+they must have happened to somebodys else beside yourself.
+
+"Wal, little gal, these two figgers is figgerheads, you see: kem off two
+ships I sailed in long before your two bright eyes opened on to this
+world of sin and--"
+
+"Deestruction!" said Seth Weaver. "Chirk up a mite, Salem! This ain't a
+funeral, is it?"
+
+"I dono but 'tis, kind of," said Salem Rock, soberly. "It's amazin' how
+many folks is dead and buried nowadays. Howsoever, them was two good
+ships, the _Merchant Cap'n_ and the _White Lady_. Old Sir here, he come
+off the _Cap'n_; they made her over into a barge, and I begged for him,
+and they let me have him. The builder meant him for a kind of compliment
+to Cap'n Tree; sing'lar compliment, _I_ used to think. Cap'n Tree was a
+pictur' of a man, if ever I sot eyes on one, and Old Sir always
+resembled a wooden image, and no special reason why he shouldn't.
+
+"Wal, I took my fust voyage in the _Merchant Cap'n_; I was cabin-boy,
+and Mis' Tree was along; it was the last voyage but one they took
+together, him and her, and I was along on both. Wal, sir, I tell you
+'twas a sight to see them two sail a ship together. He'd taught her
+navigation, and she took to it like them bees to that rocket yonder. She
+was as good a navigator as ever I see. We was tradin' round Borneo ways,
+and had laid in a cargo of spices and truck, and started on the homeward
+voyage. Come up a hurricane, and blowed us clear'n out of our course;
+went on blowin', and kep' us hitherin' and thitherin' for three days,
+till we didn't know where we was, nor hardly whether we was in this
+world at all, or that part of the next that we wasn't anyways particklar
+_about_ bein' in. The third night of it was the wust, and, gorry! I tell
+ye 'twas awful! and then all of a suddin, like takin' off your hat, it
+fell dead calm. When mornin' broke, 'twas wuss yet, for there was land
+dead ahead, and the _Merchant Cap'n_ driftin' on to it as fast as tide
+could take her. Wal, Mis' Tree had jest come up-stairs, and I tumbled up
+behind her, cur'us as a monkey, same as all boys be. She looks at the
+land, and then up at Cap'n, that quick way she had, like a bird. 'What
+is it?' she says; and Cap'n says, 'Solomon Islands!'
+
+"I hadn't no notion what that meant; I thought from the sound it might
+be some extry fine place, like the Bible, ye know, cedars of Lebanon,
+and Queens of Sheby, and like that; but Cap'n's voice had a queer sound
+to it, and I looked at him, and he was the color of her there!" he
+nodded toward the white image.
+
+"Little Mis' Tree, she never turned a hair, though she knew what I
+didn't, that them islands was cannibal, the wust sort, and no white man
+had ever come off 'em inside his own skin. She never turned a hair,
+only slid her mite of a hand into his, and said, quiet-like: 'We're both
+here, Ethan!' Cap'n give a kind of groan. 'I'd give my soul, Marshy,' he
+says, 'if you was safe to home!' She stood up straight--Jerusalem! I can
+see her now; 'twas like a flame risin', near as I can put it--and looks
+him in the face. 'I be to home!' she says; that was every word she said.
+
+"Wal, word got round what land it was,--some of the crew had been that
+way before,--and I tell ye we was a pooty sick-lookin' crew. There
+warn't a breath o' wind, nor the shadow of a breath; and we kep' on
+a-driftin', till pooty soon we could see the shore plain, and black
+savages runnin' up and down, hollerin', and wavin' their arms. They see
+us, and were all ready for us; and pooty soon we could make out that
+they was pilin' up logs o' wood, makin' fires--Seth, what in time made
+you start me in on this yarn? 'Tain't no kind o' thing for this gal to
+hear."
+
+Annie Lizzie's eyes were like brown stars, her cheeks like Old Sir's
+carmine stock. "Oh, Mr. Rock!" she cried, "if Mis' Tree could bear it, I
+guess I can. Please go on! I _have_ to hear the rest. And besides," she
+added, naïvely, "of course I know you wasn't all--"
+
+She paused.
+
+"No, we wasn't eat," said Salem Rock; "but I tell ye, little gal, we was
+as near it as a person is anyways desirous to come. We was that near, we
+see them critters grinnin' their white teeth at us, and heard their
+devils' screechin' and chatterin'. When it got to that, Cap'n called the
+crew aft, and told 'em, quiet and easy, how things was.
+
+"'If the wind comes up within ten minutes,' he says, 'we are safe; if
+not, then we've had our time in this world,' he says, 'and behoves us
+be ready for another. I see no reason, and Mis' Tree sees no reason, why
+we should go in that beastly fashion yonder,' he says, pointin' to the
+yellin' savages; 'and therefore I have give my orders, and before we
+touch that shore the doctor will serve an extry grog, that will take you
+through sleep to the presence of your Maker, and may He have mercy on
+your souls and mine!'
+
+"'Amen!' says Mis' Tree, clear and crisp; and I see she had a little
+bottle in her hand, holdin' it tight, and the other hand in Cap'n's.
+Jerusalem! she had grit!
+
+"Wal, there was no words said. 'Twas a good crew, 'most all of 'em
+Quahaug men; your father was one of 'em, Seth."
+
+Seth nodded gravely.
+
+"But we got together forrard, and watched the shore, and Cap'n and Mis'
+Tree stood aft and kep' their eye on the wind.
+
+"That shore come nearer; it come nearer than was anyways comfortable. I
+warn't nothin' but a boy, and I can remember wonderin' whether the folks
+to home would ever know, and whether Cap'n would write the story and put
+it in a bottle, same as in books I'd read; and what'd become of the
+ship, and the little monkey I was tamin' for my sister. And then--then
+somebody sung out somethin', and I turned round; and there stood Cap'n
+Tree, with the tears runnin' over his face, and his arm up, p'intin' at
+the pennon on the masthead.
+
+"'Bout ship!' he says; and that same moment come a puff o' wind from the
+shore; and then pooty soon another; and then the land-breeze set in good
+and steady.
+
+"The helmsman put her about, and she come round with a dip and a sweep
+like a dancin' lady, and went curtseyin' off over the waves--you never
+see a sight like that, little gal, nor never will see.
+
+"'Let us give thanks to Almighty God!' says Cap'n Tree; and we give 'em,
+kneelin' on the deck."
+
+Salem Rock drew a long breath, and took up his brush again.
+
+"There!" he said. "You've had your story, Annie Lizzie. I dono as it's a
+very pooty one, but truth ain't allers pooty, I've noticed."
+
+"Oh, it's a wonderful story, Mr. Rock!" cried little Annie Lizzie. "I
+thank you a thousand times for tellin' me. But ain't you goin' to tell
+the other one, too, about the lady? Please, Mr. Rock!"
+
+"I guess not!" said Salem. "I guess I'm jaw-weary for this time."
+
+"No, you ain't," said Seth Weaver. "Take more'n that to jaw-weary you,
+Sale, with the practice you have," and he cast a cautious glance at the
+house. "Let the little gal hev the other story if she wants it. Fust
+thing we know you and me'll be to Kingdom Come, and who's to tell the
+stories then? The young folks ought to know 'em, too; this one special.
+Bile in, old hoss!"
+
+Salem Rock drew another long breath. "You tell her about the spar
+yonder," he said, "while I third-co't these buttons; I've got to give my
+mind to 'em. I ain't the only man ever was to sea, Annie Lizzie: you
+sick him on to spin you that yarn, and then we'll see."
+
+"Sho!" said Seth. "Ain't no story _to_ that. All about it, Sale and me
+was both shipwrecked one time,--'twas after Cap'n Tree was dead,--and us
+two and that spar was all that come ashore. Now go 'long, and let her
+hear about the _White Lady_, and let the buttons go to Tinkham and see
+the sights."
+
+Salem Rock cast a glance of affectionate comprehension at his companion.
+It was little less than heroic for Seth Weaver, the best story-teller in
+Quahaug, thus to break and knot up his favorite yarn, the proper
+spinning of which took a good half-hour; but it was very rarely that
+Salem Rock could be brought to tell these two sea tales, and Seth was a
+good friend and a good listener.
+
+So, when he repeated "Go 'long!" Salem nodded, and laid down his brush
+again.
+
+"It's easy to see you're doin' this job by the day," he said. "I dono as
+Mis' Weight'll ever get them stairs done at this rate. Wal, if I've
+gotter, I've gotter, I s'pose. Up anchor and square away, hey? Wal, her
+there," he nodded toward the White Lady, "was figgerhead and likeness,
+fur as I know, to the _White Lady of Avenel_, full-rigged ship, seven
+hundred and fifty tons, Ethan Tree master and owner. She was a clipper,
+the _White Lady_ was, if ever such sailed the seas. Old Marm here is a
+fine-appearin' woman, fur as she goes,"--he indicated by a wave of his
+hand the incompleteness which marred the perfect symmetry of the
+figure,--"but she ain't to be named within a week of the vessel herself.
+Mis' Tree named her out of a book she'd ben readin',--she was a great
+reader,--and had her all painted white, not a dark spot on her; I tell
+ye, she was a sightly vessel. So we sailed for Singapore, and I was
+second mate then, and prouder than ary peacock ever strutted, because I
+was young for the berth, ye see, and Cap'n promoted me for efficiency,
+so he said. Had a good voyage, and discharged our cargo, and loaded up
+again with coffee and raw silk, and off for home. Wal, sir, all went as
+it should the fust few weeks, though I was none too well pleased with
+the make-up of the crew. That is to say, most of 'em was all right, or
+would have ben if they'd ben let alone; but two of 'em was strangers,
+picked up at Singapore, where two of our men died of jungle fever; and
+the fust mate broke his leg, ridin' a fool four-legged hoss, and had to
+be left in hospital; so we was both short-handed and left-handed, as you
+might say.
+
+"Still we got on, and mebbe we might have come through all right, but
+then Cap'n took sick. I think he got some kind o' malaria p'ison ashore,
+and Mis' Tree thought so, too: anyway, he was terrible sick, and she
+nussed him, and run the ship, her and me together. She was allers good
+to me, ever sence she bought my mud pie when I was no more'n a baby; and
+we had good weather, and so things went from day to day after a
+fashion.
+
+"But them two strangers, they was ugly, grumble-groan kind of fellers,
+lookin' for trouble. You mind me, Annie Lizzie; a man that's lookin' for
+trouble will find it, if he has to break the eggs from under a settin'
+hen to get at it. The minute these two fellers heard Cap'n was sick,
+they see their chance, and they commenced workin' on the men, talkin' of
+'em round, and makin' 'em think they was abused. You mind this, too,
+little gal; you tell a man often enough that he's got a crick in his
+back, and he'll come to think it's broke, and go hollerin' to raise the
+roof for a plaster to mend it. Same way with our men: some of 'em, that
+is. There was others that was all right, and stayed all right, but yet,
+you know how 'tis: when there's two-three bad ones in a crew, it makes
+trouble all through, someways."
+
+Seth nodded sympathetically. "Same as a drop o' paint'll rile a hull
+pail o' water; or take it t'other way round, a spoonful o' water'll
+spile a hull can o' paint."
+
+"That's so!" said Salem Rock, gravely. "Ile and water, good and evil;
+the Lord can mix 'em so they'll make a good wearin' color, but the hand
+of man cannot so do. Wal, come one day, Cap'n was so bad, Mis' Tree
+didn't leave his side all the mornin'; and I was busy with the log, and
+one thing and another, and, all about it, these fellers thought they see
+their chance to hatch up a mutiny. There was a big feller in the crew,
+Bob Moon his name was; a good seaman, but he warn't more'n half there in
+his upper story. He'd had a block drop on his head, and it kind o' mixed
+his idees so they never got straight. He was sort o' gormin' and gappin'
+most of the time, and he'd go anyways any person had a mind to head him,
+and go hard, for he had the stren'th of a bull and the mule-headedness
+of a--of a mule. Wal, these fellers--Faulkner and Higgins their names
+was--they got holt of Bob and two-three others, and give 'em to
+understand now was their time. Cap'n sick, and her tendin' of him, and
+me nothin' but second mate; and they allowed they'd ruther stop at the
+Azores and drop us three there, and go off with the vessel, tradin' on
+their own account. See? quite a pooty plot they hatched up; might ha'
+ben a story-book. But they got holt of the wrong stick when they tackled
+Ben Gray, the ship's carpenter. Ben was a straight stick of white pine
+timber as ever I see. He give 'em a smooth answer; said he'd think it
+over, and let 'em know, and he shouldn't be surprised if there was
+considerable in what they said, and like that; and then he come hotfoot
+and told me every word, and what should we do? I took him straight down
+to the cabin, and called Mis' Tree to the door and told her. She looked
+us right through, as if she was countin' the j'ints in our back-bones.
+'Are most of the men straight?' she says. So we told her how 'twas, most
+of 'em was all right at bottom, but yet they'd got sorter warpled
+through these fellers workin' on 'em, and we was feared there might be
+trouble. She studied a bit, still sarchin' us with them black eyes of
+her'n--gorry! seemed as though I could feel my soul rustlin' round
+uneasy inside me. Then she give us our orders, quick and quiet, and not
+too many of 'em; and we went off, and l'itered up on deck separate, and
+I sot down behind one of the bo'ts, nigh hand to the companion, and
+coiled rope. It was Bob Moon's watch on deck, and he was hunchin' round,
+mutterin' and growlin', and I could see he was workin' himself up to
+somethin'. 'Twarn't a gre't while before up comes Ben Gray, and with
+him Faulkner, one of the two grumble-groans, talkin' mighty earnest.
+'Here!' says Ben. 'Here's Bob Moon this minute. He's safe, ain't he?'
+
+"'Bet yer life,' says Faulkner. 'He's all pie for us!' he says; 'ain't
+yer, Bob?' and Bob hunches himself and rubs his big hands, and allows
+he'll fix things to beat creation once he gits started.
+
+"'You tell him, then,' says Ben, 'what you've jest told me, and mebbe we
+can run it off to-night,' he says.
+
+"Moon was sittin' on the hatchway, with his back to the stairs, and
+Faulkner squats down beside him and commences dealin' out to him what he
+proposed; and Gray stood back a leetle mite, and I peeked round the eend
+of the bo't.
+
+"Then--we never heerd a sound; but, all in a minute, there was Mis' Tree
+standin' behind them two, close up. They was both men that had hair,
+Bob with a curl on him like a mattress, and t'other a kind o' thick
+tousle like a yeller dog's. That little woman never spoke, but she took
+those two by the hair--twisted her little hands in and got a good
+holt--and brought their two heads together with a crack--Jerusalem!
+'twas like a pistol-shot! Every man on board jumped, and come runnin' to
+see what was up; but them two never stirred, jest sot there: their wits
+was clean jarred out of 'em. Then Mis' Tree spoke up, clear and crisp;
+she never hollered, she no need, her voice carried like a trumpet.
+
+"'Mr. Rock,' she says, 'put this man in irons, and George Higgins the
+same. Bob Moon, you come with me; I want you to nurse Cap'n for me. The
+rest go to your quarters.'
+
+"She took holt of Bob's collar--he was nearer seven foot than six, and
+had the brea'th of an ox--and give a little h'ist, and he come up like
+he was a rag dolly. 'Come along, Bob,' she says, 'Cap'n wants you,' and
+she marched him off like Mary had a little lamb, and he nussed Cap'n
+like his own mother from that hour. Further and moreover, he got his
+wits back likewise from that hour. Yes, sir, he did so. 'Peared as if
+one blow had shook his brains one way, and the next shook 'em back the
+other; I expect there wasn't enough of 'em to fill his head solid, so
+they wouldn't travel. And that man nussed Cap'n, and follered Mis' Tree
+like a span'el dog the rest of the voyage."
+
+"But what become of those two mean men, Mr. Rock?" asked Annie Lizzie,
+who had followed the story with breathless interest. "Did they make any
+more trouble?"
+
+"Not a mite!" said Salem Rock. "They was put in irons, and so remained
+till we come to the Azores, and there we left 'em, though not so
+agreeable to their wishes as the way they had planned. It seemed they
+belonged there, and was wanted for various causes; so we left 'em in the
+calaboose and come away. But for Cap'n's bein' so poorly, I'd never ask
+for a better voyage. The men was like pie, every man Jack of 'em, and if
+Mis' Tree wanted to wipe her shoes, there warn't ary one but would have
+ben proud to be her door-mat. Yes, sir; that was a great voyage--till it
+come to the eend."
+
+He was silent; and Annie Lizzie, thinking the tale was over, made a
+motion to rise, but Seth checked her with a silent gesture.
+
+"Go on, Sale," he said, quietly. "Finish up, now you're about it."
+
+"There ain't but a little more," said the old sailor, speaking half to
+himself. "It behoved to be a good voyage, for it was the last. Cap'n
+fit hard, and she fit for him, but 'twas not so to be. The p'ison, or
+whatever 'twas, had got too strong a holt on him; he couldn't shake it.
+But yet for awhile, when we was nearin' home, he seemed to gain up a
+mite, and would come up on deck, and set and see her take the
+observation, and pass the time of day with the boys. Looked like his
+shadow, he did, and white as his shirt under the tan; but his courage
+was good, and he was allers sayin' he'd get well so soon as he was to
+home.
+
+"'Home, Marshy!' he'd say. 'We'll be there soon, little woman!'
+
+"And she'd nod and smile, and say they would so, sure enough; and Bob
+Moon'd go off and cry behind a bo't. I punched his head good every time
+I co't him at it, fear they'd notice, but I don't think they did, they
+was wropped up in each other.
+
+"Wal, at last and finally, sure enough we sighted Quahaug P'int. It was
+a fine day, I ric'llect, south by west, clear and warm; pretty a day as
+ever I see. Cap'n was on deck, and he was mighty weak that day. His
+voice was no more'n a whisper, but yet cheerful, you understand, and he
+had a word for every one that come by, and we all made out _to_ come by,
+one errant or another. She was sittin' beside him, fannin' him, and
+talkin' away easy and pleasant, tellin' how that they'd be in soon now,
+and Lucy--that was Mis' Blyth, their daughter, Arthur's mother--would be
+comin' from the West to visit 'em, and all; and Cap'n listened, and
+seemed real pleased, and put in a word now and again.
+
+"I was standin' close by, makin' believe tinker somethin',--I was allers
+nigh hand them days, case o' need,--when the lookout says, 'Quahaug
+P'int in sight, Cap'n! 'and we looked, and there it was, sure enough,
+and the sun goin' down behind it, and the water all the likeness of gold
+in between. Cap'n raised his head, and begun to talk sudden and quick.
+'Marshy,' he says, 'I couldn't find a pineapple this mornin',' he says;
+'but here's custard-apples and turtles' eggs; we'll manage to make out a
+breakfast,' he says. I looked up at him, and his eyes were bright as
+lamps, and his cheeks like fire. Mis' Tree put her hand on his arm,
+quiet like. 'That's just as good, Ethan,' she says. 'Them's beautiful,'
+she says; 'I was gettin' kinder tired of pineapples.' Then he goes on,
+sort o' like talkin' to himself. 'True blue, little Marshy!' he says.
+'True blue, little wife! we'll get home yet; safe home, safe home!'
+
+"Then all of a suddent he riz up to his feet, stood up every inch of
+him,--he was a tall man,--and stands lookin' out forrard. 'Sail ho!' he
+says, 'sail ho! we'll see home again, home!' and he dropped back in her
+arms, and his sperit passed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MISS WAX AT HOME
+
+
+Miss Bethia Wax was at work one afternoon, bending over her little round
+table, busily plaiting a hair chain, when she heard her front door open.
+She looked up in some disturbance, for Phoebe, the little maid, was
+out, and there were few visitors, since Mrs. Stedman died, with whom she
+was on "run-in" terms: her disturbance was not lessened when the billowy
+form of Mrs. Malvina Weight appeared in the doorway.
+
+"Good afternoon, Malvina," said Miss Wax, rather coldly. "I heard no
+knock; I trust you have not been kept waiting. My domestic is out."
+
+"Yes, I see her go past the house," said the visitor, "and I thought I'd
+jest make a run-in. How are you feelin', Bethia? You're lookin' re'l
+poorly. I noticed it in meetin' last Sabbath. I said to myself, 'That
+woman is goin' jest the way all her fam'ly has, and she the last of 'em.
+As a friend _of_ the fam'ly,' I said, 'it's my dooty to warn her'; and
+so I do."
+
+Mrs. Weight sat down, and fanned herself with a small and rather dingy
+pocket-handkerchief.
+
+"I am much obliged to you," said Miss Bethia. "I am in my usual health,
+Malvina, though I am never very robust. I was always delicate, as you
+may say, but yet I don't know but I have held my own with others of my
+age. Flesh isn't always a sign of health," she added, not without a
+touch of gentle malice.
+
+"I expect I am aware of that!" cried Mrs. Weight. "I expect there's few
+knows the frailness that comes with layin' on flesh. What I suffer
+nights is beyond the power of tongue to tell. But all the more it
+behoves me, as the widder of a sainted man and deacon of this parish, to
+do my dooty by others; and I ask you, Bethia Wax, if you are doctorin'
+any."
+
+"I am not," said Miss Bethia, dryly.
+
+"Well, you ought so to do," said Mrs. Weight, impressively. "It come to
+me right in meetin', when I ought to have ben listenin' to the
+sermon,--though the land knows I have hard work _to_ listen sometimes,
+the sort o' talk Elder Bliss gives us: Gospel's well enough, but a
+person wants _some_ doctrine, and it don't set good, any way, shape, or
+manner, for a man of his years to be the everlastin' time tellin' them
+as might be his mothers that they'd oughter do thus and so. I was
+leadin' in prayer when Elder Bliss was a bottle-baby, at least he looks
+it if ever I see one. But what I started in to say was, it come over me
+all of a suddent that what you wanted was a bottle of my spring
+med'cine, and so I brought you one."
+
+She produced a bottle from under her shawl, and set it on the table with
+a defiant air.
+
+"I am much obliged to you, Malvina," Miss Wax began; but Mrs. Weight
+went on impressively.
+
+"Now you want to _take_ that med'cine, Bethia Wax! You want to take a
+gre't spoonful with your victuals, and in between your victuals. You
+take three bottles of that remedy, and you won't know yourself for the
+same woman. If you're a mind to pay me fifty cents for this bottle and
+sixty for the next two (that's thirty cents apiece, three spoonfuls for
+a cent, less than half what you'd pay for any boughten stuff), you may,
+and, if not, it's all ekal to me; the Lord will provide. He feeds the
+ravens when they call, and I've never had no doubts of bein' one, far as
+_I'm_ concerned."
+
+Mrs. Weight here drew a long and deep breath, settled herself deeper in
+her chair, and took a fresh start.
+
+"So now _that's_ off my mind, and my dooty done, whether it's ordered
+that you should remain, or pass away same as your folks has done. Now,
+there's another thing I come to speak about. Be you goin' to march in
+this procession?"
+
+Miss Wax colored painfully. "I have not decided, Malvina," she said. "I
+am considering the matter. Mr. Pindar Hollopeter has invited me to
+appear as--as Minerva--"
+
+"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Weight. "I knew it. I felt it in these bones!"
+She indicated the spaces which veiled her anatomy. "I felt certing to my
+inwards that this would end in pagan blasphemy, and so it has. Oh, that
+I should live to see jedgment on this village, as I've lived in, and my
+fathers before me, sence--"
+
+"I do not understand you, Malvina," Miss Wax interrupted, with some
+warmth. "The Mr. Hollopeters are Christian men, I believe; at least, I
+know Homer is, and I've never heard anything to the contrary about
+Pindar."
+
+"Have you ever heard anything about Pindar, anyway?" cried Mrs. Weight,
+her little eyes gleaming. "Do you, or doos any one in this village know,
+how or where that man has ben livin' these thirty years past? He never
+was one to hide his light under a booshel, if he had any to hide. Don't
+tell me, Bethia Wax! For thirty years Pindar Hollopeter has ben livin'
+let them know how as he serves, and never a cent, nor so much as a
+breathin' word for the place that give him birth. But direckly he hears
+that Mis' Tree has passed away, and left her money to Homer, and Satan's
+own words and works in regards to changin' the name of this--"
+
+Miss Bethia interrupted her again, promptly. "Malvina," she said,
+firmly, "I have told you before, and I tell you again, that no word
+disrespectful to Mrs. Tree shall be spoken in this house. There is no
+need of bringing her into this matter at all; but I should like to know
+why you call the Festival Procession pagan."
+
+"And ain't it pagan?" cried Mrs. Weight, leaning forward, her hands on
+her knees. "Ain't you jest told me with your own lips, Bethia Wax, that
+he asked you, a church-member in reg'lar standin', to strut and stomp
+as a heathen goddess, in heathen clo'es? Ain't that enough? Hasn't he
+got all the girls in this village takin' their Mas' best sheets and
+table-cloths and sewin' of 'em up to make toonics for muses and graces
+and all sich pagan trollops? Ain't that enough? Do you think sheets is
+fit and suitable clo'es for church-members? or table-cloths? And 'tain't
+as if he hadn't ben shown a better path. 'Pindar,' I said, when he come
+to see about Annie Lizzie, 'you get up an Old Folks' Concert,' I says,
+'and I'll be the Goddess of Liberty for ye,' I says. I had that red,
+white, and blue buntin', you know, that we hired for the Centennial.
+Some of it was damaged, and the man wouldn't take it back, and it's ben
+in my attic ever sence; and I thought 'twould be a good way to use it
+up, and help him out at the same time. Why, Bethia, that man looked at
+me--why, I believe he's ravin' distracted; he poured out a string o'
+stuff that hadn't no sense or meanin' in it; and then said,
+'Shakespeare,' as if that made it any better. Deacon never would have
+Shakespeare's works in the house; he said they was real vulgar, and that
+was enough for me. So he see I was real indignant, and he blinked his
+eyes and spoke up and said I might be a Roman matron if I was a mind to.
+But I says, 'No, sir!' I says. 'I am an American lady, and the widder of
+a sainted man, and _I_ am not goin' travellin' and traipsin' in heathen
+and publican clo'es, whatever others may do!' and so I come away, and
+left him flappin' there on the door-steps. He's ravin' crazy, Pindar
+Hollopeter is; he'd oughter be shut up. And I told Annie Lizzie she
+shouldn't have anything to do with it in any way, shape, or manner.
+She's ben bawlin' all day about it, but I tell her I didn't take her out
+of the street to have her rigged out with wings. If she'd think of her
+end, I tell her, and how she can aim a pair to walk the golden streets
+with, it would set _her_ better. Well, I must be goin', Bethia; I only
+run in jest for a minute. Now I hope you'll take that med'cine reg'lar,
+and benefit by it. I couldn't answer to Deacon when I meet him in glory
+if I hadn't done my dooty to them as is neighbors to me, specially when
+they look as gashly as you do, Bethia; but I'm in hopes we've taken it
+in time, and you may be spared. _Good_ day!"
+
+The visitor gone, Miss Wax heaved a sigh of relief, and tried to settle
+to her work again; but it would not do. Her mind had been disturbed,
+and, as she often said, her profession required calm. The hand must be
+steady, the nerves tranquil, or the delicate strands would twist and
+knot; and now her long, slim fingers were trembling, and the silken
+threads danced before her eyes. "I must give it up for to-day," said
+Miss Bethia, sadly; and she put away the little table, and took out a
+clean silk duster.
+
+A parlor must be dusted twice in the day, according to Miss Wax's
+theory: once in the morning, to remove the night's accumulation of dust,
+and again toward evening, to take up such particles of the evil thing as
+had settled during the day on chair or table, book or ornament. The
+morning task was an anxious one, and apt to be complicated by fears of
+the coffee's boiling over; but the afternoon dusting was one of the good
+lady's pleasures, and she took her time over it. She loved to linger
+over the glass cases, polishing them, admiring the treasures they
+protected, and recalling the circumstances of their making. It was
+pleasant to accompany her, as one was sometimes permitted to do, on one
+of these friendly rounds.
+
+"These pond-lilies," she would say, "were a wedding present to my cousin
+Cilissa Vinton, deceased. They were admired by some; Cilissa thought
+they were real, and wished to wear them in her hair. After her lamented
+death (of spasms), the family returned them to me as a memento. That
+spray of roses is made of feathers, the breast-feathers of the domestic
+goose. I never allowed them to be plucked from the living bird, my dear!
+I used to wear them in my hair; some thought the contrast pretty." And
+Miss Bethia would sigh gently, and glance at the long mirror, which
+reflected her tall and angular gentility.
+
+But this afternoon the good lady's thoughts were not reminiscent. As she
+stood before the rosewood "what-not," lifting each article, wiping it,
+and replacing it with delicate nicety (I can see them all: the two
+mandarins, the china baby in the bath-tub,--you could take him out! the
+whole thing would go into a walnut-shell,--the pink-and-gold Dresden
+shepherd and shepherdess, the Chinese puzzles, and all the other quaint
+pleasantnesses), it was of to-day rather than yesterday that Miss Bethia
+was thinking. Should she--_could_ she--walk in a public procession
+attired as Minerva? She put aside with an inward shudder Mrs. Weight's
+characterization of the possible performance. She, Bethia Wax, could not
+"strut and stomp" if she tried. Her walk was graceful, as she was well
+aware; in her youth she had been said to glide.
+
+    "As a swan o'er the water,
+    Quahaug's fairy daughter
+    In majesty maiden doth glide;
+    May the day Wax and wane
+    When the sighs of her swain
+    May waft her to bliss as a bride!"
+
+Homer Hollopeter had written that in her album at a time when she and
+Pindar were--oh, no! not engaged, certainly not; only very good
+friends. Homer, she was aware, had regarded her as a sister, had
+wished--but she never laid it up against Mary; no, indeed! Who could
+wonder at any one's falling in love with Mary?
+
+And now, after all the years, Pindar had come back; still an elegant
+man, Miss Wax thought, though nervous, to be sure, sadly nervous. "But
+perhaps it is his emotions," she said. "No doubt he feels it, coming
+back after thirty years, and all so changed." And he had pressed her
+hand, and murmured, "Ye gods!" which was almost profane, Miss Bethia
+feared,--yet not quite, she hoped; and had asked her to represent
+Minerva, goddess of wisdom, in the Festival Procession. He was coming
+this very evening for her answer; what should it be?
+
+Miss Bethia glanced again at the long mirror. The angular, yet not
+ungraceful, figure, the long, oval face with its delicate features and
+arched eyebrows, the glossy bands of hair, still jet-black,--the whole
+reflection was familiar, friendly, not--Miss Wax modestly hoped--not
+wholly unpleasing. She tried to imagine the figure clad in flowing
+draperies; there was a rose-colored slip under the spare room spread;
+sateen always draped prettily; pink was her color, and she could not
+somehow feel that sheets would be quite--quite what she would wish to be
+seen in. And--on her head, now! Would a helmet be necessary? There was
+not such an article in the village, but she presumed with silver
+paper--and yet, a wreath would be so much more becoming; the
+feather-work roses, for example! She took them from under their round
+glass case, and laid them against her hair, then put them back with a
+sigh. The contrast certainly used to be thought becoming, but
+somehow--and after all was it suitable? What would Phoebe and Vesta
+Blyth--what would Mrs. Tree have said?
+
+With the thought, a vision rose before Miss Wax's eyes: a little figure
+seated in a high-backed chair, leaning on an ebony crutch-stick; black
+eyes gleaming with merriment, lips curving in a shrewd yet kindly
+smile--
+
+Miss Wax glanced at the trophy of silver coffee-spoons which still
+adorned the mantelpiece; sighed again, and turned away from the glass.
+"After all," murmured dear Miss Bethia, and this time she smiled, though
+it was a rather wan smile; "after all, Minerva was the goddess of
+wisdom!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE SORROWS OF MR. PINDAR
+
+
+It must not be supposed that Mr. Pindar Hollopeter's path was altogether
+set with roses at this time; on the contrary, many a thorn and bramble
+arrested his progress, and the poor gentleman's enthusiasm received many
+a prickly wound. He had been able to wave Mrs. Weight away with a lofty,
+"Off, woman, off! this hour is mine!" but there were others who could
+not be so dismissed. Mrs. Ware had gently but firmly declined to lead
+the band of Roman Matrons; and Salem Rock, when approached in regard to
+leading the Village Elders, had expressed his mind with massive
+finality.
+
+"Pindar," he said, "I don't exactly know what you mean by robes, but my
+gen'al idee of 'em is somethin' white and flappin'. Now I wore a
+christenin' robe when I was a baby, and I expect to wear a burial robe
+when I'm laid out; but, betwixt them two, I expect co't and pants will
+have to do me. Jest as much obleeged to you," he added, kindly, seeing
+Mr. Pindar's look of disappointment.
+
+Again, Mr. Pindar was amazed and distressed by the lack of youth and
+beauty in the village. It did seem unfortunate that Sophy Willow and the
+three pretty Benton girls were away, and that Villa Nudd's mother was
+ill and could not spare her. Beautiful Lily Jaquith could not leave her
+new baby, and Vesta Strong wrote that she should have been delighted to
+be Juno, but _all_ the children had just come down with chicken-pox. On
+the other hand, Mr. Pindar found to his dismay that the line between
+youth and middle age was less closely drawn in the village than in the
+theatres of the metropolis. That very morning, Miss Luella Slocum had
+come simpering up to him in the street, and had given him to understand
+that she would have no objection to taking the part of Psyche "to
+accommodate," as she heard that Annie Lizzie Weight was not to be
+allowed to walk in the Procession. Now Miss Luella would never see
+forty-five again, and her eyes, as has already been intimated, took
+widely divergent views of things in general; but she had always had a
+"theatrical turn," she informed Mr. Pindar, and had taken the part of
+Mrs. Jarley when they had the Wax Works.
+
+"And I do love to accommodate!" said Miss Luella, blandly. "I know what
+it is to have folks set back and keep out of things, Mr. Hollopeter. I
+don't know but Mis' Weight is right about Annie Lizzie; she's too young
+to be dressin' up and comin' forward in public, and besides, she's had
+no experience, as you may say. You couldn't expect her to have the
+_air_, like a person that's had experience. That's what I always say;
+you have to have the air, or you can't do it as it should be done. Don't
+say a word, Mr. Hollopeter; I shall be real pleased to help out, and I
+have a flowered Cretan that I'd like to have you call and see if 'twill
+do."
+
+"I wonder if he _is_ a little wantin'," said Miss Luella, in telling
+Miss Eliza Goby of the incident afterward. "He didn't hardly say a word,
+only give a kind of groan, and flapped his cloak, and begun walkin' off
+backwards in the most sing'lar way. I'm goin' to take this Cretan in to
+Prudence this afternoon, and see if she can make it over; it's Princess
+shape, and that's always stylish, I think; and I thought put on pink
+silk reveres would kind of liven it up: Psyche wants to look kind of
+youthful, I presume. The sleeves are a mite snug, but I don't know as
+that matters; I sha'n't have to raise my arms. What are you goin' to
+wear, Eliza?"
+
+"White muslin," said Miss Eliza Goby, "and a blue sash, or green, I
+haven't decided which; green is my color, but I have that blue Roman
+sash, you know. I think Pindar _is_ queer, Luella. One thing, he doesn't
+seem to have hardly any knowledge about this village; I don't know as he
+takes the paper even. Why, he thought I was married, and wanted I should
+walk with the married ladies; matrons, he called 'em; the _i_dea! I told
+him I'd never ben married, and didn't hardly know as I should; anyways,
+I warn't thinking of it at present, and I'd go with the rest of the
+girls."
+
+"And what did he say?" asked Miss Slocum.
+
+"I don't believe that man is well," said Miss Goby, gravely. "He made
+pretty much the same answer as he did you, sort of groaned and flapped.
+I think he had a pain in--in his digestion, and didn't like to speak of
+it. He's a perfect gentleman, if he is a mite flighty. That man had
+ought to have him a home, and some one to look after him, that's the
+fact; him and Homer, too."
+
+"That's so!" said Miss Slocum.
+
+But the unkindest cut of all was administered by the hand of Miss
+Prudence Pardon. It was Mrs. Bliss who advised him to take counsel with
+Miss Prudence in regard to costumes in general, and the little lady was
+smitten with remorse afterward for having done so.
+
+"It was base of me, John, I know," she said; "but I simply _could_ not
+tell him myself; he was so hopeful and confiding, and so--so pitiful,
+somehow, John. I don't think he is a bit more crazy than other
+people,--I believe I am a little cracked myself on some subjects, and I
+_know_ you are,--only his craziness is in a different line, that we know
+nothing about. And when he blinks at me with his nice brown doggy eyes,
+and flaps his little bat-cloak, and says, 'The Dramatic Moment, Mrs.
+Bliss!' I want to be a Roman Matron, and a Village Elder, and everything
+else, just to please him. I would, too, if you would let me, John. I
+don't believe that man had enough to eat before he came here; he's a
+perfect skeleton."
+
+"I do not precisely see the connection, Marietta, my dear," said the
+Reverend John, mildly.
+
+"You never do, dear!" replied his wife. "Talk of bats! but--well, so I
+just told him that I should have _loved_ to if I hadn't been a
+minister's wife, but that you were a cruel tyrant and wouldn't let me;
+and then I advised him to go to Miss Prudence, because she would know
+all about tunics and togas and everything else. I knew, you see, that
+she was all ready to give him a piece of her mind, because she gave me
+just a scrap the other day, when I was trying on my blue dimity. It's
+going to be perfectly sweet, John. Oh, I do hope she will not hurt his
+poor dear funny feelings _too_ much: she can be frightfully severe."
+
+But even while Mrs. Bliss was speaking, Miss Prudence Pardon,
+Rhadamanthus in a black alpaca apron, was laying down the law to Mr.
+Pindar, and emphasizing her points with a stiffly extended pair of
+shears. Miss Prudence had sat on the same bench at school with the
+Hollopeter boys, and saw no reason for mincing matters.
+
+"Pindar," she said, "if you hadn't have come to me, I should have held
+my peace; but seeing as you have come, and asked my opinion, you shall
+have it, without fear or favor. I think this whole thing is ridic'lous
+nonsense; and I think if you go on with it as you've begun, you will
+prove yourself, if I must use such an expression, what I call a gonoph."
+
+Mr. Pindar shrank for an instant before the epithet, but gathered
+himself together with a protesting wave.
+
+"Madam!" he cried, "you fail to comprehend--"
+
+"Excuse _me_!" said Miss Prudence, waving the shears in return. "I
+expect if there's any one in this village as ought to comprehend, it's
+me, with all I've ben through this week. Do you see that pile of truck?"
+She pointed stiffly with the shears at a mass of drapery piled high on
+the haircloth sofa. "There's thirty whole dresses there, let alone odd
+skirts and polonays. There's full sleeves and snug sleeves, and gored
+skirts and full skirts, and ruffles and box-plaits, and more styles than
+ever you heard of in your life, and every material from more antique to
+sarsnet cambric. I am expected to make all them over into toonics and
+togas, and the hens only know what other foolery; and I tell you,
+Pindar, it can't be done, nor I ain't going to try to do it."
+
+She paused for a moment, for Mr. Pindar was waving his arms and flapping
+his cloak in fervid assent.
+
+"My dear madam," he cried; "my dear Prudence, if I may take the liberty
+of an old schoolmate, I agree with you fully, entirely. I have
+endeavored to point out to the ladies with whom I have conversed, that a
+harmony of costume is absolutely imperative; that flowing drapery--the
+classic, Prudence, the classic!--is what the occasion demands. A glance
+at statuary will readily convince you--"
+
+Miss Prudence pointed the shears rigidly. "Pindar Hollopeter," she said,
+"I have seen considerable statuary in the course of my life, both Parian
+and wax, and I say this to you: I never see a statue yet with clothes
+that I would say fitted,--where there was any!" she added, grimly, and
+compressed her lips. "As to hanging sheets and the like of that on human
+beings, as if they was clo'es-horses," she went on, "it's no part of the
+trade I was brought up to, and I've no idee of beginning at my time of
+life, and so I tell you. Now my advice to you is this: give up all this
+foolishness of a procession, and have a reception at the house, or the
+_mu_seum, or whatever it is to be called from now on. Have it a pink
+tea, if you like, and I'll get up some real tasty dresses for the girls,
+the few there is, and the ladies can receive. That'll part the cats
+from the kittens, and I dunno's there's anything else will. The _i_dea
+of 'Lize Goby in white muslin! She'd look like lobster and white of egg,
+and so I told her.
+
+"The fact is, Pindar," Miss Prudence went on, more gently, laying down
+the shears for an instant, "you and Homer was both brought up real
+peculiar, and you're feeling it now. I don't mean to set in jedgment on
+your Ma, far from it; but look at the way it has worked out. Homer is a
+poet; well, luckily for him, he got into the post-office, where it
+didn't do a mite of harm. Homer is well liked and respected by all in
+this village," she added, benevolently, "and there was no one but
+rejoiced at his being left well off. But you, Pindar, took to the
+Drayma. Well, I've nothing to say against the Drayma, either, because
+I've had no experience of it, nor wished to have, only this: it never
+had any holt in this village, and when you try to bring it here, you
+make a big mistake. What is it, P'nel'pe?"
+
+Miss Penny, kindest soul in the village where so many are kind, had been
+hovering uneasily about the door during this interview. She respected
+Sister Prudence's judgment highly, and her own cheerful common sense
+forced her to agree with it in this instance; and yet her heart ached to
+see Mr. Pindar--such an elegant man!--sitting forlorn and dejected, with
+drooping head and wings, he who had entered with so jaunty a stride,
+Importance throned on his brow and the Dramatic Moment flapping in his
+cloak. She did wish Sister Prudence had not been quite so severe.
+
+But now Miss Penny looked in, with anxious eyes and heightened color.
+"Excuse _me_," she said. "I see some of the ladies comin', Sister, and I
+thought likely they was comin' to try on. I didn't know but Mr.
+Hollopeter would wish--" She paused to listen, and then hurried back,
+for already the little shop was full of voices.
+
+"Is Prudence in, Penny? Has she got that polonay ready to try on,
+think?"
+
+"Penny, I want to know if you've got any linin's to match this pink
+cheese-cloth; it don't hardly show over white."
+
+"Penny, I found this up attic, and I've come to show it to Prudence. See
+here! don't you think it'll make an elegant toonic, take and piecen it
+out with a Spanish flounce, and cut off this postilion? Shall I go--"
+
+Mr. Pindar sprang to his feet and looked wildly about him. Miss Prudence
+spoke no word, but, raising the shears, pointed toward the red-curtained
+glass door that opened into the little back garden.
+
+"--right in?" The door from the shop opened, and admitted Mrs. Pottle,
+her massive arms filled with polka-dotted purple merino.
+
+"How are you, Prudence?" said Mrs. Pottle. "You look feverish."
+
+"I'm as well as common, thank you," said Miss Prudence, grimly. "Won't
+you be seated?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE DRAMATIC MOMENT
+
+
+Mr. Pindar, as has already been said, was to call on Miss Wax that
+evening for her answer; but Mr. Homer was before him, for this was
+Friday evening, which the little gentleman invariably spent with his
+life-long friend. Punctually at a quarter before eight he appeared, and
+found Miss Wax ready for him, sitting under the portrait, with her elbow
+resting on the little table. Her silk dress, of the kind called _chiné_,
+displayed bunches of apple-blossoms on a pale purple ground; she wore a
+scarf of rose-colored crape, and a profusion of hair jewelry. Mr. Homer,
+as he advanced to greet her, made his usual mental comment that she was
+an elegant female, and pressed her hand cordially; Miss Bethia returned
+the pressure, and inquired anxiously for his health. "I trust you are
+feeling better, Homer," she said, kindly; "all this excitement is very
+disturbing to you, I am sure. But it will soon be over now."
+
+Mr. Homer sighed, as he took his accustomed seat. "Either it or I must
+soon be over, Miss Bethia," he said, mournfully. "I feel that I cannot
+much longer cope with--a--the present circumstances. I am aware that I
+should have more fortitude; more--a--longanimity; but--as the lamented
+Keats has it, 'Misery most drowningly doth sing in my lone ear.' The cup
+of joy, Miss Bethia, has become a poisoned chalice. The firmament
+outblackens Erebus; the brooks utter a gorgon voice. Many phrases which
+I have formerly considered as mere poetical ebullitions,--a--wafts of
+the Wings of Poesy, if I may so express myself,--now seem to me the fit
+expression,--a--realization,--a--I may say concretion,--of my present
+state of mind. I thought I appreciated the great Keats before, but--" He
+waved his hands and shook his head in speechless emotion.
+
+"Can you not dismiss the subject from your mind for a time, Homer?"
+asked Miss Bethia, soothingly. "Your studies have always sustained you,
+and have been of great benefit, I am sure, to your friends as well as
+yourself. Have you written any more of the Epic, the 'Death of
+Heliogabalus'? I was in hopes you might have another scene to read to me
+this evening."
+
+Mr. Homer shook his head. "I have not touched the Epic," he said,
+"since--since the events which have recently concatenated, if I may so
+express myself. I sometimes think that I shall never touch it again,
+Miss Bethia."
+
+"Oh, don't say that, Homer!" Miss Wax protested; but the little
+gentleman went on, with an agitated wave.
+
+"I sometimes feel as if the Muse had deserted me; had--a--ceased to gild
+with her smile the--shall I say the peaks of my fancy? I have endeavored
+to woo her back. My brother Pindar is most anxious that I should write
+an--an ode--for this celebration which he is planning; but the numbers
+in which I have been in the habit of lisping, and which--I may
+say to you, my valued friend--were wont in happier days to
+flow,--to--a--meander,--to--a--babble o'er Pirene's sands, with ease
+and--and alacrity, now hesitate;--a--reluctate;--a--refuse the meed of
+melody which--which the occasion demands. My brother Pindar,--you have
+seen him, Miss Bethia?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Miss Wax, softly. "He was here yesterday. He asked--he
+was so good as to invite me to appear in the Festival Procession as--as
+Minerva."
+
+Mr. Homer looked up eagerly. "And you replied?" he asked.
+
+"I asked for time to consider," said Miss Wax, looking down. "I need not
+say to you, Homer, that it is not easy to refuse Pindar's first request,
+after so many years of absence;" she sighed gently; "but--but reflection
+has convinced me that it would not be altogether--shall I say suitable?
+I have never appeared in public, Homer, and I hardly feel--"
+
+She paused, for Mr. Homer was waving his hands and opening and shutting
+his mouth in great agitation.
+
+"Precisely so!" he cried. "Oh, very much so indeed, my dear friend. It
+is an unspeakable consolation to find that you share my sentiments on
+this subject. May I, Miss Bethia,--with friendship's key,--unlock, so to
+speak, the counsels of my--my bleeding breast? We are old friends: we
+twa--if I may quote Burns in this connection--ha' paidl't i' the
+burn,--I speak metaphorically, my dear lady, as I need not assure
+you,--frae mornin' sun till dine; the poets refuse occasionally the
+bonds of grammar, and both rhyme and metre require the verb in this
+instance, as you will readily perceive, even though--"
+
+Mr. Homer waved the subject to its conclusion, and hurried on: "You have
+also known Pindar from childhood, and have always felt--may I not say
+kindly, toward the wayward but high-souled lad?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" murmured Miss Bethia, softly, with another gentle sigh.
+
+"This being so," Mr. Homer went on, "I may say to you without hesitation
+that this whole matter of the celebration is a--is a nightmare to me! I
+have led a secluded life, Bethia, as befits a votary of the Muse. Blest
+with a limited but sufficient number of congenial friends, principally
+ladies,--though William Jaquith and Thomas Candy have been as sons to me
+of late, as sons,--I have kept, Miss Bethia, the noiseless tenor of my
+way,--the expression is Gray's, as you are well aware, and is commonly
+misquoted, _even_ tenor being the customary, though wholly incorrect
+version;--a--where was I? Oh, yes, as I was about to say, I have kept
+the noiseless tenor of my way, in peace and pleasantness, hitherto.
+
+"'For indeed,' as the lamented Keats observes in an early poem which is
+too little known:
+
+    "'For indeed, 'tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure,
+    (And blissful is he who such happiness finds,)
+    To possess but a span of the hour of leisure
+    In elegant, pure, and aerial minds.'
+
+That peculiar pleasure, Miss Bethia, has been mine up to the present
+time. My brother Pindar's course has been far different. At an early
+age, as you are aware, he sought the maddening throng; the--a--busy hum;
+the--a--in short, the roaring mart. I understand that much of his time
+has been devoted to music, and the remainder to histrionic art. He is
+permanently employed, as I understand, at a--a metropolitan place of
+amusement, where he occasionally takes part in Shakespearian
+representations (he has played the Ghost in 'Hamlet,' he tells me), and
+at other times performs upon the--in short, the kettledrums. You will
+readily perceive, my dear friend, that such a life conduces to the
+development of ideas which are discrepant;--a--divergent
+from,--a--devoid of commensurability with, the _genius loci_, the spirit
+which hovers, or has hitherto hovered, over Elm--I would say Quahaug.
+Miss Bethia, we are not a dramatic community. With the exception of Mrs.
+Jarley's Wax Works, some thirty years ago, and an Old Folks' Concert at
+a somewhat later period, I am unable to recall any occurrence of a--of
+a histrionic nature in our--shall I say midst? And now,--Miss Bethia,
+I love my brother tenderly, and am anxious, deeply anxious, to
+respond to the feeling, the--a--propendency, the--kindling of
+affection's torch, which has led him to seek his early home. I also
+respect,--a--revere,--a--entertain the loftiest sentiments in regard to
+the Muse; but when I am asked to appear in public, clad in draperies
+which--in short, of domestic origin,"--he waved further detail
+delicately away,--"and crowned with bays, I--Miss Bethia, I assure you
+my spirit faints within me. Nor can I feel that the proposed
+demonstration would in any way have commended itself to my cousin
+Marcia. It is borne in upon me--strenuously, I may say--that, if my
+cousin Marcia were present at this time in the--a--fleshly tabernacle,
+she would receive this whole matter in a spirit of--levity;
+of--a--derision; of--a--contumely. Am I wrong in this supposition, Miss
+Bethia?"
+
+"I feel positive that you are right, Homer!" said Miss Wax. "I speak
+with conviction. In fact, it was the thought of--of Her we honor,"--she
+glanced at the trophy with an introductory wave,--"that brought me to a
+decision on the point. I do feel for you, Homer, and share with you the
+distress of having to--to deny Pindar anything he desires. He will be
+here soon, and perhaps if we speak to him gently on the subject, he may
+see it in the light in which it presents itself to us. Probably this
+side has not been suggested to him." (Has it not? Oh, Miss Prudence!
+Miss Prudence!) "I think that if we compose our thoughts to a greater
+degree of calm, we may have more effect. A little music, Homer?"
+
+Mr. Homer put his hand to his head with a sigh. "Miss Bethia," he said,
+"a little music would be balm to the thirsty soul;--a--wings to the
+rainbow-hued spirit; a--oil which runs down the--" He waved the rest of
+the simile away. "I thank you, my elegant and valued friend. May I
+conduct you to the instrument?"
+
+It was a pleasant sight to see Mr. Homer conducting Miss Bethia Wax to
+the instrument. After a profound bow (his feet in the first position in
+dancing), he held out his hand; she laid the tips of her long fingers
+delicately in it, and, thus supported, glided across the room; a
+courtesy of thanks, a bow of acknowledgment, and she sank gracefully on
+the music-stool, while Mr. Homer returned to his favorite chair, drew a
+long breath, and sank back with folded hands and closed eyes.
+
+Miss Wax's instrument was one of Mr. Homer's chief sources of
+inspiration, and I must give it a word of description, for perhaps there
+never was another precisely like it. Tommy Candy called it a
+barrel-organ, and indeed it was not wholly unlike an idealized barrel of
+polished rosewood, standing erect on four slender legs. The front was
+decorated with flutings of red silk; the wood was inlaid with flowers
+and arabesques in mother-of-pearl. Beneath the silk flutings appeared an
+ivory handle, and it was by turning this handle that Miss Bethia
+"performed." "Cecilia's Bouquet" was the name inscribed on the front in
+flourishing gilt letters; and Miss Bethia had often been told that, when
+playing on the instrument, she reminded her hearers of the saint of that
+name. It was perhaps on this account that she was in the habit of
+assuming a rapt expression at such times, her head thrown back, her eyes
+raised to the level of the cornice. Thus seated and performing, Miss
+Bethia was truly a pleasant sight; and the melodies that came faltering
+out from the old music-box (for really it was nothing else!) were as
+pensive, mild, and innocent as the good lady herself. "The Maiden's
+Prayer," "The Sorrowful Shepherd," "Cynthia's Roundelay," and "The
+Princess Charlotte's Favorite;" these were among them, I remember, but
+there were twelve airs, and it took quite half an hour to play them all
+through.
+
+On this occasion, long before the half-hour was over, Mr. Homer's brow
+had cleared, and his face grown as placid as Miss Bethia's own. "The
+Princess Charlotte's Favorite" was also his (a most melancholy air I
+always thought it, as if the poor princess had foreseen her early death,
+and bewailed it, a Jephthah's Daughter in hoop and powder), and he
+followed it with pensive pleasure, bowing his head and waving his hands
+in time to the music, and occasionally joining in the melody with a thin
+but sweet falsetto. "Ta-ta, ta-tee, ta-ta, ta-tum!" warbled Mr. Homer,
+and Miss Bethia's gentle heart rejoiced to hear him.
+
+The two friends were so absorbed that they did not hear the
+door-bell,--indeed, it rang in the kitchen, and was a subdued tinkle at
+that,--nor Peggy's steps as she went to answer the call; and it was only
+when the "Princess Charlotte's Favorite" had faltered to its dismal
+conclusion that Mr. Homer, chancing to raise his eyes, saw his brother
+standing in the doorway. The vision was a disconcerting one. Mr. Pindar
+stood with his arms folded in his little cloak, his head bent forward,
+peering up through his eyebrows with a keen and suspicious look. Thus he
+stood for an instant; but, on meeting his brother's eyes, he flung up
+both arms as if in invocation,--whether of blessing or malediction was
+not clear to Mr. Homer's perturbed gaze,--the cloak fluttered in batlike
+sweeps, and he was gone.
+
+Mr. Homer sprang to his feet with an exclamation of dismay; and Miss
+Bethia, whose back had been turned to the door, rose also in wonder and
+distress. "What is the matter, Homer?" she asked. "You appear disturbed.
+Is--is any one there?" she added, seeing his look still fixed on the
+empty doorway.
+
+"It was my brother!" replied Mr. Homer. "It was Pindar. He was
+apparently--moved;--a--agitated;--a--under stress of emotion. I fear he
+is ill, Miss Bethia; I must hasten after him."
+
+"Pindar ill!" cried Miss Bethia. "Oh, Homer, bring him back, will you
+not? bring him back, and let me give him some of my Raspberry
+Restorative! Do hasten!"
+
+Mr. Homer promised to return if it were possible, and hurried away,
+leaving his hostess wringing her hands and uttering plaintive murmurs.
+He hastened along the quiet street. The moon was up, and he could see a
+figure fluttering on ahead of him, with waving cloak and hasty,
+disordered steps.
+
+"Pindar!" cried Mr. Homer. "My dear brother! wait for me, I implore you.
+It is I, Homer; I entreat you to pause!"
+
+The figure wavered, halted; finally turned round, and stood with folded
+arms till Mr. Homer hurried up, anxious and breathless.
+
+"Are you ill, Pindar?" cried the little gentleman. "Some sudden seizure,
+my dear brother? I am truly distressed: let me support you!"
+
+But Mr. Pindar waved him aside with a lofty gesture. "I require no
+support, Brother!" he said. "My corporal envelope is robust, I am
+obliged to you."
+
+"Then why--why this sudden appearance and disappearance?" asked Mr.
+Homer, bewildered. "Miss Wax was expecting you; we were both expecting
+you, sir!"
+
+"Were you?" said Mr. Pindar, bitterly. "I should hardly have thought it.
+I judged that I intruded, sir. It appeared to me that tender passages
+were in progress. I inferred that the advent of the Wanderer was
+unwelcome, sir, unwelcome."
+
+Mr. Homer attempted to speak, but Mr. Pindar waved him off, and hurried
+on, a real feeling struggling through the pompous structure of his
+sentences. "It would appear that I was in error, sir, when I requested
+you to compose an ode. I should have demanded an epithalamium; flute and
+clarionet, sir:
+
+    "Tweedle, tweedle, toodle turn,
+    Clash the cymbal, bang the drum!
+    Cupid and his antic choir
+    Sing for Homer and Bethia!
+
+But you might have told me, Homer; you might have told me, sir!"
+
+Mr. Homer Hollopeter blushed very red all over; if it is discreet even
+to allude to Mr. Homer's toes, I am quite sure that even they must have
+grown rosy. He looked gravely at his brother, who was waving his cloak
+in great excitement.
+
+"My dear brother," he said, slowly, "it--I--I fail to find words in
+which to express the--the--_enormousness_ of your misconception. I
+regard Miss Wax, sir, as a sister, an esteemed and valued sister."
+
+At the place where Mr. Homer had overtaken his brother, stood a
+watering-trough, a hollowed section of a huge oak-tree, through which
+ran a tiny crystal stream. The companion oak, still vigorous,
+overshadowed the trough, making a pleasant circle of shade, and around
+this oak ran a rustic seat. It was a favorite gathering-place of the
+village boys, but now the boys were in bed, and all was still save for
+the gurgle of the little rill as it babbled along the trough.
+
+To Mr. Homer's utter amazement and discomfiture, Mr. Pindar now flung
+himself down upon this seat, and, pulling out a large blue cotton
+handkerchief, buried his face in it and burst into tears.
+
+"Nobody is glad to see me!" cried Mr. Pindar, sobbing violently.
+"Everybody thinks I am mad. Prudence Pardon called me a--a gonoph, and
+refused to make tunics for the Village Elders. A horrible fat
+woman--rightly named Weight--_horresco referens!_--wished to be Goddess
+of Liberty, and, when I shrank appalled, she robbed me of the pretty
+child who should have been my Psyche. I am--unappreciated, sir. I am
+mocked at and derided. The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanche, and
+Sweetheart--I returned to benefit my native heath: to cause--blossoms of
+histrionic art to spring up in the--arid pathways--oyster shells!"--he
+indicated by a wave the white and glittering paths which led to one and
+another silent house, and which are indeed the pride of the village. "I
+have piped to everybody, and nobody will dance, except--hideous persons
+who squint. I came for comfort and sympathy to Bethia Wax, the playmate
+of my early days; I found--" He waved his arms with a gesture of
+despair. "And I am so tired of playing the kettledrum!" said the poor
+gentleman; and he wept afresh.
+
+Mr. Homer sat down by his brother's side, and laid his hand on his
+shoulder. "Don't cry!" he said. "Don't cry, Pindy! Mother wouldn't like
+to have you cry."
+
+His voice, faltered on the long-unspoken diminutive; but, at the sound
+of it, Mr. Pindar, still holding the handkerchief to his eyes with his
+right hand, held out his left; Mr. Homer grasped it, and the two sat
+silent, hand in hand, while the little stream trickled cheerfully along,
+and the black leaf-shadows flickered on the white road.
+
+Mr. Homer opened and shut his mouth several times, and patted his
+brother's hand, before he spoke again. At length he said, very gently:
+
+"My dear boy, my dear fellow, you are unnerved. Compose yourself,
+compose yourself! I also have been sadly unnerved, Pindy. An hour ago I
+could have mingled my tears with yours freely, sir, freely. But music
+hath charms, as you are aware, to soothe the--Savagery is far from my
+breast at the present time, sir, but the quotation is too familiar to
+require elucidation. Our friend Miss Wax has been performing upon the
+instrument, and an hour spent in her society, when thus employed, is
+invariably soothing to the wounded spirit. I wish, my dear brother, that
+you had come earlier in the evening."
+
+Mr. Pindar groaned, and dried his eyes, but made no reply. Mr. Homer,
+pausing, looked carefully about him, as if struck by a sudden thought.
+
+"Pindar," he said, in an altered tone, "do you know where we are
+sitting? Look about you!"
+
+Mr. Pindar looked around, then up at the tree which bent friendly over
+them. "It is the oak-seat!" he exclaimed. "The oak-seat and the
+watering-trough. Muffled drums! Enter Homeless Wanderer, weeping."
+
+"Do you remember the day when Silas Candy ducked Ephraim Weight?" said
+Mr. Homer, disregarding the last remark. "We were sitting here, Pindar,
+and we did not interfere. I have sometimes reflected that it was a--an
+error, sir; a--a faltering in the way; a--a dereliction from
+the--a--star-y-pointing path; but we were young, sir, and Ephraim
+was--shall I say unattractive? But--Pindy, when Silas came along--I
+remember it as if it were yesterday--I had just been cutting some
+initials in the tree. Upon my word, they are here still!" With a
+trembling finger he pointed out some half-obliterated letters. "B. H.,
+sir; do you see them? Bethia Hollopeter!"
+
+Mr. Pindar nodded gloomily, and, putting away the blue handkerchief,
+crossed his arms on his breast. "I see them, sir," he said. "Why turn
+the dagger in the wound? I see them!"
+
+"What was my thought, Brother," Mr. Homer went on, growing more and more
+animated, "when I made those letters; when I--a--wounded the oaken
+breast which--which--not precisely nourished, but certainly cheered and
+comforted me? Brother, I fancied Bethia as your bride. Stay! hear me!"
+as Mr. Pindar made a hasty gesture of dissent. "I knew later that--that
+your affections, like my own, were placed elsewhere; but--but Fate, sir,
+planted an arrow, of a highly barbed description, in our twin breasts.
+No more of that. Miss Bethia Wax, sir, has been the friend, the elegant
+and valued friend, of my entire life. Since the lamented death of our
+cousins, Phoebe and Vesta, and recently the irreparable loss I have
+sustained in the death of Cousin Marcia, we--Miss Bethia and I--have
+been brought into yet closer and more sympathetic companionship. Aside
+from the devoted tenderness of Thomas and William, and the--the
+faithful, if occasionally violent ministrations of Direxia Hawkes, Miss
+Bethia has been my chief stay and comfort in these troublous days. But I
+assure you, sir, with my hand on my heart,"--Mr. Homer suited the action
+to the word,--"that nothing of a tender nature has ever passed, or will
+ever pass, between me and my elegant and valued friend. Yet once more
+hear me, Brother! It is my firm belief, Pindar, that one image, and one
+only, has remained since youth implanted in--in that bosom, sir, to
+which I allude with the highest respect; that image, sir, I believe to
+be yours!"
+
+Mr. Homer paused, much moved. Mr. Pindar waved his cloak in protest, but
+his countenance brightened perceptibly.
+
+"Not so!" he murmured. "Not so! Thunder. Exit Homeless Wanderer, pursued
+by furies. Brother, I will return to my hated task. Enough! I thank you,
+but I go."
+
+"Brother, I implore you not so to do!" cried Mr. Homer, earnestly. "I
+believe that other and happier things are in store for you. I have a
+vision, sir, of a home replete with elegant comfort. Miss Bethia, though
+not opulent, is possessed of a comfortable competence--though Mammon is
+far from my thoughts!" cried Mr. Homer, blushing again. "A home, I say,
+sir, brightened by the society of--of Woman, and by every evidence of a
+refined and cultivated taste. My dear brother, return with me now to
+the--the bower, if I may so express myself, of our esteemed and valued
+friend. Miss Bethia urged, I may say, implored, me to bring you back."
+
+"Not so!" murmured Mr. Pindar. "Alarums and excursions. Exit--"
+
+But Mr. Homer interrupted him, a sudden fire shining in his mild eyes.
+"Brother Pindar," he cried, "you have many times alluded, since your
+return, to the Dramatic Moment; you have commented upon the absence of
+the dramatic element in my composition. But, sir, it is borne in upon me
+strongly at this instant that a Dramatic Moment is now striking in--in
+your life and that of our esteemed and valued friend. As you yourself
+would observe, hark to it, sir! it strikes;--a--resounds;--a--larums,
+sir, larums."
+
+The two brothers had risen, and stood facing each other in the
+moonlight. They waved their arms with an identical gesture; never had
+they looked so alike. "It larums!" repeated Mr. Pindar, solemnly.
+Suddenly he seized his brother's hand, and motioned him forward.
+
+"Flourish and a sennet!" he cried. "Possible joy-bells! Brother, set
+on!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+AFTER ALL!
+
+
+And after all, as every one said, everything went off so beautifully
+that people need not have been disturbed. The Processional Festival
+Jubilee was given up (really, I think, to Mr. Pindar's relief as well as
+that of every one else,--except Miss Luella Slocum), and a reception
+substituted for it; not a Pink Tea, but a dignified and really charming
+occasion. Mrs. Bliss and Will Jaquith planned it, and the whole village
+helped to carry it out. The day was perfection, the very crown jewel of
+the summer: the house was thrown open, and the guests were met in the
+hall by a Reception Committee, consisting of the Messrs. Hollopeter,
+Mr. and Mrs. Bliss, Miss Wax and Mrs. Ware, and Dr. Geoffrey Strong.
+First, Doctor Strong made a brief address of welcome, which put every
+one into a holiday humor of twinkling anticipation; and then there were
+tableaux, framed in the wide low arch of the dining-room door,
+illustrating the history of the village since the first Darracott,
+Timothy Philo, settled here in 1680. The First Service, the Indian
+Massacre (Mr. Pindar superb as King Philip, in full war-paint and
+feathers, flourishing a real tomahawk from the Collection over the
+prostrate form of Tommy Candy), the departure of the Quahaug Company of
+Patriot Militia for Lexington, the women of Quahaug praying for the
+success of Washington's arms, and so on down to the last, when the
+Guardian Spirit of the village was represented as mourning for the death
+of Mrs. Tree. This was dear Miss Wax's idea, and she besought the
+Committee so earnestly to carry it out, "as a token of respect for Her
+we honor," that they had not the heart to refuse. Mrs. Bliss was
+secretly afraid that it might make people smile; and so it might have
+done if Annie Lizzie had not looked so sweet, in her white dress and
+drooping wings (she got them, after all!), that everybody cried instead.
+
+Between the scenes the band, stationed in the garden, "discoursed
+acceptable strains," as the paper said next day; and, after the final
+scene, Mr. Homer made a little speech. He had been most unwilling to
+speak, but everybody insisted that he, and no one else, must actually
+open the Museum. So the dear gentleman got up, very pink and fluttering,
+and said that joy and sorrow had woven a mingled wreath to crown this
+day, but that it was the proudest one of his life, and that the
+proudest action of that life was to open the Captain and Mrs. Ethan Tree
+Museum of Quahaug.
+
+And then--then every one sang the Ode. Mr. Homer had written the words,
+and Mr. Pindar set them to music, and words and music were printed on
+white silk and distributed as souvenirs. The two brothers did not know
+that, when the music began, they took hold of hands, and stood so all
+through, waving their free arms and bowing their heads in time to the
+melody, and opening and shutting their mouths; but the rest of the
+company knew it, and cried so that they could hardly sing.
+
+These are the words:
+
+                     ODE
+
+    FOR THE OPENING OF THE CAPTAIN AND MRS.
+       ETHAN TREE MUSEUM OF QUAHAUG
+
+    As smooth the bivalve opes its jaws,
+      Admitting crystal flood,
+    So opes our own Museum its doors
+      To all of native blood.
+    On honored bier we drop the tear,
+      And then, with joy agog,
+    Our village proud doth cry aloud,
+      Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
+
+    Our patroness we fondly bless,
+      And likewise honor him
+    Who filled so free this treasury,
+      Then sought the cherubim.
+    Of objects fair, so rich and rare,
+      Description would but clog;
+    So let us sing till welkin ring,
+      Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
+
+    Captain and Mrs. Ethan Tree
+      We honor so this day,
+    As Muses nine, with fire divine,
+      Alone could fitly say.
+    Yet still each heart would bear its part,
+      With this for epilogue:
+    While life remains we'll praise thy plains,
+      Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
+
+(The "bangs" were not printed on the souvenirs, but without them one
+does not get the effect of the cymbals, which really were superb.)
+
+And then the Museum was open, and the village flowed in through the
+rooms, examining, wondering, praising. It was really a fine collection,
+and beautifully arranged. Mr. Homer and Tommy Candy had been at work for
+a month, with much help from the Jaquiths and Annie Lizzie, and
+everything was classified and marked, and displayed to the best
+advantage. In one room, the "Captain's room," were the samples of wood,
+smooth little slabs of ebony, satinwood, violet, leopard, dragon,
+sandal, and every other known wood, polished till they shone like wooden
+mirrors. In another were the minerals: rough crystals, rose and
+amethyst, smoky yellow and clouded brown; nuggets of gold, of silver, of
+copper; uncut gems of every variety, from the great ruby that Captain
+Tree took from the Malay pirate's turban down to the pink and lilac
+pearls found in our own oysters and mussels in Quahaug harbor.
+
+The carved crystal, jade, ivory, and amber, and the enamels, were
+displayed in the parlor, and were so skilfully arranged that the
+character of the room was not changed, only the dim richness
+accentuated. The light fell softly on bowls and cups of translucent
+green, on the rounded backs of ivory elephants, on exquisite shapes of
+agate, jasper, and chalcedony, on robes stiff with gold and crusted with
+gems; but still it was Mrs. Tree's own parlor, and still the principal
+thing in it was the ebony chair, with the crutch-stick leaning against
+it.
+
+The shells, in glass cases, lined the sides of the long room known as
+the Workshop; and, as Seth said, "Gosh! if they didn't beat the
+everlastin' Dutch!"
+
+"Why," he said, turning to Salem Rock, who was behind him in the slowly
+moving throng that filled the room, "you wouldn't think, to look at all
+these, that that man had done anything all his life only pick up
+shells."
+
+"He certingly was the darndest!" replied Salem, soberly.
+
+"I wouldn't use language, Pa!" said Mrs. Rock, who rustled beside him in
+her best black silk.
+
+"I expect you would, Ma," retorted her husband, "if things came home to
+you as they do to me this day. They had that way with 'em, both Cap'n
+and Mis' Tree, that when we had shore leave, and they said: 'Pick up
+some shells, will you, boys?' that was every livin' thing any man aboard
+that ship desired to do. Jerusalem! I can feel the crick in my back
+still, stoopin' over them blazin' beaches, pickin' up--Here, Ma! look at
+this beauty, with the pink and yeller stripes. See them sharp spines,
+and one of 'em broke off? Wal, that broke off in my foot. It was wropped
+up in seaweed, and I trod square on it. I don't know as it would be real
+becomin' to repeat what I said, here and now."
+
+"I don't know as it would be real improvin' to hear it, either, Pa!"
+replied his consort, calmly. "Let's us move on a mite further, shall
+we?"
+
+Refreshments were served in the dining-room and on the broad piazza
+outside it, and here Direxia Hawkes was in her glory. The ladies might
+sit at the tables, and did so, Miss Bethia Wax pouring tea, Mrs. Bliss
+coffee, while Miss Slocum and Miss Goby simpered and bridled, twin
+sirens of the lemonade table; but Direxia's Dramatic Moment had struck,
+and she was taking full advantage of it. She had assumed the rigid
+little bonnet and cape, which were her badge of equality with anybody in
+the land except "the Family," and she moved among the guests, apparent
+queen. Annie Lizzie, all smiles and roses, came and went at her bidding,
+with a tendency to gravitate toward the piazza railing, on which Tommy
+Candy sat, beaming good-will to all mankind, ladling out frozen pudding
+and ice-cream from the great freezers.
+
+"Annie Lizzie, Miss Wax ain't eatin' a thing. You tell her to let the
+folks wait for their tea a spell, and have somethin' herself. Here! take
+her this orange cream, and tell her I made it, and I expect her to eat
+it. And--Annie Lizzie, look here! you tell Mr. Homer I don't want he
+should touch that frozen puddin'. It's too rich, tell him; but he can
+have all the strawberry and vanilla he wants. I ain't goin' to have him
+sick after this, all worked up as he is."
+
+There were forty-seven different kinds of cake, all "named varieties,"
+as the flower catalogues say. Every housewife in the village had sent
+her "specialty," from Miss Wax's famous harlequin round down to the
+Irish christening loaf of good old Mrs. Flanagan, the laundress, who was
+helping Diploma Crotty wash cups and plates in the kitchen. Mrs.
+Flanagan refused to come in, spite of Mr. Homer's urgent invitation.
+
+"I thank ye, dear!" she said. "I thank ye kindly, but I'll not come in
+among the Quality. I wish ye well, Mr. Homer. May no dog ever bite ye
+but mine, and I'll kape a cat!"
+
+Through the crowd, here and there, moved Mr. Homer and Mr. Pindar,
+bowing and smiling, waving and flapping, happiest of all the happy
+throng. Under the genial sun of cheer and encouragement that had been
+shining on him during the last two weeks, since the Procession had been
+given up, Mr. Pindar had grown less and less abrupt and jerky, and more
+and more like his brother; and the village readily accorded him a share
+of the benevolent affection with which they regarded Mr. Homer.
+
+"I always said there warn't a mite of harm in Home," said Seth Weaver,
+"and I begin to think there ain't none in Pindar, either. They come out
+the same nest, and I expect they're the same settin' of aigs, if they be
+speckled different. Hatched out kinder queer chicks, old Mis' Hollopeter
+did, but, take 'em all round, I dunno but they're full as good as
+barn-door fowls, and they certingly do better when it comes to crowin'."
+
+"That's right!" said Salem Rock.
+
+And when at last it was over, and, with hand-shakings and
+congratulations, the tide of visitors had flowed out through the door
+and down the garden path, the two brothers stood and looked at each
+other with happy eyes.
+
+"It has been a great occasion, Brother Pindar!" said Mr. Homer.
+
+"It has!" said Mr. Pindar, fervently. "Flourish of trumpets. Enter
+Herald proclaiming victory. It has been a Dramatic Moment, sir."
+
+"It has been the happiest occasion of my life!" Mr. Homer went on. "I
+wish Mother could have been present, Pindar; it would have been a
+gratification to her;--a--an oblectation;--a--a--but where are you
+going, my dear brother?"
+
+Mr. Pindar, before replying, cast a glance toward the garden gate,
+through which at that moment a tall, slender figure was passing slowly,
+almost lingeringly; then he met his brother's eye hardily.
+
+"Brother Homer," he said, and, though he blushed deeply, his voice was
+firm and cheerful, "I am going to see Bethia home!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+MARRIAGE BELLS
+
+
+The village certainly had never seen a summer like this. People had not
+stopped talking of the Celebration, when the news of Miss Wax's
+engagement to Mr. Pindar Hollopeter set the ball of conversation rolling
+again. Everybody was delighted; and Mrs. Weight was not the only lady in
+the village who secretly hoped that, now Pindar had set him the example,
+Homer would see his way to following it, and would provide him with a
+helpmeet, "one who had ben through trouble and knew how to feel for
+him."
+
+Mr. Pindar was an ardent wooer, and pressed for an early marriage;
+indeed, there seemed no reason for delay. They were to live at the "Wax
+Works," and Mr. Pindar was to give lessons in elocution, and also on the
+flute and hautboy, if pupils could be found. Miss Bethia sighed gently,
+and told Mr. Pindar he was too impetuous; but she finally yielded, and
+they were married quietly one day, in the quaint, pleasant parlor, the
+bride dignified and gracious in lavender satin, and the bridegroom
+resplendent in white waistcoat and pearl-colored tie. He had a brand-new
+flyaway cloak for the occasion, and could hardly be persuaded to lay it
+aside during the ceremony, for, as he said, it assisted him in
+expression, sir, in expression.
+
+Mr. Homer was best man, and never was that usually lugubrious part more
+radiantly filled. He accompanied the whole service in dumb show, bowing
+and waving in response to every clause; and Geoffrey Strong declares
+that when he came forward to give the bride away, he heard Mr. Homer
+murmur "until death do us part," in happy echo of his brother's
+response.
+
+Then the bridal pair went off on a bridal trip, and the village shouted
+and cheered after them; and Mr. Homer went home and wept tears of joy on
+the back porch.
+
+Amid the general rejoicing, one face was grave, or smiled only a
+perfunctory smile when occasion required it; this was the face of Thomas
+Candy. It was such an extraordinary thing for Tommy to be grave on any
+festive occasion that Mr. Homer noticed it, and took him gently to task,
+as they sat on the aforesaid porch that evening. "Thomas," said the
+little gentleman, "you appear pensive. You have not seemed to enjoy, as
+I expected, this festival; this--a--halcyon, I might almost say,
+millennial day. Is there any oppression on your spirits, my dear young
+friend?"
+
+Tommy rumpled his black hair, and cast a look at Mr. Homer,
+half-whimsical, half-sorrowful. "I s'pose it's all right, sir!" he said,
+slowly. "Of course it's all right if you say so; but--the fact is, I'd
+planned otherwise myself, and I s'pose there ain't any one but thinks
+his own plan is the best. The fact is, Mr. Homer, I hoped to see Miss
+Wax in this house, instead of Mr. Pindar bein' in hers."
+
+"Indeed, Thomas!" said Mr. Homer. "How so?"
+
+"There's no harm in speakin' of it now, as I see," said Tommy. "Fact is,
+Mr. Homer, you need somebodys else in this house beside Direxia; some
+woman, I mean, to make things as they should be for you. Direxia's fine,
+and I think everything of her, but she's old, and--well, there! there'd
+oughter be somebodys else, that's all, if 'twas only to keep the rest of
+'em off; and there was only one in this village that I could see anyways
+suitable, and that was Miss Wax. So I picked her out, and got my mind
+made up and all, and then along come Mr. Pindar and whisked her off
+under our noses, so to say. I've nothin' against Mr. Pindar, he's all
+right; but it was a disappointment, Mr. Homer, and I can't make believe
+it wasn't. There ain't another woman in this village that Mis' Tree
+would see set over this house," said Tommy Candy, with simple finality.
+
+Mr. Homer smiled, and patted Tommy's arm cheerfully. "Things are much
+better as they are, Thomas," he said; "far better, I assure you.
+Besides, I have other thoughts--a--fancies--a--conceptions, in regard to
+this house; thoughts which, I fancy, would not have been disapproved
+by--as my brother's bride says, by Her we honor. I have felt as you do,
+my young friend, the want of--a--gracious and softening influence,--in
+short, the influence of Woman, sir, in this house; but this influence
+has suggested itself to me in the guise of youth--of--a--beauty;
+of--a--the morning of life, sir, the morning of life. I have
+thought--fancied--in short,--how would you like, sir, to see our
+charming neighbor across the way established in this house?"
+
+Tommy looked at him, stupefied. "Mrs. Weight!" he cried.
+
+But Mr. Homer waved the thought away indignantly. "No, no, Thomas! how
+could you suppose--not for an instant!--in fact, it was partly with a
+view to removing her from--sordid and sinister surroundings, that this
+idea suggested itself to me. What would you say to Annie Lizzie,
+Thomas?"
+
+Mr. Homer beamed, and bent forward, rubbing his hands gently, and
+trying to see Tommy's face through the gathering dusk.
+
+Tommy grew very pale.
+
+"Annie Lizzie!" he said, slowly.
+
+"Annie Lizzie!" repeated Mr. Homer, with animation. "I have watched that
+young person, Thomas, since her early childhood. I have seen her come up
+as a flower, sir, in an arid waste; as a jewel of gold in a--But I would
+not be discourteous. To remove this sweet creature from uncongenial
+surroundings; to transplant the blossom to more grateful soil, if I may
+so express myself; to beds of amaranth and moly--I speak in metaphor,
+sir; to see it unfold its vermeil tints beneath the mellow rays
+of--a--the tender passion--would give me infinite gratification. It
+would be my study, sir, to make her happy. What do you--how does this
+strike you, my dear young friend? But perhaps I have been too sudden,
+Thomas. Take time, sir. Consider it a little."
+
+Thomas Candy rose slowly and painfully. "Thank you, sir!" he said,
+speaking slowly and steadily. "I will take a little time, if you please.
+It is--rather sudden, as you say."
+
+Leaning heavily on his stick, the young man walked slowly down the
+garden path, and stood by the garden gate, looking across the way.
+
+Annie Lizzie! Annie Lizzie marry Mr. Homer! the thought was monstrous.
+Annie Lizzie, only seventeen, a little soft, sweet rose, his own little
+sweetheart. Good heavens! could such a thing exist even as a dream in
+any human brain?
+
+Then other thoughts came; ugly thoughts, which forced their way to the
+front in spite of him. Mr. Homer was rich now, rich and kind and
+generous. Women liked money, people said: Annie Lizzie had been bitter
+poor all her life, had never had a penny to call her own; might she be
+tempted? And, if she were, had he the right to stand in her way? Was he
+sure, sure, that her love for him, the love that he had taken for
+granted as he took the sunlight, would stand the test?
+
+Faster and uglier came the hateful thoughts; he could almost see them as
+visible forms, with wicked, sneering faces. Was this why she had been so
+attentive to Mr. Homer of late, running in and out of the house on this
+or that pretended errand, coaxing Direxia to let her help with the work,
+begging a flower from the garden, a root from the vegetable border? He
+had never doubted that it was on his own account she came. Was she false
+and shallow, as well as sweet and soft and and--
+
+Tommy Candy never knew how long he stood there at the garden gate,
+watching the house across the way, where a slender shape flitted to and
+fro in the lamplight. But by and by he struck his stick into the gravel
+and came back with a white set face, and stood before Mr. Homer, who was
+rocking happily in his chair and repeating the "Ode to a Nightingale."
+
+"Mr. Homer," he said, and at the sound of his voice the little gentleman
+stopped rocking and looked up in alarm: "when it comes to things like
+this, it's man to man, I expect. If Annie Lizzie wants to marry you, I
+won't stand in her way. I'll take myself and my stick off out o' sight
+somewheres, where she'll never hear of neither one of us again. But
+if--"
+
+He stopped short; for Mr. Homer had risen to his feet in great
+agitation, and was waving his hands and blinking painfully through the
+dusk.
+
+"My dear young friend!" he cried. "My dear but mistaken young friend,
+you distress me infinitely. You do not think--it cannot be possible that
+you think that this poor child has--has formed any such--such monstrous
+conception? If I thought so, I should resign my being,--a--cease upon
+the midnight, not without pain, but unspeakably the reverse. It is a
+most extraordinary thing that twice within a single summer I should have
+been exposed, sir, to a misapprehension of this amazing,
+this--a--portentous, this--a--unspeakably inauspicious description. I am
+not a marrying man, Thomas. Though regarding the Sex with the deepest
+veneration, sir, I have for many years regarded it across a gulf, if I
+may so express myself; a chasm, sir; a--a--maelstrom of separation, to
+speak strongly. Your suggestion fills me with pain; with--anguish;
+with--a--gorgons and chimera dire--meaning no disparagement to the
+young person in question. I had thought, Thomas,--I had conceived,--I
+had formed the apprehension, sir, that she was attached to you, and that
+you admitted the soft impeachment; that your heart responded to
+the--a--soft flutings of the tender passion. I thought to see you
+wedded, and sharing my home, being as son and daughter to me. I--I--I--"
+
+Mr. Homer's voice faltered. But Tommy Candy caught the distressedly
+waving hands in his.
+
+"Mr. Homer," he cried, with a broken laugh, "don't, sir! don't take on!
+I'm a fool, that's all, the biggest fool the world holds this minute.
+I've loved Annie Lizzie ever since I was ten years old, and I believe
+she has me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE LAST WORD
+
+
+"Come back, have they?" said Seth Weaver. Seth was painting the outside
+of Miss Penny Pardon's shop, and Miss Penny was hopping in and out,
+hovering about the door like a lame robin, dividing her attention
+between Seth and the birds.
+
+"Wal, have 'em a good time, did they?"
+
+"Elegant!" replied Miss Penny, joyously. "They had them an elegant time,
+Seth. Miss Wax--There! look at me! and I said 'Mis' Hollopeter' just as
+slick when she come in! She was in this mornin', to tell Sister about
+the latest styles. I thought 'twas real kind of her, with all she had
+to think of in her golden joy. Folks _is_ so kind, I don't see how it
+comes to be such a wicked world as some calls it. Well, she told us all
+about it. They went to Niag'ry Falls first. He was wishful to take her
+to Washin'ton, but she said Nature come first in her eyes, even before
+Gov'ment; she has fine thoughts, and an elegant way of expressin' 'em, I
+always think. There! she said the Falls was handsome! 'twas beyond the
+power of thought, she said. Ain't you gettin' jest a dite too much red
+in that trimmin', Seth?"
+
+"I guess not!" said Seth. "You don't want it to look like you was
+advertisin' a new brand of mustard, do ye? Where else did they go?"
+
+"They went to New York," said Miss Penny. "It was there she see the
+styles. Went to the theatre, and to Central Park, and walked down Fifth
+Avenue; and his friends give them a testimonial dinner, and--oh, it was
+lovely to hear her tell about it. I declare, I should like to go to New
+York some day myself. Big sleeves is comin' in again; not that you care
+about that, Seth, but Sister was real pleased to know it. And Mr. Pindar
+has commenced to flesh up some already, Mis' Hollopeter says. He was as
+poor as a split flounder, you know: hadn't ben nourished good for years,
+she thinks. There! Men-folks don't know how to feed themselves, seems
+though, no more nor birds doos. Take that parrot there; you'd think he'd
+know by this time that fresh paint don't agree with him real well, yet
+he'll get at it and chaw it every chance he gets, and then has to come
+to me for doctorin'; it's the same with men-folks, the best of 'em. But
+Mr. Pindar'll get the best of victuals from now on!" Miss Penny
+concluded with an emphatic nod.
+
+"She don't want to feed him too high all of a suddin," said Seth,
+drawing his brush carefully round a window-casing. "He might go the way
+of Job Joralemon's hoss."
+
+"What way was that?" asked Miss Penny, pausing with a cage in her hand.
+"Who is Job Joralemon? I don't know as I ever heard of him."
+
+"He was a man over to Tinkham Corners," said Seth. "Meanest man in them
+parts, where they get the gold medal for meanness every year, some say.
+Come along a man one day, travellin' man, lookin' for a hoss to buy. His
+hoss had died, or run away, or ben stole, or somethin', I dono what.
+Anyways, he heard Job had a hoss to sell, and come to look at him. He
+warn't much of a one to look at,--the hoss, I mean, though Job warn't no
+Venus, neither; but this man, he thought likely he could fat him up and
+drive him a spell, till he got through his business, and then sell him
+for a mite more than he give for him. Wal, he took the hoss--he was
+stayin' at Rowe's Tavern over there--and give him a good solid feed, hay
+and grain, and then started out to drive on to the next town. Wal,
+sir,--ma'am, I should say,--quick as he got out the yard, that hoss
+started on the dead run; man couldn't hold him any more than you could a
+yearlin' steer. He run like wild-fire a little ways, and then he clum
+over a fence, buggy and all,--stump-fence it was,--and then he fell
+down, and rolled over, and died, then and there. The man collected
+himself out of the kindlin's, and looked round, and see old Rowe, the
+tavern-keeper, comin' up, grinnin' all over.
+
+"'What does this mean?' the man hollers out, mad as hops. 'What kind of
+a hoss do you call this?' he says.
+
+"Old Rowe kinder grunts. 'I call that a sawdust hoss,' he says.
+
+"'Sawdust Granny!' says the man. 'What d'ye mean by that?'
+
+"'Wal!' says old Rowe. 'Fact is, Job's ben in the habit of feedin'
+sawdust to that hoss, and keepin' green goggles on him so's he'd think
+'twas grass. Come to give him a good feed, ye see, and 'twas too much
+for him, and car'd him off.'
+
+"So what I say is, you tell Mis' Hollopeter she wants to be careful how
+she feeds Pindar up, that's all."
+
+"Seth Weaver, if you ain't the beat!" exclaimed Miss Penny. "I believe
+you made that up right here and now. Ain't you ashamed to tell such
+stories?"
+
+"Not a mite! not a mite!" said Seth, comfortably. "Take more'n that to
+shame me. Ask Annie Lizzie if it don't. Here she comes along now. Ain't
+she a pictur'?"
+
+Annie Lizzie came blossoming along the street in her pink calico dress;
+her pink sunbonnet was hanging on her shoulders, and her soft dark hair
+curled round her face just for the pleasure of it. She was swinging a
+bright tin pail in her hand; altogether the street seemed to lighten as
+she came along it.
+
+"Hello, Annie Lizzie!" said Seth, as she came up to the shop. "Comin' to
+see me, ain't ye?"
+
+"I guess not!" said Miss Penny. "I expect she's come to see me, ain't
+you, Annie Lizzie? I've got a new piece of ribbin in, jest matches your
+dress, and your cheeks, too."
+
+Annie Lizzie dimpled and smiled shyly. "I'd love to see it, Miss Penny,"
+she said; "but first I come with a message for Mr. Weaver."
+
+"Then I'll go and feed the rest of them birds," said Miss Penny.
+"There! hear 'em hollerin' the minute I say 'feed'? They are the
+cutest!"
+
+She vanished into the shop, and Seth looked up at the young girl with a
+friendly twinkle. "Back stairs again, Annie Liz?" he asked. "I expect to
+get at 'em to-morrow, honest I do."
+
+"No, sir, 'twasn't the stairs this time," said Annie Lizzie, looking
+down. "Ma didn't know I was comin', or she might have said something. I
+come with a message from Tommy, Mr. Weaver. He wanted to know could you
+spare him some white paint."
+
+"What does he want of white paint?" asked Seth.
+
+"Wants to paint the front gate," replied Annie Lizzie.
+
+"Sho!" said Seth. "The front gate was painted only last fall. There
+ain't no need to paint it ag'in for three years."
+
+"I know!" said the girl, patiently. "But all the same he's goin' to
+paint it, and he wants you should put somethin' in it so's it won't
+dry."
+
+"So's it _will_ dry, you mean!" corrected Seth. "Tell him I won't do it.
+Hastenin' white paint's like hastenin' a mud-turtle; it's bad for his
+constitution, and _then_ he don't get anywheres. White paint has to dry
+slow, or it's no good. You tell Tommy that, and tell him he'd oughter
+know it, much as he's hung round my shop."
+
+"He doos know it!" said Annie Lizzie, in her cooing voice. "He don't
+want it to dry, Mr. Weaver."
+
+"Don't want it to dry!" repeated Seth.
+
+"No, sir. He said I might tell you, so's you'd understand; he knew you
+wouldn't let it go no further, Mr. Weaver. Fact is, he wants to keep
+folks away for a spell, so's Mr. Homer can get rested up. He's real
+wore out with all these celebrations and goin's on, and he has so many
+callers he don't have no chance to live hardly. So Tommy thought if he
+could paint the gate, and keep on paintin' it, with a good paint that
+lasted wet, you see, it would--Well, what he means is,--there couldn't
+anybody get in but what had pants on. It's a narrow gate, you know."
+
+"I know," said Seth, with a grim twinkle. "I see. That's Tommy Candy all
+over. Tell him I'll fix him up an article will do the business; he
+needn't have no fears. But how about them little pink petticuts of
+yourn, Annie Lizzie? I dono as Tommy is so special anxious to keep them
+out, is he?"
+
+The pink of Annie Lizzie's dress was surely not a fast color, for it
+seemed to spread in a rosy cloud over her soft cheeks, up, up, to the
+soft rings of hair against her forehead.
+
+"Direxia's real good to me," she said, simply. "She lets me come in the
+back gate."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+By LAURA E. RICHARDS
+
+    MRS. TREE'S WILL
+    MRS. TREE
+    GEOFFREY STRONG
+    FOR TOMMY
+    LOVE AND ROCKS
+    CAPTAIN JANUARY
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mrs. Tree's Will, by Laura E. Richards
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mrs. Tree's Will, by Laura E. Richards.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mrs. Tree's Will, by Laura E. Richards
+
+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/license
+
+
+Title: Mrs. Tree's Will
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Release Date: April 29, 2012 [EBook #39558]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS. TREE'S WILL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+<h1>MRS. TREE'S WILL</h1>
+
+<h2>By Laura E. Richards</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Author of</i> "Captain January," "Melody," "Marie," "Mrs. Tree," etc.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">Boston<br />
+Dana Estes &amp; Company<br />
+Publishers</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Copyright, 1905</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By Dana Estes &amp; Company</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">MRS. TREE'S WILL</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>COLONIAL PRESS<br />
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />
+Boston, U.S.A.</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="center">TO<br />
+MY DAUGHTER<br />
+Alice</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a>
+<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>"'HOMER HOLLOPETER,' SHE SAID, 'WHAT IS THE NAME OF THIS
+VILLAGE?'"</h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+<table summary="contents">
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER</td><td> </td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">I. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">The Will Itself</span> </a></td><td align="right">11</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">II. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">What the Men Said</span> </a></td><td align="right">33</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">III. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">What the Women Said</span> </a></td><td align="right">51</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IV. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">Mostly Gossip</span> </a></td><td align="right">79</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">V. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">In Miss Penny's Shop</span> </a></td><td align="right">95</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VI. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">The Sorrows of Mr. Homer</span> </a></td><td align="right">111</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VII. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">Conchology and Other Things</span> </a></td><td align="right">130</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VIII. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">Mr. Pindar</span> </a></td><td align="right">147</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IX. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">"<span class="smcap">Quand on Conspire</span>" </a></td><td align="right">164</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">X. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">A Pleasant Hour</span> </a></td><td align="right">186</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XI. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">Spinning Yarns</span> </a></td><td align="right">199</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XII. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">Miss Wax at Home</span> </a></td><td align="right">224</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XIII. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><span class="smcap">The Sorrows of Mr. Pindar</span> </a></td><td align="right">240</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XIV. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><span class="smcap">The Dramatic Moment</span> </a></td><td align="right">255</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XV. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><span class="smcap">After All!</span> </a></td><td align="right">283</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XVI. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><span class="smcap">Marriage Bells</span> </a></td><td align="right">297</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XVII. </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><span class="smcap">The Last Word</span> </a></td><td align="right">309</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<table summary="illustrations">
+<tr><td></td><td></td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td></td><td><a href="#illus1">"<span class="smcap">'Homer Hollopeter,' she said, 'what is the name of this village?'</span>"
+</a></td><td align="right"><i>Frontispiece</i></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td></td><td><a href="#illus2">"<span class="smcap">'Good morning, Seth!' said the little minister</span>" </a></td><td align="right">80</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td></td><td><a href="#illus3">"<span class="smcap">As he held the candle high, its wavering light fell on the countenance
+of the stranger</span>" </a></td><td align="right">143</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td></td><td><a href="#illus4">"<span class="smcap">'Bile in, Salem!' said Seth Weaver, 'you ain't forgot, have ye?'</span>" </a></td><td align="right">197</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>MRS. TREE'S WILL</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WILL ITSELF</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Suppose you tell me all about it, Mr. Hollopeter!" said Mr. Bliss.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer Hollopeter sighed deeply; wiped his brow with a
+sky-blue article, evidently under the impression that it was a
+pocket-handkerchief; sighed again yet more deeply on perceiving that it
+was a necktie; put it back in his pocket, and looked plaintively at the
+minister.</p>
+
+<p>"I should be pleased to do so, Mr. Bliss," he said. "It would be&mdash;a
+relief; a&mdash;an unburdening; an&mdash;outlet to imprisoned nature."</p>
+
+<p>"You see," the little minister went on soothingly, "our dear old
+friend's death occurring while I was away, and I returning only just in
+time for the funeral, I have not really heard the particulars yet. I
+might&mdash;that is&mdash;Mrs. Weight kindly called on me last evening, probably
+with a view to giving me some information, but I was unable to see her,
+and I should prefer to hear from you how it all happened."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;a&mdash;yes!" said Mr. Homer, nervously. "Mrs. Weight is a&mdash;a
+person&mdash;a&mdash;in short, she is a person not connected with the family.
+Well, Mr. Bliss, the end came very suddenly; very suddenly indeed. It
+was a great shock; a great&mdash;blow; a great&mdash;unsettling of the equilibrium
+of daily life. The village has never known such a sensation, sir,
+never."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Tree died in the evening, I believe?" said Mr. Bliss.</p>
+
+<p>"At nine o'clock, sir," said Mr. Homer. "Jocko, the parrot, had had some
+trifling indisposition, and Cousin Marcia had sent for Miss Penelope
+Pardon, who, as you are doubtless aware, has some knowledge of the
+feathered tribes and their peculiar ailments. It chanced that I came in
+to bring a letter, which would, I fancied, give Cousin Marcia singular
+pleasure. It was from little Vesta&mdash;I would say from Mrs. Geoffrey
+Strong, Mr. Bliss: she has always been a favorite niece&mdash;grandniece, I
+should say, of Mrs. Tree. I found my cousin somewhat excited; she was
+speaking to Miss Pardon with emphasis, and, as I entered, she struck the
+floor with her stick and said: 'Cat's foot! don't tell me! folderol!'
+and other expressions of that nature, as was her custom when moved.
+Seeing me, she turned upon me with some abruptness and addressed me in
+the following words: 'Well, Homer, here you are mooning about as usual.
+You ought to be in a cage, and have Penny to take care of you. How would
+you like this for a cage?' She waved her stick round the room, and then,
+grasping it nervously, shook it at me with violence.</p>
+
+<p>"'Homer Hollopeter,' she said, 'what is the name of this village?'</p>
+
+<p>"Somewhat startled at this outburst, I repeated her remark. 'The name,
+Cousin Marcia?'</p>
+
+<p>"'The name!' she said, violently. 'The real name! out with it,
+ninnyhammer!'</p>
+
+<p>"I replied firmly,&mdash;it is a point on which I have always felt strongly,
+Mr. Bliss,&mdash;'The real name of this village, Cousin Marcia, is Quahaug.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Tree sat bolt upright in her chair. 'Homer Hollopeter,' she said,
+'you have some sense, after all! Hooray for Quahaug!'</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bliss, they were her last words. She sat looking at me,
+erect, vivacious, the very picture of life; and the next instant
+the stick dropped from her hand. She was gone, sir. The spirit
+had&mdash;departed;&mdash;a&mdash;removed itself;&mdash;a&mdash;winged its way to the empyrean."</p>
+
+<p>He paused, half-drew out the blue necktie, then replaced it hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a great shock," he said; "I shall never be the same man again,
+never! Miss Pardon was most kind and attentive. She supplied me
+with&mdash;a&mdash;volatile salts, and in other ways ministered to my
+outer man till I was somewhat restored; but the inner man, sir,
+the&mdash;a&mdash;rainbow-hued spirit, as the poet has it, is&mdash;a&mdash;bruised;
+is&mdash;a&mdash;battered; is&mdash;a&mdash;marked with the impress of a grievous blow. At
+my age I can hardly hope to recover the equilibrium which&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Come! come! Mr. Hollopeter," said the little minister; "you must not be
+despondent. Consider, our dear old friend had rounded out her century;
+the ripe fruit dropped quietly from the bough. It is true that her loss
+is a grievous one to all our community."</p>
+
+<p>"It is, sir! it is, sir!" said Mr. Homer. "To imagine this community
+without Cousin Marcia is to imagine the hive without its queen;
+the&mdash;a&mdash;flock without its leader; the&mdash;a&mdash;finny tribe&mdash;but this is not a
+metaphor which can be pursued, Mr. Bliss; and, indeed, I see our friends
+even now approaching to join in the ceremony&mdash;a&mdash;the&mdash;I may say
+solemnity, which we have come hither to observe."</p>
+
+<p>The foregoing conversation was held in Mrs. Tree's parlor. I say Mrs.
+Tree's, advisedly, for, though the bright, energetic spirit that had so
+lately held sway there was gone, her presence still remained to fill the
+room. Indeed, this room, with its dim antique richness, its glimmer of
+gold lacquer, its soft duskiness of brocade and damask, its treasures of
+rare and precious woods, and, above all, its fragrance of sandalwood and
+roses, had always seemed the fit and perfect setting for the ancient
+jewel it held. To the poetic imagination of Mr. Homer Hollopeter, Mrs.
+Tree had always seemed out of place elsewhere. He had almost grudged the
+occasions, rare of late years, when she went abroad in her camel's-hair
+shawl and her great velvet bonnet. There seemed no reason why she should
+ever stir from her high-backed chair of carved ebony. He saw her in it
+at this moment, almost as plainly as he had seen her three days ago; the
+tiny satin-clad figure, erect, alert, the little hands resting on the
+ebony crutch-stick, the eyes darting black fire, the lips uttering
+pungent words that bit like cayenne pepper, yet were wholesome in their
+biting,&mdash;was it possible that she was no longer there? Mr. Homer had
+feared his cousin Marcia more than any earthly thing, but still he had
+loved her sincerely; and now the tears were in his mild blue eyes as he
+turned from this vision of her to greet the incoming guests. Since the
+death of Doctor Stedman and his dear wife the year before, Mr. Homer was
+Mrs. Tree's only kinsman living in the village, and Doctor Strong, now
+staying at the Blyth house with his wife, had begged him to take up his
+quarters at Mrs. Tree's for the present. He had a special reason for
+asking it, he said. Mr. Homer would find out later what it was. So,
+meekly and sadly, Mr. Homer had brought a limp carpet-bag, and asked
+Direxia Hawkes, the old servant, to put him wherever it would be least
+inconvenient; and the old woman, half-blind with weeping, had fiercely
+made ready the best bedroom, and was trying with bitter energy to feed
+him to death.</p>
+
+<p>Who are these who enter the quiet room, greeting Mr. Homer with a silent
+nod or a low-toned word or two? We know most of them. First come Dr.
+Geoffrey Strong and Vesta, his wife, a noble-looking pair. Geoffrey
+holds his head as high, and his eyes are as bright and keen as ever;
+and, if a silver thread shows here and there in his crisp brown hair,
+Vesta thinks him none the less handsome for that. There is no silver in
+Vesta's own hair; the tawny masses are as beautiful as ever. Her figure
+is a little fuller, as becomes the mother of four. Geoffrey tells the
+children in confidence that their mother is the exact counterpart of the
+Venus of Milo, and says he has no doubt that the latter lady had tawny
+hair. Vesta has put on a simple black dress, but there is no special
+sign of "mourning" about it.</p>
+
+<p>"If anybody puts on crape for me," Mrs. Tree used to say, "I'll get up
+and pull it off 'em. So now they know. Nasty, unhealthy stuff! There's a
+piece to go on the door. Tommy Candy knows where it is; and that's all
+I'll have."</p>
+
+<p>Here is Tommy Candy now, a tall lad of twenty, walking lame and leaning
+on a stick; his hair, which used to stand up in stiff spikes all over
+his head, is brought under some control, but there is no suppressing the
+twinkle in his gray eyes. Even now, when he is in sincere grief for his
+best friend, his eyes will twinkle as he looks out of the window and
+sees the elephantine form of Mrs. Weight lumbering up the garden path.
+And who is this behind her? Talk of crape,&mdash;why, here is a figure
+literally swathed in it. The heavy veil is only pushed aside to give
+play to a handkerchief with an inch-deep black border, which is pressed
+to the eyes; a sob shakes the buxom figure. Who is this grief-smitten
+lady? Why, this is Mrs. Maria Darracott Pryor, Mrs. Tree's own and only
+lawful niece, the Next of Kin. She brushes past Vesta and her husband
+with a curt nod, rustles across the room, and lays her head on the arm
+of the ebony chair. At this Homer Hollopeter and Geoffrey Strong both
+start from their seats. Mr. Homer's gentle eyes gleam with unaccustomed
+fire; he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again; for the intruder
+stops&mdash;falters&mdash;gives a scared look about her, and, tottering back,
+subsides on a sofa at the side of the room. Here she sobs ostentatiously
+behind her handkerchief, and takes eager note of the rest of the
+company.</p>
+
+<p>She was followed by Mrs. Deacon Weight, from across the way, whom
+Direxia admitted "this once!" as she said to herself with silent
+ferocity; William Jaquith and his lovely wife; finally, the lawyer, a
+brisk, dapper little man, who came in quickly, sat down by the
+violet-wood table, and proceeded without delay to open his budget.</p>
+
+<p>"I, Marcia Darracott Tree, being of sound mind, which is more than most
+folks I know are&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>There was a movement, slight but general, among the company. No one
+quite smiled, but the faces of those who had loved Mrs. Tree lightened,
+while those of the others stiffened into a rigidity of disapproval. To
+one and all it seemed as if the ancient woman were speaking to them. The
+little lawyer paused and gave a quick glance around the room.</p>
+
+<p>"It may be well for me to state in the beginning," he said, "that this
+instrument, though beyond question irregular in its form of expression,
+is&mdash;equally beyond question&mdash;perfectly regular in its substance; an
+entirely valid instrument. To resume: 'of sound mind,'&mdash;I need not
+repeat the excursus,&mdash;'do hereby dispose of my various belongings, all
+of which are absolutely and without qualification within my own control
+and possession, in the following manner, to wit, namely, and any other
+folderol this man may want to put in.' Ahem! My venerable friend was
+very pleasant with me while I was drawing up this instrument,&mdash;very
+pleasant; but she insisted on my writing her exact words.</p>
+
+<p>"'To Vesta Strong I give and bequeath my jewels, with the exceptions
+hereinafter specified; my lace; the velvet and satin dresses in the
+cedar chests; the camel's-hair shawls; the silver, both Darracott and
+Tree; and anything else in the house that she may fancy, with the
+exceptions hereinafter mentioned. She'd better not clutter up her house
+with too many things; it is full enough already, with Blyth and Meredith
+truck.</p>
+
+<p>"'To Geoffrey Strong I give any of my books that he likes, except the
+blue Keats; the engraved sapphire ring, and fifty thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p>"'Homer Hollopeter is to have the blue morocco Keats, presented by the
+author to my father, because he has always wanted it and never expected
+to get it.'"</p>
+
+<p>The tears brimmed over in Mr. Homer's eyes. "I certainly never did
+expect this," he said, with emotion. "I have held the precious volume in
+my hands reverently&mdash;a&mdash;humbly&mdash;a&mdash;with abasement of spirit, but I never
+thought to possess it. I am indeed overcome. Pardon the interruption,
+sir, I beg of you."</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer gave Mr. Homer a look, half-quizzical, half-compassionate.
+"Your name occurs again in this instrument, Homer," he said; "I will not
+say more at present. To resume:</p>
+
+<p>"'To Direxia Hawkes I give five thousand dollars and a home in this
+house as long as she lives, on condition that she never cleans more than
+one room in it at a time, and that she makes the orange cordial every
+year according to my rule, without making any fool changes.'"</p>
+
+<p>Direxia Hawkes, a tiny withered brownie, had been standing by the door
+since she admitted the last comer. She now threw her apron over her head
+and began to sob. "Did you ever?" she cried. "Tell me that woman is
+dead! She's more alive than the hull bilin' of this village, I tell you.
+Sixty years I've been trying to get a mite of ginger into that cordial,
+and now I never shall. There! I don't want to no more, now she ain't
+here to tell me I sha'n't. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"</p>
+
+<p>Vesta Strong went to the old woman's side and comforted her tenderly.
+The sobs died away into sniffs, and the lawyer continued:</p>
+
+<p>"'To William Jaquith I leave twenty thousand dollars and the house he
+now occupies; also all the property, real and personal, of my grandson,
+Arthur Blyth, deceased.</p>
+
+<p>"'To my niece, Maria Darracott Pryor,'"&mdash;the little lawyer paused and
+glanced over his spectacles. With each of the bequests enumerated, Mrs.
+Pryor had become more and more rigid. The black-edged handkerchief was
+forgotten, and she sat with her chin raised and her prominent
+short-sighted eyes glancing from one to another of the fortunate
+legatees with an expression which, to say the least, was not
+affectionate. "From envy, hatred, and malice," Geoffrey had whispered a
+moment before.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Geoffrey," said Vesta.</p>
+
+<p>But at the mention of her own name, Mrs. Pryor's expression changed; the
+rigor yielded to a drooping softness; she heaved a deep sigh and raised
+the handkerchief to her eyes again.</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest Cousin Marcia!" she murmured; "she remembered even in her
+closing moments that I was her next of kin; so touching. The Darracott
+blood&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"'To my niece, Maria Darracott Pryor, I give and bequeath&mdash;the sum
+of&mdash;three dollars and sixty-seven cents, being the price of a ticket
+back where she came from. If she tries to stay in my house, tell her to
+remember the <i>last time</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>"I greatly regret these discourteous observations," said the little
+lawyer, deprecatingly, "but my venerable friend was&mdash;a&mdash;positively
+determined on inserting them, and I had no alternative, I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>He looked with some alarm at Mrs. Pryor as he spoke, and, indeed, that
+lady's countenance was dreadful to look upon. Every part of her seemed
+to clink and crackle as she rose to her feet, her eyes snapping, her
+teeth fairly chattering with rage.</p>
+
+<p>"You call this a will, do you?" she cried. "You call this law, do you?
+We'll see about that. We'll see if the next of kin is to be insulted and
+trodden upon by a low attorney and a set of beggars on horseback. We'll
+see&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the little lawyer, who came from the neighboring town, had gone to
+the Academy with Maria Darracott, and, though a man of punctilious
+courtesy, had no idea of being called a low attorney by any such person.
+He therefore interrupted her with scant ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>"We must, I fear, postpone discussion," he said, "until the instrument
+has been heard in its entirety by all present. To resume."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Pryor glanced about her with challenging eyes and heaving breast,
+but, seeing that no one paid much heed to her, all looks being bent on
+the reader, she subsided once more into her seat, a statue of vindictive
+protest.</p>
+
+<p>"'To Thomas Candy I give five thousand dollars, and another five
+thousand dollars on his attaining the age of twenty-five if he shall
+have been able by that time to carry out the plan and maintain the
+condition now to be specified.'"</p>
+
+<p>The little lawyer paused again and glanced round the expectant circle.
+His shrewd brown face was immovable, but his black eyes twinkled in
+spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I have already observed," he said, "that this instrument is an
+unusual, I may say, a singular one. My venerable friend was most
+emphatic in her enunciation of the following&mdash;a&mdash;condition, which&mdash;which
+I forbear to characterize." He glanced at the empty chair. One would
+have thought that for him it was not empty. Then he went on:</p>
+
+<p>"'The condition now to be specified.</p>
+
+<p>"'To Homer Hollopeter and Thomas Candy I give and bequeath this house
+and garden, the furniture, etc. (after Vesta Strong has taken what she
+wants), the collections of foreign woods, uncut gems, butterflies,
+carved ivories, natural curiosities, shells, coins, etc., etc., etc., to
+be held by them in trust, and arranged by them as a museum for the
+perpetual benefit of this village; and I give them over and above the
+before mentioned legacies two thousand dollars yearly for the
+maintenance of this museum and for additions thereto: all this on
+condition that this village shall resume and maintain its original and
+true name of Quahaug, which it would never have lost if Captain Tree and
+I had not been in the South Seas while that old noddy, Melancthon Swain,
+was minister here.</p>
+
+<p>"'All the rest and residue of my estate I give and bequeath to the
+aforesaid Homer Hollopeter, and I appoint him my residuary legatee, and
+I hope there's fuss enough about it.'"</p>
+
+<p>The little lawyer stopped reading and pushed back his chair. In doing
+so, he may have inadvertently touched the empty chair, for at that
+instant an ebony crutch-stick, which had been leaning against it, fell
+forward on the floor with a loud rattle. Mrs. Pryor shrieked and fell
+into real and violent hysterics. She was supported out of the room by
+Doctor Strong and his wife. Mrs. Weight rolled out after them, snorting
+indignant sympathy, and the assembly broke up in confusion.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>WHAT THE MEN SAID</h3>
+
+
+<p>I have elsewhere described the village post-office, both as it appeared
+at the time of Mr. Homer Hollopeter's election as postmaster and as
+later adorned and beautified by him.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> It had been a labor of love with
+Mr. Homer, not only to make the office itself pleasant, to transform it,
+as he said, "into a fitting shrine for the genius of epistolary
+intercourse," but to make the outside of the building pleasant to the
+eye. Clematis and woodbine were trained up the walls and round the
+windows, and the once forlorn-looking veranda was a veritable bower of
+morning-glory and climbing roses.</p>
+
+
+
+<p>On this veranda, the day after the reading of Mrs. Tree's will, the
+village elders were gathered, as was their custom, awaiting the arrival
+of the afternoon mail. They sat in a row, their chairs tilted back
+against the wall, their faces set seaward. The faces were all grave, and
+a certain solemnity seemed to brood over the little assembly. From time
+to time one or another would take his pipe from his mouth, and the
+others would look at him doubtfully, as if half-expecting a remark, but
+the pipe would be replaced in silence. At length Salem Rock, a massive
+gray-haired man of dignified and sober aspect, spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, boys," he said, "somebody's got to say something, and, as nobody
+else seems inclined, I s'pose it's up to me as the oldest here. Not but
+what I feel like a child to-day,&mdash;a little mite of a child. Boys, this
+village has met with a great loss."</p>
+
+<p>There was a general murmur of "That's so!" "It has." "That's what it's
+met with!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't seem to sense it!" Salem Rock continued. "I can't seem to make
+it anyways real, that Mis' Tree is gone. I can't help but think that if
+I went there to that house to-day, as I was free to go any time I wanted
+anything as good advice could give&mdash;or help either&mdash;or anybody else in
+this village as ever needed anything&mdash;I can't help but think that if I
+went there to that house to-day I should find Mis' Tree sittin' in her
+chair, chirk as a chipmunk, and hear her say, 'Now, Salem Rock, what
+mischief have you been up to?' I was allus a boy to her&mdash;we was all
+boys."</p>
+
+<p>"That's so!" the chorus murmured again. "That was what we was; boys!"</p>
+
+<p>"And when I think," Salem Rock went on, "that I shall never more so go
+and so find her again&mdash;sittin' in that chair&mdash;nor hear her so speak&mdash;I
+tell you, boys, it breaks me all up; it doos so."</p>
+
+<p>Again there was a sympathetic murmur; heads were shaken, and feet
+shuffled uneasily. The men were all glad to have a voice for their
+grief, but all had not the gift of speech.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember"&mdash;Salem Rock was still the speaker; he was a slow,
+thoughtful man, and gathered momentum as he went on&mdash;"the first time
+ever I saw Mis' Tree, to remember it. I couldn't ha' been more than six
+years old, and I was sittin' in the front dooryard makin' mud pies, and
+she came in on some errand to mother. Mother used to spin yarn for her,
+same as my woman does now&mdash;did, I'm obleeged to say. Wal, she had on her
+grand bunnit and shawl, and I had never seen nothin' like her before.
+Ma'rm never took me to meetin' till I was seven, and she showed
+judgment. Wal, sirs, that ancient woman&mdash;she wasn't ancient then, of
+course, but yet she wasn't young, and she appeared ancient to me&mdash;looked
+me over, and spoke up sharp and crisp. 'Stand up, boy,' she says, 'and
+take your hat off; quick!'</p>
+
+<p>"I tell ye, there didn't no grass grow under me! I was up fast as my
+legs could scramble.</p>
+
+<p>"'That's right!' she says; 'always stand up and take off your hat when a
+lady comes into the yard.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Be you a lady?' says I. Lord knows what kind of notion I had; children
+don't always know what they are saying.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am the Queen of the Cannibal Islands!' says she.</p>
+
+<p>"I never misdoubted but what she was, and I didn't know what Cannibal
+Islands meant.</p>
+
+<p>"'What's your name?' says I.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'll tell you what my husband's name is,' says she. 'His name is</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Chingy Fungy Wong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Putta-potee da Kubbala Kong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flipperty Flapperty Busky Bong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King of the Cannibal Islands.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Then she went into the house, and I stood starin' after her with my
+mouth gappin' open. She didn't stay long, and, when she came out again,
+up I jumps without waitin' to be told. She looks at me ag'in, that quick
+way she had, like a bird. 'Finished your pie?' says she.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes'm,' says I.</p>
+
+<p>"'Is it a good pie?' says she.</p>
+
+<p>"'I guess so!' says I.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'll buy it,' says she. 'Here's the money!' and she gives me a bright
+new ten-cent piece,&mdash;it was the first ever I had in my life,&mdash;and walked
+off quick and light before ever I could say a word. Well, now, sirs, if
+children ain't cur'us things! I was a slow child most ways,&mdash;ben slow
+all my life long, but it come over me then quick as winkin', she had
+paid for that pie, and it was hers, and she'd got to have it. I never
+said a word, but just toddled after down street, holdin' that mud pie as
+if it was Thanksgivin' mince. I couldn't catch up with her; she walked
+almighty fast them days, and my legs were short, but I kep' her red
+shawl in sight, and I see where she went in. Time I got up to the door
+it was shut, but I banged on it in good shape, and D'reckshy Hawkes come
+and opened it. She was allus sharp, D'reckshy was, and she couldn't
+abide no boys but her two, as she called 'em, Arthur and Willy, and they
+weren't neither one of 'em born then.</p>
+
+<p>"'What do you want, boy?' she says, sharp enough.</p>
+
+<p>"'I don't want nothin'!' says I. 'I brung the pie.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What pie?' says she.</p>
+
+<p>"'Her'n,' says I. 'She bought it off'n me; her that went in just now,
+with the red shawl.'</p>
+
+<p>"D'reckshy looked me over, and looked at the pie. I make no doubt but
+she was just goin' to send me about my business, but before she could
+speak I heard Mis' Tree's voice. She had seen me from the window, I
+expect.</p>
+
+<p>"'D'reckshy Hawkes,' she says, 'take that pie into the pantry and send
+the child to me.'</p>
+
+<p>"'My sakes, Mis' Tree!' said D'reckshy, 'it ain't a pie; it's a <i>mud</i>
+pie!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do as I tell you!' says Mis' Tree, and D'reckshy went; but she give me
+a shove toward the parlor door, and there I see Mis' Tree sittin' in her
+chair. That was the first time. Well, sirs, we are all perishable
+clay."</p>
+
+<p>Another silence fell; the pensive pipes puffed; the keen eyes scanned
+the prospect.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks as if 'twas tryin' to git up some kind o' weather out there!"
+said Seth Weaver.</p>
+
+<p>"Doos so!" responded Ebenezer Hoppin. "It's ben tryin' two-three days,
+but it don't seem to have no pertickler <i>suc</i>cess."</p>
+
+<p>"Old Mis' Tree hadn't no use for weather," said Jordan Tooke. "Some
+women-folks are scairt to death of a rainstorm; you'd think they were
+afraid of washin' out themselves, same as they be about their clo'es;
+but she wa'n't that kind; rain or snow, shine or shower, she did what
+she had a mind to.</p>
+
+<p>"'Weather never took no heed of me,' she used to say, 'and I ain't goin'
+to take no heed of it.' No more she did!"</p>
+
+<p>Seth Weaver shook his head, with a reminiscent chuckle. "Ever hear what
+she said to that feller that come here one time from Salt Marsh and druv
+the ten-cent team a spell?"</p>
+
+<p>The others shook their heads and turned toward him with an air of
+relief. Collective sorrow is embarrassing to men.</p>
+
+<p>"There wa'n't much to him," said Seth, "and what there was was full half
+the time. He didn't stay here long. This village didn't appreciate him
+the way he liked to be appreciated. Wal, it was snowin' one day, quite a
+storm it was, and Mis' Tree had sent for him,&mdash;Anthony bein' laid up or
+somethin'. Ezra Doolittle&mdash;that was his name, and it suited him&mdash;had bit
+off more jobs than he could swaller, and when he got round to Mis'
+Tree's he was half an hour late, and she told him so pretty plain. He
+had just enough liquor aboard to make him saucy. 'Wal,' he says,
+'you're lucky to git me at all. I've druv from Hell to Jerusalem to git
+here now.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mis' Tree was all ready for him; she spoke up quick as kindlin':
+'You'll git back quicker,' she says, ''cause you know the way.'</p>
+
+<p>"I was just drivin' by on my milk route, and she caught sight of me.</p>
+
+<p>"'Seth,' she says, 'I want to go to Mis' Jaquith's. Can you take me?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I'd be pleased to,' says I, 'if you don't mind the pung, Mis' Tree.'</p>
+
+<p>"She was into that pung before you could say 'sausage!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Whip up!' she says; 'get ahead of that feller!' and I laid into my old
+mare, and off we went kingdom-comin' down the ro'd, me in my old red
+pung and my buffalo coat, and Mis' Tree in her velvet bunnit and fur
+cloak, and that feller standin' in the ro'd with his mouth open, same
+as you were, Salem, with your mud pie. Well, sir, that was a meal o'
+victuals for me. I sent the old mare along for all she was wuth, and we
+got down to Jaquiths' inside of ten minutes. Pretty good time,
+considerin' what the ro'd was. Got there, and out that old lady hops
+like a girl.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good boy, Seth!' she says.</p>
+
+<p>"She wanted to give me a dollar, 'cause she had taken me off my route,
+but I says, 'I guess not, Mis' Tree!' I says. 'I've ben layin' for you
+ever since you helped mother when she had the fever, and now I've got my
+chance!' So she laughs and says, call for her on my way back, and I did;
+but when I found a fourteen-pound turkey sittin' up against my door
+Christmas mornin',&mdash;I wasn't buyin' turkeys that year myself,&mdash;I knowed
+where it come from, and no words said. But what took me was the way she
+spoke up to that feller. Now some women would have complained, and some
+would have scol't, and they'd all have gone with the feller 'cause he
+had a covered team,&mdash;but not she! 'You'll get back quicker,' she says,
+'from knowin' the way!' and into my team like a flash. Gorry! that's the
+kind of woman I like to see."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll never see another like her!" said Salem Rock. "The likes of Mis'
+Tree never has ben seen and never will be seen, not in this deestrick.
+Her tongue was as quick as her heart was kind, and when you say that
+you've said all there is to say. I s'pose there ain't one of us but
+could tell a dozen stories like yours, Seth. I dunno as it's proper to
+tell 'em just now," he paused; "and yet," he continued, "I dunno <i>but</i>
+it is. She was&mdash;so to say&mdash;she was all of a piece. You can't think of
+her without the sharp way she had."</p>
+
+<p>"That's so," Seth assented; "that's so every time. There wa'n't nobody
+thought more of Mis' Tree than what I did, but yet what keeps comin' up
+to me ever since she was laid away is them quick, sharp kind o' things
+she'd say. Now take what she said to Mis' Nudd, Isril Nudd's widder. You
+all know what Isril was; he was mean as dirt and sour as pickles. He'd
+scrimped his wife, and he'd half-starved her, and some said he'd beat
+her, but I never knew how that was. Anyway, Marthy Nudd had as poor a
+time of it as any woman in this village, and everybody knew it. And yet,
+when he died she mourned for him as if he was Moses and Simeon and the
+Angel Gabriel all in one. Well, she come to Mis' Tree beggin' for the
+loan of some shawl or bunnit or toggery to wear, I dunno what; and she
+was goin' on about her poor husband, and how she had tried to do her
+duty by him, and hoped he knew it now he was in heaven, and all that
+kind of talk. Old Mis' Tree let her say about so much and then she
+stopped her. You know the way she'd hit the floor with her stick. Rap!
+that stick would go, and any one's heart would sit right up in their
+boosum.</p>
+
+<p>"'That'll do, Marthy!' she says. 'Now listen to me. You say Isril is in
+heaven?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, yes'm, yes, Mis' Tree,' says Marthy. 'He's numbered with the
+blest, I don't make no doubt on it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And you've got the four hundred dollars life insurance that you told
+me was due?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes'm, that's all safe; my brother's put it in the bank for me.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Very well, Marthy Nudd; if you've got Isril into heaven and got four
+hundred dollars life insurance on him, that's the best piece of work
+ever you done in your life, or ever will do. Cat's foot!' she says;
+'folderol!' she says, 'don't talk to me!' and she shoved her out with
+her stick and wouldn't hear another word. Gorry! I wouldn't ben Marthy
+Nudd&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't hurt Marthy none, I expect," said Ebenezer Hoppin. "She's one of
+them kind, sorter betwixt putty and Injia rubber; you can double her up
+easy, but first thing you know she's out smooth again. Some say she's
+liable to marry Elihu Wick, over to the Corner. She'd find him some
+different from Isril."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of feller is he?" asked Jordan Tooke.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a string and shingle man. Give him pork and give him sunset, and he
+won't ask nothin' more. Marthy won't get no four hundred dollars
+insurance on him, but he'll go to heaven all right. There isn't a mite
+o' harm in 'Lihu, and Marthy has earned her rest, I will say."</p>
+
+<p>"Speakin' of insurance," said Salem, slowly, "reminds me we ain't said
+anything about Mis' Tree's will. It is a sing'lar will, boys."</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's pause. Heads were shaken and feet were shuffled
+uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Mighty sing'lar," said Hiram Gray.</p>
+
+<p>"Beats all I ever heard of," said Jordan Tooke.</p>
+
+<p>Seth Weaver kept a loyal silence. Salem gave him a look, and, receiving
+a nod in reply, went on:</p>
+
+<p>"Seth and myself was talkin' it over as we came along, kinder takin' our
+bearin's, and this is the way it looks to us. Mis' Tree was born in this
+village, and lived in it a hundred and two years, and died in it; and
+her folks, the Trees and the Darracotts, have lived and died here since
+there was a village to die in. Not one of them hundred 'n' two
+years&mdash;since she was of knowledgeable age,&mdash;but she was doin' good&mdash;in
+her own way&mdash;from the first day of January to the last day of December.
+Not one of us sittin' here on this piazzy but she's done good <i>to</i>, one
+way or another. Therefore and thereon-account of&mdash;" Salem was obviously
+and justifiably proud of this phrase, and repeated it with evident
+enjoyment; "therefore and thereon-account of, I say, and Seth says with
+me, that if Mis' Tree wanted this village should be called Cat's-foot,
+or Fiddlesticks, or Folderol, or Fudge, I for one and he for another
+would give our votes to have it so called."</p>
+
+<p>A confusion of tongues ensued, some agreeing, some protesting, but,
+while the discussion was at its height, the stage drove up and the day's
+session was over.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>WHAT THE WOMEN SAID</h3>
+
+
+<p>A few days after this, the Ladies' Society met at the house of Miss
+Bethia Wax. There had been much discussion among the members of the
+Society as to whether it were fitting to hold a meeting so soon after
+the death of the foremost woman of the parish. Mrs. Worritt said she for
+one would be loth to be found wanting in respect for one who had been,
+as it were, a mile-stone and a beacon-light in that village. Mrs.
+Weight, on the other hand, maintained that business was business, and
+that the heathen in their blindness needed flannel petticoats just as
+much as they did last week. Miss Wax herself, a lady with a strong
+sense of the proprieties, was in doubt as to which course would preserve
+them most strictly. Finally the matter was submitted to Mrs. Geoffrey
+Strong for decision.</p>
+
+<p>"There is only one wish in my mind, Vesta," said Miss Wax, "and that is
+to show the highest respect for our venerable friend, and I speak, I am
+sure, for the whole Society. The question is, how best <i>to</i> show it."</p>
+
+<p>Vesta Strong reflected a moment. "I think, Miss Wax," she said, "it will
+be wisest to hold the meeting. I am quite sure Aunt Marcia would have
+wished it. But you might, perhaps, give it a rather special character;
+make it something of a memorial meeting. What do you think of that?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wax's face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"Excellent," she said. "Vesta, I do think that would be excellent. I am
+real glad I came to you. I will have the room draped in mourning. Tapes
+has some nice black bombazine, a little injured by water, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Vesta suppressed a shudder. "Oh, no, Miss Wax!" she said. "I wouldn't do
+that. Aunt Marcia did not like display of any kind, you know. Your
+pleasant parlors just as they are will be much better, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"I do aim at showing my respect!" pleaded Miss Wax. "Perhaps we might
+all wear a crape rosette, or streamer. What do you think of that?"</p>
+
+<p>But Vesta did not think well even of this, and Miss Wax reluctantly
+abandoned the plan of official mourning, though determined to show her
+respect in her own way as regarded her own person. She was a very tall
+woman, with a figure which, in youth, had been called willowy, and was
+now unkindly termed scraggy. She had been something of a beauty, and
+there was a note of the pathetic in her ringlets and the few girlish
+trinkets she habitually wore,&mdash;a coral necklace, which at sixteen had
+set off admirably the whiteness of her neck, but which at fifty did not
+harmonize so well with the prevailing sallow tint; a blue enamel locket
+on a slender gold chain, etc. She was very fond of pink, and could never
+forget, poor lady, that Pindar Hollopeter had once called her a lily
+dressed in rose-leaves. But, though a trifle fantastic, Miss Bethia was
+as good a soul as ever wore prunella shoes, and her desire to do honor
+to Mrs. Tree's memory was genuine and earnest. Her soul yearned for the
+black bombazine hangings, but she was loyal to Vesta's expressed wish,
+and contented herself with removing certain rose-colored scarfs and
+sofa-pillows, which on ordinary occasions of entertainment were the
+delight of her eyes. She had gathered all the white flowers she could
+find, and had arranged a kind of trophy of silver coffee-spoons on the
+mantelpiece, surrounding a black velvet band, on which was worked in
+silver tinsel the inscription:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"HER WE HONOR."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Miss Bethia had meant to have a photograph of Mrs. Tree in the centre of
+this sombre glory, but no photograph was to be had. Mrs. Tree had
+stoutly refused to be photographed, or to have her portrait painted in
+her later years.</p>
+
+<p>"Folderol!" she used to say, when urged by loving friends or relatives.
+"When I go, I'm going, all there is of me. I shall leave my gowns,
+because they are good satin, but I'm not going to leave my old rags, nor
+the likeness of old rags. Cat's foot! don't talk to me!"</p>
+
+<p>So, except the miniature which was Vesta Strong's choicest treasure,
+the portrait of the brilliant, flashing little beauty whom Ethan Tree
+named the Pocket Venus when first he saw her, and whom he vowed then and
+there to woo and win, there was no portrait of Mrs. Tree; but Miss Wax
+put a cluster of immortelles above the inscription, and hoped it would
+"convey the idea."</p>
+
+<p>In her own person, as has already been said, Miss Bethia felt that she
+could brook no dictation, even from Vesta. Accordingly, as the hour of
+the meeting approached, she arrayed herself in a trailing robe of black
+cashmere, with long bands of crape hanging from the shoulders. Examining
+with anxious care her slender stock of trinkets, she selected a mourning
+brooch of the size of a small saucer, which displayed under glass an urn
+and weeping willow in the choicest style of hair jewelry, and two hair
+bracelets, one a broad, massive band clasped with a miniature, the
+other a chain of globules not unlike the rockweed bladders that children
+love to dry and "pop" between their fingers. Hair jewelry survived in
+Elmerton long after it was forgotten in other places. Miss Wax herself
+was a skilful worker in it, and might often be seen bending over the
+curious little round table, from the centre of which radiated numerous
+fine strands of hair, black, brown, or golden, hanging over the edge and
+weighted with leaden pellets. To see Miss Bethia's long fingers weaving
+the strands into braids or chains was a quaint and pleasant sight.</p>
+
+<p>Her toilet completed, the good lady surveyed herself earnestly in the
+oval mirror, gave a gentle sigh, half approval, half regretful
+reminiscence, and went down to the parlor. Here she seated herself in
+her favorite chair and her favorite attitude. The chair was an ancient
+one, of slender and graceful shape; and the attitude&mdash;somehow&mdash;was a
+good deal like the chair. Both were as accurate reproductions as might
+be of a picture that hung over Miss Bethia's head as she sat, the
+portrait of a handsome young woman with long, black ringlets, arched
+eyebrows, and dark, expressive eyes. Miss Bethia had been said to
+resemble this portrait of her great-great-aunt, and the resemblance was
+one which she was loth to relinquish. Accordingly, she loved to sit
+under it, in the same chair that the picture showed, leaning one elbow
+on the same little table, her cheek resting on the same fingers of the
+same hand,&mdash;the index and middle fingers,&mdash;while the others curved
+outward at a graceful angle. When seated thus, somebody was pretty sure
+to call attention to the resemblance, and not the most ill-natured
+gossip could grudge Miss Bethia the mild pleasure that beamed in her
+eyes whenever it was noted.</p>
+
+<p>There might be a slight resemblance, she would say modestly. It had been
+remarked upon, she might say, more than once. The lady was her relative,
+and likenesses ran strong in her family.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Candy had once irreverently named Miss Wax's parlor "the Wax
+Works," and the name had stuck, as naughty nicknames are apt to do. It
+was indeed quite a little museum in itself of the fruit of bygone
+accomplishments. Wax fruit, wax flowers&mdash;chiefly roses&mdash;in profusion,
+all carefully guarded by glass; pictures in worsted work, pictures in
+hair work, all in home-made frames of pinked leather, of varnished
+acorns, of painted velvet; vases and jars decorated with potichomanie,
+with decalcomanie, with spatter-work. One would think that not one, but
+seven, Misses Wax had spent their entire lives in adorning this one
+room.</p>
+
+<p>But the first guests to arrive on this occasion gave little heed either
+to the room or to the attitude of their hostess, even though, as usual,
+Miss Wax sat still for a moment, with an air of gentle appeal, before
+rising to receive them. Mrs. Deacon Weight is older than when we last
+met her, and her surname is even more appropriate than it was then;
+three hundred pounds of too, too solid flesh are encased in that brown
+alpaca dress, and her inspiration in trimming it with transverse bands
+of black velvet was not a happy one. Mrs. Weight was accompanied by Miss
+Eliza Goby, a lady whose high complexion and protruding eyes made her
+look rather more like a boiled lobster than anything else.</p>
+
+<p>These two ladies, having obeyed the injunction of Miss Wax's handmaid to
+"lay off their things" in the best bedroom, entered the parlor with an
+eager air.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wax, after her little pause, came forward to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, Malvina," she said; "Eliza, I am pleased to see you, I
+am sure. Be seated, ladies, please." She waved her hand gracefully
+toward a couple of chairs, and resumed her attitude, though more from
+force of habit and a consciousness that others more appreciative were
+coming than from any sense of impressing these first comers.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weight seated herself with emphasis, and drew her chair near to
+that of her hostess, motioning her companion to do likewise.</p>
+
+<p>"Bethia," she said, "we came early o' purpose, because we were wishful
+to see you alone for a minute before folks came. We want to know what
+stand you are prepared to take."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it!" said Miss Goby, who had a short, snapping utterance, such
+as a lobster might have if it were endowed with powers of speech. "What
+stand you are prepared to take!"</p>
+
+<p>"Stand?" repeated Miss Wax. "I do not quite comprehend you, ladies. I
+usually rise to receive each guest, and then resume my seat; it seems
+less formal and more friendly; and it fatigues me very much to stand
+long," added the poor lady, with a glance at the portrait.</p>
+
+<p>"Land!" said Mrs. Weight. "That isn't what we mean, Bethia. We mean
+about this will of Mis' Tree's."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Miss Wax. As she spoke, she sat upright, and the attitude was
+forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>"We are wishful to know," said Mrs. Weight, "whether you think that the
+name of a place is to be changed back and forth to suit the fancy of
+folks as weren't in their right minds, and are dead and buried besides.
+What I say is for this room only, ladies. I am not one to spread abroad,
+and I should be lawth indeed to speak ill of the dead, and them I've
+lived opposite neighbors to for thirty years,&mdash;whether neighborly in
+their actions or not, I will not say. But what I do say is, there's them
+in this village as has been browbeat and gormineered over for the hull
+of their earthly sojourn, and <i>they</i> don't propose to be browbeat and
+gormineered over from beyond the grave, in which direction forbid it as
+a Christian and the widder of a sainted man that I should say."</p>
+
+<p>Before Miss Wax could reply, a murmur of voices was heard in the hall,
+and the next moment the Society entered in a body. There were women of
+all ages, from old Mrs. Snow, who now stood in the proud position of
+oldest inhabitant, down to Annie Lizzie Weight, who was only seventeen.
+Miss Penny Pardon was there; Mrs. Pottle, the doctor's wife; and little
+Mrs. Bliss from the parsonage. There were perhaps thirty women in all,
+representing the best society of Elmerton.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wax received them with a troubled air, very different from her
+usual pensive calm. A red spot burned in the centre of each cheek, and
+her eyes were bright with suppressed excitement. Mrs. Pottle, observing
+her, decided that she was in for a fever, and cast her mind's eye over
+the doctor's engagements for the next few weeks. "She's liable to have a
+long run of it!" said Mrs. Pottle to herself. "I'm thankful that Doctor
+Strong went back yesterday, so the poor soul will have proper
+treatment."</p>
+
+<p>This was not a social, but a working, meeting. Every woman came armed
+with thimble and work-bag, and a large basket being produced, flannel
+and calico were dealt out by Miss Wax, and all set busily to work. But
+Miss Wax, instead of taking up her own needle, exchanged a few words
+with Mrs. Bliss. Mrs. Ware, a sweet-faced woman of fifty, invited by a
+look, joined them, and there was a low-voiced consultation; then Miss
+Wax rose and stood under the portrait and beside the mantelpiece with
+its trophy of black and silver.</p>
+
+<p>"Ladies of the Society," she said; her thin treble voice trembled at
+first, and she fingered her bead reticule nervously, but she gathered
+strength as she went on. "Ladies of the Society, I asked our pastor's
+wife to address you, but Mrs. Bliss has a cold and feels unable so to
+do. I will therefore say a few words, though well aware how unfitted I
+am for such a task." She paused, and touched her lips delicately with a
+black-bordered handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>"This occasion, ladies, is a mournful one to most&mdash;I trust I may say to
+all&mdash;in this village. It is some years since&mdash;owing to advancing
+years&mdash;we have seen Her we honor at the meetings of this Society; but
+she was in former years a prop and a pillar of this Society, as she was
+of this village; and it is the desire of many, as expressed to me, that
+this meeting should be a memorial in honor of&mdash;of Her we honor,&mdash;Mrs.
+Ethan Tree."</p>
+
+<p>She waved her hand toward the trophy with an air of introducing the
+ladies to it. For the life of her, little Mrs. Bliss could not help
+thinking of the Red Queen's introduction: "Pudding&mdash;Alice;
+Alice&mdash;Pudding!" Most of the ladies had a confused feeling that they
+ought to rise, and glanced at each other, half getting their work
+together, but Mrs. Bliss remained seated, and they followed her example.
+The little minister's wife had loved Mrs. Tree devotedly, but she had a
+keen sense of the ludicrous; and, after the unseemly recollections
+referred to, she could not help recalling certain words spoken to her in
+a clear, incisive voice not so many weeks ago: "Ladies' Society, child?
+Bah! Parcel of fools! I get all of their society I want, sitting here in
+this chair."</p>
+
+<p>"It would have been my wish," Miss Wax continued, "that the Society
+should have testified <i>as</i> a Society to the fact that this was a
+memorial meeting; it would have been my wish that each lady should wear
+a crape rosette, or the like of that, in token of mourning; but it was
+not agreeable to the family, and, if we wear them in our own hearts,
+ladies, it may do equally as well, if worn sincerely, which I am sure
+most, if not all, do."</p>
+
+<p>She paused again to sigh and lift the handkerchief, with her favorite
+delicate action of the third and fourth fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"This small token," she continued, introducing the trophy anew, "is
+<i>but</i> a small one, and I could wish that gold instead of silver were
+procurable, for gold was the heart of Her we honor, and, though velvet
+does not precisely describe her manner, ladies, still well we know that
+out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh, and the heart being
+golden, the velvet is&mdash;a&mdash;I am sure&mdash;that is to say, velvet and gold are
+often associated as tokens of richness, and&mdash;and the nature of Her we
+honor was rich in goodness, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here poor Miss Wax became hopelessly involved, and taking refuge in a
+fit of coughing, looked imploringly at Mrs. Bliss. Thus silently
+adjured, the little lady rose, and in a few quiet words expressed the
+hearty sympathy of all present in Miss Wax's feeling, and their
+gratitude to her for the graceful tribute she had preferred. A rising
+vote of thanks was then passed, and the Society settled to their labors.</p>
+
+<p>For some time nothing was heard but requests for the shears and
+wonderings, who cut this gore? and the like; but the same thought was in
+all the ladies' minds, and as soon as was practicable the talk began
+again. Miss Eliza Goby nudged Miss Luella Slocum, a sharp-nosed lady
+with one eye that rolled like a marble and another that bored like a
+gimlet.</p>
+
+<p>"You speak, Luella!" she said in a half-whisper. "Speak up and say what
+you said to me and Mrs. Weight this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"I think Mrs. Weight ought to speak up herself," replied Miss Slocum, in
+the same tone. "She's older than me; it behooves her, a deacon's widow
+and all. I don't feel any call to begin, Eliza; though I am ready to
+testify when it comes my turn."</p>
+
+<p>Apparently Mrs. Weight was of the same opinion, for she now began the
+attack cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>"The Society having expressed its views on this subject, Miss Wax and
+ladies, there is another on which I feel we have a call to speak
+together. As one of the oldest present, and the widder of a sainted man,
+I may have my own opinions, and they may be of consequence, or they may
+not; but howbeit, there is them present as has sojourned longer than me
+in this earthly pilgrimage, and I should wish to hear from Mrs. Philena
+Snow as to what are her sentiments in regards to changing the name of
+this village."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Snow, an old lady of somewhat bewildered aspect, had learned in the
+course of eighty-odd years that a decided opinion was sometimes a
+dangerous thing. Replying to Mrs. Weight's request, she said that she
+didn't know as it made any perticklar difference to her what the village
+was called; she hadn't very much longer to stay in it, she presumed
+likely. It used to be Quahaug, but some thought that wasn't a pretty
+sounding name, and she didn't know but Elmerton was prettier; and yet
+there was others thought&mdash;and so the old lady murmured herself away into
+silence. A confused hubbub of voices arose, but little Mrs. Bliss,
+saying to herself, "Oh, for one hour of Dundee,&mdash;one minute of Mrs.
+Tree!" rose to the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>"Ladies," she said, "though this village, Elmerton or Quahaug, whichever
+it is, has grown to seem like home, and a very dear home, to me, I still
+am comparatively speaking a newcomer. I should be very glad if some one
+lady would tell me in a few words how and why the change was originally
+made. Mrs. Ware, perhaps you will be so good!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ware's gentle face wore a disturbed look, but she responded
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"The change was made many years ago, but I remember it distinctly. The
+old Indian name was Quahaug, and no one ever thought of any other name
+till Mr. Swain came to be pastor here. Mrs. Swain had a poetic turn, and
+she thought Quahaug an awkward-sounding name, and made considerable talk
+to that effect round the village. A petition to the Legislature was
+circulated, and many people signed it, and so the name was changed to
+Elmerton. Mrs. Tree was away at the time, on a voyage around the world,
+and when she came back she was much incensed, I remember, and expressed
+herself strongly. I always thought it a pity myself to change the old
+name."</p>
+
+<p>"Ph&oelig;be Blyth was for the change," said Miss Eliza Goby. "Ph[oe]be
+and I were of one mind on the subject."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the only time you ever were!" thought Miss Wax, but she did not
+speak the thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Ph&oelig;be Blyth had some peculiar ideas," said Mrs. Weight, "but she
+showed her sense that time. Mis' Swain was a beautiful woman, and her
+ideas was beautiful simularly. Why, she wrote an elegant poem about it:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Sure ne'er a village 'neath the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More lovely is than Elmerton.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Those were the first lines. I've got it copied out at home. I never
+thought Homer Hollopeter's poetry was a patch on Mis' Swain's."</p>
+
+<p>"Homer was strong against the change," said Miss Wax. "Both Homer and
+Pindar, and two more intellectual men this village has never seen. I
+don't wish to say anything against Mrs. Swain, but I for one never
+thought she had anything like Homer's gift. He was asked to write a poem
+on the subject, but he said his Muse scorned such a name as Elmerton."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the first thing ever his Muse did scorn, I guess," retorted Miss
+Luella Slocum. "It's my belief Homer would write verses to a scarecrow
+if he had nothing else to write about."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know he ever wrote any to you, Luella," said Miss Penny
+Pardon, her usually gentle spirit roused to anger by this attack on one
+whom she considered a great though unappreciated poet.</p>
+
+<p>"Ladies! ladies!" said little Mrs. Bliss, "pray let us keep to the
+point. We are not here to discuss Mr. Hollopeter's poetry. Perhaps we
+would better change the subject altogether, and confine our conversation
+to subjects connected with our work."</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse <i>me</i>, Mrs. Bliss!" said Mrs. Weight. "Though well aware that
+since the death of the sainted man whose name I bear, I am of no account
+in this village, still I <i>have</i> my feelings and I <i>am</i> a human
+being,&mdash;deny it who can,&mdash;and, while I have breath to speak,&mdash;which by
+reason of spasms growing on me may not be long,&mdash;I will protest against
+changing the name of this village back to heathen and publican names,
+from which it was rescued by them as now fills mansions in the sky. I
+would not wish to be understood as reflecting on anybody, and I name no
+names; but them as has lived on flowery beds of ease, no matter how
+long, cannot expect to gormineer over this village to all eternity; and
+so I proclaim,&mdash;hear me who will."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weight had risen to her feet, and stood heaving and panting, a
+mountain of protest. Mrs. Bliss would have interfered, to pour oil on
+the troubled meeting, but before she could speak the tall form of Miss
+Bethia Wax had risen, and stood rigid, pointing to the trophy.</p>
+
+<p>"Ladies of the Society," she said, "and our honored pastor's wife: I
+cannot sit still and listen to words which are aimed at Her we honor.
+This is a memorial meeting, sanctioned as such by the family of Her we
+honor. She died as she lived, with this village on her mind and in her
+heart, and she has given of her basket and her store, her treasures of
+earth and treasures of sea, and gems of purest ray serene; she has given
+all, save such as needed by the family, to this village, to have and to
+hold till death do them part; and what I say is, shame upon us if we
+cannot obey the wishes of Her we honor, our benefactress, who wafts us
+from the other shore her parting benediction!"</p>
+
+<p>But neither Mrs. Bliss nor Miss Wax could longer stem the tide of
+speech. It ran, swelled, overflowed, a torrent of talk.</p>
+
+<p>"Never in my born days!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to know who had the right if she hadn't!"</p>
+
+<p>"I s'pose we've got some rights of our own, if we ain't rich in this
+world's goods."</p>
+
+<p>"I should laugh if we were to change back at this time of day."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to remind you, Mrs. Weight, that&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'While the lamp holds out to burn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The vilest sinner may return!'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Bliss and ladies: I have not lived in this village seventy years
+to be called the vilest sinner in it. I appeal to this society if names
+is to be called at a meeting where the members are supposed to be
+Christians&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Bliss, though little, could, like Hermia, be fierce, and it
+was in a very peremptory tone that she exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"The discussion on this subject is closed. Sister Slocum, will you give
+out the hymn?" and Miss Luella Slocum, one eye gleaming hatred and the
+other malice, announced that the Society would now join in singing
+"Blest be the tie that binds!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>MOSTLY GOSSIP</h3>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Doctor Strong</span>:&mdash;The deed is done! The selectmen met last
+night, and voted to memorialize the Legislature in regard to
+changing the name of the village; and, as the rest is a mere matter
+of business routine, I think we may regard the thing as settled.
+So, as dear Mrs. Tree said, 'Hooray for Quahaug!' The vote was not
+unanimous; that was hardly to be expected. John Peavey was opposed
+to the change, so was George Goby; but the general sentiment was
+strong in favor of carrying out Mrs. Tree's wishes. That, of
+course, is the real issue, and it is beautiful to see the spirit
+of affection and loyalty that animates the majority of our people.
+Surely, our beloved old friend has built herself a monument <i>ære
+perennio</i> in the hearts of her neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>"I write this hasty line, feeling sure that you and Mrs. Strong
+will be anxious to hear the outcome of the meeting.</p>
+
+<p>"With kindest regards to both, and affectionate greeting to the
+little flock, believe me always</p>
+
+<p class="right">"Faithfully yours,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br />
+"<span class="smcap">John Bliss</span>."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The little minister sealed and addressed his note, then took his hat and
+stick and started for the post-office.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't forget my pink worsted, John!" and Mrs. Bliss popped her
+pretty head out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, my dear! certainly not!" said Mr. Bliss, with an air of
+collecting his wits hurriedly. "Pink worsted; to be sure! At Miss
+Pardon's, I presume?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course! Saxony; you have the sample in your pocket, pinned into an
+envelope. Two skeins, John dear. Now do you think you can get that
+right? It is a shame to make you do such things, but I cannot leave
+Baby, and he really needs the jacket."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, Marietta; of course, my dear! You know I am only too glad to
+help in little ways; I wish I could do more!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is so little a man can do!" he reflected, as he paced along the
+village street; "and Marietta's care is incessant. Motherhood is a
+blessed but a most laborious state."</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at the post-office, he found Seth Weaver perched on a ladder,
+inspecting the weather-beaten sign-board, which bore the legend,
+"Elmerton Post-office."</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Seth!" said the little minister.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a>
+<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>"'GOOD MORNING, SETH!' SAID THE LITTLE MINISTER"</h3>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p>"Same to you, Elder!" replied Seth, taking his pipe from his mouth.
+"Nice day! I was lookin' to see whether we'd need us a new sign, but I
+guess this board'll do, come to scrape and plane it. It's a good pine
+board; stood a lot o' weather, this board has. My father painted this."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he so, Seth?" said Mr. Bliss. "I was not aware that your father was
+a painter."</p>
+
+<p>"Painter, carpenter, odd-job man, same's me! He learned me all his
+trades, and too many of 'em. It would be money in my pocket to-day if I
+didn't know the half of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>Seth sat down on the top round of the ladder&mdash;it was a short one&mdash;and
+took out his knife and a bit of soft wood. The minister sighed, thinking
+of his sermon at home half-written, but accepted the unspoken
+invitation.</p>
+
+<p>"How is that, Seth?" he asked, cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Seth settled himself comfortably&mdash;it is not every man who can sit
+comfortably on a ladder&mdash;and, squaring his shoulders, began to whittle
+complacently.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, Elder, it stands to reason," he said. "A man can be one thing, or
+he can be two things; but when he starts out to be the hull string of
+fish, he ends by not bein' nary one of 'em. It takes all of a thing to
+make the hull of it; yes, sir. I don't mean that Father was that way;
+Father was a smart man; and I've tried to make a shift to keep up with
+the tail of the procession myself; but I tell ye there's ben times when
+I've wished I didn't know how to handle a livin' thing except my
+paint-brush. Come spring, I tell ye I lose weight, projeckin' round this
+village. One wants his blinds painted right off day before yesterday,
+and another'll get his everlastin' if his roof isn't mended before
+sundown. It's 'Oh, Seth, when be you comin' to hang that bell-wire?' and
+'Seth, where was you yesterday when you wasn't mendin' that gate-post?'
+and&mdash;I dono! sometimes I get so worked up I think I'll do the way Father
+did. Father never bothered with 'em. He just laid out his week to suit
+himself. Two days he'd paint, and two days he'd odd-job, and two days
+he'd fish. Further and moreover, whatever he was doin', he'd do it his
+own way. Paintin' days, he'd use the paint he had till he used it up.
+Didn't make no difference what folks said to him; he was just that deef
+he only heard what he wanted to, and he didn't care. Gorry! I can see
+him now, layin' on the blue paint on old Mis' Snow's door, and she
+screechin' at him, 'Green! green, I tell ye! I want it green!' Old
+Father, he never took no notice, and that door stayed blue till it wore
+off. Yes, sir! that was the way to handle 'em; but I can't seem to fetch
+it. Guess I was whittled out of a softer stick, kind o' popple stuff,
+without no spunk to it. A woman tells me she must have a new spout to
+her pump or she'll die, and I'm that kind of fool I think she will, and
+leave all else to whittle out that pump-spout. Wal, it takes all kinds.
+That was quite a meetin' last night, Elder."</p>
+
+<p>"It was indeed," Mr. Bliss assented. "A notable meeting, Seth. As I have
+just been writing to Doctor Strong, it was a great pleasure to find the
+feeling so nearly unanimous in regard to carrying out the wishes of our
+revered friend."</p>
+
+<p>Seth grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" he said. "Me and Salem saw to that."</p>
+
+<p>"Saw to it?" repeated Mr. Bliss.</p>
+
+<p>"We went round and sized folks up, kind of; you know the way, Elder;
+same as you do come parish-meetin' time. No offence! There don't
+everybody know which way they're goin' to jump till you tell 'em. Most
+of 'em was all right enough, and saw reason good, same as we did, for
+doin' as Mis' Tree wished done; but there's some poor sticks in every
+wood-pile; John Peavey's one of 'em. Gorry! I guess likely he'll be some
+further down the ro'd before he gets <i>his</i> shack painted, unless he doos
+it himself. That'll be somethin' tangible for him, as Old Man Butters
+said."</p>
+
+<p>He paused, and a twinkle came into his eyes; but the minister did not
+twinkle back.</p>
+
+<p>"You've heerd of Uncle Ithe's last prayer-meetin'?" said Seth. "No? now
+ain't that a sight!"</p>
+
+<p>He came down a round or two, and settled himself afresh, the twinkle
+deepening. "Uncle Ithe&mdash;Old Man Butters, Buffy Landin' Ro'd&mdash;you
+remember him, Elder?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely! surely! I remember Mr. Butters well, but I cannot recall his
+having attended a prayer-meeting during my incumbency in Elm&mdash;I would
+say Quahaug."</p>
+
+<p>Seth chuckled. "No more you would," he said. "No more he did. 'Twas
+before you come, in Mr. Peake's time. Elder Peake, he was a good man;
+I've nothin' to say against him; he meant well, every time. But he was
+one of those kind o' men, he had his two-foot rule in his pants pocket,
+and, if you squared with that, you was all right, and, if you didn't,
+you was all wrong. Now some folks is like a two-foot rule, and some is
+like a kedge-anchor, and the Lord made 'em both, I expect; but Elder
+Peake, he couldn't see it that way, and he took it into his head that
+Uncle Ithe warn't doin' as he should. Old Uncle Ithe&mdash;I dono! he had a
+kind o' large way with him, as you might say; swore some, and made too
+free with Scripture, some thought; did pretty much as he was a mind to,
+but cal'lated to live square, and so did&mdash;'cordin' to his idees, and
+mine. You might say Uncle Ithe was like&mdash;wal, like this hammer. He
+couldn't rule a straight line, mebbe, but he'd hit the nail every time.
+Wal, Elder Peake met up with him one day, and spoke to him about his way
+of life. 'I'd like to see things a trifle different with you, Mr.
+Butters,' he says; 'man of your age and standin',' he says, 'ought to be
+an example,' he says. You know the way they talk&mdash;excuse me, Elder. Some
+of 'em, I would say. Nothin' personal, you understand."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, Seth; pray go on."</p>
+
+<p>"'What do ye mean?' says Uncle Ithe. 'What have I been a-doin' of,
+Elder?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, nothin' tangible,' says Mr. Peake, 'nothin' tangible, Mr.
+Butters. I hear things now and again that don't seem just what they
+should be in regards to your spiritual condition,&mdash;man of your age and
+standin', you understand,&mdash;but nothin' tangible, nothin' tangible!' And
+he waved himself off, a way he had, as if he was tryin' to fly before
+his time.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Uncle Ithe, he never said a word, only grunted, and worked his
+eyebrows up and down, the way <i>he</i> had; but come next prayer-meetin',
+there he was, settin' up in his pew, stiff as a bobstay, with his eye on
+the elder. Elder Peake was tickled to death to think he'd got the old
+man out, and when he'd had his own say, he sings out: 'Brother Butters,
+we should be pleased to hear a few remarks from you.'</p>
+
+<p>"Old Uncle Ithe, he riz up kind o' slow, a j'int at a time, till he
+stood his full hei'th. Gorry! I can see him now; he seemed to fill the
+place. He looks square at Elder Peake, and he says: 'Darn your old
+prayer-meetin'!' he says. 'There's somethin' tangible for ye!' he says;
+and off he stumped out the room, and never set foot in it ag'in. I tell
+ye, he was a case, old Uncle Ithe."</p>
+
+<p>"I think he was, Seth!" said Mr. Bliss, laughing. "I am rather glad, do
+you know, that I only knew him later, when age had&mdash;in a
+degree&mdash;mellowed his disposition."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Will Jaquith put his head out of the post-office window.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Mr. Bliss!" he said. "There's another story about Old Man
+Butters that Seth must tell you, if you have not already heard it,&mdash;
+about the trouble with his second wife."</p>
+
+<p>Seth twinkled more than ever. "Sho!" he said. "That's last year's
+p'tetters. I make no doubt Elder Bliss has heard that a dozen times."</p>
+
+<p>"Not once, I assure you, Seth," said Mr. Bliss. "I shall be glad to hear
+it, and then I really must&mdash;" he checked himself. Was not this an
+opportunity, come to him unsought? Seth Weaver was not as regular at
+church as could be wished.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray let me hear the anecdote!" he said, heartily. "And yet," he added
+to himself, "I caution my people against listening to gossip,&mdash;life is a
+tangled skein."</p>
+
+<p>"That was before I was born or thought of," said Seth. "Uncle Ithe's
+second wife was Drusilly Sharp (his fust was a Purrington), and she was
+a Tartar. Gra'm'ther Weaver told me this; she was own sister to Uncle
+Ithe. Gra'm'ther used to say there warn't another man under the canopy
+could have lived with Drusilly Sharp only her brother Ithuriel. As I was
+sayin' a spell back, he had a kind o' large way of lookin' at things.
+Gra'm'ther says to him once: 'I don't see how you stand it, Ithuriel,'
+she says. 'I don't stand it,' says Uncle Ithe. 'I git out from under
+foot, and wait till the clouds roll by,' he says. 'Spells she gets out
+of breath, and them's the times I come into the kitchen. There's where a
+farmer has the pull,' he says. 'Take a city man, and when he's in the
+house he's in it, and obleeged to stay there. But take a farmer, and, if
+it's hot in the kitchen, he's got the wood-shed, and, when you're
+choppin', you can't hear what she's sayin',' he says. 'Somebody's got to
+put up with Drusilly,' he says, 'and I'm used to it, same as I am red
+pepper on my hash.'</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, one day Uncle Ithe come home, and she warn't there. He found a
+note on the dresser, sayin' she warn't comin' back, she couldn't stand
+it no longer. Land knows what <i>she</i> had to stand! She had baked bread
+and pies, she said (she was a master good cook), and the beans was in
+the oven, and that was all there was to it, from his truly Drusilly
+Butters.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, Uncle Ithe studied over it a spell, and then he sot down and <i>he</i>
+wrote a note, and this was the way it read:</p>
+
+<p>"'Whereas my wife Drusilly has left my bed and board while I was down to
+Tupham diggin' clams, and whereas I never give her reason good for so
+doin', resolved that all persons is warned to pay no bills of her
+contractin' from now on; but the cars will run just the same.'</p>
+
+<p>"Signed his name out in full, and sent it to the paper. I got it now to
+home, in Gra'm'ther's scrap-book. Yes, sir, that was Uncle Ithe all
+over."</p>
+
+<p>"And what was the outcome of it, Seth?" asked Mr. Bliss.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she come back! He knew she would. She stayed with her folks a
+spell, and they reasoned with her; and then she saw the notice in the
+paper, and that made her so mad she run all the way home. Uncle Ithe was
+settin' in the kitchen smokin' his pipe, at peace with all mankind, when
+she run in, all out of breath, and mad as hops. 'You take that notice
+out the paper, Ithuriel Butters!' she hollers. 'You're the meanest
+actin' man ever I see in my life, and the ugliest, and so I've come to
+tell you.' And then she couldn't say another word, she'd run that fast
+and was that mad.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Ithe took his pipe out of his mouth, and turned round and give
+her a look, and then put it back.</p>
+
+<p>"'How do, Drusilly?' he says. 'I was lookin' for you,' he says. 'I'm on
+the last pie now.' And that was every word he said about it, or she,
+either."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN MISS PENNY'S SHOP</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Reverend John Bliss walked homeward, revolving many things. Seth's
+stories, the vexed question of prayer-meetings, the Second Epistle to
+the Hebrews, from which his text was taken, Mrs. Tree's will, and the
+New England character (Mr. Bliss was a Minnesota man) made an intricate
+network of thought which so absorbed his mind that his feet carried him
+whithersoever they would.</p>
+
+<p>"A tangled skein!" he said aloud, shaking his head; "a tangled skein!"
+and then he stopped abruptly, looked about him, and began to retrace his
+steps hurriedly. He had forgotten the pink worsted.</p>
+
+<p>The little minister entered Miss Penny Pardon's shop with an air of
+nervous apology, and an inward shiver. He hated women's shops; he was
+always afraid of seeing crinoline, or hair-curlers, or some other
+reprehensibly feminine article.</p>
+
+<p>"Why will they?" he murmured to himself, as even now his unwilling eye
+lighted on a "Fluffy Fedora." "Why will&mdash;oh, good morning, Miss Pardon;
+a beautiful morning after the rain."</p>
+
+<p>"Good mornin', Mr. Bliss!" said Miss Penny, with a beaming smile.
+"You're quite a stranger, ain't you? Yes, sir, 'tis elegant weather; and
+the rain, too, so seasonable yesterday. I think weather most always <i>is</i>
+seasonable right along; far as I've noticed, that is. Pleasant to see
+spring comin', isn't it, Mr. Bliss? Not but what I've enjoyed the
+winter, too, real well. I think the snow's real pretty, specially <i>in</i>
+winter. That's right; yes, sir, we should be thankful for all. Was there
+anything I could do for you to-day, Mr. Bliss?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! yes, Miss Pardon," said Mr. Bliss, nervously. "I&mdash;that is&mdash;Mrs.
+Bliss desired some pink&mdash;pink&mdash;worsted, I think it was. Yes, I am quite
+positive it was pink worsted. Have you the article?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked relieved, and met Miss Penny's eye almost hardily.</p>
+
+<p>"Worsted, sir? Yes, indeed, we keep it. What kind did she wish, Mr.
+Bliss? Single zephyr, do you think it was, or Germantown?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Penny's tone was warmly sympathetic; she always felt for gentlemen
+who came on such errands.</p>
+
+<p>"They feel like a fish on a sidewalk," she would say; "real homesick!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bliss pondered. "I&mdash;I think it <i>was</i> a German town," he said,
+slowly. "I am almost positive it was a German town,&mdash;or province; the
+exact name escapes me. Hanover, perhaps? Nassau? Saxe-Coburg? I incline
+to think it was Saxe-Coburg, Miss Pardon. Have you the article?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Miss Penny's turn to look puzzled. "We don't keep that, sir," she
+said. "I don't know as I ever heard of it. All we keep is Germantown and
+Saxony, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That is it!" cried the little minister. "Saxony! to be sure! Saxony, of
+course. And&mdash;yes, I have a sample&mdash;somewhere!"</p>
+
+<p>He felt in his pockets, and produced a parish circular, a calendar, a
+note-book, a fishing-line, and finally the envelope containing the
+sample.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Penny beamed at sight of it. "Yes, sir, we have it," she announced,
+joyfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Mis' Bliss got it here only last week. How much did she say, Mr.
+Bliss?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two pounds," said Mr. Bliss, promptly and decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Two&mdash;" Miss Penny looked aghast. "Why, we don't generally&mdash;I doubt if
+we have that much in the store, Mr. Bliss. Was she goin' to make a
+slumber robe?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was&mdash;I think&mdash;for an infant's jacket," Mr. Bliss hazarded, looking
+sidelong at the door. These things were hard to bear; harder than
+Marietta knew; yet how gladly should he do it for her, on that very
+account. He turned an appealing glance on Miss Penny. "An infant's
+jacket would not, you think, require two pounds?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"A jacket for your little Beauty Darlin', to be sure! She bought a
+pattern, too, I remember, a shell border, and then&mdash;don't you believe
+p'r'aps it was skeins she said, Mr. Bliss, instead of pounds? I presume
+most likely it was." Her voice was tender now, as if addressing a little
+child.</p>
+
+<p>"You are probably right, Miss Penelope," said the minister, dejectedly.
+"I seem to have singularly little faculty for these matters. Two
+skeins&mdash;ah, yes! I perceive it is so written here on the envelope. I beg
+your pardon, Miss Penelope!"</p>
+
+<p>"You've no need to, Mr. Bliss, not a mite!" cried Miss Penny. "We all
+make mistakes, and, if you never done anything worse than this, you'd be
+sure of the Kingdom. Not but what you are anyways, I expect. Gentlemen
+don't have any call to know about fancy work as a rule, especially a
+pastor, whose mind on higher things is set; you remember the hymn. There
+is those, though, that finds comfort in it, same as a woman doos. I knew
+a gentleman once who used to come and get his worsted of me just as
+regular! <i>He</i> crocheted for his nerves; helped him to sleep, so he
+thought, and it <i>is</i> real soothin', but he's dead and buried now. I
+often think, times when I hear of a man bein' nervous and crotchety
+about the house, there! I think, if he'd only set down and crochet a
+spell, or knit, one of the two, what a comfort it would be to him and
+his folks. We're made as we are, though; that's right. Was there
+anything more, Mr. Bliss? Twenty cents; thank <i>you</i>, sir. Real pleased
+you came in; call again, won't you? <i>Good</i> morning!"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Penny looked anxiously after the minister as he walked away. "I do
+hope he'll get that home safe!" she said. "I set out to ask him if he
+didn't think he'd better put it in his pocket, but I was afraid he might
+think me forth-puttin'. Like as not he'll forget every single thing
+about it, and drop it right in the street. There! I don't see <i>why</i>
+men-folks is so forgetful, do you, Sister? Not that they are all alike,
+of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Some ways they are," said Miss Prudence.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prudence was invisible, but the door between the shop and her
+sanctum was always ajar, for she liked to hear what was going on.</p>
+
+<p>"I never see the man yet that I'd trust to carry a parcel home; not a
+small parcel, that is. If it's a whole dress, he'll take it all right,
+if he takes it at all; but give him a small parcel that wants to be
+carried careful, and he'll drop it, or else scrunch it up in his pocket
+and forget it. I've got to run up these brea'ths now; Miss Wax is comin'
+at eleven to try on."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence, broken only by the cheerful whir of the
+sewing-machine, and the still more cheerful voice of Miss Penny cooing
+to her birds. She hopped from one cage to another, feeding, stroking,
+caressing.</p>
+
+<p>"You're lookin' dumpy to-day, darlin'," she said, addressing a rather
+battered-looking mino bird. "There! the fact is, you ain't so young as
+once you was. You're like the rest of us, only you don't know it, and we
+do&mdash;some of us! Here's a nice bit of egg for you, Beauty; that'll shine
+you up some, though I do expect you've seen your best days. Luella
+Slocum told me she expected me to make this bird over as good as new,
+Sister. I told her I guessed what ailed him was the same as did the rest
+of us. Stop the clock tickin', I told her, and she'd stop his trouble
+and hers as well. She was none too well pleased. She'd just got her a
+new front from Miss Wax, and not a scrap of gray in it. She'd ought to
+sing 'Backward, turn backward,' if anybody ought. There!" The
+exclamation had a note of dismay in it.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" asked Miss Prudence; the machine had stopped, and
+her mouth was apparently full of pins.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I never thought to ask Mr. Bliss how Mr. Homer was, and he just
+the one to tell us. Now did you ever! Fact is, when he come in, I hadn't
+got my face straight after that woman askin' for mesmerized petticoats.
+I was shakin' still when I see Mr. Bliss comin', and my wits flew every
+which way like a scairt hen. But speakin' of petticoats reminds me,
+Tommy Candy was in this mornin' while you was to market, and <i>he</i> said
+Mr. Homer was re'l slim. 'Pestered with petticoats' was what he said,
+and I said, 'What do you mean, Tommy Candy?' and he said, 'Just what I
+say, Miss Penny,' he said. 'I guess you and Miss Prudence are the only
+single or widder women in Quahaug that ain't settin' their caps for Mr.
+Homer,' he said. And I said, 'Tommy Candy, that's no way for you to
+talk, if you <i>have</i> had money left you!' I said. He said he knew it
+wasn't, but yet he couldn't help it, and you and I had always ben good
+to him sence his mother died. He has a good heart, Tommy has, only he
+doos speak up so queer, and love mischief. But he says it's a fact, they
+do pester Mr. Homer, Sister. There! it made me feel fairly ashamed.
+'Don't tell me Miss Bethia Wax is one of 'em,' I said, 'because I
+shouldn't believe you if you did,' I said. 'Well, I won't,' he said,
+'for she ain't; she's a lady.' But some, he said, was awful, and he
+means to stand between; he don't intend Mr. Homer should marry anybody
+except he wants to, and it's the right one. Seemed to have re'l good
+<i>i</i>deas, and he thinks the world of Mr. Homer. I like Tommy; he has a
+re'l pleasant way with him."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd make cream cheese out of 'most any skim-milk, Sister," said Miss
+Prudence, kindly. "Not but what Tommy has improved a vast deal to what
+he was. It's his lameness, I expect."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right!" cried little Miss Penny, the tears starting to her round
+brown eyes. "That's it, Sister, and that's what turns my heart to the
+boy, I expect. So young, and to be lame for life; it is pitiful."</p>
+
+<p>"He did what he had a mind to do," said Miss Prudence, grimly. "He had
+no call to climb that steeple, as I know of."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Sister, there's so many that has no call to do <i>as</i> they do, and
+yet many times they don't seem to get their come-uppance, far as we can
+see; I expect they do, though, come to take it in the yard <i>or</i> the
+piece. But, howsoever, Mis' Tree has done handsome by Tommy, and he has
+a grateful heart, and means to do his part by Mr. Homer and the
+<i>Mu</i>seum, I feel sure of that. Sister, do you suppose Pindar Hollopeter
+is alive? Seem's though if he was, he'd come home now, at least for a
+spell: Homer in affliction, as you may say, and left with means and all.
+How long is it since he went away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty years," said Miss Prudence. "I always thought it was a good
+riddance to bad rubbidge when Pindar went away."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Sister, he was an elegant man, flighty, but re'l elegant; at
+least, so he appeared to me; I was a child then. Why did he go, Sister?
+I never rightly understood about it."</p>
+
+<p>"He went from flightiness," said Miss Prudence. "Him and Homer was both
+crazy about Mary Ashton, and Pindar asked her to have him. She'd as soon
+have had the meetin'-house weathercock, and when she told him so,&mdash;I
+don't mean them words; Mary would have spoke pleasant to the Father of
+Evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Sister!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she would. Anyhow, when she said no, he made sure she was going
+to have Homer, and off he went, and never come back. So that's <i>his</i>
+story."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to know!" said Miss Penny. "But she never&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She never cast a look at ary one of 'em. She give her heart to George
+Jaquith to break, and he done it; and now he's dead, and so is she. But
+Homer is alive, and so is Pindar, for all I know. He never liked here as
+Homer did; he always wanted to get away, from a boy. Old Mis' Hollopeter
+run a great resk, I always thought, the way she brought up those two
+boys, fillin' their heads with poetry and truck. If she had learned 'em
+a good trade, now, it would be bread in their mouths this day; not that
+Homer is ever likely to want now. I wish't he'd marry Bethia Wax."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Sister Prudence," said Miss Penny, who was romantic.
+"Some is cut out for a single life, and I think's it's real pretty to
+see a man faithful to the ch'ice of his youth."</p>
+
+<p>"Ch'ice of his grandmother!" retorted Miss Prudence, sharply. "Don't
+talk foolishness, Penny! A woman can get along single, and oftentimes do
+better, and it's meant some of 'em should, or there wouldn't be so many
+extry; but leave a man alone all his life, and either he dries up or
+else he sploshes out, and either way he don't amount to what he should.
+They ain't got enough <i>to</i> 'em, someways. There! this is ready to try
+on, and Miss Wax ain't here. She said she'd be here by eleven."</p>
+
+<p>"I see her comin' now," cried Miss Penny. "It's just on the stroke;
+she's 'most always punctual. She has a re'l graceful, pretty walk. <i>I</i>
+think Miss Wax is a fine-lookin' woman, though a little mite more flesh
+would set good on her."</p>
+
+<p>"Her clo'es would set better on her if she had it," said Miss Prudence.
+"I know that. I don't know but I'd sooner fit a bolster than a
+bean-pole."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Sister, for pity's sake! Good mornin', Miss Wax. You're right on
+the dot, ain't you? I was just sayin' to Sister how punctual you always
+was. Yes'm, we're smart; the same old story, peace and poverty. You can
+go right in, Miss Wax; Sister's expectin' you."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SORROWS OF MR. HOMER</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Morning, Direxia," said Will Jaquith. "How is Mr. Homer this morning?
+Better, I hope, than he was feeling yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>Direxia Hawkes laid down her duster, and turned a troubled face to the
+visitor. "There!" she said, "I'm glad you've come, Willy. I can't do
+nothin' with that man. He ain't eat a thing this day, only just a mossel
+of toast and a sosser of hominy. It's foolishness, I will say. Mis' Tree
+may have had her ways,&mdash;I expect we all do, if all was known,&mdash;but I
+will say she eat her victuals and relished 'em. I don't see why or
+wherfore I was left if there ain't anybody ever going to eat anythin'
+in this house again; there! I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Dexy, don't be foolish!" said Will. "I'm coming out this minute to
+get a doughnut. You will have to live till my wife learns to make as
+good ones as yours, and that will be some time. Just wait till I see Mr.
+Homer a minute, and then I'll come out and make love to you, you dear
+old thing."</p>
+
+<p>Direxia brightened. "Don't she make 'em good?" she asked. "Well, she's
+young yet. I dono as I had just the hang of 'em when I was her age.
+Doughnuts is a thing you've got to have the hang of, I've always said."</p>
+
+<p>She retired, beaming, to heap goodies on fine china dishes for her
+darling, and Jaquith turned his steps toward "the Captain's room." This
+was a small room looking out over the harbor, and had been Captain
+Tree's special sanctum. It was fitted like a ship's cabin, with lockers
+and swinging shelves, all in teak-wood and brass. On the walls were
+ranged telescopes, spyglasses, and speaking-trumpets of all sizes and
+varieties, and over the desk hung a picture of the good ship <i>Marcia D.</i>
+of Quahaug, Ethan Tree, master. This picture was a triumph of Japanese
+embroidery, having been done in colored silks while the ship lay in the
+harbor of Nagasaki, and, next to his wife's miniature, it was the
+Captain's most precious possession. The year after it was made, the
+<i>Marcia D.</i> had gone down in a typhoon in the South Seas: all hands were
+saved, to be tossed about for three days on a life-raft, and then tossed
+ashore on a wild island. The bright shells which framed the picture had
+been picked up by his wife on the shore, where she watched all day for a
+coming sail, while master and mariners caught fish and turtles, and
+gathered strange fruits for her, their lady and their queen. Ethan Tree
+used to say that that week on the island was one of the best in his
+life, even though he had lost his ship.</p>
+
+<p>"True blue!" he would murmur, looking up at the picture. "She showed her
+colors that time. She never flinched, little Marcia. Her baby coming,
+and not a woman or a doctor within a thousand miles; but she never
+flinched. Only her cheeks flew the flag and her eyes signalled, when I
+sung out, 'Sail ho!' True blue, little wife!"</p>
+
+<p>Now, instead of the stalwart figure of Captain Tree, the slender form of
+Mr. Homer Hollopeter occupied, but did not fill, the chair beneath the
+picture. The little gentleman sat huddled disconsolately over some
+papers, and it was a melancholy face that he lifted in response to Will
+Jaquith's cheery "How are you, Mr. Homer? pretty well this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer sighed. "I thank you, William, I thank you!" he
+said. "My corporal envelope is, I am obliged to you,
+robust;&mdash;a&mdash;vigorous;&mdash;a&mdash;exempt for the moment from the ills that flesh
+is heir to&mdash;Shakespeare; we perceive that even our greatest did not
+disdain upon occasion to conclude a phrase with a preposition, though
+the practice is one generally reprehended;&mdash;a&mdash;condemned;&mdash;a&mdash;denied the
+sanction of the critics of our own day. I trust you find yourself in
+health and spirits, William?"</p>
+
+<p>"Capital!" said Will. "Lily and I and the boy, all as well as can be. I
+have brought the mail, Mr. Homer. I thought you might not feel like
+coming down this morning, as you were not well yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, he laid the mail-bag on the table, and, seating himself,
+proceeded to unlock it. Mr. Homer's eyes brightened in spite of
+himself; his face grew animated. "That was kind of you, William!" he
+said. "That was&mdash;a&mdash;considerate; that was&mdash;a&mdash;benevolent. I am greatly
+obliged to you; greatly obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>He opened the bag with trembling fingers, and began to sort the letters
+it contained.</p>
+
+<p>"The occupation of twenty years," he continued, plaintively, "is not to
+be relinquished lightly. If I did not feel that I was leaving it in
+worthy hands, I&mdash;ah! here is a letter for Susan Jennings, from her son.
+There is an enclosure, William. Probably Jacob is doing better, and is
+sending his mother a little money. She is a worthy woman, a worthy
+woman; I rejoice for Susan. A dutiful son, sir, is an oasis in the
+desert; a&mdash;fountain in a sandy place; a&mdash;a number of gratifying things
+which I cannot at this moment name. You were a dutiful son, William.
+That must be an unspeakable satisfaction to you, now that your sainted
+mother has&mdash;a&mdash;departed; has&mdash;a&mdash;gone from us; has&mdash;a&mdash;ascended on wings
+of light to the empyrean. You were a dutiful son, sir."</p>
+
+<p>William Jaquith colored high. "Not always, Mr. Homer," he said. "In
+thinking of these late happy years, you must not forget the others that
+went before. I should be dead, or a castaway, this day, but for Mrs.
+Tree."</p>
+
+<p>"I rejoice at it, my dear sir!" cried Mr. Homer, his gentle eyes
+kindling. "That is to say&mdash;I would not wish to be understood as&mdash;but I
+am sure you apprehend me, William. I would say that my respect,
+my&mdash;a&mdash;reverence, my&mdash;a&mdash;affection and admiration for my cousin Marcia,
+sir, are enhanced a hundredfold by the knowledge of what she did for
+you. It cheers me, sir; it&mdash;a&mdash;invigorates me; it&mdash;a&mdash;causes a bud of
+spring to blow in a bosom which&mdash;a&mdash;was sealed, as I may say, with ice
+of&mdash;a&mdash;in short, with ice:&mdash;a&mdash;what is that pink envelope, William?"</p>
+
+<p>"For Joe Breck, sir; from S. E. Willow, South Verona. That is Sophy, I
+suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer quivered with pleasure as he took the long, slim note in his
+hand. "This is from Sophia!" he said. "Sophia Willow is a sweet
+creature, William;&mdash;a&mdash;dewy flower, as the lamented Keats has it;
+a&mdash;milk-white lamb that bleats for man's protection, as he also
+observes. And Joseph Breck, sir, is a worthy youth. He has 'sighed and
+looked and sighed again' (Dryden, sir! a great poet, though unduly
+influenced by the age in which he lived) these two years past, I have
+had reason to think. Of late his letters to Sophia have been more
+frequent; there was one only yesterday, if you remember, a bulky one,
+probably containing&mdash;a&mdash;remarks of a tender nature;&mdash;a&mdash;outpourings
+of an ardent description. This is the response. Its rosy hue
+leads me to hope that it is a favorable one, William. The shape,
+too: a square envelope has always something of self-assertion
+about it; but this long, slender, graceful note has in its
+very appearance something&mdash;a&mdash;yielding; something&mdash;a&mdash;acquiescent;
+something&mdash;a&mdash;indicative of the budding of the tender passion. I augur
+happily from the aspect of this note. A&mdash;I trust your sentiments accord
+with mine, William?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, sir," said Will, heartily. "I am sure Sophy would not have
+the heart to say 'no' on such pretty paper as this; not that I think she
+ever meant to. But here is a letter for you, Mr. Homer, and this is a
+long envelope, too, only it is green instead of pink. Postmark Bexley."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer started. "Not Bexley, William!" he said, nervously. "I trust
+you are mistaken; look again, if you will be so good. I cannot conceive
+why I should receive a letter from Bexley."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, sir," replied Will, "but Bexley it is. Would you like me to
+open it, Mr. Homer?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer cast a glance of aversion at the green envelope; it certainly
+was somewhat vivid in tint, and was rather liberally than delicately
+scented.</p>
+
+<p>"I should be glad if you would do so, William," he said. "I seem to
+feel&mdash;a&mdash;less vigorous than when you first came in. I should be obliged
+if you would look it over, William."</p>
+
+<p>With a glance wherein compassion struggled with amusement, Jaquith
+opened the letter and glanced through it.</p>
+
+<p>"From Mrs. Pryor," he said, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer moved uneasily in his seat. "I&mdash;a&mdash;apprehended as much," he
+said. "Go on, William."</p>
+
+<p>With another compassionate twinkle, Will complied, and read as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"'<span class="smcap">My dearest Homer</span>:'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer winced, and wiped his forehead nervously.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"'Ever since that dreadful day which I <i>will not name</i>, I have been
+<i>prostrated</i> with grief and mortification; grief on my own account;
+mortification&mdash;I blush to say it&mdash;for the sake of one whose present
+condition <i>seals my lips</i>. Need I say that I allude to Aunt Marcia?
+For some time I felt that all relations between me and Elmerton
+must be <i>closed forever</i>.'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer looked up.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"'But in the end a more Christian spirit prevailed.'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer looked down again.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"'I have conquered my pride; you can imagine what a struggle it
+was, for you know what the Darracott pride <i>is</i>, though the
+Hollopeters only intermarried with us in your grandfather's time. I
+came out of the struggle a <i>physical wreck</i>.'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer looked up once more.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"'But with me, as all who know me are aware, <i>flesh</i> is <i>nothing,
+spirit</i> is <i>all</i>! I have resolved to let bygones be bygones, Homer;
+to put all this sad and shocking business behind me, and strive to
+forget that it ever existed. In this spirit, my dear cousin, I
+write to offer you the <i>affection</i> of a <i>sister</i>.'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer uttered a hollow groan, and dropped his head in his hands.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"'We are both alone, Homer. My girls are married; and, though the
+greater portion of my heart is <i>in the grave</i> with Mr. Pryor,
+enough of it yet breathes to keep a <i>warm corner</i> for you, my
+nearest <i>living relative</i>. The extraordinary and iniquitous
+document, which I will not further describe, has laid a heavy
+burden on your shoulders; and I feel it a <i>duty</i> to give you all
+the aid in my power in the work of arranging and classifying the
+collection of worldly trifles by which our late unhappy relative
+set such store. <i>I</i>, Homer, have <i>outgrown</i> such matters. It is for
+Aunt Marcia's own sake that I feel, as you must, the necessity of
+something like an equitable arrangement in regard to all this
+trumpery. My <i>duty to my children</i> obliges me, much against my
+will, to protest against Vesta Strong's having all the lace and
+jewelry. If she had any sense of decency, she would not accept what
+was clearly the raving of <i>senile dementia</i>. As to the grasping and
+mercenary spirit shown by her and her husband, I say nothing: let
+their consciences deal with them, if they <i>own such an article; I</i>
+am <i>above</i> it.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let me know, dearest Homer, when you are ready for me, and I will
+come to you on the instant. I will bring an excellent maidservant
+to replace the old creature, whom I trust you have dismissed ere
+this. If not, let me urge you strongly to get rid of her at once.
+She is not a fit person to have charge of you. I feel that the
+<i>sooner</i> I come to you the <i>better</i>; let us lose no time, so pray
+write at once, dear Homer, to</p>
+
+<p class="right">"'Your loving cousin,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br />
+"'<span class="smcap">Maria Darracott Pryor</span>.'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Will's eyes were twinkling as he folded up the letter, but they were
+very tender as he turned them on Mr. Homer, sitting crumpled like a
+withered leaf in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up, Mr. Homer!" said the young postmaster. "Look up, my dear
+friend. You don't suppose we are going to let her come, do you? She
+shall not put her foot inside the door, I promise you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer groaned again. "She will come, William!" he said. "I feel it;
+I know it. She will come, and she will stay. I have not strength to
+resist her. Oh, Cousin Marcia, Cousin Marcia, you little thought what
+you were doing when you laid this burden on me. I don't think I can bear
+it, William! I will go away; I will leave the village. I
+do&mdash;not&mdash;think&mdash;I can bear it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think you can, sir," said Will Jaquith. "Consider the wishes of
+our dear old friend. Think how hard it would be for us all to see
+strangers in this house, so full of memories of her. I hope that after
+awhile you can grow to feel at home, and to be happy here. Then, too,
+the work will be of a kind that will interest you. The arrangement of
+all these rare and curious objects, the formation of a museum,&mdash;why, Mr.
+Homer, you are made for the work, and the work for you. Cheer up, my
+good friend!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer sighed heavily. "I thank you, William," he said. "I thank you.
+You are always sympathetic and comforting to me. Your words are&mdash;are as
+balm; as&mdash;as dew upon Hermon; as&mdash;oil which runs down&mdash;" The poor
+gentleman broke off, and looked piteously at his companion. "My metaphor
+misleads me," he said. "It is often the case at the present time. I&mdash;I
+am apprehensive that my mind is not what it was; that I am in danger of
+loss of the intellect; of the&mdash;a&mdash;power of thought; of the&mdash;a&mdash;chair,
+where Reason sits&mdash;or in happier days did sit&mdash;enthroned. I am a wreck,
+William, a wreck."</p>
+
+<p>He sighed again, hesitated, and went on. "All you say is true, my
+friend, and I could, I think, find much interest and even inspiration in
+the task entrusted to me by my venerated and deplored relative, if&mdash;I
+could do it in my own way: but&mdash;I am hampered, sir. I am&mdash;trammelled; I
+am&mdash;a&mdash;set upon behind and before. The ladies&mdash;a&mdash;in short&mdash;Hark! what
+is that?"</p>
+
+<p>He started nervously as a knock was heard at the front door, and
+clutched Will Jaquith's coat with a feverish grasp. "Don't leave me,
+William!" he cried. "On no account leave me! It is a woman. I&mdash;I&mdash;cannot
+be left alone with them. They come about me&mdash;like locusts, William!
+Listen!"</p>
+
+<p>A wheezy, unctuous voice was heard:</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hollopeter feelin' any better to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he ain't," came the reply in Direxia's crisp accents.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm real sorry. I've brought him a little relish to eat with his
+supper. I made it myself, and it's nourishin' and palatable. Shall I
+take it in to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take it," said Direxia. "He won't tetch it, I can tell you that."</p>
+
+<p>"You never can tell," said the voice. "Sometimes a new hand will give
+victuals a freshness. Besides, Homer must be real lonesome. I'm comin'
+in to set with him a spell, and maybe read him a chapter. I've ben
+through affliction myself, Direxia, well you know, and the sufferin'
+seeks their like. You let me in now! You ain't no right to keep me out,
+Direxia Hawkes. This ain't your house, and I'll take no sarce from you,
+so now I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer started from his seat with a wild look, but Will Jaquith laid
+a quiet hand on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit still, sir!" he said. "I'll take charge of this one, and Tommy
+will be back soon. Cheer up, Mr. Homer!"</p>
+
+<p>He passed out. Mr. Homer, listening feverishly, heard a few words spoken
+in a cheerful, decided voice; then the door closed. Mr. Homer drew a
+long breath, but started again nervously as Direxia's brown head popped
+in at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Mis' Weight brung some stuff," she said, briefly. "Looks like skim-milk
+blue-monge bet up with tapioky. Want it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" cried Mr. Homer, with something as near a snarl as his gentle
+voice could compass.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you needn't take my head off!" said Direxia. "I didn't make it.
+I'll give it to the parrot; he's rugged."</p>
+
+<p>She vanished, and Mr. Homer's head dropped in his hands again.</p>
+
+<p>"Like locusts!" he murmured. "Like locusts! Oh, Cousin Marcia, how could
+you?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>CONCHOLOGY AND OTHER THINGS</h3>
+
+
+<p>The two trustees had had a busy day. They had just begun upon the
+collection of shells which for years had lain packed away in boxes in
+the attic. There were thousands of them, and now as they lay spread out
+on long tables in the workshop, the glass-covered room where the Captain
+used to keep his tools and his turning-lathe, Mr. Homer's mind was
+divided between admiration of their beauty, and dismay at the clumsiness
+of the names which Tommy Candy read out&mdash;painfully, with finger on the
+page and frequent moppings of an anxious brow, for the polysyllabic was
+still something of a nightmare to Tommy, spite of his twenty years and
+his Academy diploma.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at this, Thomas," said Mr. Homer, carefully polishing on his
+sleeve a whorl of rosy pearl. "Observe this marvel of nature, Thomas!
+This should have a name of beauty, to match its aspect; a name
+of&mdash;a&mdash;poetry; of&mdash;divine affluence. 'Aurora's Tear' would, I am of
+opinion, fitly express this exquisite object. Number 742: how does it
+stand in the volume, Thomas?"</p>
+
+<p>"Spiral Snork," said Thomas.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer sighed, and laid the shell down. "This is sad, Thomas," he
+said. "This is&mdash;a&mdash;painful; this is&mdash;a&mdash;productive of melancholy. I have
+never been of the opinion&mdash;though it is matter of distress to disagree
+in any opinion with the immortal Bard of Avon&mdash;that 'a rose by any other
+name'&mdash;you are doubtless familiar with the quotation, Thomas. To my
+mind there is much in a name&mdash;much. 'Snork!' The title is repellent;
+is&mdash;a&mdash;in a manner suggestive of swine. Pork&mdash;snort&mdash;snork! the
+connotation is imperative, I am of opinion. How, why, I ask you, Thomas,
+should such a name be applied to this exquisite object?"</p>
+
+<p>"Named for Simeon Snork, mariner, who first brought it to England," said
+Tommy, his finger on the paragraph. "Rare: value ten pounds sterling."</p>
+
+<p>The little gentleman sighed again. "We must put the name down, Thomas,"
+he said. "We must write it clearly and legibly; duty compels us so to
+do. But do you think that we should be violating our trust if we
+suggested&mdash;possibly in smaller type&mdash;the alternative, 'sometimes known
+as Aurora's Tear'? There could be no harm in that, I fancy, Thomas? It
+<i>is</i> known as Aurora's Tear to me. I can never bring myself to think of
+this delicate production of&mdash;nature's loom&mdash;as 'Spiral&mdash;a&mdash;Snork.' My
+spirit rebels;&mdash;a&mdash;revolts;&mdash;a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Jibs?" suggested Tommy Candy.</p>
+
+<p>"I was about to say 'rises up in opposition,'" said Mr. Homer, gently.
+"Your expression is terse, Thomas, but&mdash;a&mdash;more colloquial than I
+altogether&mdash;but it is terse, and perhaps expressive. You see no
+objection to writing the alternative, Thomas?"</p>
+
+<p>"None in life!" said Tommy. "Have ten of 'em if you like, Mr. Homer;
+give folks their choice."</p>
+
+<p>"A&mdash;I think not, Thomas," said Mr. Homer. "I am of opinion that that
+would be unadvisable. We will put the single alternative, if you please.
+I thank you. Now to proceed. Here again."</p>
+
+<p>He selected another shell, breathed on it, and rubbed it on his
+coat-sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>"Here again is an exquisite&mdash;a&mdash;emanation from nature's loo&mdash;I would
+rather say from nature's workshop. Observe, Thomas, the rich blending of
+hues, violet and crimson, in this beautiful object. I trust that we
+shall be more fortunate this time in the matter of nomenclature. Number
+743, Thomas. How is it set down in the book?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hopkins's Blob," said Tommy.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear! dear!" said Mr. Homer. "This is sad, Thomas; this is sad, indeed.
+Blob! a most unlovely word. And yet"&mdash;he paused for a moment&mdash;"it
+rhymes&mdash;it rhymes with 'sob.' Do me the favor to pause an instant,
+Thomas. I have an idea: a&mdash;an effluence;&mdash;a&mdash;an abstraction of the
+spirit into the realms of poesy."</p>
+
+<p>He was silent, while Tommy Candy watched him with twinkling gray eyes.
+At first the little gentleman's face wore a look of intense gravity;
+but soon it lightened. He passed his hand twice or thrice across his
+brow, and sighed, a long, happy sigh; then he turned a beaming look on
+his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know, my young friend," he said, mildly, "whether you have
+ever given much thought to&mdash;a&mdash;the Muse; but it may interest you to note
+the manner in which she occasionally wings her flight. A moment ago,
+this gracious object"&mdash;he waved the shell gently&mdash;"was, so far as we are
+aware, unsung;&mdash;a&mdash;uncelebrated;&mdash;a&mdash;lacking its meed of mellifluous
+expression. Now&mdash;but you shall judge, sir. In this brief moment of
+silence, the following lines crystallized in my brain. Ahem!"</p>
+
+<p>He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and folded his hands
+meekly; then began to recite in a kind of runic chant:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The poet-heart doth sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;The poet-soul doth sob,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To see a sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of beauty bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Oppressed by name of 'blob'!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O cacophonic crowd!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;O unmellifluous mob!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The poet's lip<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Would nectar sip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;But scorns to browse on 'blob'!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The expression is condensed," said Mr. Homer, with modest pride; "but I
+am of opinion that condensation often lends strength;&mdash;a&mdash;are you also
+of that opinion, Thomas?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every time!" said Tommy Candy.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer looked bewildered, but bowed gently, accepting the
+commendation expressed in Tommy's voice. "I am glad that my little
+effusion meets with your approval, Thomas," he said. "It is the first
+effort I have been able to make since the death of my lamented
+relative. A&mdash;a simple movement, sir, of the Muse's wing; a&mdash;a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Flap?" suggested Tommy Candy.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer looked still more bewildered, but bowed again, waving his
+hands with a gesture of mingled protest and deprecation.</p>
+
+<p>"I am of opinion, Thomas," he said, "that prose is the vehicle in which
+your thoughts are most apt to find expression. The wings of the Muse do
+not, in my opinion,&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;flap. But it is a matter&mdash;a&mdash;scarcely germane
+to the occasion. We will pursue our researches, if you please."</p>
+
+<p>The next names were more fortunate. The Golden Gem was followed by the
+Mermaid's Comb, and Mr. Homer glowed with poetic joy as he placed the
+pretty things on the shelves of the cabinet that awaited them.</p>
+
+<p>"I foresee, Thomas," he exclaimed, joyfully, "a resuscitation of the
+poetic faculty. I feel that, surrounded by these shapes of beauty, and
+not oppressed by such inappropriate cacophonies as Blork and Snob&mdash;I
+would say Snork and Blob&mdash;I shall often joyfully, as well as strictly,
+meditate the&mdash;I find myself unable to characterize the Muse as
+'thankless,' in spite of my profound admiration for the immortal Milton.
+My spirit will, I feel it, once more sing, and&mdash;wing, sir! 'Mermaid's
+Comb!' In gazing on this symmetrical shape, my young friend, may we not
+in our mind's eye, Horatio&mdash;I would say Thomas&mdash;the remark is Hamlet's,
+as you are without doubt aware&mdash;behold it in the hand of some fair
+nymph, or siren, or&mdash;or person of that description&mdash;and behold her
+'sleeking her soft alluring locks,' in Milton's immortal phrase?
+A&mdash;candor compels me to state, Thomas, that on the few&mdash;the very
+few&mdash;occasions when&mdash;when I have seen the locks of the fair sex in a
+state of&mdash;a&mdash;dampness;&mdash;of&mdash;humidity;&mdash;a&mdash;of&mdash;moisture, I have not
+thought" (Mr. Homer blushed very red) "that the condition was one which
+enhanced; which&mdash;a&mdash;added to, the charms with which that sex is&mdash;in a
+large number of cases&mdash;endowed."</p>
+
+<p>"That's so!" said Tommy. "Take 'em after a shampoo, and they're a sight,
+even the good-lookin' ones."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer blushed still redder, and took out his handkerchief. "I have
+never,&mdash;" he began, and then coughed, and waved the subject delicately
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"It is probable," he said, "that if&mdash;a&mdash;such semi-celestial individuals
+as those described by the poet existed&mdash;a&mdash;possessed a corporal
+envelope&mdash;a&mdash;were endowed with a local habitation and a
+name&mdash;Shakespeare&mdash;they would not be subject to conditions which&mdash;which
+tend to the&mdash;a&mdash;obscuration of beauty; but we will proceed, if you
+please, Thomas. Hark! was that a knock at the door?"</p>
+
+<p>They listened. There was a silence; then, beyond question, came a knock
+on the outer door; a loud, imperative rap, with a suggestion of rhythm,
+almost of flourish, in its repetition. "Rat-ta-tat, rat-ta-tat,
+rat-ta-tat!" Then silence again.</p>
+
+<p>"Direxia is in bed," said Tommy Candy. "I'll go."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait; wait a moment, Thomas!" said Mr. Homer, nervously. "Do you
+think&mdash;it is near nine o'clock&mdash;do you think that courtesy absolutely
+demands our opening the door?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy looked at him in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"It&mdash;it is probably a lady!" said Mr. Homer, piteously. "She is without
+doubt bringing me&mdash;a&mdash;food;&mdash;a&mdash;bodily pabulum;&mdash;a&mdash;refreshment for the
+inner man. Thomas, I&mdash;I do not feel as if I <i>could</i> receive another
+dish at present. I have received four&mdash;have I not?&mdash;assaults&mdash;a&mdash;I would
+say, gifts, to-day, all tending to&mdash;overtax the digestive powers, even
+if Direxia's friendly ministrations did not invite&mdash;or more properly
+demand&mdash;all the powers of that description which I possess."</p>
+
+<p>"Pineapple cream, Miss Wax," replied Tommy Candy, briefly. "That was
+good; I ate it myself. Lobster salad, Miss Goby; claws round it; might
+have boiled her own for a garnish; calf's-foot jelly, Widder Ketchum;
+plum cake, Mis' Pottle. Seth Weaver says that when Doctor Pottle is
+short of patients, the old lady always bakes a batch of fruit-cake and
+sends it round. It's sure to fetch somebody; you could ballast a
+schooner with it, Seth says. Yes, that makes four, sir. But maybe this
+isn't a woman, Mr. Homer. I don't think it sounds like one, and anyhow,
+I wouldn't let one in, noways. You'd better let me go, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The knock sounded again, still more imperative; and now a voice was
+heard, a man's voice, thin and high, crying, impatiently: "Within there!
+house! what ho! within!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer gasped, and loosened his necktie convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>"My mind is probably failing," he said. "That voice&mdash;is probably a
+hallucination;&mdash;a&mdash;an aberration; a&mdash;you hear no voice, I should
+surmise, Thomas?"</p>
+
+<p>He gazed eagerly at Tommy, who, really alarmed for his friend's reason,
+stared at him in return.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I hear it, sir," he said. "He's hollering fit to raise the
+roof. Riled, I expect; you'd better let me go, Mr. Homer."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer relaxed his hold. "Thomas," he said, solemnly, "I think it
+improbable that you will find any corporal substance at that door:
+nevertheless, open it, if you will be so good! open it, Thomas!"</p>
+
+<p>Greatly wondering, Tommy Candy ran to the door and flung it wide open.
+There on the threshold stood a man, his hand raised in the act of
+knocking again. A little man, in a flyaway cloak, with a flyaway necktie
+and long, fluttering mustaches; a little man who looked in the dim light
+like a cross between a bat and the Flying Dutchman.</p>
+
+<p>"House!" said the little man. "Within there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Tommy, slowly, "I never said it was a monument!"</p>
+
+<p>The stranger made a gesture of brushing him away.</p>
+
+<p>"Minion," he said, "bandy no words, but straightway tell me, does Homer
+Hollopeter lurk within?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you wish to see him?" inquired Tommy, civilly yet cautiously. A
+backward glance over his shoulder gave him a curious impression. Mr.
+Homer's shadow, as he stood just within the parlor door, was thrown on
+the pale shining wood of the hall floor; this shadow seemed to flutter,
+with motions singularly like those of the stranger. Another moment, and
+the little gentleman came forward, carrying a candle. He was trembling
+violently, and, as he held the candle high, its wavering light fell on
+the countenance of the stranger.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a>
+<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>"AS HE HELD THE CANDLE HIGH, ITS WAVERING LIGHT FELL ON
+THE COUNTENANCE OF THE STRANGER"</h3>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p>"Gee whiz!" muttered Tommy Candy. "It's himself over again in black."</p>
+
+<p>"It is my brother Pindar!" cried Mr. Homer, dropping the candle. "It is
+my only brother, whom I thought dead&mdash;a&mdash;defunct;&mdash;a&mdash;wafted to&mdash;my dear
+fellow, my dear brother, how are you? This is a joyful moment; this
+is&mdash;a&mdash;an auspicious occasion; this is&mdash;a&mdash;an oasis in the arid plains
+which&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Encircle us!" said Mr. Pindar. "Precisely! Homer, embrace me!"</p>
+
+<p>He flung his arms abroad, and the batlike cloak fluttered out to its
+fullest width. Mr. Homer seemed to shrink together, and it was himself
+he embraced, with a frightened gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, quite so!" he cried, hurriedly. "Very much so, indeed, my dear
+brother. The spirit, Pindar, the spirit, returns your proffered salute;
+but foreign customs, sir, have never obtained in Quahaug. I bid you
+heartily, heartily welcome, my dear brother. Come in, come in!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar flung up his hand with a lofty gesture. "My benison upon this
+house!" he cried. "The wanderer returns. The traveller&mdash;a&mdash;sets foot
+upon his native heath&mdash;I would say door-step. Flourish and exeunt. Set
+on!"</p>
+
+<p>The two brothers vanished. Tommy Candy, still standing on the threshold,
+stared after them with his mouth wide open, and slowly rumpled his hair
+till it stood on end in elfish spikes, as it had done in his childhood.</p>
+
+<p>"I swan!" said Tommy Candy. "I swan to everlastin' gosh! the Dutch is
+beat this time!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MR. PINDAR</h3>
+
+
+<p>Tommy Candy was about to reënter the house, when something seemed to
+attract his attention. He gazed keenly through the soft darkness at the
+house opposite; then he uttered a low whistle, and, leaning on his stick
+(for Miss Penny was right; poor Tommy was very lame, and had climbed his
+last steeple), made his way down the garden-path to the gate. "Annie
+Lizzie, is that you?" he asked, in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" the answer came in a soft voice. "Yes, Tommy. How you scared me!
+I didn't think there was any one up. Ma thought she heard something,
+and wanted I should look out and see if there was any one round."</p>
+
+<p>"You tell her the Sheriff has come to get Isaac," said Tommy, "and he's
+stopping with us overnight. He'll be over in the morning, tell her, with
+the handcuffs, bright and early."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hush, Tommy! you hadn't ought to talk so!" said the soft voice, and
+a slender figure slipped across the road in the dark, and came to the
+gate. "Honest, Tommy, I wish you wouldn't talk so about Isaac and the
+rest of 'em. It don't seem right."</p>
+
+<p>"Annie Lizzie," said Tommy, "I never said a word against ary one of 'em,
+so long as I thought they was your kin; but since I found out that you
+was only adopted, why, I don't see no reason why or wherefore I
+shouldn't give 'em as good as they deserve, now I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they did adopt me," said Annie Lizzie. "Don't, Tommy, please! Ma
+says&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She ain't your Ma!" interrupted Tommy; "and I don't want you should
+call her so, Annie Lizzie; there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she says I would have gone on the town only for them," the soft
+voice went on. "You wouldn't want I should be ungrateful, would you,
+Tommy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I wouldn't," said Tommy, grimly. "I'm willing you should be
+grateful for all the chance you've had to wash and scrub and take care
+of them Weight brats. But this ain't what I called you over for, Annie
+Lizzie. Say, there did some one come just now; Mr. Homer's brother!"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to know!" said Annie Lizzie. In the darkness, Tommy could almost
+see her glow with gentle wonder and curiosity. "What is he like, Tommy?
+I didn't know Mr. Homer had a brother, nor any one belongin' to him
+nearer than Mis' Strong."</p>
+
+<p>"No more did I," said Tommy. "But here he is, as like Mr. Homer as two
+peas, only he's a black one."</p>
+
+<p>"For gracious' sake, Tommy Candy! you don't mean a colored man?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! I mean dark-complected, with black eyes. You make an errand
+over to-morrow, and you'll see him. He looks to be a queer one, I tell
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>"If he's as good as Mr. Homer," said Annie Lizzie, "I shouldn't care how
+queer he was."</p>
+
+<p>"No more should I," cried Tommy, warmly; "but he'd have to work pretty
+hard to ketch up with Mr. Homer in goodness. Say, Annie Lizzie, come a
+mite nearer, can't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't, Tommy. I must go home this minute; Ma will be wonderin' where
+I am. There! do let me go, Tommy!"</p>
+
+<p>A window was raised in the house opposite, and the wheezy voice of Mrs.
+Weight was heard:</p>
+
+<p>"Annie Lizzie, where are you? Don't you l'iter there now, and me
+ketchin' my everlastin' hollerin' for you. Come in this minute, do you
+hear?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a soft sound that was not a voice; and Annie Lizzie slipped
+back like a shadow across the road.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm comin', Ma!" she said. "It's real warm and pleasant out, but I'm
+comin' right in."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you see any one round?" asked the Deacon's widow.</p>
+
+<p>Annie Lizzie shut her eyes tight, for she was a truthful girl. "No'm,"
+she said; "I don't."</p>
+
+<p>In the Captain's room, Mr. Homer's favorite apartment, the two brothers
+stood and looked each other in the face. As Tommy said, the likeness was
+intimate, spite of the difference in color: the same figure, the same
+gestures, the same general effect of waviness in outline, of flutter in
+motion; yet, to speak in paradox, with a difference in the very
+likeness. There was an abruptness of address in the newcomer, foreign to
+the gentle ambiguous flow of Mr. Homer's speech; where Mr. Homer waved,
+Mr. Pindar jerked; where Mr. Homer fluttered feebly, his brother
+fluttered vivaciously. They fluttered now, both of them, as they stood
+facing each other. For a moment neither found words, but it was Mr.
+Pindar who spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>"I have surprised you, brother!" he cried; "confess it! Surprise, chief
+tidbit at the Feast of Life! Alarums and excursions! enter King Henry,
+with forces marching. You did not expect to see the Wanderer?"</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly did not, my dear brother!" cried Mr. Homer, the tears
+standing in his mild eyes. "I have not even felt sure, Pindar, of your
+being alive in these latter years. Why, why have you kept this silence,
+my dear fellow? think how many years it is since I have heard a word
+from you!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar fluttered vivaciously; he was certainly more like a bat than
+the Flying Dutchman. "I apologize!" he cried. "I have been at fault,
+Homer, I admit it. To own him wrong, the haughty spirit bows&mdash;no more of
+it! The past"&mdash;he swept it away with one wing&mdash;"is buried. This night
+its obsequies! Hung be the heavens with black; a pickaxe and a spade, a
+spade; other remarks of a similar nature. Homer, our cousin Marcia loved
+me not!" (it was true. "I can stand a beetle," Mrs. Tree was used to
+say, "or I can stand a bat; but a bat-beetle, and a dancing one at that,
+is more than I can abide. Cat's foot! don't talk to me!").</p>
+
+<p>"Yet when I heard&mdash;through the medium of the public prints&mdash;that she was
+no more, I felt a pang, sir, a pang. I would have assisted at the
+funeral solemnities; it would have been a pleasure to me to compose a
+dirge; the first strophe even suggested itself to me. 'Ta-ta, tarum,
+tarum' (muffled drums); 'ta tee, ta tidol' (trombones); but these things
+require time, sir, time."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely!" said Mr. Homer, with a meek bow; "surely; and indeed,
+Pindar, the ceremonies were of the simplest description, in accordance
+with the wishes of our revered and deceased relative. But sit
+down, my dear brother; sit down, and let me procure some
+refreshment;&mdash;a&mdash;sustenance;&mdash;a&mdash;bodily pabulum, for you. Have you come
+far, may I ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"From the metropolis, sir; from New York!" replied Mr. Pindar, seating
+himself and throwing back his little batlike cloak.</p>
+
+<p>"By rail to the Junction; the evening stage, a jolt, a rattle, and a
+crawl,&mdash;behold me! A crust, Homer, a crust! no disturbance of domestic
+equilibrium. A consort lurks within?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, Brother!" said Mr. Homer, with a bewildered look.</p>
+
+<p>"A wife, sir, a wife!" said Mr. Pindar. "Are you married, Homer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no; no, indeed, my dear brother!" said Mr. Homer, hastily, and
+blushing very red. "Nothing of the kind, I assure you. And you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perish the thought!" said Mr. Pindar; and he waved the Sex out of
+existence.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer looked troubled, but hastened out of the room, and, after some
+ineffective appeals to Tommy, who, as we know, was talking with Annie
+Lizzie at the gate, foraged for himself, and returned with crackers and
+cheese, doughnuts and cider. Seated together at this simple feast, the
+two brothers looked at each other once more, and both rubbed their hands
+with precisely the same gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Food!" cried Mr. Pindar, vivaciously; "and drink! necessities, base if
+you will, but grateful, sir, grateful! Brother, I pledge you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Brother, I drink to you!" cried Mr. Homer, filling his glass with a
+trembling hand. "To our reunion, sir! the&mdash;the rekindling of&mdash;of
+affection's torch, my dear brother. Long may it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Blaze!" cried Mr. Pindar, with a sudden skip in his chair. "Snap!
+crackle! flame! crepitate! Pindar to Homer shall, bright glass to
+glass&mdash;enough!" He ceased suddenly, and fell upon the crackers and
+cheese with excellent appetite.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer watched him in anxious and bewildered silence: once or twice
+he opened his lips as if about to speak, but closed them each time with
+a sigh and a shake of the head. The visitor was the first to speak,
+beginning, when the last cracker had disappeared, as suddenly as he had
+left off.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother," he said, "why am I here?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer repeated the words vaguely: "Why are you here, my dear
+brother? I doubt not that affection's call, the&mdash;voice of sympathy,
+of&mdash;a&mdash;brotherhood, of&mdash;consanguinity,&mdash;a&mdash;sounded in your ears&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Trumpets!" Mr. Pindar struck a sonorous note, and nodded thrice with
+great solemnity. "Alarums and excursions; enter long-lost brother,
+centre. You are right, Homer; but this was not all. The Dramatic Moment,
+sir, had struck."</p>
+
+<p>With these words, he folded his arms, and, dropping his head on his
+breast, gazed up through his eyebrows in a manner which Mr. Homer found
+highly disconcerting.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed!" said Mr. Homer, with vague politeness.</p>
+
+<p>"Struck!" repeated Mr. Pindar, nodding solemnly. "Sounded. Knelled&mdash;no!
+tolled&mdash;not precisely! larumed, sir, larumed!"</p>
+
+<p>"'Larumed' is a fine word," said Mr. Homer, meekly, "but I fail to
+apprehend your precise meaning, Brother Pindar."</p>
+
+<p>"You know what 'dramatic' means, I suppose, Homer," replied Mr. Pindar,
+testily, "though you never had an atom of the quality in your
+composition. And you know what a moment is. The Dramatic Moment&mdash;I
+repeat it&mdash;in your life and the life of this village&mdash;has larumed, sir.
+Listen to it, Homer; look upon it, sir; grasp it! The old order&mdash;gone!"
+he swept it away. "The new&mdash;its foot upon the threshold!" he beckoned
+toward the door, and Mr. Homer looked round nervously. "Usher it in, to
+sound of trump and drum. We must celebrate, Homer, celebrate. To that
+end, behold me!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer passed his hand across his brow and sighed wearily. "My dear
+brother," he said, "you must excuse me if I do not yet altogether
+understand,&mdash;a&mdash;comprehend,&mdash;a&mdash;accord the hospitality of the intellect,
+to&mdash;to the idea that you desire to convey. I feel little if any
+resemblance at this moment to a watcher of the skies&mdash;Keats, as I need
+not remind you; but I cannot feel that this is a time for rejoicing,
+Pindar."</p>
+
+<p>"For celebration, sir! for celebration!" cried Mr. Pindar, eagerly.
+"The words are not synonymous, as you are no doubt aware. Let the
+mysteries be solemn, if you will, the sable scarf of cinerary pomp, the
+muffled drum, and wail of deep bassoon; but this was my idea, sir; thus
+the vision rose before my mind's eye, Horatio,&mdash;I would say, Homer. A
+procession, sir. Maidens, white-clad, flower-crowned, scattering roses;
+matrons, in kirtle and gown, twirling the distaff; village elders,
+in&mdash;in&mdash;our native costume is ill adapted, I confess, but suitable robes
+might be obtained at trifling cost, sir, at trifling cost. You in the
+midst, crowned with bays, the poet's robe your manly limbs enfolding.
+Following,&mdash;or preceding, as you will,&mdash;musicians, with brass
+instruments. You write an ode, I set it to music. Rhymes will readily
+suggest themselves: 'jog,' no! 'clog;' hardly! 'agog;' precisely!</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ta-ta, ta-ta, with joy agog;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Kettledrums, you understand; cymbals; superb effect! You see it, Homer?
+you take it in?"</p>
+
+<p>He paused, and gazed on his brother with kindling eyes, his arms
+extended, the little cloak fluttering from them; certainly nothing human
+ever looked so like a bat.</p>
+
+<p>"A goblin!" said Mr. Homer to himself. "My only brother is a goblin!"</p>
+
+<p>He sighed again, yet more wearily, and once more passed his hand across
+his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear brother," he said, "the hour is late. I find myself incapable
+of&mdash;of thought. The weary pinion of the brain&mdash;I find myself incapable
+even of metaphor, sir. You must excuse me. To-morrow&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To fresh fields and pastures new!" cried Mr. Pindar, rising with a
+batlike wave. "Precisely! Enter attendants with torches. The minion
+waits without?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Mr. Homer, "not exactly, Pindar. Direxia Hawkes
+has&mdash;a&mdash;retired to rest; has&mdash;a&mdash;sought the sleep which&mdash;which&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Knits up the ravelled sleeve of care!" suggested Mr. Pindar.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very much so!" cried Mr. Homer. "You surely remember Direxia,
+brother, and will no doubt agree with me that the term 'minion' cannot
+properly be applied to Cousin Marcia's old and faithful retainer.
+And&mdash;the youth who&mdash;who admitted you, is Thomas Candy, my friend and
+fellow trustee. Thomas is an invaluable person, Pindar; he is like a son
+to me, I assure you. You will, I am sure, value Thomas. I will suggest
+to him the advisability of bringing candles. Oh, here he is! Thomas,
+this is my brother Pindar, my only brother, returned after the lapse of
+many years to&mdash;to his native heath, if I may so express myself. Thomas
+Candy, my dear brother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Son of Silas?" cried Mr. Pindar. "Ha! 'tis well. Stripling, thy hand!
+lives yet thy father, ha?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy grinned, and rumpled his hair with an elfish look eminently
+unfitting a trustee.</p>
+
+<p>"You are the one he used to play ghost with, and scare the Weightses,"
+he said. "I've heard of you, sir. Father isn't livin', but Mis' Tree
+told me about it. Glad to see you, sir!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>"<i>QUAND ON CONSPIRE</i>"</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar Hollopeter slept long and late the next morning, as became a
+gentleman of metropolitan habits; he had not yet made his appearance
+when Will Jaquith came swinging along the street and turned in at the
+gate. Tommy Candy was at work in the garden, trimming the roses, as Will
+himself had been used to do before he was a family man and a postmaster,
+and at sight of him Will stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Just the man I was looking for, Tom!" he said. "I want to consult you."</p>
+
+<p>"Same here!" said Tommy, straightening himself and looking over the
+sweetbriar bush. "What's up your way?"</p>
+
+<p>"This!" said Will, taking a postal card from his pocket. "I don't make a
+practice of reading postal cards, Tom, but I thought I'd better do it
+this time, as I recognized the handwriting;" and he read aloud: "'Expect
+me to-morrow at eleven, for the day. M. <span class="smcap">Darracott Pryor.</span>'"</p>
+
+<p>"Gee!" said Tommy Candy.</p>
+
+<p>"Whiz!" said Will Jaquith. "Exactly. Now what are we to do? I promised
+Mr. Homer that she should not torment him."</p>
+
+<p>"And I promised Her," said Tommy, slowly ("Her" was Mrs. Tree, once and
+for all time, with Tommy Candy), "that that woman should never stay in
+this house. Didn't I tell you? It was the last time ever I was sittin'
+with her. I'll never forget it; she knew she hadn't long to stay, for as
+brisk and chirk as she was; she knew it right enough. 'Tommy,' she
+says, 'when I'm gone, I look to you to keep cats off the place; do you
+hear?' She couldn't abide cats, you know. I says, 'There sha'n't any cat
+come on the place if I can help it, Mis' Tree,' I says, 'and I expect I
+can.' I didn't have no <i>i</i>dea at first what she meant. She raps her
+stick and looks at me. Gorry! when she looked at you, she hadn't hardly
+no need to speak; her eyes did the talkin'. 'Cats!' she says.
+'Four-legged cats, two-legged cats. Cats that say "miaouw!" cats that
+say "Maria!" keep 'em off, Tommy! worry 'em, Tommy! Worry 'em! do you
+hear?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I hear, Mis' Tree,' I says, 'and I'll do it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Good boy, Tommy!' she says; and she pulls out the table-drawer, same
+as she always did&mdash;Gorry! I can't talk about it!" His voice faltered,
+and he turned away. "She was my best friend!" he said, brokenly; "she
+was the best friend ever a fellow had."</p>
+
+<p>"Mine, too, Tommy," said Will, laying his hand kindly on the lad's
+shoulder. "We'll think of her together, boy, and we'll carry out her
+wishes if it takes a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He checked himself, with a glance at the stick that never left Tommy's
+side; but Tommy finished the sentence simply:</p>
+
+<p>"A leg! that's what we'll do. I'd give my good leg, let alone the poor
+one; I shouldn't have had that if it hadn't been for her; if she hadn't
+sent for Doctor Strong that day. Old Pottle was going to take it off,
+you know. 'I'll take off your ears first!' she says, and 'rap' goes her
+stick. 'Ninnyhammer!' she says; 'noodle!' she says; 'send for Geoffrey
+Strong.' That rap was the first thing I heard; I believe it brought me
+back, too, from&mdash;from wherever there is. Gorry! I wish't I could bring
+her back!"</p>
+
+<p>"We cannot do that, Tommy," said Will Jaquith, sadly; "but what we can
+do, we will. Now about this&mdash;lady!"</p>
+
+<p>"Look-a-here!" said Tommy, eagerly. "I don't believe but what this fays
+in with what has been goin' on here. Last night&mdash;" and he told briefly
+of the advent of Mr. Pindar.</p>
+
+<p>"He's plum crazy," he added, "crazy as a loon; but yet it's a knowin'
+kind of crazy, and I don't believe but what he could help us."</p>
+
+<p>Will pondered. "I should not wonder if he could, Tom," he said at
+length. "I'd like to see him, anyhow. Where is he, and where is Mr.
+Homer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Homer's gone for a walk," said Tommy. "He was all worked up about
+his brother's comin', and some kind of rinktum he wants to get up, here
+in the village; kind of crazy circus, near as I could make out from the
+little he said. He didn't eat hardly any breakfast, and Direxia was in a
+caniption, so I got him to go for a walk in the woods, to ca'm him down.
+That ca'ms him down better than 'most anything, generally, unless it's
+Miss Wax's barrel-organ, and she's busy mornin's. Come in, Will. The
+other one wasn't down when I come out, but I presume likely he is now. I
+tell you he's a queer one!"</p>
+
+<p>They went in; and, sure enough, Mr. Pindar was in the dining-room,
+eating toast and marmalade, and holding forth to Direxia Hawkes, who
+stood in the doorway, half-admiring, half-distrustful. Her early opinion
+of Pindar Hollopeter had been unfavorable, but he certainly had an
+elegant way with him, and used beautiful language.</p>
+
+<p>"The orange," he was saying, as he waved a spoonful of the translucent
+sweetmeat, "has ever been the friend of man; unless, indeed, we share
+the view of those who hold that it was the original Apple of Discord.
+The answer to this theory would appear to lie in the fact that it is not
+an apple at all. But soft! whom have we here? A stranger! alarums and
+entrances. Enter mysterious individual, r. u. e."</p>
+
+<p>"It's Willy Jaquith and Tommy," said Direxia. "I'll go now; if you want
+more toast, you can ring the bell."</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, sir!" said Tommy, advancing. "I hope you slept well. Let
+me make you acquainted with Mr. Jaquith; this is Mr. Homer's brother,
+Will, that I was telling you about."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to meet you, sir!" said Will. "Mr. Homer is a great friend of
+mine."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar rose, and held out his hand with a superb gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"My brother's friends," he said, "find safe asylum in this rugged
+breast. Sir, I salute you. Can I offer you refreshment&mdash;the wheaten
+loaf, the smooth, unrifled egg, the bland emollience of the butter-pat?
+No?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks!" said Will. "I have breakfasted, Mr. Hollopeter; but don't let
+me interrupt you. Thanks." He seated himself in response to a
+magnificent wave. "Pray finish your breakfast, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Pindar had apparently finished, and was besides in a
+communicative mood. After explaining to them at great length the theory
+of Até's apple, he gave them a brief disquisition on the proper boiling
+of eggs, touched lightly on the use of butter among the Hebrews, and
+then, to their great delight, proceeded to advert to his own coming. It
+was a sudden inspiration, he informed them. Some thirty years had
+blossomed o'er his head since his foot had trod the soil from which he
+sprang. He left, a stripling in his early flower; he returned&mdash;"what you
+see!" His gesture transformed the little shabby bat-cloak into an ermine
+mantle. "A son of Thespis, gentlemen, at your command!"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy opened wide eyes at this, having always heard that Mr. Hollopeter
+senior had rejoiced in the name of Ecclesiastes Nudd; but Will bowed
+respectfully in response to the wave. "An actor, sir?" he asked,
+deferentially.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar bowed and waved again. "Actor, dramatist, musician, composer!</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By many names men know me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In many lands I dwell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well Philadelphia knows me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Manhattan knows me well.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>A man of cities, sir, of cities! I have come to assist at the
+celebration of the New Order, and shall be glad to count you among my
+aids." Here Mr. Pindar bowed profoundly, twirled his mustaches,
+fluttered his wings, and proceeded to unfold his scheme of a
+Processional Festival Jubilee, matrons, maidens, distaffs, and all. He
+declared that Will was the very figure of Apollo, and that Tommy, on
+account of his lameness, was evidently created for the part of Vulcan.</p>
+
+<p>"A disparity of years, I grant you, my young friend," he said,
+graciously; "but what! the gods were young when time was. The Boy
+Hephæstos! what say you?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Candy, probably for the first time in his young life, found
+nothing to say; but Will pronounced the scheme a most interesting one.
+Before going fully into it, however, he said, he was anxious to consult
+Mr. Pindar on a matter connected with his brother.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar bowed again, still more profoundly, and crossing his arms on
+his breast, nodded thrice, each time more impressively than the last.</p>
+
+<p>"Concerning Homer!" he said. "My father's son; my mother's fair-haired
+joy; in short, my brother. Gentles, say on; my ears are all your own."</p>
+
+<p>"We have&mdash;learned," Will began cautiously, "that a visitor is coming
+here this morning whom we think Mr. Homer would greatly prefer not to
+see. The lady is a cousin of yours, sir; Mrs. Pryor, formerly Miss
+Darracott&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped, for Mr. Pindar fixed him with a gleaming eye and an
+outstretched forefinger, and uttered one word.</p>
+
+<p>"Maria?"</p>
+
+<p>"The same!" said Will.</p>
+
+<p>"Maria!" repeated Mr. Pindar. "Ye gods! Strike home, young man! my bosom
+to the knife&mdash;strike home!"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Homer has dreaded her coming," said Will, taking courage; "and Mrs.
+Tree&mdash;a&mdash;did not&mdash;was not fond of her, we will say. We thought that you
+might possibly help us, sir, in devising some plan by which, without
+being uncivil, we might spare Mr. Homer the distress which&mdash;which an
+interview with this lady could hardly fail to give him."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar still looked fixedly at him. "Maria!" he muttered once more.
+"My boyhood's knotted scourge! the most horrid child that ever&mdash;What
+does she want?"</p>
+
+<p>"She desires to be a sister to Mr. Homer, sir," said Will, simply.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar recoiled. "Perish the thought!" he exclaimed. "Sepulchred
+deep the curst conception lie! and you? ye seek assistance, ha?"</p>
+
+<p>"We thought you might be able to help us out, sir," said Will.</p>
+
+<p>"I bet you could fix her!" said Tommy.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar's eyes flashed. "Your hands!" he cried. "The Dramatic Moment
+strikes. Ding dong! But soft; we must dissemble!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar laid his finger on his lips, and rolled his eyes on his
+visitors with a warning glance. Then rising, he stole with measured and
+elaborately noiseless steps to the door, and listened at the keyhole,
+then to the window, and peered out with dramatic caution; then, still
+with his finger on his lips, he turned to his companions.</p>
+
+<p>"All is well!" he said; he waved the little bat-cloak, and then drew it
+round him with a flap of mystery.</p>
+
+<p>"Approach!" he whispered, beckoning the two friends toward him,
+"Conspiracy is the soul of Drama: approach, friends, and give&mdash;or rather
+receive&mdash;the counter-sign!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a pleasant sight to see Mr. Pindar Hollopeter, his eyes gleaming
+with dramatic fire, yet with a twinkle in the black depths of them,
+waving his arms abroad (the gesture so like his brother's, yet so
+unlike), expounding, suggesting, illustrating. It was pleasant, too, to
+see the responsive twinkle that danced and deepened in the blue and gray
+eyes as they met his.</p>
+
+<p>"I said you would fix it, sir!" cried Tommy Candy, smiting his thigh.</p>
+
+<p>"That will be capital, sir!" said Will. "Your coming seems really
+providential just at this time. Of course we could not have shown any
+incivility to a member of your family; but if you can arrange this&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," said Mr. Pindar, dropping his head forward, and gazing up through
+his eyebrows. "I know not 'if.' Regard the thing as done!"</p>
+
+<p>Punctually at eleven o'clock, Mrs. Pryor bustled and crackled up the
+garden path, and rang a defiant peal at the bell. She had brought no
+luggage with her; this was a preliminary skirmish, so to speak, merely
+to try her ground and assert her rights; but she was prepared to do
+fierce battle with Direxia Hawkes or any one else who might attempt to
+impede her progress in the Path of Duty. Accordingly, when she heard
+footsteps approaching along the hall, she stood with heaving breast and
+glittering eye, ready and determined to effect an entrance the instant a
+crack of the door should be opened.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no question of a crack this time. The door swung open to
+its fullest extent, and, instead of the small and warlike figure of
+Direxia Hawkes, it was Tommy Candy who stood on the threshold, with
+subdued and sorrowful looks.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do, Mis' Pryor?" he said. "I'm rejoiced you have come. I
+took the liberty of reading your postal, and it seemed as though I
+couldn't hardly wait till eleven o'clock came. We need you here, the
+wust way, Mis' Pryor."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Pryor's bristling panoply smoothed itself, and she even gave an
+approving look at the youth, who certainly was a good-looking youth, and
+had probably been subjected to evil influences in his childhood.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad that I have come at the right moment, Tommy," she said,
+benignly. "People sometimes say that when I come, it is apt to be the
+right moment, but we will not speak of that now. What is wrong? Have you
+had difficulty in getting rid of the old woman? I will attend to that
+with pleasure; it is my duty." And she stepped into the hall, Tommy
+making way for her with alacrity.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no'm," said Tommy. "It wasn't that; I don't suppose you could hire
+Direxia to stay&mdash;now!"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" asked the visitor. "What has happened? Mr. Homer is
+not ill? nothing contagious, I&mdash;" and she made a step backward.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no'm!" said Tommy, mournfully. "No, I never heard of its bein'
+contagious, any more than a person couldn't stand it long; but now you
+have come, you will see to everything, I expect, and how thankful shall
+we be. This way, mum!" and he opened the parlor door.</p>
+
+<p>"There can't but one go in at a time," he whispered. "It excites him too
+much; but he's been pretty quiet this last hour or so; I guess there
+won't be no danger, not for a spell at least."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Pryor, in alarm. "Tell me at once what
+has happened, Thomas Candy!"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy shook his head sadly, and turned away with something like a sob.
+"You'll find out soon enough!" he murmured. "There's things you don't
+care to put into words. I'm real glad you've come, Mis' Pryor."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"I can't tell you all he said," said Tommy over the garden gate that
+evening, "for I wasn't in the room. I couldn't hear only a scrap now and
+again, when he'd give a kind of screech; but you'd sworn, to look at
+him, it was Mr. Homer gone crazy. He looks like him, anyway, and he put
+on one of his co'ts and blue neckties, and sort of flopped his hair down
+over his forehead,&mdash;I tell ye, he was complete! and of course she never
+suspicioned anything about the other&mdash;Mr. Pindar&mdash;bein' in the land of
+the livin', or this part of it anyway. We had the room darkened, and he
+sot there hunched up in a big chair with his back to the light, sort o'
+mutterin' to himself, when I shew her in.</p>
+
+<p>"I kinder prepared her mind, just as he told me, and she felt a mite
+scary, I guess; well, Annie Lizzie, he did the rest; I had no part or
+lot in it. I tell you he's a circus, that man! I heard him ask her right
+off the first thing would she marry him, and be his young gazelle: that
+pleased her, and yet she was took aback a mite, and said: 'Oh, Homer,
+this is very sudden!'</p>
+
+<p>"'We'll be married by candle-light,' he says, 'and go off in a balloon,
+by registered mail. The Emperor of China is expecting us to tea; we are
+to wear our skulls outside, and cross-bones in our clustering locks.
+Hark to the wedding knell! tzing boom! tzing boom! cymbals and bass
+drum!'</p>
+
+<p>"I heard that plain, but then he went on muttering for a spell, and I
+couldn't make out a word, till she said, kinder sharp and twittery: 'I
+must go now, Homer; I have an important engagement;' and she said
+something about coming back soon. But he hollers out:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Black sperits and white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Red sperits and gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mingle, mingle, mingle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye that mingle may!'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And I heard them fussin' round, as if she was tryin' to get out the room
+and he was keepin' between her and the door. At last and finally, he
+must have got right up close't the door, for I heard him as plain as I
+do you. 'Rats and bears! rats and bears!' he says, 'all over the room!
+all over the room! look at 'em! look at 'em!' She let one yell out&mdash;that
+was the one you heard&mdash;and come runnin' out, and he come as fur as the
+door after her, flappin' his arms and hoppin' up and down&mdash;great Jonas!
+I expect she'd ben runnin' now if she hadn't have caught the down
+stage. I tell ye, I won't forget that one while."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Tommy!" said Annie Lizzie, in her soft, reproachful voice. "I think
+'twas awful mean to scare a lady that way, now I do. I don't think you'd
+oughter have done it; 'twasn't pretty actin', no way, shape, or manner,
+don't tell me it was."</p>
+
+<p>"Annie Lizzie," said Tommy, "you don't know Mis' Pryor; you warn't
+nothin' but a child when she was here before. There's some folks you
+<i>have</i> to scare; it's the only way to git red of 'em, and we <i>had</i> to
+git red of her. Let alone what Mis' Tree said to me the last time ever I
+saw her,&mdash;though that was enough for me, and what she said goes, as long
+as I live,&mdash;but let that alone, do you think we was goin' to let that
+woman set right down on Mr. Homer, and smother him with sarce? I guess
+not. If Prov'dence hadn't sent his brother right in the nick of time,
+Will and me'd have had to do it ourselves, and like as not made a mess
+of it, and Mr. Homer found out, and ben worked up worse than what he is
+now; but, as it was, it was all done in the family, and there warn't a
+word said but what was polite, if 'twas crazy. He couldn't do no more
+than ask her to marry him, could he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, Tommy, you can always talk!" said Annie Lizzie.</p>
+
+<p>"There's other things I can do besides talk," said Tommy Candy; and he
+did one of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Tommy!" said Annie Lizzie. "How you act!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>A PLEASANT HOUR</h3>
+
+
+<p>One of the spots I have always liked best in Quahaug (it is hard for me
+even now not to say "Elmerton," though I highly approve the change) is
+Salem Rock's back yard. The front yard is the special province of Mrs.
+Rock, a person whose mind runs to double petunias, and coleus; but the
+back premises are Salem's own, and quaint and homely as himself. A neat
+path of oyster shells pounded fine runs straight from the back porch to
+the little pier where the white dory lies sunning herself, and the
+sailboat dips and rises on the ripple. On either side of the path is a
+square space of green, with a few ancient apple-trees here and there, a
+white lilac-bush, and a little round summer-house so overgrown with
+honeysuckle and clematis, and so clustered round by bees that it looks
+like a quaint flowering beehive itself. There are real beehives, too,
+six of them, set along the wall; and in a narrow border that runs all
+round the yard are the flowers that bees like best, sweet rocket and
+foxglove, mignonette and sweet alyssum, and a dozen others. All these
+pleasant things may be found in other back yards, but there are some
+things that belong to this alone. In the exact centre of one green space
+is a ship's spar, set upright, with a tiny flag fluttering from its top;
+in the other stand two life-size figures, facing each other; the figures
+of a man and a woman. The man is in the dress of the thirties, high
+stock and collar, shirt-frill and frock-coat; the lady in flowing
+classical draperies; the man is painted in lively colors, his coat and
+wig (it is certainly a wig!) a bright snuff-brown, his eyes and
+waistcoat sky-blue, his cheeks and stock a vivid crimson; but the lady
+is all white, cheeks, lips, robes and all; she might be marble, if she
+were less palpably wood. The most singular thing about this singular
+pair is that they seem to be coming up out of the earth; to have got out
+as far as their knees, and then to have given it up and stopped. It is
+evident that they are not coming any farther, for the grass grows close
+about them, and a wild convolvulus has crept up into the lady's lap and
+round her arm, making the prettiest of bracelets; while, actually, a
+yellow warbler has built his nest in the gentleman's shirt-frill, and
+sings there all summer long.</p>
+
+<p>There the two stand, facing each other, with cheerful looks; and there
+they have stood for fifty years.</p>
+
+<p>On a certain pleasant morning, about the time of which I am writing,
+Salem Rock and Seth Weaver were having what they called their annual
+spree. Seth had brought his brushes and a variety of paint-pots; Salem,
+according to custom, had provided tobacco, and a great stone pitcher
+containing ginger, molasses, and water, with plenty of ice tinkling in
+it. This pitcher was set down between the two images, within reach of
+either man: Seth was at work on the white lady, while Salem, with
+infinite and loving care, went over the gentleman's attire, picking out
+the waistcoat pattern, and doing wonderful things to the buttons with a
+tiny brush dipped in gold leaf.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Sir's goin' to look tasty this time, now I tell ye!" he said,
+drawing back, with his head on one side, to study the effect. "I've
+give him a yeller sprig to his vest, see? I expect Old Marm'll say 'yes'
+this time, for as long as she's held out."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" grumbled Seth, pipe in mouth. "You never let me have a chanst at
+him, nor yet you won't let me brisk the Old Lady up to match. Give her a
+pink dress now, and hair her up some, and she'd be a fine-lookin' woman
+as there is in this village. I'll do it, too, some night; you'll see."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you don't!" said Salem, slowly, as he drew a scarlet line down the
+seams of "Old Sir's" coat. "White Old Marm begun, and white she'll stay.
+Wal, you was beginnin' to tell me about this ruction up to Home's. What
+is it Pindar's after? I ain't seen him yet."</p>
+
+<p>"He's after a strait-weskit, and he'll get it, don't you have no fears!"
+replied Seth. "He calls it a Pro-cessional Festival Jubilee. He's hired
+the band from the Corners, and he's got the women-folks churned up till
+they don't know whether they're butter or cheese. They're routin' out
+all their old clo'es from up attic, and tryin' of 'em on, and
+cacklin'&mdash;there! I thought I'd heerd hens before; but this mornin' I was
+in to Penny's store, and there was a passel of 'em in there talkin' it
+over, and I tell you there ain't a hen-yard in this State to ekal it. I
+come away without my bird seed. Gorry! there's times when it feels good
+to be a single man."</p>
+
+<p>"That may be so, Seth," replied Mr. Rock, soberly; "but there's other
+times&mdash;meal-times, and rheumatiz, and such&mdash;when it ain't so handy. How
+does Homer feel about all this ran-tan?"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor old Home!" said Seth, shaking his head. "He's pooty well broke up.
+He was jest beginnin' to take notice, and get used to things the new
+way, and sense it that it warn't goin' to kill him to have money in the
+bank; and now comes Pindar, flappin' and squeakin' like a
+ravin'-distracted June-bug, and stands him on his head, and he don't
+know where he is again; Home don't, I mean. He never could stand up
+against Pindar, you know. You remember at school we used to call 'em
+Loony and Moony; Homer was Moony. We used to call after 'em&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Loony and Moony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both got spoony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dance for Mame when she plays 'em a toony.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>There! I ain't thought o' that for thirty years, I don't believe. There
+never was a single mite o' harm in Homer that I could see."</p>
+
+<p>"I left school before they come," said Salem. "I was on my fust voyage
+with Cap'n time they got there. But I ric'llect old Mis' Hollopeter,
+and the way she used to ride round in that old carryall of her'n. I can
+see her now, settin' straight as a broomstick, holdin' up that little
+mite of a green parasol. Covered carryall, too; I remember I used to
+wonder what on airth she wanted with that parasol."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe 'twas charity for the neighbors," said Seth. "She didn't handsome
+much, old Mis' Hollopeter didn't. I rec'llect the carryall, too. When
+the boys got big enough, one of them would drive her, and she'd set
+there and pour poetry into him like corn into a hopper. Home asked me to
+go one day, and I was so scairt I like t' ha' died. Not but what the old
+lady meant well, for she did; but what I mean is, them boys never had no
+chanst to <i>be</i> boys&mdash;not like other boys do. Who's this comin'?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a flutter of pink beside the great mallow-bush at the corner
+of the house; a slender girl appeared, and paused bashfully, with a
+doubtful smile.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis Annie Lizzie!" said Salem Rock. "Nice little gal! Come in, Annie
+Liz, come in! there's no one here only Seth and me. What can we do for
+ye? Want me to touch up them cheeks with a mite of this red paint?
+'Pears to me they ain't quite so rosy as common."</p>
+
+<p>Both men looked approvingly at the girl as she came slowly toward them
+across the grass. Annie Lizzie never seemed in haste; she was in fact
+rather slow, but it was a soft, graceful slowness, and her motions were
+so pretty that one could not wish to hurry them. Everything about the
+girl was soft, gentle, leisurely; she had little to say, but that little
+was so pleasantly said, and her soft voice lingered so sweetly over the
+vowels, that one was sorry when she had done speaking.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled very sweetly on the two middle-aged men. "Good mornin', Mr.
+Rock," she said. "'Mornin', Mr. Weaver! Ma sent me on an errand to you,
+Mr. Weaver; I went to the shop fust, and then I thought likely you might
+be here, so I come along down."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" said Seth. "You knew it was about time for all the foolishness
+there is in Salem Rock to bust out in paint. Look at the figuree he's
+makin' out of Old Sir there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yay-us!" said Annie Lizzie, admiringly. "Don't he look nice? I think
+he's real handsome, Mr. Rock."</p>
+
+<p>Salem Rock nodded, and gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Seth's jealous,"
+he said. "Don't you take no notice of him, Annie Lizzie!"</p>
+
+<p>"She'll hev to take notice of me," said Seth, "or she won't get what
+she come for. What does your Ma want, little gal?"</p>
+
+<p>"She wanted to know if you was comin' to paint the stairs to-morrow.
+This festival comin' on and all, she says she's ashamed to have 'em look
+as they doos."</p>
+
+<p>"The festival ain't goin' up her back stairs, is it?" asked Seth. "I
+wish it was, and out the back winder and across lots to Tom Fool's
+Pastur, where it come from."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mr. Weaver, how you talk!" said Annie Lizzie, in soft reproach. "I
+think it'll be elegant. I'm jest as excited about it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Think likely!" grunted Seth. "What kind o' figuree is Pindar goin' to
+make out of you, young un? Psyche? Wal, it takes all kinds! You tell
+your Ma them stairs'll have to wait a spell. There's too many folks
+wantin' the outside o' their cups and platters done up, tell her, for me
+to 'tend to the insides yet awhile. I'll get round to it bumby, tell
+her; if ever I get done with this job!" he added, tilting back on his
+heels, and surveying the white lady. "I s'pose you've got to have three
+co'ts on her, Sale?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what!" said Salem. "I'd never skimp Old Marm in her co'ts, not
+if I had to go in my shirt-sleeves to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Rock," said Annie Lizzie, "you promised me you'd tell me some day
+about those images, and you never. What do they represent, may I ask?
+They ain't man and wife, be they?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess not!" said Seth, with a chuckle. "I never heard 'em jaw each
+other, many times as I've been over 'em. Tell her about 'em, Sale. Annie
+Lizzie, you set down, and he'll tell the stories now, or, if he won't, I
+will."</p>
+
+<p>"Sho!" said Salem Rock. "What's the use of rakin' up old stories? These
+two figgers have set here so long they don't need no stories; they jest
+belong here, same as the trees doos."</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>love</i> stories, Mr. Rock!" said Annie Lizzie, in her soft,
+pleading voice. "Do tell me, Mr. Rock, now please!"</p>
+
+<p>She sat down on the grass, and gathered her pink skirts round her: she
+might have been a great, soft rose dropped on the green.</p>
+
+<p>"Bile in, Salem!" said Seth Weaver. "You ain't forgot, have ye?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a>
+<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>"'BILE IN, SALEM!' SAID SETH WEAVER, 'YOU AIN'T FORGOT,
+HAVE YE?'"</h3>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>SPINNING YARNS</h3>
+
+
+<p>"No, I ain't forgot," said the older man, slowly; "nor like to forget."</p>
+
+<p>He laid his brush down carefully after a critical glance at "Old Sir's"
+buttons.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess mebbe I'll let them buttons dry a spell before I put on the
+last co't," he said. "No, I ain't forgot, Seth; but it takes a kind of a
+h'ist to get back into things that seems so long ago you kinder think
+they must have happened to somebodys else beside yourself.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, little gal, these two figgers is figgerheads, you see: kem off two
+ships I sailed in long before your two bright eyes opened on to this
+world of sin and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Deestruction!" said Seth Weaver. "Chirk up a mite, Salem! This ain't a
+funeral, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dono but 'tis, kind of," said Salem Rock, soberly. "It's amazin' how
+many folks is dead and buried nowadays. Howsoever, them was two good
+ships, the <i>Merchant Cap'n</i> and the <i>White Lady</i>. Old Sir here, he come
+off the <i>Cap'n</i>; they made her over into a barge, and I begged for him,
+and they let me have him. The builder meant him for a kind of compliment
+to Cap'n Tree; sing'lar compliment, <i>I</i> used to think. Cap'n Tree was a
+pictur' of a man, if ever I sot eyes on one, and Old Sir always
+resembled a wooden image, and no special reason why he shouldn't.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, I took my fust voyage in the <i>Merchant Cap'n</i>; I was cabin-boy,
+and Mis' Tree was along; it was the last voyage but one they took
+together, him and her, and I was along on both. Wal, sir, I tell you
+'twas a sight to see them two sail a ship together. He'd taught her
+navigation, and she took to it like them bees to that rocket yonder. She
+was as good a navigator as ever I see. We was tradin' round Borneo ways,
+and had laid in a cargo of spices and truck, and started on the homeward
+voyage. Come up a hurricane, and blowed us clear'n out of our course;
+went on blowin', and kep' us hitherin' and thitherin' for three days,
+till we didn't know where we was, nor hardly whether we was in this
+world at all, or that part of the next that we wasn't anyways particklar
+<i>about</i> bein' in. The third night of it was the wust, and, gorry! I tell
+ye 'twas awful! and then all of a suddin, like takin' off your hat, it
+fell dead calm. When mornin' broke, 'twas wuss yet, for there was land
+dead ahead, and the <i>Merchant Cap'n</i> driftin' on to it as fast as tide
+could take her. Wal, Mis' Tree had jest come up-stairs, and I tumbled up
+behind her, cur'us as a monkey, same as all boys be. She looks at the
+land, and then up at Cap'n, that quick way she had, like a bird. 'What
+is it?' she says; and Cap'n says, 'Solomon Islands!'</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't no notion what that meant; I thought from the sound it might
+be some extry fine place, like the Bible, ye know, cedars of Lebanon,
+and Queens of Sheby, and like that; but Cap'n's voice had a queer sound
+to it, and I looked at him, and he was the color of her there!" he
+nodded toward the white image.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Mis' Tree, she never turned a hair, though she knew what I
+didn't, that them islands was cannibal, the wust sort, and no white man
+had ever come off 'em inside his own skin. She never turned a hair,
+only slid her mite of a hand into his, and said, quiet-like: 'We're both
+here, Ethan!' Cap'n give a kind of groan. 'I'd give my soul, Marshy,' he
+says, 'if you was safe to home!' She stood up straight&mdash;Jerusalem! I can
+see her now; 'twas like a flame risin', near as I can put it&mdash;and looks
+him in the face. 'I be to home!' she says; that was every word she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, word got round what land it was,&mdash;some of the crew had been that
+way before,&mdash;and I tell ye we was a pooty sick-lookin' crew. There
+warn't a breath o' wind, nor the shadow of a breath; and we kep' on
+a-driftin', till pooty soon we could see the shore plain, and black
+savages runnin' up and down, hollerin', and wavin' their arms. They see
+us, and were all ready for us; and pooty soon we could make out that
+they was pilin' up logs o' wood, makin' fires&mdash;Seth, what in time made
+you start me in on this yarn? 'Tain't no kind o' thing for this gal to
+hear."</p>
+
+<p>Annie Lizzie's eyes were like brown stars, her cheeks like Old Sir's
+carmine stock. "Oh, Mr. Rock!" she cried, "if Mis' Tree could bear it, I
+guess I can. Please go on! I <i>have</i> to hear the rest. And besides," she
+added, naïvely, "of course I know you wasn't all&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused.</p>
+
+<p>"No, we wasn't eat," said Salem Rock; "but I tell ye, little gal, we was
+as near it as a person is anyways desirous to come. We was that near, we
+see them critters grinnin' their white teeth at us, and heard their
+devils' screechin' and chatterin'. When it got to that, Cap'n called the
+crew aft, and told 'em, quiet and easy, how things was.</p>
+
+<p>"'If the wind comes up within ten minutes,' he says, 'we are safe; if
+not, then we've had our time in this world,' he says, 'and behoves us
+be ready for another. I see no reason, and Mis' Tree sees no reason, why
+we should go in that beastly fashion yonder,' he says, pointin' to the
+yellin' savages; 'and therefore I have give my orders, and before we
+touch that shore the doctor will serve an extry grog, that will take you
+through sleep to the presence of your Maker, and may He have mercy on
+your souls and mine!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Amen!' says Mis' Tree, clear and crisp; and I see she had a little
+bottle in her hand, holdin' it tight, and the other hand in Cap'n's.
+Jerusalem! she had grit!</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, there was no words said. 'Twas a good crew, 'most all of 'em
+Quahaug men; your father was one of 'em, Seth."</p>
+
+<p>Seth nodded gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"But we got together forrard, and watched the shore, and Cap'n and Mis'
+Tree stood aft and kep' their eye on the wind.</p>
+
+<p>"That shore come nearer; it come nearer than was anyways comfortable. I
+warn't nothin' but a boy, and I can remember wonderin' whether the folks
+to home would ever know, and whether Cap'n would write the story and put
+it in a bottle, same as in books I'd read; and what'd become of the
+ship, and the little monkey I was tamin' for my sister. And then&mdash;then
+somebody sung out somethin', and I turned round; and there stood Cap'n
+Tree, with the tears runnin' over his face, and his arm up, p'intin' at
+the pennon on the masthead.</p>
+
+<p>"'Bout ship!' he says; and that same moment come a puff o' wind from the
+shore; and then pooty soon another; and then the land-breeze set in good
+and steady.</p>
+
+<p>"The helmsman put her about, and she come round with a dip and a sweep
+like a dancin' lady, and went curtseyin' off over the waves&mdash;you never
+see a sight like that, little gal, nor never will see.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let us give thanks to Almighty God!' says Cap'n Tree; and we give 'em,
+kneelin' on the deck."</p>
+
+<p>Salem Rock drew a long breath, and took up his brush again.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" he said. "You've had your story, Annie Lizzie. I dono as it's a
+very pooty one, but truth ain't allers pooty, I've noticed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's a wonderful story, Mr. Rock!" cried little Annie Lizzie. "I
+thank you a thousand times for tellin' me. But ain't you goin' to tell
+the other one, too, about the lady? Please, Mr. Rock!"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess not!" said Salem. "I guess I'm jaw-weary for this time."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you ain't," said Seth Weaver. "Take more'n that to jaw-weary you,
+Sale, with the practice you have," and he cast a cautious glance at the
+house. "Let the little gal hev the other story if she wants it. Fust
+thing we know you and me'll be to Kingdom Come, and who's to tell the
+stories then? The young folks ought to know 'em, too; this one special.
+Bile in, old hoss!"</p>
+
+<p>Salem Rock drew another long breath. "You tell her about the spar
+yonder," he said, "while I third-co't these buttons; I've got to give my
+mind to 'em. I ain't the only man ever was to sea, Annie Lizzie: you
+sick him on to spin you that yarn, and then we'll see."</p>
+
+<p>"Sho!" said Seth. "Ain't no story <i>to</i> that. All about it, Sale and me
+was both shipwrecked one time,&mdash;'twas after Cap'n Tree was dead,&mdash;and us
+two and that spar was all that come ashore. Now go 'long, and let her
+hear about the <i>White Lady</i>, and let the buttons go to Tinkham and see
+the sights."</p>
+
+<p>Salem Rock cast a glance of affectionate comprehension at his companion.
+It was little less than heroic for Seth Weaver, the best story-teller in
+Quahaug, thus to break and knot up his favorite yarn, the proper
+spinning of which took a good half-hour; but it was very rarely that
+Salem Rock could be brought to tell these two sea tales, and Seth was a
+good friend and a good listener.</p>
+
+<p>So, when he repeated "Go 'long!" Salem nodded, and laid down his brush
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"It's easy to see you're doin' this job by the day," he said. "I dono as
+Mis' Weight'll ever get them stairs done at this rate. Wal, if I've
+gotter, I've gotter, I s'pose. Up anchor and square away, hey? Wal, her
+there," he nodded toward the White Lady, "was figgerhead and likeness,
+fur as I know, to the <i>White Lady of Avenel</i>, full-rigged ship, seven
+hundred and fifty tons, Ethan Tree master and owner. She was a clipper,
+the <i>White Lady</i> was, if ever such sailed the seas. Old Marm here is a
+fine-appearin' woman, fur as she goes,"&mdash;he indicated by a wave of his
+hand the incompleteness which marred the perfect symmetry of the
+figure,&mdash;"but she ain't to be named within a week of the vessel herself.
+Mis' Tree named her out of a book she'd ben readin',&mdash;she was a great
+reader,&mdash;and had her all painted white, not a dark spot on her; I tell
+ye, she was a sightly vessel. So we sailed for Singapore, and I was
+second mate then, and prouder than ary peacock ever strutted, because I
+was young for the berth, ye see, and Cap'n promoted me for efficiency,
+so he said. Had a good voyage, and discharged our cargo, and loaded up
+again with coffee and raw silk, and off for home. Wal, sir, all went as
+it should the fust few weeks, though I was none too well pleased with
+the make-up of the crew. That is to say, most of 'em was all right, or
+would have ben if they'd ben let alone; but two of 'em was strangers,
+picked up at Singapore, where two of our men died of jungle fever; and
+the fust mate broke his leg, ridin' a fool four-legged hoss, and had to
+be left in hospital; so we was both short-handed and left-handed, as you
+might say.</p>
+
+<p>"Still we got on, and mebbe we might have come through all right, but
+then Cap'n took sick. I think he got some kind o' malaria p'ison ashore,
+and Mis' Tree thought so, too: anyway, he was terrible sick, and she
+nussed him, and run the ship, her and me together. She was allers good
+to me, ever sence she bought my mud pie when I was no more'n a baby; and
+we had good weather, and so things went from day to day after a
+fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"But them two strangers, they was ugly, grumble-groan kind of fellers,
+lookin' for trouble. You mind me, Annie Lizzie; a man that's lookin' for
+trouble will find it, if he has to break the eggs from under a settin'
+hen to get at it. The minute these two fellers heard Cap'n was sick,
+they see their chance, and they commenced workin' on the men, talkin' of
+'em round, and makin' 'em think they was abused. You mind this, too,
+little gal; you tell a man often enough that he's got a crick in his
+back, and he'll come to think it's broke, and go hollerin' to raise the
+roof for a plaster to mend it. Same way with our men: some of 'em, that
+is. There was others that was all right, and stayed all right, but yet,
+you know how 'tis: when there's two-three bad ones in a crew, it makes
+trouble all through, someways."</p>
+
+<p>Seth nodded sympathetically. "Same as a drop o' paint'll rile a hull
+pail o' water; or take it t'other way round, a spoonful o' water'll
+spile a hull can o' paint."</p>
+
+<p>"That's so!" said Salem Rock, gravely. "Ile and water, good and evil;
+the Lord can mix 'em so they'll make a good wearin' color, but the hand
+of man cannot so do. Wal, come one day, Cap'n was so bad, Mis' Tree
+didn't leave his side all the mornin'; and I was busy with the log, and
+one thing and another, and, all about it, these fellers thought they see
+their chance to hatch up a mutiny. There was a big feller in the crew,
+Bob Moon his name was; a good seaman, but he warn't more'n half there in
+his upper story. He'd had a block drop on his head, and it kind o' mixed
+his idees so they never got straight. He was sort o' gormin' and gappin'
+most of the time, and he'd go anyways any person had a mind to head him,
+and go hard, for he had the stren'th of a bull and the mule-headedness
+of a&mdash;of a mule. Wal, these fellers&mdash;Faulkner and Higgins their names
+was&mdash;they got holt of Bob and two-three others, and give 'em to
+understand now was their time. Cap'n sick, and her tendin' of him, and
+me nothin' but second mate; and they allowed they'd ruther stop at the
+Azores and drop us three there, and go off with the vessel, tradin' on
+their own account. See? quite a pooty plot they hatched up; might ha'
+ben a story-book. But they got holt of the wrong stick when they tackled
+Ben Gray, the ship's carpenter. Ben was a straight stick of white pine
+timber as ever I see. He give 'em a smooth answer; said he'd think it
+over, and let 'em know, and he shouldn't be surprised if there was
+considerable in what they said, and like that; and then he come hotfoot
+and told me every word, and what should we do? I took him straight down
+to the cabin, and called Mis' Tree to the door and told her. She looked
+us right through, as if she was countin' the j'ints in our back-bones.
+'Are most of the men straight?' she says. So we told her how 'twas, most
+of 'em was all right at bottom, but yet they'd got sorter warpled
+through these fellers workin' on 'em, and we was feared there might be
+trouble. She studied a bit, still sarchin' us with them black eyes of
+her'n&mdash;gorry! seemed as though I could feel my soul rustlin' round
+uneasy inside me. Then she give us our orders, quick and quiet, and not
+too many of 'em; and we went off, and l'itered up on deck separate, and
+I sot down behind one of the bo'ts, nigh hand to the companion, and
+coiled rope. It was Bob Moon's watch on deck, and he was hunchin' round,
+mutterin' and growlin', and I could see he was workin' himself up to
+somethin'. 'Twarn't a gre't while before up comes Ben Gray, and with
+him Faulkner, one of the two grumble-groans, talkin' mighty earnest.
+'Here!' says Ben. 'Here's Bob Moon this minute. He's safe, ain't he?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Bet yer life,' says Faulkner. 'He's all pie for us!' he says; 'ain't
+yer, Bob?' and Bob hunches himself and rubs his big hands, and allows
+he'll fix things to beat creation once he gits started.</p>
+
+<p>"'You tell him, then,' says Ben, 'what you've jest told me, and mebbe we
+can run it off to-night,' he says.</p>
+
+<p>"Moon was sittin' on the hatchway, with his back to the stairs, and
+Faulkner squats down beside him and commences dealin' out to him what he
+proposed; and Gray stood back a leetle mite, and I peeked round the eend
+of the bo't.</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;we never heerd a sound; but, all in a minute, there was Mis' Tree
+standin' behind them two, close up. They was both men that had hair,
+Bob with a curl on him like a mattress, and t'other a kind o' thick
+tousle like a yeller dog's. That little woman never spoke, but she took
+those two by the hair&mdash;twisted her little hands in and got a good
+holt&mdash;and brought their two heads together with a crack&mdash;Jerusalem!
+'twas like a pistol-shot! Every man on board jumped, and come runnin' to
+see what was up; but them two never stirred, jest sot there: their wits
+was clean jarred out of 'em. Then Mis' Tree spoke up, clear and crisp;
+she never hollered, she no need, her voice carried like a trumpet.</p>
+
+<p>"'Mr. Rock,' she says, 'put this man in irons, and George Higgins the
+same. Bob Moon, you come with me; I want you to nurse Cap'n for me. The
+rest go to your quarters.'</p>
+
+<p>"She took holt of Bob's collar&mdash;he was nearer seven foot than six, and
+had the brea'th of an ox&mdash;and give a little h'ist, and he come up like
+he was a rag dolly. 'Come along, Bob,' she says, 'Cap'n wants you,' and
+she marched him off like Mary had a little lamb, and he nussed Cap'n
+like his own mother from that hour. Further and moreover, he got his
+wits back likewise from that hour. Yes, sir, he did so. 'Peared as if
+one blow had shook his brains one way, and the next shook 'em back the
+other; I expect there wasn't enough of 'em to fill his head solid, so
+they wouldn't travel. And that man nussed Cap'n, and follered Mis' Tree
+like a span'el dog the rest of the voyage."</p>
+
+<p>"But what become of those two mean men, Mr. Rock?" asked Annie Lizzie,
+who had followed the story with breathless interest. "Did they make any
+more trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a mite!" said Salem Rock. "They was put in irons, and so remained
+till we come to the Azores, and there we left 'em, though not so
+agreeable to their wishes as the way they had planned. It seemed they
+belonged there, and was wanted for various causes; so we left 'em in the
+calaboose and come away. But for Cap'n's bein' so poorly, I'd never ask
+for a better voyage. The men was like pie, every man Jack of 'em, and if
+Mis' Tree wanted to wipe her shoes, there warn't ary one but would have
+ben proud to be her door-mat. Yes, sir; that was a great voyage&mdash;till it
+come to the eend."</p>
+
+<p>He was silent; and Annie Lizzie, thinking the tale was over, made a
+motion to rise, but Seth checked her with a silent gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, Sale," he said, quietly. "Finish up, now you're about it."</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't but a little more," said the old sailor, speaking half to
+himself. "It behoved to be a good voyage, for it was the last. Cap'n
+fit hard, and she fit for him, but 'twas not so to be. The p'ison, or
+whatever 'twas, had got too strong a holt on him; he couldn't shake it.
+But yet for awhile, when we was nearin' home, he seemed to gain up a
+mite, and would come up on deck, and set and see her take the
+observation, and pass the time of day with the boys. Looked like his
+shadow, he did, and white as his shirt under the tan; but his courage
+was good, and he was allers sayin' he'd get well so soon as he was to
+home.</p>
+
+<p>"'Home, Marshy!' he'd say. 'We'll be there soon, little woman!'</p>
+
+<p>"And she'd nod and smile, and say they would so, sure enough; and Bob
+Moon'd go off and cry behind a bo't. I punched his head good every time
+I co't him at it, fear they'd notice, but I don't think they did, they
+was wropped up in each other.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, at last and finally, sure enough we sighted Quahaug P'int. It was
+a fine day, I ric'llect, south by west, clear and warm; pretty a day as
+ever I see. Cap'n was on deck, and he was mighty weak that day. His
+voice was no more'n a whisper, but yet cheerful, you understand, and he
+had a word for every one that come by, and we all made out <i>to</i> come by,
+one errant or another. She was sittin' beside him, fannin' him, and
+talkin' away easy and pleasant, tellin' how that they'd be in soon now,
+and Lucy&mdash;that was Mis' Blyth, their daughter, Arthur's mother&mdash;would be
+comin' from the West to visit 'em, and all; and Cap'n listened, and
+seemed real pleased, and put in a word now and again.</p>
+
+<p>"I was standin' close by, makin' believe tinker somethin',&mdash;I was allers
+nigh hand them days, case o' need,&mdash;when the lookout says, 'Quahaug
+P'int in sight, Cap'n! 'and we looked, and there it was, sure enough,
+and the sun goin' down behind it, and the water all the likeness of gold
+in between. Cap'n raised his head, and begun to talk sudden and quick.
+'Marshy,' he says, 'I couldn't find a pineapple this mornin',' he says;
+'but here's custard-apples and turtles' eggs; we'll manage to make out a
+breakfast,' he says. I looked up at him, and his eyes were bright as
+lamps, and his cheeks like fire. Mis' Tree put her hand on his arm,
+quiet like. 'That's just as good, Ethan,' she says. 'Them's beautiful,'
+she says; 'I was gettin' kinder tired of pineapples.' Then he goes on,
+sort o' like talkin' to himself. 'True blue, little Marshy!' he says.
+'True blue, little wife! we'll get home yet; safe home, safe home!'</p>
+
+<p>"Then all of a suddent he riz up to his feet, stood up every inch of
+him,&mdash;he was a tall man,&mdash;and stands lookin' out forrard. 'Sail ho!' he
+says, 'sail ho! we'll see home again, home!' and he dropped back in her
+arms, and his sperit passed."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MISS WAX AT HOME</h3>
+
+
+<p>Miss Bethia Wax was at work one afternoon, bending over her little round
+table, busily plaiting a hair chain, when she heard her front door open.
+She looked up in some disturbance, for Ph&oelig;be, the little maid, was
+out, and there were few visitors, since Mrs. Stedman died, with whom she
+was on "run-in" terms: her disturbance was not lessened when the billowy
+form of Mrs. Malvina Weight appeared in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, Malvina," said Miss Wax, rather coldly. "I heard no
+knock; I trust you have not been kept waiting. My domestic is out."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see her go past the house," said the visitor, "and I thought I'd
+jest make a run-in. How are you feelin', Bethia? You're lookin' re'l
+poorly. I noticed it in meetin' last Sabbath. I said to myself, 'That
+woman is goin' jest the way all her fam'ly has, and she the last of 'em.
+As a friend <i>of</i> the fam'ly,' I said, 'it's my dooty to warn her'; and
+so I do."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weight sat down, and fanned herself with a small and rather dingy
+pocket-handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>"I am much obliged to you," said Miss Bethia. "I am in my usual health,
+Malvina, though I am never very robust. I was always delicate, as you
+may say, but yet I don't know but I have held my own with others of my
+age. Flesh isn't always a sign of health," she added, not without a
+touch of gentle malice.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect I am aware of that!" cried Mrs. Weight. "I expect there's few
+knows the frailness that comes with layin' on flesh. What I suffer
+nights is beyond the power of tongue to tell. But all the more it
+behoves me, as the widder of a sainted man and deacon of this parish, to
+do my dooty by others; and I ask you, Bethia Wax, if you are doctorin'
+any."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not," said Miss Bethia, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you ought so to do," said Mrs. Weight, impressively. "It come to
+me right in meetin', when I ought to have ben listenin' to the
+sermon,&mdash;though the land knows I have hard work <i>to</i> listen sometimes,
+the sort o' talk Elder Bliss gives us: Gospel's well enough, but a
+person wants <i>some</i> doctrine, and it don't set good, any way, shape, or
+manner, for a man of his years to be the everlastin' time tellin' them
+as might be his mothers that they'd oughter do thus and so. I was
+leadin' in prayer when Elder Bliss was a bottle-baby, at least he looks
+it if ever I see one. But what I started in to say was, it come over me
+all of a suddent that what you wanted was a bottle of my spring
+med'cine, and so I brought you one."</p>
+
+<p>She produced a bottle from under her shawl, and set it on the table with
+a defiant air.</p>
+
+<p>"I am much obliged to you, Malvina," Miss Wax began; but Mrs. Weight
+went on impressively.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you want to <i>take</i> that med'cine, Bethia Wax! You want to take a
+gre't spoonful with your victuals, and in between your victuals. You
+take three bottles of that remedy, and you won't know yourself for the
+same woman. If you're a mind to pay me fifty cents for this bottle and
+sixty for the next two (that's thirty cents apiece, three spoonfuls for
+a cent, less than half what you'd pay for any boughten stuff), you may,
+and, if not, it's all ekal to me; the Lord will provide. He feeds the
+ravens when they call, and I've never had no doubts of bein' one, far as
+<i>I'm</i> concerned."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weight here drew a long and deep breath, settled herself deeper in
+her chair, and took a fresh start.</p>
+
+<p>"So now <i>that's</i> off my mind, and my dooty done, whether it's ordered
+that you should remain, or pass away same as your folks has done. Now,
+there's another thing I come to speak about. Be you goin' to march in
+this procession?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wax colored painfully. "I have not decided, Malvina," she said. "I
+am considering the matter. Mr. Pindar Hollopeter has invited me to
+appear as&mdash;as Minerva&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Weight. "I knew it. I felt it in these bones!"
+She indicated the spaces which veiled her anatomy. "I felt certing to my
+inwards that this would end in pagan blasphemy, and so it has. Oh, that
+I should live to see jedgment on this village, as I've lived in, and my
+fathers before me, sence&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand you, Malvina," Miss Wax interrupted, with some
+warmth. "The Mr. Hollopeters are Christian men, I believe; at least, I
+know Homer is, and I've never heard anything to the contrary about
+Pindar."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever heard anything about Pindar, anyway?" cried Mrs. Weight,
+her little eyes gleaming. "Do you, or doos any one in this village know,
+how or where that man has ben livin' these thirty years past? He never
+was one to hide his light under a booshel, if he had any to hide. Don't
+tell me, Bethia Wax! For thirty years Pindar Hollopeter has ben livin'
+let them know how as he serves, and never a cent, nor so much as a
+breathin' word for the place that give him birth. But direckly he hears
+that Mis' Tree has passed away, and left her money to Homer, and Satan's
+own words and works in regards to changin' the name of this&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Bethia interrupted her again, promptly. "Malvina," she said,
+firmly, "I have told you before, and I tell you again, that no word
+disrespectful to Mrs. Tree shall be spoken in this house. There is no
+need of bringing her into this matter at all; but I should like to know
+why you call the Festival Procession pagan."</p>
+
+<p>"And ain't it pagan?" cried Mrs. Weight, leaning forward, her hands on
+her knees. "Ain't you jest told me with your own lips, Bethia Wax, that
+he asked you, a church-member in reg'lar standin', to strut and stomp
+as a heathen goddess, in heathen clo'es? Ain't that enough? Hasn't he
+got all the girls in this village takin' their Mas' best sheets and
+table-cloths and sewin' of 'em up to make toonics for muses and graces
+and all sich pagan trollops? Ain't that enough? Do you think sheets is
+fit and suitable clo'es for church-members? or table-cloths? And 'tain't
+as if he hadn't ben shown a better path. 'Pindar,' I said, when he come
+to see about Annie Lizzie, 'you get up an Old Folks' Concert,' I says,
+'and I'll be the Goddess of Liberty for ye,' I says. I had that red,
+white, and blue buntin', you know, that we hired for the Centennial.
+Some of it was damaged, and the man wouldn't take it back, and it's ben
+in my attic ever sence; and I thought 'twould be a good way to use it
+up, and help him out at the same time. Why, Bethia, that man looked at
+me&mdash;why, I believe he's ravin' distracted; he poured out a string o'
+stuff that hadn't no sense or meanin' in it; and then said,
+'Shakespeare,' as if that made it any better. Deacon never would have
+Shakespeare's works in the house; he said they was real vulgar, and that
+was enough for me. So he see I was real indignant, and he blinked his
+eyes and spoke up and said I might be a Roman matron if I was a mind to.
+But I says, 'No, sir!' I says. 'I am an American lady, and the widder of
+a sainted man, and <i>I</i> am not goin' travellin' and traipsin' in heathen
+and publican clo'es, whatever others may do!' and so I come away, and
+left him flappin' there on the door-steps. He's ravin' crazy, Pindar
+Hollopeter is; he'd oughter be shut up. And I told Annie Lizzie she
+shouldn't have anything to do with it in any way, shape, or manner.
+She's ben bawlin' all day about it, but I tell her I didn't take her out
+of the street to have her rigged out with wings. If she'd think of her
+end, I tell her, and how she can aim a pair to walk the golden streets
+with, it would set <i>her</i> better. Well, I must be goin', Bethia; I only
+run in jest for a minute. Now I hope you'll take that med'cine reg'lar,
+and benefit by it. I couldn't answer to Deacon when I meet him in glory
+if I hadn't done my dooty to them as is neighbors to me, specially when
+they look as gashly as you do, Bethia; but I'm in hopes we've taken it
+in time, and you may be spared. <i>Good</i> day!"</p>
+
+<p>The visitor gone, Miss Wax heaved a sigh of relief, and tried to settle
+to her work again; but it would not do. Her mind had been disturbed,
+and, as she often said, her profession required calm. The hand must be
+steady, the nerves tranquil, or the delicate strands would twist and
+knot; and now her long, slim fingers were trembling, and the silken
+threads danced before her eyes. "I must give it up for to-day," said
+Miss Bethia, sadly; and she put away the little table, and took out a
+clean silk duster.</p>
+
+<p>A parlor must be dusted twice in the day, according to Miss Wax's
+theory: once in the morning, to remove the night's accumulation of dust,
+and again toward evening, to take up such particles of the evil thing as
+had settled during the day on chair or table, book or ornament. The
+morning task was an anxious one, and apt to be complicated by fears of
+the coffee's boiling over; but the afternoon dusting was one of the good
+lady's pleasures, and she took her time over it. She loved to linger
+over the glass cases, polishing them, admiring the treasures they
+protected, and recalling the circumstances of their making. It was
+pleasant to accompany her, as one was sometimes permitted to do, on one
+of these friendly rounds.</p>
+
+<p>"These pond-lilies," she would say, "were a wedding present to my cousin
+Cilissa Vinton, deceased. They were admired by some; Cilissa thought
+they were real, and wished to wear them in her hair. After her lamented
+death (of spasms), the family returned them to me as a memento. That
+spray of roses is made of feathers, the breast-feathers of the domestic
+goose. I never allowed them to be plucked from the living bird, my dear!
+I used to wear them in my hair; some thought the contrast pretty." And
+Miss Bethia would sigh gently, and glance at the long mirror, which
+reflected her tall and angular gentility.</p>
+
+<p>But this afternoon the good lady's thoughts were not reminiscent. As she
+stood before the rosewood "what-not," lifting each article, wiping it,
+and replacing it with delicate nicety (I can see them all: the two
+mandarins, the china baby in the bath-tub,&mdash;you could take him out! the
+whole thing would go into a walnut-shell,&mdash;the pink-and-gold Dresden
+shepherd and shepherdess, the Chinese puzzles, and all the other quaint
+pleasantnesses), it was of to-day rather than yesterday that Miss Bethia
+was thinking. Should she&mdash;<i>could</i> she&mdash;walk in a public procession
+attired as Minerva? She put aside with an inward shudder Mrs. Weight's
+characterization of the possible performance. She, Bethia Wax, could not
+"strut and stomp" if she tried. Her walk was graceful, as she was well
+aware; in her youth she had been said to glide.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As a swan o'er the water,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quahaug's fairy daughter<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In majesty maiden doth glide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May the day Wax and wane<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the sighs of her swain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May waft her to bliss as a bride!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Homer Hollopeter had written that in her album at a time when she and
+Pindar were&mdash;oh, no! not engaged, certainly not; only very good
+friends. Homer, she was aware, had regarded her as a sister, had
+wished&mdash;but she never laid it up against Mary; no, indeed! Who could
+wonder at any one's falling in love with Mary?</p>
+
+<p>And now, after all the years, Pindar had come back; still an elegant
+man, Miss Wax thought, though nervous, to be sure, sadly nervous. "But
+perhaps it is his emotions," she said. "No doubt he feels it, coming
+back after thirty years, and all so changed." And he had pressed her
+hand, and murmured, "Ye gods!" which was almost profane, Miss Bethia
+feared,&mdash;yet not quite, she hoped; and had asked her to represent
+Minerva, goddess of wisdom, in the Festival Procession. He was coming
+this very evening for her answer; what should it be?</p>
+
+<p>Miss Bethia glanced again at the long mirror. The angular, yet not
+ungraceful, figure, the long, oval face with its delicate features and
+arched eyebrows, the glossy bands of hair, still jet-black,&mdash;the whole
+reflection was familiar, friendly, not&mdash;Miss Wax modestly hoped&mdash;not
+wholly unpleasing. She tried to imagine the figure clad in flowing
+draperies; there was a rose-colored slip under the spare room spread;
+sateen always draped prettily; pink was her color, and she could not
+somehow feel that sheets would be quite&mdash;quite what she would wish to be
+seen in. And&mdash;on her head, now! Would a helmet be necessary? There was
+not such an article in the village, but she presumed with silver
+paper&mdash;and yet, a wreath would be so much more becoming; the
+feather-work roses, for example! She took them from under their round
+glass case, and laid them against her hair, then put them back with a
+sigh. The contrast certainly used to be thought becoming, but
+somehow&mdash;and after all was it suitable? What would Ph&oelig;be and Vesta
+Blyth&mdash;what would Mrs. Tree have said?</p>
+
+<p>With the thought, a vision rose before Miss Wax's eyes: a little figure
+seated in a high-backed chair, leaning on an ebony crutch-stick; black
+eyes gleaming with merriment, lips curving in a shrewd yet kindly
+smile&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wax glanced at the trophy of silver coffee-spoons which still
+adorned the mantelpiece; sighed again, and turned away from the glass.
+"After all," murmured dear Miss Bethia, and this time she smiled, though
+it was a rather wan smile; "after all, Minerva was the goddess of
+wisdom!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SORROWS OF MR. PINDAR</h3>
+
+
+<p>It must not be supposed that Mr. Pindar Hollopeter's path was altogether
+set with roses at this time; on the contrary, many a thorn and bramble
+arrested his progress, and the poor gentleman's enthusiasm received many
+a prickly wound. He had been able to wave Mrs. Weight away with a lofty,
+"Off, woman, off! this hour is mine!" but there were others who could
+not be so dismissed. Mrs. Ware had gently but firmly declined to lead
+the band of Roman Matrons; and Salem Rock, when approached in regard to
+leading the Village Elders, had expressed his mind with massive
+finality.</p>
+
+<p>"Pindar," he said, "I don't exactly know what you mean by robes, but my
+gen'al idee of 'em is somethin' white and flappin'. Now I wore a
+christenin' robe when I was a baby, and I expect to wear a burial robe
+when I'm laid out; but, betwixt them two, I expect co't and pants will
+have to do me. Jest as much obleeged to you," he added, kindly, seeing
+Mr. Pindar's look of disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>Again, Mr. Pindar was amazed and distressed by the lack of youth and
+beauty in the village. It did seem unfortunate that Sophy Willow and the
+three pretty Benton girls were away, and that Villa Nudd's mother was
+ill and could not spare her. Beautiful Lily Jaquith could not leave her
+new baby, and Vesta Strong wrote that she should have been delighted to
+be Juno, but <i>all</i> the children had just come down with chicken-pox. On
+the other hand, Mr. Pindar found to his dismay that the line between
+youth and middle age was less closely drawn in the village than in the
+theatres of the metropolis. That very morning, Miss Luella Slocum had
+come simpering up to him in the street, and had given him to understand
+that she would have no objection to taking the part of Psyche "to
+accommodate," as she heard that Annie Lizzie Weight was not to be
+allowed to walk in the Procession. Now Miss Luella would never see
+forty-five again, and her eyes, as has already been intimated, took
+widely divergent views of things in general; but she had always had a
+"theatrical turn," she informed Mr. Pindar, and had taken the part of
+Mrs. Jarley when they had the Wax Works.</p>
+
+<p>"And I do love to accommodate!" said Miss Luella, blandly. "I know what
+it is to have folks set back and keep out of things, Mr. Hollopeter. I
+don't know but Mis' Weight is right about Annie Lizzie; she's too young
+to be dressin' up and comin' forward in public, and besides, she's had
+no experience, as you may say. You couldn't expect her to have the
+<i>air</i>, like a person that's had experience. That's what I always say;
+you have to have the air, or you can't do it as it should be done. Don't
+say a word, Mr. Hollopeter; I shall be real pleased to help out, and I
+have a flowered Cretan that I'd like to have you call and see if 'twill
+do."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if he <i>is</i> a little wantin'," said Miss Luella, in telling
+Miss Eliza Goby of the incident afterward. "He didn't hardly say a word,
+only give a kind of groan, and flapped his cloak, and begun walkin' off
+backwards in the most sing'lar way. I'm goin' to take this Cretan in to
+Prudence this afternoon, and see if she can make it over; it's Princess
+shape, and that's always stylish, I think; and I thought put on pink
+silk reveres would kind of liven it up: Psyche wants to look kind of
+youthful, I presume. The sleeves are a mite snug, but I don't know as
+that matters; I sha'n't have to raise my arms. What are you goin' to
+wear, Eliza?"</p>
+
+<p>"White muslin," said Miss Eliza Goby, "and a blue sash, or green, I
+haven't decided which; green is my color, but I have that blue Roman
+sash, you know. I think Pindar <i>is</i> queer, Luella. One thing, he doesn't
+seem to have hardly any knowledge about this village; I don't know as he
+takes the paper even. Why, he thought I was married, and wanted I should
+walk with the married ladies; matrons, he called 'em; the <i>i</i>dea! I told
+him I'd never ben married, and didn't hardly know as I should; anyways,
+I warn't thinking of it at present, and I'd go with the rest of the
+girls."</p>
+
+<p>"And what did he say?" asked Miss Slocum.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe that man is well," said Miss Goby, gravely. "He made
+pretty much the same answer as he did you, sort of groaned and flapped.
+I think he had a pain in&mdash;in his digestion, and didn't like to speak of
+it. He's a perfect gentleman, if he is a mite flighty. That man had
+ought to have him a home, and some one to look after him, that's the
+fact; him and Homer, too."</p>
+
+<p>"That's so!" said Miss Slocum.</p>
+
+<p>But the unkindest cut of all was administered by the hand of Miss
+Prudence Pardon. It was Mrs. Bliss who advised him to take counsel with
+Miss Prudence in regard to costumes in general, and the little lady was
+smitten with remorse afterward for having done so.</p>
+
+<p>"It was base of me, John, I know," she said; "but I simply <i>could</i> not
+tell him myself; he was so hopeful and confiding, and so&mdash;so pitiful,
+somehow, John. I don't think he is a bit more crazy than other
+people,&mdash;I believe I am a little cracked myself on some subjects, and I
+<i>know</i> you are,&mdash;only his craziness is in a different line, that we know
+nothing about. And when he blinks at me with his nice brown doggy eyes,
+and flaps his little bat-cloak, and says, 'The Dramatic Moment, Mrs.
+Bliss!' I want to be a Roman Matron, and a Village Elder, and everything
+else, just to please him. I would, too, if you would let me, John. I
+don't believe that man had enough to eat before he came here; he's a
+perfect skeleton."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not precisely see the connection, Marietta, my dear," said the
+Reverend John, mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"You never do, dear!" replied his wife. "Talk of bats! but&mdash;well, so I
+just told him that I should have <i>loved</i> to if I hadn't been a
+minister's wife, but that you were a cruel tyrant and wouldn't let me;
+and then I advised him to go to Miss Prudence, because she would know
+all about tunics and togas and everything else. I knew, you see, that
+she was all ready to give him a piece of her mind, because she gave me
+just a scrap the other day, when I was trying on my blue dimity. It's
+going to be perfectly sweet, John. Oh, I do hope she will not hurt his
+poor dear funny feelings <i>too</i> much: she can be frightfully severe."</p>
+
+<p>But even while Mrs. Bliss was speaking, Miss Prudence Pardon,
+Rhadamanthus in a black alpaca apron, was laying down the law to Mr.
+Pindar, and emphasizing her points with a stiffly extended pair of
+shears. Miss Prudence had sat on the same bench at school with the
+Hollopeter boys, and saw no reason for mincing matters.</p>
+
+<p>"Pindar," she said, "if you hadn't have come to me, I should have held
+my peace; but seeing as you have come, and asked my opinion, you shall
+have it, without fear or favor. I think this whole thing is ridic'lous
+nonsense; and I think if you go on with it as you've begun, you will
+prove yourself, if I must use such an expression, what I call a gonoph."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar shrank for an instant before the epithet, but gathered
+himself together with a protesting wave.</p>
+
+<p>"Madam!" he cried, "you fail to comprehend&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse <i>me</i>!" said Miss Prudence, waving the shears in return. "I
+expect if there's any one in this village as ought to comprehend, it's
+me, with all I've ben through this week. Do you see that pile of truck?"
+She pointed stiffly with the shears at a mass of drapery piled high on
+the haircloth sofa. "There's thirty whole dresses there, let alone odd
+skirts and polonays. There's full sleeves and snug sleeves, and gored
+skirts and full skirts, and ruffles and box-plaits, and more styles than
+ever you heard of in your life, and every material from more antique to
+sarsnet cambric. I am expected to make all them over into toonics and
+togas, and the hens only know what other foolery; and I tell you,
+Pindar, it can't be done, nor I ain't going to try to do it."</p>
+
+<p>She paused for a moment, for Mr. Pindar was waving his arms and flapping
+his cloak in fervid assent.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear madam," he cried; "my dear Prudence, if I may take the liberty
+of an old schoolmate, I agree with you fully, entirely. I have
+endeavored to point out to the ladies with whom I have conversed, that a
+harmony of costume is absolutely imperative; that flowing drapery&mdash;the
+classic, Prudence, the classic!&mdash;is what the occasion demands. A glance
+at statuary will readily convince you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prudence pointed the shears rigidly. "Pindar Hollopeter," she said,
+"I have seen considerable statuary in the course of my life, both Parian
+and wax, and I say this to you: I never see a statue yet with clothes
+that I would say fitted,&mdash;where there was any!" she added, grimly, and
+compressed her lips. "As to hanging sheets and the like of that on human
+beings, as if they was clo'es-horses," she went on, "it's no part of the
+trade I was brought up to, and I've no idee of beginning at my time of
+life, and so I tell you. Now my advice to you is this: give up all this
+foolishness of a procession, and have a reception at the house, or the
+<i>mu</i>seum, or whatever it is to be called from now on. Have it a pink
+tea, if you like, and I'll get up some real tasty dresses for the girls,
+the few there is, and the ladies can receive. That'll part the cats
+from the kittens, and I dunno's there's anything else will. The <i>i</i>dea
+of 'Lize Goby in white muslin! She'd look like lobster and white of egg,
+and so I told her.</p>
+
+<p>"The fact is, Pindar," Miss Prudence went on, more gently, laying down
+the shears for an instant, "you and Homer was both brought up real
+peculiar, and you're feeling it now. I don't mean to set in jedgment on
+your Ma, far from it; but look at the way it has worked out. Homer is a
+poet; well, luckily for him, he got into the post-office, where it
+didn't do a mite of harm. Homer is well liked and respected by all in
+this village," she added, benevolently, "and there was no one but
+rejoiced at his being left well off. But you, Pindar, took to the
+Drayma. Well, I've nothing to say against the Drayma, either, because
+I've had no experience of it, nor wished to have, only this: it never
+had any holt in this village, and when you try to bring it here, you
+make a big mistake. What is it, P'nel'pe?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Penny, kindest soul in the village where so many are kind, had been
+hovering uneasily about the door during this interview. She respected
+Sister Prudence's judgment highly, and her own cheerful common sense
+forced her to agree with it in this instance; and yet her heart ached to
+see Mr. Pindar&mdash;such an elegant man!&mdash;sitting forlorn and dejected, with
+drooping head and wings, he who had entered with so jaunty a stride,
+Importance throned on his brow and the Dramatic Moment flapping in his
+cloak. She did wish Sister Prudence had not been quite so severe.</p>
+
+<p>But now Miss Penny looked in, with anxious eyes and heightened color.
+"Excuse <i>me</i>," she said. "I see some of the ladies comin', Sister, and I
+thought likely they was comin' to try on. I didn't know but Mr.
+Hollopeter would wish&mdash;" She paused to listen, and then hurried back,
+for already the little shop was full of voices.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Prudence in, Penny? Has she got that polonay ready to try on,
+think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Penny, I want to know if you've got any linin's to match this pink
+cheese-cloth; it don't hardly show over white."</p>
+
+<p>"Penny, I found this up attic, and I've come to show it to Prudence. See
+here! don't you think it'll make an elegant toonic, take and piecen it
+out with a Spanish flounce, and cut off this postilion? Shall I go&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar sprang to his feet and looked wildly about him. Miss Prudence
+spoke no word, but, raising the shears, pointed toward the red-curtained
+glass door that opened into the little back garden.</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;right in?" The door from the shop opened, and admitted Mrs. Pottle,
+her massive arms filled with polka-dotted purple merino.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you, Prudence?" said Mrs. Pottle. "You look feverish."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm as well as common, thank you," said Miss Prudence, grimly. "Won't
+you be seated?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DRAMATIC MOMENT</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar, as has already been said, was to call on Miss Wax that
+evening for her answer; but Mr. Homer was before him, for this was
+Friday evening, which the little gentleman invariably spent with his
+life-long friend. Punctually at a quarter before eight he appeared, and
+found Miss Wax ready for him, sitting under the portrait, with her elbow
+resting on the little table. Her silk dress, of the kind called <i>chiné</i>,
+displayed bunches of apple-blossoms on a pale purple ground; she wore a
+scarf of rose-colored crape, and a profusion of hair jewelry. Mr. Homer,
+as he advanced to greet her, made his usual mental comment that she was
+an elegant female, and pressed her hand cordially; Miss Bethia returned
+the pressure, and inquired anxiously for his health. "I trust you are
+feeling better, Homer," she said, kindly; "all this excitement is very
+disturbing to you, I am sure. But it will soon be over now."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer sighed, as he took his accustomed seat. "Either it or I must
+soon be over, Miss Bethia," he said, mournfully. "I feel that I cannot
+much longer cope with&mdash;a&mdash;the present circumstances. I am aware that I
+should have more fortitude; more&mdash;a&mdash;longanimity; but&mdash;as the lamented
+Keats has it, 'Misery most drowningly doth sing in my lone ear.' The cup
+of joy, Miss Bethia, has become a poisoned chalice. The firmament
+outblackens Erebus; the brooks utter a gorgon voice. Many phrases which
+I have formerly considered as mere poetical ebullitions,&mdash;a&mdash;wafts of
+the Wings of Poesy, if I may so express myself,&mdash;now seem to me the fit
+expression,&mdash;a&mdash;realization,&mdash;a&mdash;I may say concretion,&mdash;of my present
+state of mind. I thought I appreciated the great Keats before, but&mdash;" He
+waved his hands and shook his head in speechless emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not dismiss the subject from your mind for a time, Homer?"
+asked Miss Bethia, soothingly. "Your studies have always sustained you,
+and have been of great benefit, I am sure, to your friends as well as
+yourself. Have you written any more of the Epic, the 'Death of
+Heliogabalus'? I was in hopes you might have another scene to read to me
+this evening."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer shook his head. "I have not touched the Epic," he said,
+"since&mdash;since the events which have recently concatenated, if I may so
+express myself. I sometimes think that I shall never touch it again,
+Miss Bethia."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't say that, Homer!" Miss Wax protested; but the little
+gentleman went on, with an agitated wave.</p>
+
+<p>"I sometimes feel as if the Muse had deserted me; had&mdash;a&mdash;ceased to gild
+with her smile the&mdash;shall I say the peaks of my fancy? I have endeavored
+to woo her back. My brother Pindar is most anxious that I should write
+an&mdash;an ode&mdash;for this celebration which he is planning; but the numbers
+in which I have been in the habit of lisping, and which&mdash;I may
+say to you, my valued friend&mdash;were wont in happier days to
+flow,&mdash;to&mdash;a&mdash;meander,&mdash;to&mdash;a&mdash;babble o'er Pirene's sands, with ease
+and&mdash;and alacrity, now hesitate;&mdash;a&mdash;reluctate;&mdash;a&mdash;refuse the meed of
+melody which&mdash;which the occasion demands. My brother Pindar,&mdash;you have
+seen him, Miss Bethia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" said Miss Wax, softly. "He was here yesterday. He asked&mdash;he
+was so good as to invite me to appear in the Festival Procession as&mdash;as
+Minerva."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer looked up eagerly. "And you replied?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I asked for time to consider," said Miss Wax, looking down. "I need not
+say to you, Homer, that it is not easy to refuse Pindar's first request,
+after so many years of absence;" she sighed gently; "but&mdash;but reflection
+has convinced me that it would not be altogether&mdash;shall I say suitable?
+I have never appeared in public, Homer, and I hardly feel&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused, for Mr. Homer was waving his hands and opening and shutting
+his mouth in great agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely so!" he cried. "Oh, very much so indeed, my dear friend. It
+is an unspeakable consolation to find that you share my sentiments on
+this subject. May I, Miss Bethia,&mdash;with friendship's key,&mdash;unlock, so to
+speak, the counsels of my&mdash;my bleeding breast? We are old friends: we
+twa&mdash;if I may quote Burns in this connection&mdash;ha' paidl't i' the
+burn,&mdash;I speak metaphorically, my dear lady, as I need not assure
+you,&mdash;frae mornin' sun till dine; the poets refuse occasionally the
+bonds of grammar, and both rhyme and metre require the verb in this
+instance, as you will readily perceive, even though&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer waved the subject to its conclusion, and hurried on: "You have
+also known Pindar from childhood, and have always felt&mdash;may I not say
+kindly, toward the wayward but high-souled lad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" murmured Miss Bethia, softly, with another gentle sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"This being so," Mr. Homer went on, "I may say to you without hesitation
+that this whole matter of the celebration is a&mdash;is a nightmare to me! I
+have led a secluded life, Bethia, as befits a votary of the Muse. Blest
+with a limited but sufficient number of congenial friends, principally
+ladies,&mdash;though William Jaquith and Thomas Candy have been as sons to me
+of late, as sons,&mdash;I have kept, Miss Bethia, the noiseless tenor of my
+way,&mdash;the expression is Gray's, as you are well aware, and is commonly
+misquoted, <i>even</i> tenor being the customary, though wholly incorrect
+version;&mdash;a&mdash;where was I? Oh, yes, as I was about to say, I have kept
+the noiseless tenor of my way, in peace and pleasantness, hitherto.</p>
+
+<p>"'For indeed,' as the lamented Keats observes in an early poem which is
+too little known:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'For indeed, 'tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(And blissful is he who such happiness finds,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To possess but a span of the hour of leisure<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In elegant, pure, and aerial minds.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>That peculiar pleasure, Miss Bethia, has been mine up to the present
+time. My brother Pindar's course has been far different. At an early
+age, as you are aware, he sought the maddening throng; the&mdash;a&mdash;busy hum;
+the&mdash;a&mdash;in short, the roaring mart. I understand that much of his time
+has been devoted to music, and the remainder to histrionic art. He is
+permanently employed, as I understand, at a&mdash;a metropolitan place of
+amusement, where he occasionally takes part in Shakespearian
+representations (he has played the Ghost in 'Hamlet,' he tells me), and
+at other times performs upon the&mdash;in short, the kettledrums. You will
+readily perceive, my dear friend, that such a life conduces to the
+development of ideas which are discrepant;&mdash;a&mdash;divergent
+from,&mdash;a&mdash;devoid of commensurability with, the <i>genius loci</i>, the spirit
+which hovers, or has hitherto hovered, over Elm&mdash;I would say Quahaug.
+Miss Bethia, we are not a dramatic community. With the exception of Mrs.
+Jarley's Wax Works, some thirty years ago, and an Old Folks' Concert at
+a somewhat later period, I am unable to recall any occurrence of a&mdash;of
+a histrionic nature in our&mdash;shall I say midst? And now,&mdash;Miss Bethia,
+I love my brother tenderly, and am anxious, deeply anxious, to
+respond to the feeling, the&mdash;a&mdash;propendency, the&mdash;kindling of
+affection's torch, which has led him to seek his early home. I also
+respect,&mdash;a&mdash;revere,&mdash;a&mdash;entertain the loftiest sentiments in regard to
+the Muse; but when I am asked to appear in public, clad in draperies
+which&mdash;in short, of domestic origin,"&mdash;he waved further detail
+delicately away,&mdash;"and crowned with bays, I&mdash;Miss Bethia, I assure you
+my spirit faints within me. Nor can I feel that the proposed
+demonstration would in any way have commended itself to my cousin
+Marcia. It is borne in upon me&mdash;strenuously, I may say&mdash;that, if my
+cousin Marcia were present at this time in the&mdash;a&mdash;fleshly tabernacle,
+she would receive this whole matter in a spirit of&mdash;levity;
+of&mdash;a&mdash;derision; of&mdash;a&mdash;contumely. Am I wrong in this supposition, Miss
+Bethia?"</p>
+
+<p>"I feel positive that you are right, Homer!" said Miss Wax. "I speak
+with conviction. In fact, it was the thought of&mdash;of Her we honor,"&mdash;she
+glanced at the trophy with an introductory wave,&mdash;"that brought me to a
+decision on the point. I do feel for you, Homer, and share with you the
+distress of having to&mdash;to deny Pindar anything he desires. He will be
+here soon, and perhaps if we speak to him gently on the subject, he may
+see it in the light in which it presents itself to us. Probably this
+side has not been suggested to him." (Has it not? Oh, Miss Prudence!
+Miss Prudence!) "I think that if we compose our thoughts to a greater
+degree of calm, we may have more effect. A little music, Homer?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer put his hand to his head with a sigh. "Miss Bethia," he said,
+"a little music would be balm to the thirsty soul;&mdash;a&mdash;wings to the
+rainbow-hued spirit; a&mdash;oil which runs down the&mdash;" He waved the rest of
+the simile away. "I thank you, my elegant and valued friend. May I
+conduct you to the instrument?"</p>
+
+<p>It was a pleasant sight to see Mr. Homer conducting Miss Bethia Wax to
+the instrument. After a profound bow (his feet in the first position in
+dancing), he held out his hand; she laid the tips of her long fingers
+delicately in it, and, thus supported, glided across the room; a
+courtesy of thanks, a bow of acknowledgment, and she sank gracefully on
+the music-stool, while Mr. Homer returned to his favorite chair, drew a
+long breath, and sank back with folded hands and closed eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wax's instrument was one of Mr. Homer's chief sources of
+inspiration, and I must give it a word of description, for perhaps there
+never was another precisely like it. Tommy Candy called it a
+barrel-organ, and indeed it was not wholly unlike an idealized barrel of
+polished rosewood, standing erect on four slender legs. The front was
+decorated with flutings of red silk; the wood was inlaid with flowers
+and arabesques in mother-of-pearl. Beneath the silk flutings appeared an
+ivory handle, and it was by turning this handle that Miss Bethia
+"performed." "Cecilia's Bouquet" was the name inscribed on the front in
+flourishing gilt letters; and Miss Bethia had often been told that, when
+playing on the instrument, she reminded her hearers of the saint of that
+name. It was perhaps on this account that she was in the habit of
+assuming a rapt expression at such times, her head thrown back, her eyes
+raised to the level of the cornice. Thus seated and performing, Miss
+Bethia was truly a pleasant sight; and the melodies that came faltering
+out from the old music-box (for really it was nothing else!) were as
+pensive, mild, and innocent as the good lady herself. "The Maiden's
+Prayer," "The Sorrowful Shepherd," "Cynthia's Roundelay," and "The
+Princess Charlotte's Favorite;" these were among them, I remember, but
+there were twelve airs, and it took quite half an hour to play them all
+through.</p>
+
+<p>On this occasion, long before the half-hour was over, Mr. Homer's brow
+had cleared, and his face grown as placid as Miss Bethia's own. "The
+Princess Charlotte's Favorite" was also his (a most melancholy air I
+always thought it, as if the poor princess had foreseen her early death,
+and bewailed it, a Jephthah's Daughter in hoop and powder), and he
+followed it with pensive pleasure, bowing his head and waving his hands
+in time to the music, and occasionally joining in the melody with a thin
+but sweet falsetto. "Ta-ta, ta-tee, ta-ta, ta-tum!" warbled Mr. Homer,
+and Miss Bethia's gentle heart rejoiced to hear him.</p>
+
+<p>The two friends were so absorbed that they did not hear the
+door-bell,&mdash;indeed, it rang in the kitchen, and was a subdued tinkle at
+that,&mdash;nor Peggy's steps as she went to answer the call; and it was only
+when the "Princess Charlotte's Favorite" had faltered to its dismal
+conclusion that Mr. Homer, chancing to raise his eyes, saw his brother
+standing in the doorway. The vision was a disconcerting one. Mr. Pindar
+stood with his arms folded in his little cloak, his head bent forward,
+peering up through his eyebrows with a keen and suspicious look. Thus he
+stood for an instant; but, on meeting his brother's eyes, he flung up
+both arms as if in invocation,&mdash;whether of blessing or malediction was
+not clear to Mr. Homer's perturbed gaze,&mdash;the cloak fluttered in batlike
+sweeps, and he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer sprang to his feet with an exclamation of dismay; and Miss
+Bethia, whose back had been turned to the door, rose also in wonder and
+distress. "What is the matter, Homer?" she asked. "You appear disturbed.
+Is&mdash;is any one there?" she added, seeing his look still fixed on the
+empty doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"It was my brother!" replied Mr. Homer. "It was Pindar. He was
+apparently&mdash;moved;&mdash;a&mdash;agitated;&mdash;a&mdash;under stress of emotion. I fear he
+is ill, Miss Bethia; I must hasten after him."</p>
+
+<p>"Pindar ill!" cried Miss Bethia. "Oh, Homer, bring him back, will you
+not? bring him back, and let me give him some of my Raspberry
+Restorative! Do hasten!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer promised to return if it were possible, and hurried away,
+leaving his hostess wringing her hands and uttering plaintive murmurs.
+He hastened along the quiet street. The moon was up, and he could see a
+figure fluttering on ahead of him, with waving cloak and hasty,
+disordered steps.</p>
+
+<p>"Pindar!" cried Mr. Homer. "My dear brother! wait for me, I implore you.
+It is I, Homer; I entreat you to pause!"</p>
+
+<p>The figure wavered, halted; finally turned round, and stood with folded
+arms till Mr. Homer hurried up, anxious and breathless.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you ill, Pindar?" cried the little gentleman. "Some sudden seizure,
+my dear brother? I am truly distressed: let me support you!"</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Pindar waved him aside with a lofty gesture. "I require no
+support, Brother!" he said. "My corporal envelope is robust, I am
+obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why&mdash;why this sudden appearance and disappearance?" asked Mr.
+Homer, bewildered. "Miss Wax was expecting you; we were both expecting
+you, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>"Were you?" said Mr. Pindar, bitterly. "I should hardly have thought it.
+I judged that I intruded, sir. It appeared to me that tender passages
+were in progress. I inferred that the advent of the Wanderer was
+unwelcome, sir, unwelcome."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer attempted to speak, but Mr. Pindar waved him off, and hurried
+on, a real feeling struggling through the pompous structure of his
+sentences. "It would appear that I was in error, sir, when I requested
+you to compose an ode. I should have demanded an epithalamium; flute and
+clarionet, sir:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Tweedle, tweedle, toodle turn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clash the cymbal, bang the drum!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cupid and his antic choir<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing for Homer and Bethia!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But you might have told me, Homer; you might have told me, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer Hollopeter blushed very red all over; if it is discreet even
+to allude to Mr. Homer's toes, I am quite sure that even they must have
+grown rosy. He looked gravely at his brother, who was waving his cloak
+in great excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear brother," he said, slowly, "it&mdash;I&mdash;I fail to find words in
+which to express the&mdash;the&mdash;<i>enormousness</i> of your misconception. I
+regard Miss Wax, sir, as a sister, an esteemed and valued sister."</p>
+
+<p>At the place where Mr. Homer had overtaken his brother, stood a
+watering-trough, a hollowed section of a huge oak-tree, through which
+ran a tiny crystal stream. The companion oak, still vigorous,
+overshadowed the trough, making a pleasant circle of shade, and around
+this oak ran a rustic seat. It was a favorite gathering-place of the
+village boys, but now the boys were in bed, and all was still save for
+the gurgle of the little rill as it babbled along the trough.</p>
+
+<p>To Mr. Homer's utter amazement and discomfiture, Mr. Pindar now flung
+himself down upon this seat, and, pulling out a large blue cotton
+handkerchief, buried his face in it and burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody is glad to see me!" cried Mr. Pindar, sobbing violently.
+"Everybody thinks I am mad. Prudence Pardon called me a&mdash;a gonoph, and
+refused to make tunics for the Village Elders. A horrible fat
+woman&mdash;rightly named Weight&mdash;<i>horresco referens!</i>&mdash;wished to be Goddess
+of Liberty, and, when I shrank appalled, she robbed me of the pretty
+child who should have been my Psyche. I am&mdash;unappreciated, sir. I am
+mocked at and derided. The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanche, and
+Sweetheart&mdash;I returned to benefit my native heath: to cause&mdash;blossoms of
+histrionic art to spring up in the&mdash;arid pathways&mdash;oyster shells!"&mdash;he
+indicated by a wave the white and glittering paths which led to one and
+another silent house, and which are indeed the pride of the village. "I
+have piped to everybody, and nobody will dance, except&mdash;hideous persons
+who squint. I came for comfort and sympathy to Bethia Wax, the playmate
+of my early days; I found&mdash;" He waved his arms with a gesture of
+despair. "And I am so tired of playing the kettledrum!" said the poor
+gentleman; and he wept afresh.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer sat down by his brother's side, and laid his hand on his
+shoulder. "Don't cry!" he said. "Don't cry, Pindy! Mother wouldn't like
+to have you cry."</p>
+
+<p>His voice, faltered on the long-unspoken diminutive; but, at the sound
+of it, Mr. Pindar, still holding the handkerchief to his eyes with his
+right hand, held out his left; Mr. Homer grasped it, and the two sat
+silent, hand in hand, while the little stream trickled cheerfully along,
+and the black leaf-shadows flickered on the white road.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer opened and shut his mouth several times, and patted his
+brother's hand, before he spoke again. At length he said, very gently:</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy, my dear fellow, you are unnerved. Compose yourself,
+compose yourself! I also have been sadly unnerved, Pindy. An hour ago I
+could have mingled my tears with yours freely, sir, freely. But music
+hath charms, as you are aware, to soothe the&mdash;Savagery is far from my
+breast at the present time, sir, but the quotation is too familiar to
+require elucidation. Our friend Miss Wax has been performing upon the
+instrument, and an hour spent in her society, when thus employed, is
+invariably soothing to the wounded spirit. I wish, my dear brother, that
+you had come earlier in the evening."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar groaned, and dried his eyes, but made no reply. Mr. Homer,
+pausing, looked carefully about him, as if struck by a sudden thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Pindar," he said, in an altered tone, "do you know where we are
+sitting? Look about you!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar looked around, then up at the tree which bent friendly over
+them. "It is the oak-seat!" he exclaimed. "The oak-seat and the
+watering-trough. Muffled drums! Enter Homeless Wanderer, weeping."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember the day when Silas Candy ducked Ephraim Weight?" said
+Mr. Homer, disregarding the last remark. "We were sitting here, Pindar,
+and we did not interfere. I have sometimes reflected that it was a&mdash;an
+error, sir; a&mdash;a faltering in the way; a&mdash;a dereliction from
+the&mdash;a&mdash;star-y-pointing path; but we were young, sir, and Ephraim
+was&mdash;shall I say unattractive? But&mdash;Pindy, when Silas came along&mdash;I
+remember it as if it were yesterday&mdash;I had just been cutting some
+initials in the tree. Upon my word, they are here still!" With a
+trembling finger he pointed out some half-obliterated letters. "B. H.,
+sir; do you see them? Bethia Hollopeter!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar nodded gloomily, and, putting away the blue handkerchief,
+crossed his arms on his breast. "I see them, sir," he said. "Why turn
+the dagger in the wound? I see them!"</p>
+
+<p>"What was my thought, Brother," Mr. Homer went on, growing more and more
+animated, "when I made those letters; when I&mdash;a&mdash;wounded the oaken
+breast which&mdash;which&mdash;not precisely nourished, but certainly cheered and
+comforted me? Brother, I fancied Bethia as your bride. Stay! hear me!"
+as Mr. Pindar made a hasty gesture of dissent. "I knew later that&mdash;that
+your affections, like my own, were placed elsewhere; but&mdash;but Fate, sir,
+planted an arrow, of a highly barbed description, in our twin breasts.
+No more of that. Miss Bethia Wax, sir, has been the friend, the elegant
+and valued friend, of my entire life. Since the lamented death of our
+cousins, Ph&oelig;be and Vesta, and recently the irreparable loss I have
+sustained in the death of Cousin Marcia, we&mdash;Miss Bethia and I&mdash;have
+been brought into yet closer and more sympathetic companionship. Aside
+from the devoted tenderness of Thomas and William, and the&mdash;the
+faithful, if occasionally violent ministrations of Direxia Hawkes, Miss
+Bethia has been my chief stay and comfort in these troublous days. But I
+assure you, sir, with my hand on my heart,"&mdash;Mr. Homer suited the action
+to the word,&mdash;"that nothing of a tender nature has ever passed, or will
+ever pass, between me and my elegant and valued friend. Yet once more
+hear me, Brother! It is my firm belief, Pindar, that one image, and one
+only, has remained since youth implanted in&mdash;in that bosom, sir, to
+which I allude with the highest respect; that image, sir, I believe to
+be yours!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer paused, much moved. Mr. Pindar waved his cloak in protest, but
+his countenance brightened perceptibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so!" he murmured. "Not so! Thunder. Exit Homeless Wanderer, pursued
+by furies. Brother, I will return to my hated task. Enough! I thank you,
+but I go."</p>
+
+<p>"Brother, I implore you not so to do!" cried Mr. Homer, earnestly. "I
+believe that other and happier things are in store for you. I have a
+vision, sir, of a home replete with elegant comfort. Miss Bethia, though
+not opulent, is possessed of a comfortable competence&mdash;though Mammon is
+far from my thoughts!" cried Mr. Homer, blushing again. "A home, I say,
+sir, brightened by the society of&mdash;of Woman, and by every evidence of a
+refined and cultivated taste. My dear brother, return with me now to
+the&mdash;the bower, if I may so express myself, of our esteemed and valued
+friend. Miss Bethia urged, I may say, implored, me to bring you back."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so!" murmured Mr. Pindar. "Alarums and excursions. Exit&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Homer interrupted him, a sudden fire shining in his mild eyes.
+"Brother Pindar," he cried, "you have many times alluded, since your
+return, to the Dramatic Moment; you have commented upon the absence of
+the dramatic element in my composition. But, sir, it is borne in upon me
+strongly at this instant that a Dramatic Moment is now striking in&mdash;in
+your life and that of our esteemed and valued friend. As you yourself
+would observe, hark to it, sir! it strikes;&mdash;a&mdash;resounds;&mdash;a&mdash;larums,
+sir, larums."</p>
+
+<p>The two brothers had risen, and stood facing each other in the
+moonlight. They waved their arms with an identical gesture; never had
+they looked so alike. "It larums!" repeated Mr. Pindar, solemnly.
+Suddenly he seized his brother's hand, and motioned him forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Flourish and a sennet!" he cried. "Possible joy-bells! Brother, set
+on!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>AFTER ALL!</h3>
+
+
+<p>And after all, as every one said, everything went off so beautifully
+that people need not have been disturbed. The Processional Festival
+Jubilee was given up (really, I think, to Mr. Pindar's relief as well as
+that of every one else,&mdash;except Miss Luella Slocum), and a reception
+substituted for it; not a Pink Tea, but a dignified and really charming
+occasion. Mrs. Bliss and Will Jaquith planned it, and the whole village
+helped to carry it out. The day was perfection, the very crown jewel of
+the summer: the house was thrown open, and the guests were met in the
+hall by a Reception Committee, consisting of the Messrs. Hollopeter,
+Mr. and Mrs. Bliss, Miss Wax and Mrs. Ware, and Dr. Geoffrey Strong.
+First, Doctor Strong made a brief address of welcome, which put every
+one into a holiday humor of twinkling anticipation; and then there were
+tableaux, framed in the wide low arch of the dining-room door,
+illustrating the history of the village since the first Darracott,
+Timothy Philo, settled here in 1680. The First Service, the Indian
+Massacre (Mr. Pindar superb as King Philip, in full war-paint and
+feathers, flourishing a real tomahawk from the Collection over the
+prostrate form of Tommy Candy), the departure of the Quahaug Company of
+Patriot Militia for Lexington, the women of Quahaug praying for the
+success of Washington's arms, and so on down to the last, when the
+Guardian Spirit of the village was represented as mourning for the death
+of Mrs. Tree. This was dear Miss Wax's idea, and she besought the
+Committee so earnestly to carry it out, "as a token of respect for Her
+we honor," that they had not the heart to refuse. Mrs. Bliss was
+secretly afraid that it might make people smile; and so it might have
+done if Annie Lizzie had not looked so sweet, in her white dress and
+drooping wings (she got them, after all!), that everybody cried instead.</p>
+
+<p>Between the scenes the band, stationed in the garden, "discoursed
+acceptable strains," as the paper said next day; and, after the final
+scene, Mr. Homer made a little speech. He had been most unwilling to
+speak, but everybody insisted that he, and no one else, must actually
+open the Museum. So the dear gentleman got up, very pink and fluttering,
+and said that joy and sorrow had woven a mingled wreath to crown this
+day, but that it was the proudest one of his life, and that the
+proudest action of that life was to open the Captain and Mrs. Ethan Tree
+Museum of Quahaug.</p>
+
+<p>And then&mdash;then every one sang the Ode. Mr. Homer had written the words,
+and Mr. Pindar set them to music, and words and music were printed on
+white silk and distributed as souvenirs. The two brothers did not know
+that, when the music began, they took hold of hands, and stood so all
+through, waving their free arms and bowing their heads in time to the
+melody, and opening and shutting their mouths; but the rest of the
+company knew it, and cried so that they could hardly sing.</p>
+
+<p>These are the words:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">ODE<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">FOR THE OPENING OF THE CAPTAIN AND MRS.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">ETHAN TREE MUSEUM OF QUAHAUG<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As smooth the bivalve opes its jaws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Admitting crystal flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So opes our own Museum its doors<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To all of native blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On honored bier we drop the tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And then, with joy agog,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our village proud doth cry aloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our patroness we fondly bless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And likewise honor him<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who filled so free this treasury,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then sought the cherubim.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of objects fair, so rich and rare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Description would but clog;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So let us sing till welkin ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Captain and Mrs. Ethan Tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We honor so this day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Muses nine, with fire divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Alone could fitly say.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet still each heart would bear its part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With this for epilogue:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While life remains we'll praise thy plains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>(The "bangs" were not printed on the souvenirs, but without them one
+does not get the effect of the cymbals, which really were superb.)</p>
+
+<p>And then the Museum was open, and the village flowed in through the
+rooms, examining, wondering, praising. It was really a fine collection,
+and beautifully arranged. Mr. Homer and Tommy Candy had been at work for
+a month, with much help from the Jaquiths and Annie Lizzie, and
+everything was classified and marked, and displayed to the best
+advantage. In one room, the "Captain's room," were the samples of wood,
+smooth little slabs of ebony, satinwood, violet, leopard, dragon,
+sandal, and every other known wood, polished till they shone like wooden
+mirrors. In another were the minerals: rough crystals, rose and
+amethyst, smoky yellow and clouded brown; nuggets of gold, of silver, of
+copper; uncut gems of every variety, from the great ruby that Captain
+Tree took from the Malay pirate's turban down to the pink and lilac
+pearls found in our own oysters and mussels in Quahaug harbor.</p>
+
+<p>The carved crystal, jade, ivory, and amber, and the enamels, were
+displayed in the parlor, and were so skilfully arranged that the
+character of the room was not changed, only the dim richness
+accentuated. The light fell softly on bowls and cups of translucent
+green, on the rounded backs of ivory elephants, on exquisite shapes of
+agate, jasper, and chalcedony, on robes stiff with gold and crusted with
+gems; but still it was Mrs. Tree's own parlor, and still the principal
+thing in it was the ebony chair, with the crutch-stick leaning against
+it.</p>
+
+<p>The shells, in glass cases, lined the sides of the long room known as
+the Workshop; and, as Seth said, "Gosh! if they didn't beat the
+everlastin' Dutch!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why," he said, turning to Salem Rock, who was behind him in the slowly
+moving throng that filled the room, "you wouldn't think, to look at all
+these, that that man had done anything all his life only pick up
+shells."</p>
+
+<p>"He certingly was the darndest!" replied Salem, soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't use language, Pa!" said Mrs. Rock, who rustled beside him in
+her best black silk.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you would, Ma," retorted her husband, "if things came home to
+you as they do to me this day. They had that way with 'em, both Cap'n
+and Mis' Tree, that when we had shore leave, and they said: 'Pick up
+some shells, will you, boys?' that was every livin' thing any man aboard
+that ship desired to do. Jerusalem! I can feel the crick in my back
+still, stoopin' over them blazin' beaches, pickin' up&mdash;Here, Ma! look at
+this beauty, with the pink and yeller stripes. See them sharp spines,
+and one of 'em broke off? Wal, that broke off in my foot. It was wropped
+up in seaweed, and I trod square on it. I don't know as it would be real
+becomin' to repeat what I said, here and now."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know as it would be real improvin' to hear it, either, Pa!"
+replied his consort, calmly. "Let's us move on a mite further, shall
+we?"</p>
+
+<p>Refreshments were served in the dining-room and on the broad piazza
+outside it, and here Direxia Hawkes was in her glory. The ladies might
+sit at the tables, and did so, Miss Bethia Wax pouring tea, Mrs. Bliss
+coffee, while Miss Slocum and Miss Goby simpered and bridled, twin
+sirens of the lemonade table; but Direxia's Dramatic Moment had struck,
+and she was taking full advantage of it. She had assumed the rigid
+little bonnet and cape, which were her badge of equality with anybody in
+the land except "the Family," and she moved among the guests, apparent
+queen. Annie Lizzie, all smiles and roses, came and went at her bidding,
+with a tendency to gravitate toward the piazza railing, on which Tommy
+Candy sat, beaming good-will to all mankind, ladling out frozen pudding
+and ice-cream from the great freezers.</p>
+
+<p>"Annie Lizzie, Miss Wax ain't eatin' a thing. You tell her to let the
+folks wait for their tea a spell, and have somethin' herself. Here! take
+her this orange cream, and tell her I made it, and I expect her to eat
+it. And&mdash;Annie Lizzie, look here! you tell Mr. Homer I don't want he
+should touch that frozen puddin'. It's too rich, tell him; but he can
+have all the strawberry and vanilla he wants. I ain't goin' to have him
+sick after this, all worked up as he is."</p>
+
+<p>There were forty-seven different kinds of cake, all "named varieties,"
+as the flower catalogues say. Every housewife in the village had sent
+her "specialty," from Miss Wax's famous harlequin round down to the
+Irish christening loaf of good old Mrs. Flanagan, the laundress, who was
+helping Diploma Crotty wash cups and plates in the kitchen. Mrs.
+Flanagan refused to come in, spite of Mr. Homer's urgent invitation.</p>
+
+<p>"I thank ye, dear!" she said. "I thank ye kindly, but I'll not come in
+among the Quality. I wish ye well, Mr. Homer. May no dog ever bite ye
+but mine, and I'll kape a cat!"</p>
+
+<p>Through the crowd, here and there, moved Mr. Homer and Mr. Pindar,
+bowing and smiling, waving and flapping, happiest of all the happy
+throng. Under the genial sun of cheer and encouragement that had been
+shining on him during the last two weeks, since the Procession had been
+given up, Mr. Pindar had grown less and less abrupt and jerky, and more
+and more like his brother; and the village readily accorded him a share
+of the benevolent affection with which they regarded Mr. Homer.</p>
+
+<p>"I always said there warn't a mite of harm in Home," said Seth Weaver,
+"and I begin to think there ain't none in Pindar, either. They come out
+the same nest, and I expect they're the same settin' of aigs, if they be
+speckled different. Hatched out kinder queer chicks, old Mis' Hollopeter
+did, but, take 'em all round, I dunno but they're full as good as
+barn-door fowls, and they certingly do better when it comes to crowin'."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right!" said Salem Rock.</p>
+
+<p>And when at last it was over, and, with hand-shakings and
+congratulations, the tide of visitors had flowed out through the door
+and down the garden path, the two brothers stood and looked at each
+other with happy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been a great occasion, Brother Pindar!" said Mr. Homer.</p>
+
+<p>"It has!" said Mr. Pindar, fervently. "Flourish of trumpets. Enter
+Herald proclaiming victory. It has been a Dramatic Moment, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"It has been the happiest occasion of my life!" Mr. Homer went on. "I
+wish Mother could have been present, Pindar; it would have been a
+gratification to her;&mdash;a&mdash;an oblectation;&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;but where are you
+going, my dear brother?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar, before replying, cast a glance toward the garden gate,
+through which at that moment a tall, slender figure was passing slowly,
+almost lingeringly; then he met his brother's eye hardily.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother Homer," he said, and, though he blushed deeply, his voice was
+firm and cheerful, "I am going to see Bethia home!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>MARRIAGE BELLS</h3>
+
+
+<p>The village certainly had never seen a summer like this. People had not
+stopped talking of the Celebration, when the news of Miss Wax's
+engagement to Mr. Pindar Hollopeter set the ball of conversation rolling
+again. Everybody was delighted; and Mrs. Weight was not the only lady in
+the village who secretly hoped that, now Pindar had set him the example,
+Homer would see his way to following it, and would provide him with a
+helpmeet, "one who had ben through trouble and knew how to feel for
+him."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pindar was an ardent wooer, and pressed for an early marriage;
+indeed, there seemed no reason for delay. They were to live at the "Wax
+Works," and Mr. Pindar was to give lessons in elocution, and also on the
+flute and hautboy, if pupils could be found. Miss Bethia sighed gently,
+and told Mr. Pindar he was too impetuous; but she finally yielded, and
+they were married quietly one day, in the quaint, pleasant parlor, the
+bride dignified and gracious in lavender satin, and the bridegroom
+resplendent in white waistcoat and pearl-colored tie. He had a brand-new
+flyaway cloak for the occasion, and could hardly be persuaded to lay it
+aside during the ceremony, for, as he said, it assisted him in
+expression, sir, in expression.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer was best man, and never was that usually lugubrious part more
+radiantly filled. He accompanied the whole service in dumb show, bowing
+and waving in response to every clause; and Geoffrey Strong declares
+that when he came forward to give the bride away, he heard Mr. Homer
+murmur "until death do us part," in happy echo of his brother's
+response.</p>
+
+<p>Then the bridal pair went off on a bridal trip, and the village shouted
+and cheered after them; and Mr. Homer went home and wept tears of joy on
+the back porch.</p>
+
+<p>Amid the general rejoicing, one face was grave, or smiled only a
+perfunctory smile when occasion required it; this was the face of Thomas
+Candy. It was such an extraordinary thing for Tommy to be grave on any
+festive occasion that Mr. Homer noticed it, and took him gently to task,
+as they sat on the aforesaid porch that evening. "Thomas," said the
+little gentleman, "you appear pensive. You have not seemed to enjoy, as
+I expected, this festival; this&mdash;a&mdash;halcyon, I might almost say,
+millennial day. Is there any oppression on your spirits, my dear young
+friend?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy rumpled his black hair, and cast a look at Mr. Homer,
+half-whimsical, half-sorrowful. "I s'pose it's all right, sir!" he said,
+slowly. "Of course it's all right if you say so; but&mdash;the fact is, I'd
+planned otherwise myself, and I s'pose there ain't any one but thinks
+his own plan is the best. The fact is, Mr. Homer, I hoped to see Miss
+Wax in this house, instead of Mr. Pindar bein' in hers."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, Thomas!" said Mr. Homer. "How so?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no harm in speakin' of it now, as I see," said Tommy. "Fact is,
+Mr. Homer, you need somebodys else in this house beside Direxia; some
+woman, I mean, to make things as they should be for you. Direxia's fine,
+and I think everything of her, but she's old, and&mdash;well, there! there'd
+oughter be somebodys else, that's all, if 'twas only to keep the rest of
+'em off; and there was only one in this village that I could see anyways
+suitable, and that was Miss Wax. So I picked her out, and got my mind
+made up and all, and then along come Mr. Pindar and whisked her off
+under our noses, so to say. I've nothin' against Mr. Pindar, he's all
+right; but it was a disappointment, Mr. Homer, and I can't make believe
+it wasn't. There ain't another woman in this village that Mis' Tree
+would see set over this house," said Tommy Candy, with simple finality.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer smiled, and patted Tommy's arm cheerfully. "Things are much
+better as they are, Thomas," he said; "far better, I assure you.
+Besides, I have other thoughts&mdash;a&mdash;fancies&mdash;a&mdash;conceptions, in regard to
+this house; thoughts which, I fancy, would not have been disapproved
+by&mdash;as my brother's bride says, by Her we honor. I have felt as you do,
+my young friend, the want of&mdash;a&mdash;gracious and softening influence,&mdash;in
+short, the influence of Woman, sir, in this house; but this influence
+has suggested itself to me in the guise of youth&mdash;of&mdash;a&mdash;beauty;
+of&mdash;a&mdash;the morning of life, sir, the morning of life. I have
+thought&mdash;fancied&mdash;in short,&mdash;how would you like, sir, to see our
+charming neighbor across the way established in this house?"</p>
+
+<p>Tommy looked at him, stupefied. "Mrs. Weight!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Homer waved the thought away indignantly. "No, no, Thomas! how
+could you suppose&mdash;not for an instant!&mdash;in fact, it was partly with a
+view to removing her from&mdash;sordid and sinister surroundings, that this
+idea suggested itself to me. What would you say to Annie Lizzie,
+Thomas?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer beamed, and bent forward, rubbing his hands gently, and
+trying to see Tommy's face through the gathering dusk.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy grew very pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Annie Lizzie!" he said, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Annie Lizzie!" repeated Mr. Homer, with animation. "I have watched that
+young person, Thomas, since her early childhood. I have seen her come up
+as a flower, sir, in an arid waste; as a jewel of gold in a&mdash;But I would
+not be discourteous. To remove this sweet creature from uncongenial
+surroundings; to transplant the blossom to more grateful soil, if I may
+so express myself; to beds of amaranth and moly&mdash;I speak in metaphor,
+sir; to see it unfold its vermeil tints beneath the mellow rays
+of&mdash;a&mdash;the tender passion&mdash;would give me infinite gratification. It
+would be my study, sir, to make her happy. What do you&mdash;how does this
+strike you, my dear young friend? But perhaps I have been too sudden,
+Thomas. Take time, sir. Consider it a little."</p>
+
+<p>Thomas Candy rose slowly and painfully. "Thank you, sir!" he said,
+speaking slowly and steadily. "I will take a little time, if you please.
+It is&mdash;rather sudden, as you say."</p>
+
+<p>Leaning heavily on his stick, the young man walked slowly down the
+garden path, and stood by the garden gate, looking across the way.</p>
+
+<p>Annie Lizzie! Annie Lizzie marry Mr. Homer! the thought was monstrous.
+Annie Lizzie, only seventeen, a little soft, sweet rose, his own little
+sweetheart. Good heavens! could such a thing exist even as a dream in
+any human brain?</p>
+
+<p>Then other thoughts came; ugly thoughts, which forced their way to the
+front in spite of him. Mr. Homer was rich now, rich and kind and
+generous. Women liked money, people said: Annie Lizzie had been bitter
+poor all her life, had never had a penny to call her own; might she be
+tempted? And, if she were, had he the right to stand in her way? Was he
+sure, sure, that her love for him, the love that he had taken for
+granted as he took the sunlight, would stand the test?</p>
+
+<p>Faster and uglier came the hateful thoughts; he could almost see them as
+visible forms, with wicked, sneering faces. Was this why she had been so
+attentive to Mr. Homer of late, running in and out of the house on this
+or that pretended errand, coaxing Direxia to let her help with the work,
+begging a flower from the garden, a root from the vegetable border? He
+had never doubted that it was on his own account she came. Was she false
+and shallow, as well as sweet and soft and and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Candy never knew how long he stood there at the garden gate,
+watching the house across the way, where a slender shape flitted to and
+fro in the lamplight. But by and by he struck his stick into the gravel
+and came back with a white set face, and stood before Mr. Homer, who was
+rocking happily in his chair and repeating the "Ode to a Nightingale."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Homer," he said, and at the sound of his voice the little gentleman
+stopped rocking and looked up in alarm: "when it comes to things like
+this, it's man to man, I expect. If Annie Lizzie wants to marry you, I
+won't stand in her way. I'll take myself and my stick off out o' sight
+somewheres, where she'll never hear of neither one of us again. But
+if&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short; for Mr. Homer had risen to his feet in great
+agitation, and was waving his hands and blinking painfully through the
+dusk.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear young friend!" he cried. "My dear but mistaken young friend,
+you distress me infinitely. You do not think&mdash;it cannot be possible that
+you think that this poor child has&mdash;has formed any such&mdash;such monstrous
+conception? If I thought so, I should resign my being,&mdash;a&mdash;cease upon
+the midnight, not without pain, but unspeakably the reverse. It is a
+most extraordinary thing that twice within a single summer I should have
+been exposed, sir, to a misapprehension of this amazing,
+this&mdash;a&mdash;portentous, this&mdash;a&mdash;unspeakably inauspicious description. I am
+not a marrying man, Thomas. Though regarding the Sex with the deepest
+veneration, sir, I have for many years regarded it across a gulf, if I
+may so express myself; a chasm, sir; a&mdash;a&mdash;maelstrom of separation, to
+speak strongly. Your suggestion fills me with pain; with&mdash;anguish;
+with&mdash;a&mdash;gorgons and chimera dire&mdash;meaning no disparagement to the
+young person in question. I had thought, Thomas,&mdash;I had conceived,&mdash;I
+had formed the apprehension, sir, that she was attached to you, and that
+you admitted the soft impeachment; that your heart responded to
+the&mdash;a&mdash;soft flutings of the tender passion. I thought to see you
+wedded, and sharing my home, being as son and daughter to me. I&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Homer's voice faltered. But Tommy Candy caught the distressedly
+waving hands in his.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Homer," he cried, with a broken laugh, "don't, sir! don't take on!
+I'm a fool, that's all, the biggest fool the world holds this minute.
+I've loved Annie Lizzie ever since I was ten years old, and I believe
+she has me."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LAST WORD</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Come back, have they?" said Seth Weaver. Seth was painting the outside
+of Miss Penny Pardon's shop, and Miss Penny was hopping in and out,
+hovering about the door like a lame robin, dividing her attention
+between Seth and the birds.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, have 'em a good time, did they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Elegant!" replied Miss Penny, joyously. "They had them an elegant time,
+Seth. Miss Wax&mdash;There! look at me! and I said 'Mis' Hollopeter' just as
+slick when she come in! She was in this mornin', to tell Sister about
+the latest styles. I thought 'twas real kind of her, with all she had
+to think of in her golden joy. Folks <i>is</i> so kind, I don't see how it
+comes to be such a wicked world as some calls it. Well, she told us all
+about it. They went to Niag'ry Falls first. He was wishful to take her
+to Washin'ton, but she said Nature come first in her eyes, even before
+Gov'ment; she has fine thoughts, and an elegant way of expressin' 'em, I
+always think. There! she said the Falls was handsome! 'twas beyond the
+power of thought, she said. Ain't you gettin' jest a dite too much red
+in that trimmin', Seth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess not!" said Seth. "You don't want it to look like you was
+advertisin' a new brand of mustard, do ye? Where else did they go?"</p>
+
+<p>"They went to New York," said Miss Penny. "It was there she see the
+styles. Went to the theatre, and to Central Park, and walked down Fifth
+Avenue; and his friends give them a testimonial dinner, and&mdash;oh, it was
+lovely to hear her tell about it. I declare, I should like to go to New
+York some day myself. Big sleeves is comin' in again; not that you care
+about that, Seth, but Sister was real pleased to know it. And Mr. Pindar
+has commenced to flesh up some already, Mis' Hollopeter says. He was as
+poor as a split flounder, you know: hadn't ben nourished good for years,
+she thinks. There! Men-folks don't know how to feed themselves, seems
+though, no more nor birds doos. Take that parrot there; you'd think he'd
+know by this time that fresh paint don't agree with him real well, yet
+he'll get at it and chaw it every chance he gets, and then has to come
+to me for doctorin'; it's the same with men-folks, the best of 'em. But
+Mr. Pindar'll get the best of victuals from now on!" Miss Penny
+concluded with an emphatic nod.</p>
+
+<p>"She don't want to feed him too high all of a suddin," said Seth,
+drawing his brush carefully round a window-casing. "He might go the way
+of Job Joralemon's hoss."</p>
+
+<p>"What way was that?" asked Miss Penny, pausing with a cage in her hand.
+"Who is Job Joralemon? I don't know as I ever heard of him."</p>
+
+<p>"He was a man over to Tinkham Corners," said Seth. "Meanest man in them
+parts, where they get the gold medal for meanness every year, some say.
+Come along a man one day, travellin' man, lookin' for a hoss to buy. His
+hoss had died, or run away, or ben stole, or somethin', I dono what.
+Anyways, he heard Job had a hoss to sell, and come to look at him. He
+warn't much of a one to look at,&mdash;the hoss, I mean, though Job warn't no
+Venus, neither; but this man, he thought likely he could fat him up and
+drive him a spell, till he got through his business, and then sell him
+for a mite more than he give for him. Wal, he took the hoss&mdash;he was
+stayin' at Rowe's Tavern over there&mdash;and give him a good solid feed, hay
+and grain, and then started out to drive on to the next town. Wal,
+sir,&mdash;ma'am, I should say,&mdash;quick as he got out the yard, that hoss
+started on the dead run; man couldn't hold him any more than you could a
+yearlin' steer. He run like wild-fire a little ways, and then he clum
+over a fence, buggy and all,&mdash;stump-fence it was,&mdash;and then he fell
+down, and rolled over, and died, then and there. The man collected
+himself out of the kindlin's, and looked round, and see old Rowe, the
+tavern-keeper, comin' up, grinnin' all over.</p>
+
+<p>"'What does this mean?' the man hollers out, mad as hops. 'What kind of
+a hoss do you call this?' he says.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Rowe kinder grunts. 'I call that a sawdust hoss,' he says.</p>
+
+<p>"'Sawdust Granny!' says the man. 'What d'ye mean by that?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Wal!' says old Rowe. 'Fact is, Job's ben in the habit of feedin'
+sawdust to that hoss, and keepin' green goggles on him so's he'd think
+'twas grass. Come to give him a good feed, ye see, and 'twas too much
+for him, and car'd him off.'</p>
+
+<p>"So what I say is, you tell Mis' Hollopeter she wants to be careful how
+she feeds Pindar up, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Seth Weaver, if you ain't the beat!" exclaimed Miss Penny. "I believe
+you made that up right here and now. Ain't you ashamed to tell such
+stories?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a mite! not a mite!" said Seth, comfortably. "Take more'n that to
+shame me. Ask Annie Lizzie if it don't. Here she comes along now. Ain't
+she a pictur'?"</p>
+
+<p>Annie Lizzie came blossoming along the street in her pink calico dress;
+her pink sunbonnet was hanging on her shoulders, and her soft dark hair
+curled round her face just for the pleasure of it. She was swinging a
+bright tin pail in her hand; altogether the street seemed to lighten as
+she came along it.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Annie Lizzie!" said Seth, as she came up to the shop. "Comin' to
+see me, ain't ye?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess not!" said Miss Penny. "I expect she's come to see me, ain't
+you, Annie Lizzie? I've got a new piece of ribbin in, jest matches your
+dress, and your cheeks, too."</p>
+
+<p>Annie Lizzie dimpled and smiled shyly. "I'd love to see it, Miss Penny,"
+she said; "but first I come with a message for Mr. Weaver."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll go and feed the rest of them birds," said Miss Penny.
+"There! hear 'em hollerin' the minute I say 'feed'? They are the
+cutest!"</p>
+
+<p>She vanished into the shop, and Seth looked up at the young girl with a
+friendly twinkle. "Back stairs again, Annie Liz?" he asked. "I expect to
+get at 'em to-morrow, honest I do."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, 'twasn't the stairs this time," said Annie Lizzie, looking
+down. "Ma didn't know I was comin', or she might have said something. I
+come with a message from Tommy, Mr. Weaver. He wanted to know could you
+spare him some white paint."</p>
+
+<p>"What does he want of white paint?" asked Seth.</p>
+
+<p>"Wants to paint the front gate," replied Annie Lizzie.</p>
+
+<p>"Sho!" said Seth. "The front gate was painted only last fall. There
+ain't no need to paint it ag'in for three years."</p>
+
+<p>"I know!" said the girl, patiently. "But all the same he's goin' to
+paint it, and he wants you should put somethin' in it so's it won't
+dry."</p>
+
+<p>"So's it <i>will</i> dry, you mean!" corrected Seth. "Tell him I won't do it.
+Hastenin' white paint's like hastenin' a mud-turtle; it's bad for his
+constitution, and <i>then</i> he don't get anywheres. White paint has to dry
+slow, or it's no good. You tell Tommy that, and tell him he'd oughter
+know it, much as he's hung round my shop."</p>
+
+<p>"He doos know it!" said Annie Lizzie, in her cooing voice. "He don't
+want it to dry, Mr. Weaver."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't want it to dry!" repeated Seth.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. He said I might tell you, so's you'd understand; he knew you
+wouldn't let it go no further, Mr. Weaver. Fact is, he wants to keep
+folks away for a spell, so's Mr. Homer can get rested up. He's real
+wore out with all these celebrations and goin's on, and he has so many
+callers he don't have no chance to live hardly. So Tommy thought if he
+could paint the gate, and keep on paintin' it, with a good paint that
+lasted wet, you see, it would&mdash;Well, what he means is,&mdash;there couldn't
+anybody get in but what had pants on. It's a narrow gate, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," said Seth, with a grim twinkle. "I see. That's Tommy Candy all
+over. Tell him I'll fix him up an article will do the business; he
+needn't have no fears. But how about them little pink petticuts of
+yourn, Annie Lizzie? I dono as Tommy is so special anxious to keep them
+out, is he?"</p>
+
+<p>The pink of Annie Lizzie's dress was surely not a fast color, for it
+seemed to spread in a rosy cloud over her soft cheeks, up, up, to the
+soft rings of hair against her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"Direxia's real good to me," she said, simply. "She lets me come in the
+back gate."</p>
+
+
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "Mrs. Tree."</p></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> LAURA E. RICHARDS</p>
+
+<p class="center">MRS. TREE'S WILL<br />
+MRS. TREE<br />
+GEOFFREY STRONG<br />
+FOR TOMMY<br />
+LOVE AND ROCKS<br />
+CAPTAIN JANUARY</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mrs. Tree's Will, by Laura E. Richards
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mrs. Tree's Will, by Laura E. Richards
+
+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/license
+
+
+Title: Mrs. Tree's Will
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Release Date: April 29, 2012 [EBook #39558]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS. TREE'S WILL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          MRS. TREE'S WILL
+
+                        By Laura E. Richards
+
+    _Author of_ "Captain January," "Melody," "Marie," "Mrs. Tree," etc.
+
+
+    Boston
+    Dana Estes & Company
+    Publishers
+
+    _Copyright, 1905_
+    BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+
+    _All rights reserved_
+
+    MRS. TREE'S WILL
+
+    _COLONIAL PRESS
+    Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+    Boston, U.S.A._
+
+    TO
+    MY DAUGHTER
+    Alice
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'HOMER HOLLOPETER,' SHE SAID, 'WHAT IS THE NAME OF THIS
+VILLAGE?'"]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER PAGE
+
+I. THE WILL ITSELF 11
+
+II. WHAT THE MEN SAID 33
+
+III. WHAT THE WOMEN SAID 51
+
+IV. MOSTLY GOSSIP 79
+
+V. IN MISS PENNY'S SHOP 95
+
+VI. THE SORROWS OF MR. HOMER 111
+
+VII. CONCHOLOGY AND OTHER THINGS 130
+
+VIII. MR. PINDAR 147
+
+IX. "QUAND ON CONSPIRE" 164
+
+X. A PLEASANT HOUR 186
+
+XI. SPINNING YARNS 199
+
+XII. MISS WAX AT HOME 224
+
+XIII. THE SORROWS OF MR. PINDAR 240
+
+XIV. THE DRAMATIC MOMENT 255
+
+XV. AFTER ALL! 283
+
+XVI. MARRIAGE BELLS 297
+
+XVII. THE LAST WORD 309
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+PAGE
+
+"'HOMER HOLLOPETER,' SHE SAID, 'WHAT IS THE NAME OF THIS VILLAGE?'"
+_FRONTISPIECE_
+
+"'GOOD MORNING, SETH!' SAID THE LITTLE MINISTER" 80
+
+"AS HE HELD THE CANDLE HIGH, ITS WAVERING LIGHT FELL ON THE COUNTENANCE
+OF THE STRANGER" 143
+
+"'BILE IN, SALEM!' SAID SETH WEAVER, 'YOU AIN'T FORGOT, HAVE YE?'" 197
+
+
+
+
+MRS. TREE'S WILL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE WILL ITSELF
+
+
+"Suppose you tell me all about it, Mr. Hollopeter!" said Mr. Bliss.
+
+Mr. Homer Hollopeter sighed deeply; wiped his brow with a
+sky-blue article, evidently under the impression that it was a
+pocket-handkerchief; sighed again yet more deeply on perceiving that it
+was a necktie; put it back in his pocket, and looked plaintively at the
+minister.
+
+"I should be pleased to do so, Mr. Bliss," he said. "It would be--a
+relief; a--an unburdening; an--outlet to imprisoned nature."
+
+"You see," the little minister went on soothingly, "our dear old
+friend's death occurring while I was away, and I returning only just in
+time for the funeral, I have not really heard the particulars yet. I
+might--that is--Mrs. Weight kindly called on me last evening, probably
+with a view to giving me some information, but I was unable to see her,
+and I should prefer to hear from you how it all happened."
+
+"Yes--a--yes!" said Mr. Homer, nervously. "Mrs. Weight is a--a
+person--a--in short, she is a person not connected with the family.
+Well, Mr. Bliss, the end came very suddenly; very suddenly indeed. It
+was a great shock; a great--blow; a great--unsettling of the equilibrium
+of daily life. The village has never known such a sensation, sir,
+never."
+
+"Mrs. Tree died in the evening, I believe?" said Mr. Bliss.
+
+"At nine o'clock, sir," said Mr. Homer. "Jocko, the parrot, had had some
+trifling indisposition, and Cousin Marcia had sent for Miss Penelope
+Pardon, who, as you are doubtless aware, has some knowledge of the
+feathered tribes and their peculiar ailments. It chanced that I came in
+to bring a letter, which would, I fancied, give Cousin Marcia singular
+pleasure. It was from little Vesta--I would say from Mrs. Geoffrey
+Strong, Mr. Bliss: she has always been a favorite niece--grandniece, I
+should say, of Mrs. Tree. I found my cousin somewhat excited; she was
+speaking to Miss Pardon with emphasis, and, as I entered, she struck the
+floor with her stick and said: 'Cat's foot! don't tell me! folderol!'
+and other expressions of that nature, as was her custom when moved.
+Seeing me, she turned upon me with some abruptness and addressed me in
+the following words: 'Well, Homer, here you are mooning about as usual.
+You ought to be in a cage, and have Penny to take care of you. How would
+you like this for a cage?' She waved her stick round the room, and then,
+grasping it nervously, shook it at me with violence.
+
+"'Homer Hollopeter,' she said, 'what is the name of this village?'
+
+"Somewhat startled at this outburst, I repeated her remark. 'The name,
+Cousin Marcia?'
+
+"'The name!' she said, violently. 'The real name! out with it,
+ninnyhammer!'
+
+"I replied firmly,--it is a point on which I have always felt strongly,
+Mr. Bliss,--'The real name of this village, Cousin Marcia, is Quahaug.'
+
+"Mrs. Tree sat bolt upright in her chair. 'Homer Hollopeter,' she said,
+'you have some sense, after all! Hooray for Quahaug!'
+
+"Mr. Bliss, they were her last words. She sat looking at me,
+erect, vivacious, the very picture of life; and the next instant
+the stick dropped from her hand. She was gone, sir. The spirit
+had--departed;--a--removed itself;--a--winged its way to the empyrean."
+
+He paused, half-drew out the blue necktie, then replaced it hurriedly.
+
+"It was a great shock," he said; "I shall never be the same man again,
+never! Miss Pardon was most kind and attentive. She supplied me
+with--a--volatile salts, and in other ways ministered to my
+outer man till I was somewhat restored; but the inner man, sir,
+the--a--rainbow-hued spirit, as the poet has it, is--a--bruised;
+is--a--battered; is--a--marked with the impress of a grievous blow. At
+my age I can hardly hope to recover the equilibrium which--"
+
+"Come! come! Mr. Hollopeter," said the little minister; "you must not be
+despondent. Consider, our dear old friend had rounded out her century;
+the ripe fruit dropped quietly from the bough. It is true that her loss
+is a grievous one to all our community."
+
+"It is, sir! it is, sir!" said Mr. Homer. "To imagine this community
+without Cousin Marcia is to imagine the hive without its queen;
+the--a--flock without its leader; the--a--finny tribe--but this is not a
+metaphor which can be pursued, Mr. Bliss; and, indeed, I see our friends
+even now approaching to join in the ceremony--a--the--I may say
+solemnity, which we have come hither to observe."
+
+The foregoing conversation was held in Mrs. Tree's parlor. I say Mrs.
+Tree's, advisedly, for, though the bright, energetic spirit that had so
+lately held sway there was gone, her presence still remained to fill the
+room. Indeed, this room, with its dim antique richness, its glimmer of
+gold lacquer, its soft duskiness of brocade and damask, its treasures of
+rare and precious woods, and, above all, its fragrance of sandalwood and
+roses, had always seemed the fit and perfect setting for the ancient
+jewel it held. To the poetic imagination of Mr. Homer Hollopeter, Mrs.
+Tree had always seemed out of place elsewhere. He had almost grudged the
+occasions, rare of late years, when she went abroad in her camel's-hair
+shawl and her great velvet bonnet. There seemed no reason why she should
+ever stir from her high-backed chair of carved ebony. He saw her in it
+at this moment, almost as plainly as he had seen her three days ago; the
+tiny satin-clad figure, erect, alert, the little hands resting on the
+ebony crutch-stick, the eyes darting black fire, the lips uttering
+pungent words that bit like cayenne pepper, yet were wholesome in their
+biting,--was it possible that she was no longer there? Mr. Homer had
+feared his cousin Marcia more than any earthly thing, but still he had
+loved her sincerely; and now the tears were in his mild blue eyes as he
+turned from this vision of her to greet the incoming guests. Since the
+death of Doctor Stedman and his dear wife the year before, Mr. Homer was
+Mrs. Tree's only kinsman living in the village, and Doctor Strong, now
+staying at the Blyth house with his wife, had begged him to take up his
+quarters at Mrs. Tree's for the present. He had a special reason for
+asking it, he said. Mr. Homer would find out later what it was. So,
+meekly and sadly, Mr. Homer had brought a limp carpet-bag, and asked
+Direxia Hawkes, the old servant, to put him wherever it would be least
+inconvenient; and the old woman, half-blind with weeping, had fiercely
+made ready the best bedroom, and was trying with bitter energy to feed
+him to death.
+
+Who are these who enter the quiet room, greeting Mr. Homer with a silent
+nod or a low-toned word or two? We know most of them. First come Dr.
+Geoffrey Strong and Vesta, his wife, a noble-looking pair. Geoffrey
+holds his head as high, and his eyes are as bright and keen as ever;
+and, if a silver thread shows here and there in his crisp brown hair,
+Vesta thinks him none the less handsome for that. There is no silver in
+Vesta's own hair; the tawny masses are as beautiful as ever. Her figure
+is a little fuller, as becomes the mother of four. Geoffrey tells the
+children in confidence that their mother is the exact counterpart of the
+Venus of Milo, and says he has no doubt that the latter lady had tawny
+hair. Vesta has put on a simple black dress, but there is no special
+sign of "mourning" about it.
+
+"If anybody puts on crape for me," Mrs. Tree used to say, "I'll get up
+and pull it off 'em. So now they know. Nasty, unhealthy stuff! There's a
+piece to go on the door. Tommy Candy knows where it is; and that's all
+I'll have."
+
+Here is Tommy Candy now, a tall lad of twenty, walking lame and leaning
+on a stick; his hair, which used to stand up in stiff spikes all over
+his head, is brought under some control, but there is no suppressing the
+twinkle in his gray eyes. Even now, when he is in sincere grief for his
+best friend, his eyes will twinkle as he looks out of the window and
+sees the elephantine form of Mrs. Weight lumbering up the garden path.
+And who is this behind her? Talk of crape,--why, here is a figure
+literally swathed in it. The heavy veil is only pushed aside to give
+play to a handkerchief with an inch-deep black border, which is pressed
+to the eyes; a sob shakes the buxom figure. Who is this grief-smitten
+lady? Why, this is Mrs. Maria Darracott Pryor, Mrs. Tree's own and only
+lawful niece, the Next of Kin. She brushes past Vesta and her husband
+with a curt nod, rustles across the room, and lays her head on the arm
+of the ebony chair. At this Homer Hollopeter and Geoffrey Strong both
+start from their seats. Mr. Homer's gentle eyes gleam with unaccustomed
+fire; he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again; for the intruder
+stops--falters--gives a scared look about her, and, tottering back,
+subsides on a sofa at the side of the room. Here she sobs ostentatiously
+behind her handkerchief, and takes eager note of the rest of the
+company.
+
+She was followed by Mrs. Deacon Weight, from across the way, whom
+Direxia admitted "this once!" as she said to herself with silent
+ferocity; William Jaquith and his lovely wife; finally, the lawyer, a
+brisk, dapper little man, who came in quickly, sat down by the
+violet-wood table, and proceeded without delay to open his budget.
+
+"I, Marcia Darracott Tree, being of sound mind, which is more than most
+folks I know are--"
+
+There was a movement, slight but general, among the company. No one
+quite smiled, but the faces of those who had loved Mrs. Tree lightened,
+while those of the others stiffened into a rigidity of disapproval. To
+one and all it seemed as if the ancient woman were speaking to them. The
+little lawyer paused and gave a quick glance around the room.
+
+"It may be well for me to state in the beginning," he said, "that this
+instrument, though beyond question irregular in its form of expression,
+is--equally beyond question--perfectly regular in its substance; an
+entirely valid instrument. To resume: 'of sound mind,'--I need not
+repeat the excursus,--'do hereby dispose of my various belongings, all
+of which are absolutely and without qualification within my own control
+and possession, in the following manner, to wit, namely, and any other
+folderol this man may want to put in.' Ahem! My venerable friend was
+very pleasant with me while I was drawing up this instrument,--very
+pleasant; but she insisted on my writing her exact words.
+
+"'To Vesta Strong I give and bequeath my jewels, with the exceptions
+hereinafter specified; my lace; the velvet and satin dresses in the
+cedar chests; the camel's-hair shawls; the silver, both Darracott and
+Tree; and anything else in the house that she may fancy, with the
+exceptions hereinafter mentioned. She'd better not clutter up her house
+with too many things; it is full enough already, with Blyth and Meredith
+truck.
+
+"'To Geoffrey Strong I give any of my books that he likes, except the
+blue Keats; the engraved sapphire ring, and fifty thousand dollars.
+
+"'Homer Hollopeter is to have the blue morocco Keats, presented by the
+author to my father, because he has always wanted it and never expected
+to get it.'"
+
+The tears brimmed over in Mr. Homer's eyes. "I certainly never did
+expect this," he said, with emotion. "I have held the precious volume in
+my hands reverently--a--humbly--a--with abasement of spirit, but I never
+thought to possess it. I am indeed overcome. Pardon the interruption,
+sir, I beg of you."
+
+The lawyer gave Mr. Homer a look, half-quizzical, half-compassionate.
+"Your name occurs again in this instrument, Homer," he said; "I will not
+say more at present. To resume:
+
+"'To Direxia Hawkes I give five thousand dollars and a home in this
+house as long as she lives, on condition that she never cleans more than
+one room in it at a time, and that she makes the orange cordial every
+year according to my rule, without making any fool changes.'"
+
+Direxia Hawkes, a tiny withered brownie, had been standing by the door
+since she admitted the last comer. She now threw her apron over her head
+and began to sob. "Did you ever?" she cried. "Tell me that woman is
+dead! She's more alive than the hull bilin' of this village, I tell you.
+Sixty years I've been trying to get a mite of ginger into that cordial,
+and now I never shall. There! I don't want to no more, now she ain't
+here to tell me I sha'n't. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
+
+Vesta Strong went to the old woman's side and comforted her tenderly.
+The sobs died away into sniffs, and the lawyer continued:
+
+"'To William Jaquith I leave twenty thousand dollars and the house he
+now occupies; also all the property, real and personal, of my grandson,
+Arthur Blyth, deceased.
+
+"'To my niece, Maria Darracott Pryor,'"--the little lawyer paused and
+glanced over his spectacles. With each of the bequests enumerated, Mrs.
+Pryor had become more and more rigid. The black-edged handkerchief was
+forgotten, and she sat with her chin raised and her prominent
+short-sighted eyes glancing from one to another of the fortunate
+legatees with an expression which, to say the least, was not
+affectionate. "From envy, hatred, and malice," Geoffrey had whispered a
+moment before.
+
+"Hush, Geoffrey," said Vesta.
+
+But at the mention of her own name, Mrs. Pryor's expression changed; the
+rigor yielded to a drooping softness; she heaved a deep sigh and raised
+the handkerchief to her eyes again.
+
+"Dearest Cousin Marcia!" she murmured; "she remembered even in her
+closing moments that I was her next of kin; so touching. The Darracott
+blood--"
+
+"'To my niece, Maria Darracott Pryor, I give and bequeath--the sum
+of--three dollars and sixty-seven cents, being the price of a ticket
+back where she came from. If she tries to stay in my house, tell her to
+remember the _last time_.'
+
+"I greatly regret these discourteous observations," said the little
+lawyer, deprecatingly, "but my venerable friend was--a--positively
+determined on inserting them, and I had no alternative, I assure you."
+
+He looked with some alarm at Mrs. Pryor as he spoke, and, indeed, that
+lady's countenance was dreadful to look upon. Every part of her seemed
+to clink and crackle as she rose to her feet, her eyes snapping, her
+teeth fairly chattering with rage.
+
+"You call this a will, do you?" she cried. "You call this law, do you?
+We'll see about that. We'll see if the next of kin is to be insulted and
+trodden upon by a low attorney and a set of beggars on horseback. We'll
+see--"
+
+But the little lawyer, who came from the neighboring town, had gone to
+the Academy with Maria Darracott, and, though a man of punctilious
+courtesy, had no idea of being called a low attorney by any such person.
+He therefore interrupted her with scant ceremony.
+
+"We must, I fear, postpone discussion," he said, "until the instrument
+has been heard in its entirety by all present. To resume."
+
+Mrs. Pryor glanced about her with challenging eyes and heaving breast,
+but, seeing that no one paid much heed to her, all looks being bent on
+the reader, she subsided once more into her seat, a statue of vindictive
+protest.
+
+"'To Thomas Candy I give five thousand dollars, and another five
+thousand dollars on his attaining the age of twenty-five if he shall
+have been able by that time to carry out the plan and maintain the
+condition now to be specified.'"
+
+The little lawyer paused again and glanced round the expectant circle.
+His shrewd brown face was immovable, but his black eyes twinkled in
+spite of himself.
+
+"I have already observed," he said, "that this instrument is an
+unusual, I may say, a singular one. My venerable friend was most
+emphatic in her enunciation of the following--a--condition, which--which
+I forbear to characterize." He glanced at the empty chair. One would
+have thought that for him it was not empty. Then he went on:
+
+"'The condition now to be specified.
+
+"'To Homer Hollopeter and Thomas Candy I give and bequeath this house
+and garden, the furniture, etc. (after Vesta Strong has taken what she
+wants), the collections of foreign woods, uncut gems, butterflies,
+carved ivories, natural curiosities, shells, coins, etc., etc., etc., to
+be held by them in trust, and arranged by them as a museum for the
+perpetual benefit of this village; and I give them over and above the
+before mentioned legacies two thousand dollars yearly for the
+maintenance of this museum and for additions thereto: all this on
+condition that this village shall resume and maintain its original and
+true name of Quahaug, which it would never have lost if Captain Tree and
+I had not been in the South Seas while that old noddy, Melancthon Swain,
+was minister here.
+
+"'All the rest and residue of my estate I give and bequeath to the
+aforesaid Homer Hollopeter, and I appoint him my residuary legatee, and
+I hope there's fuss enough about it.'"
+
+The little lawyer stopped reading and pushed back his chair. In doing
+so, he may have inadvertently touched the empty chair, for at that
+instant an ebony crutch-stick, which had been leaning against it, fell
+forward on the floor with a loud rattle. Mrs. Pryor shrieked and fell
+into real and violent hysterics. She was supported out of the room by
+Doctor Strong and his wife. Mrs. Weight rolled out after them, snorting
+indignant sympathy, and the assembly broke up in confusion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+WHAT THE MEN SAID
+
+
+I have elsewhere described the village post-office, both as it appeared
+at the time of Mr. Homer Hollopeter's election as postmaster and as
+later adorned and beautified by him.[1] It had been a labor of love with
+Mr. Homer, not only to make the office itself pleasant, to transform it,
+as he said, "into a fitting shrine for the genius of epistolary
+intercourse," but to make the outside of the building pleasant to the
+eye. Clematis and woodbine were trained up the walls and round the
+windows, and the once forlorn-looking veranda was a veritable bower of
+morning-glory and climbing roses.
+
+[Footnote 1: "Mrs. Tree."]
+
+On this veranda, the day after the reading of Mrs. Tree's will, the
+village elders were gathered, as was their custom, awaiting the arrival
+of the afternoon mail. They sat in a row, their chairs tilted back
+against the wall, their faces set seaward. The faces were all grave, and
+a certain solemnity seemed to brood over the little assembly. From time
+to time one or another would take his pipe from his mouth, and the
+others would look at him doubtfully, as if half-expecting a remark, but
+the pipe would be replaced in silence. At length Salem Rock, a massive
+gray-haired man of dignified and sober aspect, spoke.
+
+"Well, boys," he said, "somebody's got to say something, and, as nobody
+else seems inclined, I s'pose it's up to me as the oldest here. Not but
+what I feel like a child to-day,--a little mite of a child. Boys, this
+village has met with a great loss."
+
+There was a general murmur of "That's so!" "It has." "That's what it's
+met with!"
+
+"I can't seem to sense it!" Salem Rock continued. "I can't seem to make
+it anyways real, that Mis' Tree is gone. I can't help but think that if
+I went there to that house to-day, as I was free to go any time I wanted
+anything as good advice could give--or help either--or anybody else in
+this village as ever needed anything--I can't help but think that if I
+went there to that house to-day I should find Mis' Tree sittin' in her
+chair, chirk as a chipmunk, and hear her say, 'Now, Salem Rock, what
+mischief have you been up to?' I was allus a boy to her--we was all
+boys."
+
+"That's so!" the chorus murmured again. "That was what we was; boys!"
+
+"And when I think," Salem Rock went on, "that I shall never more so go
+and so find her again--sittin' in that chair--nor hear her so speak--I
+tell you, boys, it breaks me all up; it doos so."
+
+Again there was a sympathetic murmur; heads were shaken, and feet
+shuffled uneasily. The men were all glad to have a voice for their
+grief, but all had not the gift of speech.
+
+"I remember"--Salem Rock was still the speaker; he was a slow,
+thoughtful man, and gathered momentum as he went on--"the first time
+ever I saw Mis' Tree, to remember it. I couldn't ha' been more than six
+years old, and I was sittin' in the front dooryard makin' mud pies, and
+she came in on some errand to mother. Mother used to spin yarn for her,
+same as my woman does now--did, I'm obleeged to say. Wal, she had on her
+grand bunnit and shawl, and I had never seen nothin' like her before.
+Ma'rm never took me to meetin' till I was seven, and she showed
+judgment. Wal, sirs, that ancient woman--she wasn't ancient then, of
+course, but yet she wasn't young, and she appeared ancient to me--looked
+me over, and spoke up sharp and crisp. 'Stand up, boy,' she says, 'and
+take your hat off; quick!'
+
+"I tell ye, there didn't no grass grow under me! I was up fast as my
+legs could scramble.
+
+"'That's right!' she says; 'always stand up and take off your hat when a
+lady comes into the yard.'
+
+"'Be you a lady?' says I. Lord knows what kind of notion I had; children
+don't always know what they are saying.
+
+"'I am the Queen of the Cannibal Islands!' says she.
+
+"I never misdoubted but what she was, and I didn't know what Cannibal
+Islands meant.
+
+"'What's your name?' says I.
+
+"'I'll tell you what my husband's name is,' says she. 'His name is
+
+    "'Chingy Fungy Wong,
+    Putta-potee da Kubbala Kong,
+    Flipperty Flapperty Busky Bong,
+    The King of the Cannibal Islands.'
+
+"Then she went into the house, and I stood starin' after her with my
+mouth gappin' open. She didn't stay long, and, when she came out again,
+up I jumps without waitin' to be told. She looks at me ag'in, that quick
+way she had, like a bird. 'Finished your pie?' says she.
+
+"'Yes'm,' says I.
+
+"'Is it a good pie?' says she.
+
+"'I guess so!' says I.
+
+"'I'll buy it,' says she. 'Here's the money!' and she gives me a bright
+new ten-cent piece,--it was the first ever I had in my life,--and walked
+off quick and light before ever I could say a word. Well, now, sirs, if
+children ain't cur'us things! I was a slow child most ways,--ben slow
+all my life long, but it come over me then quick as winkin', she had
+paid for that pie, and it was hers, and she'd got to have it. I never
+said a word, but just toddled after down street, holdin' that mud pie as
+if it was Thanksgivin' mince. I couldn't catch up with her; she walked
+almighty fast them days, and my legs were short, but I kep' her red
+shawl in sight, and I see where she went in. Time I got up to the door
+it was shut, but I banged on it in good shape, and D'reckshy Hawkes come
+and opened it. She was allus sharp, D'reckshy was, and she couldn't
+abide no boys but her two, as she called 'em, Arthur and Willy, and they
+weren't neither one of 'em born then.
+
+"'What do you want, boy?' she says, sharp enough.
+
+"'I don't want nothin'!' says I. 'I brung the pie.'
+
+"'What pie?' says she.
+
+"'Her'n,' says I. 'She bought it off'n me; her that went in just now,
+with the red shawl.'
+
+"D'reckshy looked me over, and looked at the pie. I make no doubt but
+she was just goin' to send me about my business, but before she could
+speak I heard Mis' Tree's voice. She had seen me from the window, I
+expect.
+
+"'D'reckshy Hawkes,' she says, 'take that pie into the pantry and send
+the child to me.'
+
+"'My sakes, Mis' Tree!' said D'reckshy, 'it ain't a pie; it's a _mud_
+pie!'
+
+"'Do as I tell you!' says Mis' Tree, and D'reckshy went; but she give me
+a shove toward the parlor door, and there I see Mis' Tree sittin' in her
+chair. That was the first time. Well, sirs, we are all perishable
+clay."
+
+Another silence fell; the pensive pipes puffed; the keen eyes scanned
+the prospect.
+
+"Looks as if 'twas tryin' to git up some kind o' weather out there!"
+said Seth Weaver.
+
+"Doos so!" responded Ebenezer Hoppin. "It's ben tryin' two-three days,
+but it don't seem to have no pertickler _suc_cess."
+
+"Old Mis' Tree hadn't no use for weather," said Jordan Tooke. "Some
+women-folks are scairt to death of a rainstorm; you'd think they were
+afraid of washin' out themselves, same as they be about their clo'es;
+but she wa'n't that kind; rain or snow, shine or shower, she did what
+she had a mind to.
+
+"'Weather never took no heed of me,' she used to say, 'and I ain't goin'
+to take no heed of it.' No more she did!"
+
+Seth Weaver shook his head, with a reminiscent chuckle. "Ever hear what
+she said to that feller that come here one time from Salt Marsh and druv
+the ten-cent team a spell?"
+
+The others shook their heads and turned toward him with an air of
+relief. Collective sorrow is embarrassing to men.
+
+"There wa'n't much to him," said Seth, "and what there was was full half
+the time. He didn't stay here long. This village didn't appreciate him
+the way he liked to be appreciated. Wal, it was snowin' one day, quite a
+storm it was, and Mis' Tree had sent for him,--Anthony bein' laid up or
+somethin'. Ezra Doolittle--that was his name, and it suited him--had bit
+off more jobs than he could swaller, and when he got round to Mis'
+Tree's he was half an hour late, and she told him so pretty plain. He
+had just enough liquor aboard to make him saucy. 'Wal,' he says,
+'you're lucky to git me at all. I've druv from Hell to Jerusalem to git
+here now.'
+
+"Mis' Tree was all ready for him; she spoke up quick as kindlin':
+'You'll git back quicker,' she says, ''cause you know the way.'
+
+"I was just drivin' by on my milk route, and she caught sight of me.
+
+"'Seth,' she says, 'I want to go to Mis' Jaquith's. Can you take me?'
+
+"'I'd be pleased to,' says I, 'if you don't mind the pung, Mis' Tree.'
+
+"She was into that pung before you could say 'sausage!'
+
+"'Whip up!' she says; 'get ahead of that feller!' and I laid into my old
+mare, and off we went kingdom-comin' down the ro'd, me in my old red
+pung and my buffalo coat, and Mis' Tree in her velvet bunnit and fur
+cloak, and that feller standin' in the ro'd with his mouth open, same
+as you were, Salem, with your mud pie. Well, sir, that was a meal o'
+victuals for me. I sent the old mare along for all she was wuth, and we
+got down to Jaquiths' inside of ten minutes. Pretty good time,
+considerin' what the ro'd was. Got there, and out that old lady hops
+like a girl.
+
+"'Good boy, Seth!' she says.
+
+"She wanted to give me a dollar, 'cause she had taken me off my route,
+but I says, 'I guess not, Mis' Tree!' I says. 'I've ben layin' for you
+ever since you helped mother when she had the fever, and now I've got my
+chance!' So she laughs and says, call for her on my way back, and I did;
+but when I found a fourteen-pound turkey sittin' up against my door
+Christmas mornin',--I wasn't buyin' turkeys that year myself,--I knowed
+where it come from, and no words said. But what took me was the way she
+spoke up to that feller. Now some women would have complained, and some
+would have scol't, and they'd all have gone with the feller 'cause he
+had a covered team,--but not she! 'You'll get back quicker,' she says,
+'from knowin' the way!' and into my team like a flash. Gorry! that's the
+kind of woman I like to see."
+
+"You'll never see another like her!" said Salem Rock. "The likes of Mis'
+Tree never has ben seen and never will be seen, not in this deestrick.
+Her tongue was as quick as her heart was kind, and when you say that
+you've said all there is to say. I s'pose there ain't one of us but
+could tell a dozen stories like yours, Seth. I dunno as it's proper to
+tell 'em just now," he paused; "and yet," he continued, "I dunno _but_
+it is. She was--so to say--she was all of a piece. You can't think of
+her without the sharp way she had."
+
+"That's so," Seth assented; "that's so every time. There wa'n't nobody
+thought more of Mis' Tree than what I did, but yet what keeps comin' up
+to me ever since she was laid away is them quick, sharp kind o' things
+she'd say. Now take what she said to Mis' Nudd, Isril Nudd's widder. You
+all know what Isril was; he was mean as dirt and sour as pickles. He'd
+scrimped his wife, and he'd half-starved her, and some said he'd beat
+her, but I never knew how that was. Anyway, Marthy Nudd had as poor a
+time of it as any woman in this village, and everybody knew it. And yet,
+when he died she mourned for him as if he was Moses and Simeon and the
+Angel Gabriel all in one. Well, she come to Mis' Tree beggin' for the
+loan of some shawl or bunnit or toggery to wear, I dunno what; and she
+was goin' on about her poor husband, and how she had tried to do her
+duty by him, and hoped he knew it now he was in heaven, and all that
+kind of talk. Old Mis' Tree let her say about so much and then she
+stopped her. You know the way she'd hit the floor with her stick. Rap!
+that stick would go, and any one's heart would sit right up in their
+boosum.
+
+"'That'll do, Marthy!' she says. 'Now listen to me. You say Isril is in
+heaven?'
+
+"'Oh, yes'm, yes, Mis' Tree,' says Marthy. 'He's numbered with the
+blest, I don't make no doubt on it.'
+
+"'And you've got the four hundred dollars life insurance that you told
+me was due?'
+
+"'Yes'm, that's all safe; my brother's put it in the bank for me.'
+
+"'Very well, Marthy Nudd; if you've got Isril into heaven and got four
+hundred dollars life insurance on him, that's the best piece of work
+ever you done in your life, or ever will do. Cat's foot!' she says;
+'folderol!' she says, 'don't talk to me!' and she shoved her out with
+her stick and wouldn't hear another word. Gorry! I wouldn't ben Marthy
+Nudd--"
+
+"Didn't hurt Marthy none, I expect," said Ebenezer Hoppin. "She's one of
+them kind, sorter betwixt putty and Injia rubber; you can double her up
+easy, but first thing you know she's out smooth again. Some say she's
+liable to marry Elihu Wick, over to the Corner. She'd find him some
+different from Isril."
+
+"What kind of feller is he?" asked Jordan Tooke.
+
+"Oh, a string and shingle man. Give him pork and give him sunset, and he
+won't ask nothin' more. Marthy won't get no four hundred dollars
+insurance on him, but he'll go to heaven all right. There isn't a mite
+o' harm in 'Lihu, and Marthy has earned her rest, I will say."
+
+"Speakin' of insurance," said Salem, slowly, "reminds me we ain't said
+anything about Mis' Tree's will. It is a sing'lar will, boys."
+
+There was a moment's pause. Heads were shaken and feet were shuffled
+uneasily.
+
+"Mighty sing'lar," said Hiram Gray.
+
+"Beats all I ever heard of," said Jordan Tooke.
+
+Seth Weaver kept a loyal silence. Salem gave him a look, and, receiving
+a nod in reply, went on:
+
+"Seth and myself was talkin' it over as we came along, kinder takin' our
+bearin's, and this is the way it looks to us. Mis' Tree was born in this
+village, and lived in it a hundred and two years, and died in it; and
+her folks, the Trees and the Darracotts, have lived and died here since
+there was a village to die in. Not one of them hundred 'n' two
+years--since she was of knowledgeable age,--but she was doin' good--in
+her own way--from the first day of January to the last day of December.
+Not one of us sittin' here on this piazzy but she's done good _to_, one
+way or another. Therefore and thereon-account of--" Salem was obviously
+and justifiably proud of this phrase, and repeated it with evident
+enjoyment; "therefore and thereon-account of, I say, and Seth says with
+me, that if Mis' Tree wanted this village should be called Cat's-foot,
+or Fiddlesticks, or Folderol, or Fudge, I for one and he for another
+would give our votes to have it so called."
+
+A confusion of tongues ensued, some agreeing, some protesting, but,
+while the discussion was at its height, the stage drove up and the day's
+session was over.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+WHAT THE WOMEN SAID
+
+
+A few days after this, the Ladies' Society met at the house of Miss
+Bethia Wax. There had been much discussion among the members of the
+Society as to whether it were fitting to hold a meeting so soon after
+the death of the foremost woman of the parish. Mrs. Worritt said she for
+one would be loth to be found wanting in respect for one who had been,
+as it were, a mile-stone and a beacon-light in that village. Mrs.
+Weight, on the other hand, maintained that business was business, and
+that the heathen in their blindness needed flannel petticoats just as
+much as they did last week. Miss Wax herself, a lady with a strong
+sense of the proprieties, was in doubt as to which course would preserve
+them most strictly. Finally the matter was submitted to Mrs. Geoffrey
+Strong for decision.
+
+"There is only one wish in my mind, Vesta," said Miss Wax, "and that is
+to show the highest respect for our venerable friend, and I speak, I am
+sure, for the whole Society. The question is, how best _to_ show it."
+
+Vesta Strong reflected a moment. "I think, Miss Wax," she said, "it will
+be wisest to hold the meeting. I am quite sure Aunt Marcia would have
+wished it. But you might, perhaps, give it a rather special character;
+make it something of a memorial meeting. What do you think of that?"
+
+Miss Wax's face brightened.
+
+"Excellent," she said. "Vesta, I do think that would be excellent. I am
+real glad I came to you. I will have the room draped in mourning. Tapes
+has some nice black bombazine, a little injured by water, but--"
+
+Vesta suppressed a shudder. "Oh, no, Miss Wax!" she said. "I wouldn't do
+that. Aunt Marcia did not like display of any kind, you know. Your
+pleasant parlors just as they are will be much better, I am sure."
+
+"I do aim at showing my respect!" pleaded Miss Wax. "Perhaps we might
+all wear a crape rosette, or streamer. What do you think of that?"
+
+But Vesta did not think well even of this, and Miss Wax reluctantly
+abandoned the plan of official mourning, though determined to show her
+respect in her own way as regarded her own person. She was a very tall
+woman, with a figure which, in youth, had been called willowy, and was
+now unkindly termed scraggy. She had been something of a beauty, and
+there was a note of the pathetic in her ringlets and the few girlish
+trinkets she habitually wore,--a coral necklace, which at sixteen had
+set off admirably the whiteness of her neck, but which at fifty did not
+harmonize so well with the prevailing sallow tint; a blue enamel locket
+on a slender gold chain, etc. She was very fond of pink, and could never
+forget, poor lady, that Pindar Hollopeter had once called her a lily
+dressed in rose-leaves. But, though a trifle fantastic, Miss Bethia was
+as good a soul as ever wore prunella shoes, and her desire to do honor
+to Mrs. Tree's memory was genuine and earnest. Her soul yearned for the
+black bombazine hangings, but she was loyal to Vesta's expressed wish,
+and contented herself with removing certain rose-colored scarfs and
+sofa-pillows, which on ordinary occasions of entertainment were the
+delight of her eyes. She had gathered all the white flowers she could
+find, and had arranged a kind of trophy of silver coffee-spoons on the
+mantelpiece, surrounding a black velvet band, on which was worked in
+silver tinsel the inscription:
+
+     "HER WE HONOR."
+
+Miss Bethia had meant to have a photograph of Mrs. Tree in the centre of
+this sombre glory, but no photograph was to be had. Mrs. Tree had
+stoutly refused to be photographed, or to have her portrait painted in
+her later years.
+
+"Folderol!" she used to say, when urged by loving friends or relatives.
+"When I go, I'm going, all there is of me. I shall leave my gowns,
+because they are good satin, but I'm not going to leave my old rags, nor
+the likeness of old rags. Cat's foot! don't talk to me!"
+
+So, except the miniature which was Vesta Strong's choicest treasure,
+the portrait of the brilliant, flashing little beauty whom Ethan Tree
+named the Pocket Venus when first he saw her, and whom he vowed then and
+there to woo and win, there was no portrait of Mrs. Tree; but Miss Wax
+put a cluster of immortelles above the inscription, and hoped it would
+"convey the idea."
+
+In her own person, as has already been said, Miss Bethia felt that she
+could brook no dictation, even from Vesta. Accordingly, as the hour of
+the meeting approached, she arrayed herself in a trailing robe of black
+cashmere, with long bands of crape hanging from the shoulders. Examining
+with anxious care her slender stock of trinkets, she selected a mourning
+brooch of the size of a small saucer, which displayed under glass an urn
+and weeping willow in the choicest style of hair jewelry, and two hair
+bracelets, one a broad, massive band clasped with a miniature, the
+other a chain of globules not unlike the rockweed bladders that children
+love to dry and "pop" between their fingers. Hair jewelry survived in
+Elmerton long after it was forgotten in other places. Miss Wax herself
+was a skilful worker in it, and might often be seen bending over the
+curious little round table, from the centre of which radiated numerous
+fine strands of hair, black, brown, or golden, hanging over the edge and
+weighted with leaden pellets. To see Miss Bethia's long fingers weaving
+the strands into braids or chains was a quaint and pleasant sight.
+
+Her toilet completed, the good lady surveyed herself earnestly in the
+oval mirror, gave a gentle sigh, half approval, half regretful
+reminiscence, and went down to the parlor. Here she seated herself in
+her favorite chair and her favorite attitude. The chair was an ancient
+one, of slender and graceful shape; and the attitude--somehow--was a
+good deal like the chair. Both were as accurate reproductions as might
+be of a picture that hung over Miss Bethia's head as she sat, the
+portrait of a handsome young woman with long, black ringlets, arched
+eyebrows, and dark, expressive eyes. Miss Bethia had been said to
+resemble this portrait of her great-great-aunt, and the resemblance was
+one which she was loth to relinquish. Accordingly, she loved to sit
+under it, in the same chair that the picture showed, leaning one elbow
+on the same little table, her cheek resting on the same fingers of the
+same hand,--the index and middle fingers,--while the others curved
+outward at a graceful angle. When seated thus, somebody was pretty sure
+to call attention to the resemblance, and not the most ill-natured
+gossip could grudge Miss Bethia the mild pleasure that beamed in her
+eyes whenever it was noted.
+
+There might be a slight resemblance, she would say modestly. It had been
+remarked upon, she might say, more than once. The lady was her relative,
+and likenesses ran strong in her family.
+
+Tommy Candy had once irreverently named Miss Wax's parlor "the Wax
+Works," and the name had stuck, as naughty nicknames are apt to do. It
+was indeed quite a little museum in itself of the fruit of bygone
+accomplishments. Wax fruit, wax flowers--chiefly roses--in profusion,
+all carefully guarded by glass; pictures in worsted work, pictures in
+hair work, all in home-made frames of pinked leather, of varnished
+acorns, of painted velvet; vases and jars decorated with potichomanie,
+with decalcomanie, with spatter-work. One would think that not one, but
+seven, Misses Wax had spent their entire lives in adorning this one
+room.
+
+But the first guests to arrive on this occasion gave little heed either
+to the room or to the attitude of their hostess, even though, as usual,
+Miss Wax sat still for a moment, with an air of gentle appeal, before
+rising to receive them. Mrs. Deacon Weight is older than when we last
+met her, and her surname is even more appropriate than it was then;
+three hundred pounds of too, too solid flesh are encased in that brown
+alpaca dress, and her inspiration in trimming it with transverse bands
+of black velvet was not a happy one. Mrs. Weight was accompanied by Miss
+Eliza Goby, a lady whose high complexion and protruding eyes made her
+look rather more like a boiled lobster than anything else.
+
+These two ladies, having obeyed the injunction of Miss Wax's handmaid to
+"lay off their things" in the best bedroom, entered the parlor with an
+eager air.
+
+Miss Wax, after her little pause, came forward to meet them.
+
+"Good afternoon, Malvina," she said; "Eliza, I am pleased to see you, I
+am sure. Be seated, ladies, please." She waved her hand gracefully
+toward a couple of chairs, and resumed her attitude, though more from
+force of habit and a consciousness that others more appreciative were
+coming than from any sense of impressing these first comers.
+
+Mrs. Weight seated herself with emphasis, and drew her chair near to
+that of her hostess, motioning her companion to do likewise.
+
+"Bethia," she said, "we came early o' purpose, because we were wishful
+to see you alone for a minute before folks came. We want to know what
+stand you are prepared to take."
+
+"That's it!" said Miss Goby, who had a short, snapping utterance, such
+as a lobster might have if it were endowed with powers of speech. "What
+stand you are prepared to take!"
+
+"Stand?" repeated Miss Wax. "I do not quite comprehend you, ladies. I
+usually rise to receive each guest, and then resume my seat; it seems
+less formal and more friendly; and it fatigues me very much to stand
+long," added the poor lady, with a glance at the portrait.
+
+"Land!" said Mrs. Weight. "That isn't what we mean, Bethia. We mean
+about this will of Mis' Tree's."
+
+"Oh!" said Miss Wax. As she spoke, she sat upright, and the attitude was
+forgotten.
+
+"We are wishful to know," said Mrs. Weight, "whether you think that the
+name of a place is to be changed back and forth to suit the fancy of
+folks as weren't in their right minds, and are dead and buried besides.
+What I say is for this room only, ladies. I am not one to spread abroad,
+and I should be lawth indeed to speak ill of the dead, and them I've
+lived opposite neighbors to for thirty years,--whether neighborly in
+their actions or not, I will not say. But what I do say is, there's them
+in this village as has been browbeat and gormineered over for the hull
+of their earthly sojourn, and _they_ don't propose to be browbeat and
+gormineered over from beyond the grave, in which direction forbid it as
+a Christian and the widder of a sainted man that I should say."
+
+Before Miss Wax could reply, a murmur of voices was heard in the hall,
+and the next moment the Society entered in a body. There were women of
+all ages, from old Mrs. Snow, who now stood in the proud position of
+oldest inhabitant, down to Annie Lizzie Weight, who was only seventeen.
+Miss Penny Pardon was there; Mrs. Pottle, the doctor's wife; and little
+Mrs. Bliss from the parsonage. There were perhaps thirty women in all,
+representing the best society of Elmerton.
+
+Miss Wax received them with a troubled air, very different from her
+usual pensive calm. A red spot burned in the centre of each cheek, and
+her eyes were bright with suppressed excitement. Mrs. Pottle, observing
+her, decided that she was in for a fever, and cast her mind's eye over
+the doctor's engagements for the next few weeks. "She's liable to have a
+long run of it!" said Mrs. Pottle to herself. "I'm thankful that Doctor
+Strong went back yesterday, so the poor soul will have proper
+treatment."
+
+This was not a social, but a working, meeting. Every woman came armed
+with thimble and work-bag, and a large basket being produced, flannel
+and calico were dealt out by Miss Wax, and all set busily to work. But
+Miss Wax, instead of taking up her own needle, exchanged a few words
+with Mrs. Bliss. Mrs. Ware, a sweet-faced woman of fifty, invited by a
+look, joined them, and there was a low-voiced consultation; then Miss
+Wax rose and stood under the portrait and beside the mantelpiece with
+its trophy of black and silver.
+
+"Ladies of the Society," she said; her thin treble voice trembled at
+first, and she fingered her bead reticule nervously, but she gathered
+strength as she went on. "Ladies of the Society, I asked our pastor's
+wife to address you, but Mrs. Bliss has a cold and feels unable so to
+do. I will therefore say a few words, though well aware how unfitted I
+am for such a task." She paused, and touched her lips delicately with a
+black-bordered handkerchief.
+
+"This occasion, ladies, is a mournful one to most--I trust I may say to
+all--in this village. It is some years since--owing to advancing
+years--we have seen Her we honor at the meetings of this Society; but
+she was in former years a prop and a pillar of this Society, as she was
+of this village; and it is the desire of many, as expressed to me, that
+this meeting should be a memorial in honor of--of Her we honor,--Mrs.
+Ethan Tree."
+
+She waved her hand toward the trophy with an air of introducing the
+ladies to it. For the life of her, little Mrs. Bliss could not help
+thinking of the Red Queen's introduction: "Pudding--Alice;
+Alice--Pudding!" Most of the ladies had a confused feeling that they
+ought to rise, and glanced at each other, half getting their work
+together, but Mrs. Bliss remained seated, and they followed her example.
+The little minister's wife had loved Mrs. Tree devotedly, but she had a
+keen sense of the ludicrous; and, after the unseemly recollections
+referred to, she could not help recalling certain words spoken to her in
+a clear, incisive voice not so many weeks ago: "Ladies' Society, child?
+Bah! Parcel of fools! I get all of their society I want, sitting here in
+this chair."
+
+"It would have been my wish," Miss Wax continued, "that the Society
+should have testified _as_ a Society to the fact that this was a
+memorial meeting; it would have been my wish that each lady should wear
+a crape rosette, or the like of that, in token of mourning; but it was
+not agreeable to the family, and, if we wear them in our own hearts,
+ladies, it may do equally as well, if worn sincerely, which I am sure
+most, if not all, do."
+
+She paused again to sigh and lift the handkerchief, with her favorite
+delicate action of the third and fourth fingers.
+
+"This small token," she continued, introducing the trophy anew, "is
+_but_ a small one, and I could wish that gold instead of silver were
+procurable, for gold was the heart of Her we honor, and, though velvet
+does not precisely describe her manner, ladies, still well we know that
+out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh, and the heart being
+golden, the velvet is--a--I am sure--that is to say, velvet and gold are
+often associated as tokens of richness, and--and the nature of Her we
+honor was rich in goodness, and--"
+
+Here poor Miss Wax became hopelessly involved, and taking refuge in a
+fit of coughing, looked imploringly at Mrs. Bliss. Thus silently
+adjured, the little lady rose, and in a few quiet words expressed the
+hearty sympathy of all present in Miss Wax's feeling, and their
+gratitude to her for the graceful tribute she had preferred. A rising
+vote of thanks was then passed, and the Society settled to their labors.
+
+For some time nothing was heard but requests for the shears and
+wonderings, who cut this gore? and the like; but the same thought was in
+all the ladies' minds, and as soon as was practicable the talk began
+again. Miss Eliza Goby nudged Miss Luella Slocum, a sharp-nosed lady
+with one eye that rolled like a marble and another that bored like a
+gimlet.
+
+"You speak, Luella!" she said in a half-whisper. "Speak up and say what
+you said to me and Mrs. Weight this morning."
+
+"I think Mrs. Weight ought to speak up herself," replied Miss Slocum, in
+the same tone. "She's older than me; it behooves her, a deacon's widow
+and all. I don't feel any call to begin, Eliza; though I am ready to
+testify when it comes my turn."
+
+Apparently Mrs. Weight was of the same opinion, for she now began the
+attack cautiously.
+
+"The Society having expressed its views on this subject, Miss Wax and
+ladies, there is another on which I feel we have a call to speak
+together. As one of the oldest present, and the widder of a sainted man,
+I may have my own opinions, and they may be of consequence, or they may
+not; but howbeit, there is them present as has sojourned longer than me
+in this earthly pilgrimage, and I should wish to hear from Mrs. Philena
+Snow as to what are her sentiments in regards to changing the name of
+this village."
+
+Mrs. Snow, an old lady of somewhat bewildered aspect, had learned in the
+course of eighty-odd years that a decided opinion was sometimes a
+dangerous thing. Replying to Mrs. Weight's request, she said that she
+didn't know as it made any perticklar difference to her what the village
+was called; she hadn't very much longer to stay in it, she presumed
+likely. It used to be Quahaug, but some thought that wasn't a pretty
+sounding name, and she didn't know but Elmerton was prettier; and yet
+there was others thought--and so the old lady murmured herself away into
+silence. A confused hubbub of voices arose, but little Mrs. Bliss,
+saying to herself, "Oh, for one hour of Dundee,--one minute of Mrs.
+Tree!" rose to the occasion.
+
+"Ladies," she said, "though this village, Elmerton or Quahaug, whichever
+it is, has grown to seem like home, and a very dear home, to me, I still
+am comparatively speaking a newcomer. I should be very glad if some one
+lady would tell me in a few words how and why the change was originally
+made. Mrs. Ware, perhaps you will be so good!"
+
+Mrs. Ware's gentle face wore a disturbed look, but she responded
+promptly.
+
+"The change was made many years ago, but I remember it distinctly. The
+old Indian name was Quahaug, and no one ever thought of any other name
+till Mr. Swain came to be pastor here. Mrs. Swain had a poetic turn, and
+she thought Quahaug an awkward-sounding name, and made considerable talk
+to that effect round the village. A petition to the Legislature was
+circulated, and many people signed it, and so the name was changed to
+Elmerton. Mrs. Tree was away at the time, on a voyage around the world,
+and when she came back she was much incensed, I remember, and expressed
+herself strongly. I always thought it a pity myself to change the old
+name."
+
+"Phoebe Blyth was for the change," said Miss Eliza Goby. "Phoebe
+and I were of one mind on the subject."
+
+"It's the only time you ever were!" thought Miss Wax, but she did not
+speak the thought.
+
+"Phoebe Blyth had some peculiar ideas," said Mrs. Weight, "but she
+showed her sense that time. Mis' Swain was a beautiful woman, and her
+ideas was beautiful simularly. Why, she wrote an elegant poem about it:
+
+    "'Sure ne'er a village 'neath the sun
+    More lovely is than Elmerton.'
+
+Those were the first lines. I've got it copied out at home. I never
+thought Homer Hollopeter's poetry was a patch on Mis' Swain's."
+
+"Homer was strong against the change," said Miss Wax. "Both Homer and
+Pindar, and two more intellectual men this village has never seen. I
+don't wish to say anything against Mrs. Swain, but I for one never
+thought she had anything like Homer's gift. He was asked to write a poem
+on the subject, but he said his Muse scorned such a name as Elmerton."
+
+"It's the first thing ever his Muse did scorn, I guess," retorted Miss
+Luella Slocum. "It's my belief Homer would write verses to a scarecrow
+if he had nothing else to write about."
+
+"I didn't know he ever wrote any to you, Luella," said Miss Penny
+Pardon, her usually gentle spirit roused to anger by this attack on one
+whom she considered a great though unappreciated poet.
+
+"Ladies! ladies!" said little Mrs. Bliss, "pray let us keep to the
+point. We are not here to discuss Mr. Hollopeter's poetry. Perhaps we
+would better change the subject altogether, and confine our conversation
+to subjects connected with our work."
+
+"Excuse _me_, Mrs. Bliss!" said Mrs. Weight. "Though well aware that
+since the death of the sainted man whose name I bear, I am of no account
+in this village, still I _have_ my feelings and I _am_ a human
+being,--deny it who can,--and, while I have breath to speak,--which by
+reason of spasms growing on me may not be long,--I will protest against
+changing the name of this village back to heathen and publican names,
+from which it was rescued by them as now fills mansions in the sky. I
+would not wish to be understood as reflecting on anybody, and I name no
+names; but them as has lived on flowery beds of ease, no matter how
+long, cannot expect to gormineer over this village to all eternity; and
+so I proclaim,--hear me who will."
+
+Mrs. Weight had risen to her feet, and stood heaving and panting, a
+mountain of protest. Mrs. Bliss would have interfered, to pour oil on
+the troubled meeting, but before she could speak the tall form of Miss
+Bethia Wax had risen, and stood rigid, pointing to the trophy.
+
+"Ladies of the Society," she said, "and our honored pastor's wife: I
+cannot sit still and listen to words which are aimed at Her we honor.
+This is a memorial meeting, sanctioned as such by the family of Her we
+honor. She died as she lived, with this village on her mind and in her
+heart, and she has given of her basket and her store, her treasures of
+earth and treasures of sea, and gems of purest ray serene; she has given
+all, save such as needed by the family, to this village, to have and to
+hold till death do them part; and what I say is, shame upon us if we
+cannot obey the wishes of Her we honor, our benefactress, who wafts us
+from the other shore her parting benediction!"
+
+But neither Mrs. Bliss nor Miss Wax could longer stem the tide of
+speech. It ran, swelled, overflowed, a torrent of talk.
+
+"Never in my born days!"
+
+"I'd like to know who had the right if she hadn't!"
+
+"I s'pose we've got some rights of our own, if we ain't rich in this
+world's goods."
+
+"I should laugh if we were to change back at this time of day."
+
+"I should like to remind you, Mrs. Weight, that--
+
+    "'While the lamp holds out to burn,
+    The vilest sinner may return!'"
+
+"Mrs. Bliss and ladies: I have not lived in this village seventy years
+to be called the vilest sinner in it. I appeal to this society if names
+is to be called at a meeting where the members are supposed to be
+Christians--"
+
+But Mrs. Bliss, though little, could, like Hermia, be fierce, and it
+was in a very peremptory tone that she exclaimed:
+
+"The discussion on this subject is closed. Sister Slocum, will you give
+out the hymn?" and Miss Luella Slocum, one eye gleaming hatred and the
+other malice, announced that the Society would now join in singing
+"Blest be the tie that binds!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MOSTLY GOSSIP
+
+
+     "MY DEAR DOCTOR STRONG:--The deed is done! The selectmen met last
+     night, and voted to memorialize the Legislature in regard to
+     changing the name of the village; and, as the rest is a mere matter
+     of business routine, I think we may regard the thing as settled.
+     So, as dear Mrs. Tree said, 'Hooray for Quahaug!' The vote was not
+     unanimous; that was hardly to be expected. John Peavey was opposed
+     to the change, so was George Goby; but the general sentiment was
+     strong in favor of carrying out Mrs. Tree's wishes. That, of
+     course, is the real issue, and it is beautiful to see the spirit
+     of affection and loyalty that animates the majority of our people.
+     Surely, our beloved old friend has built herself a monument _aere
+     perennio_ in the hearts of her neighbors.
+
+     "I write this hasty line, feeling sure that you and Mrs. Strong
+     will be anxious to hear the outcome of the meeting.
+
+     "With kindest regards to both, and affectionate greeting to the
+     little flock, believe me always
+
+     "Faithfully yours,
+
+     "JOHN BLISS."
+
+The little minister sealed and addressed his note, then took his hat and
+stick and started for the post-office.
+
+"You won't forget my pink worsted, John!" and Mrs. Bliss popped her
+pretty head out of the window.
+
+"Certainly not, my dear! certainly not!" said Mr. Bliss, with an air of
+collecting his wits hurriedly. "Pink worsted; to be sure! At Miss
+Pardon's, I presume?"
+
+"Of course! Saxony; you have the sample in your pocket, pinned into an
+envelope. Two skeins, John dear. Now do you think you can get that
+right? It is a shame to make you do such things, but I cannot leave
+Baby, and he really needs the jacket."
+
+"Of course, Marietta; of course, my dear! You know I am only too glad to
+help in little ways; I wish I could do more!"
+
+"It is so little a man can do!" he reflected, as he paced along the
+village street; "and Marietta's care is incessant. Motherhood is a
+blessed but a most laborious state."
+
+Arrived at the post-office, he found Seth Weaver perched on a ladder,
+inspecting the weather-beaten sign-board, which bore the legend,
+"Elmerton Post-office."
+
+"Good morning, Seth!" said the little minister.
+
+[Illustration: "'GOOD MORNING, SETH!' SAID THE LITTLE MINISTER"]
+
+"Same to you, Elder!" replied Seth, taking his pipe from his mouth.
+"Nice day! I was lookin' to see whether we'd need us a new sign, but I
+guess this board'll do, come to scrape and plane it. It's a good pine
+board; stood a lot o' weather, this board has. My father painted this."
+
+"Did he so, Seth?" said Mr. Bliss. "I was not aware that your father was
+a painter."
+
+"Painter, carpenter, odd-job man, same's me! He learned me all his
+trades, and too many of 'em. It would be money in my pocket to-day if I
+didn't know the half of 'em."
+
+Seth sat down on the top round of the ladder--it was a short one--and
+took out his knife and a bit of soft wood. The minister sighed, thinking
+of his sermon at home half-written, but accepted the unspoken
+invitation.
+
+"How is that, Seth?" he asked, cheerfully.
+
+Seth settled himself comfortably--it is not every man who can sit
+comfortably on a ladder--and, squaring his shoulders, began to whittle
+complacently.
+
+"Wal, Elder, it stands to reason," he said. "A man can be one thing, or
+he can be two things; but when he starts out to be the hull string of
+fish, he ends by not bein' nary one of 'em. It takes all of a thing to
+make the hull of it; yes, sir. I don't mean that Father was that way;
+Father was a smart man; and I've tried to make a shift to keep up with
+the tail of the procession myself; but I tell ye there's ben times when
+I've wished I didn't know how to handle a livin' thing except my
+paint-brush. Come spring, I tell ye I lose weight, projeckin' round this
+village. One wants his blinds painted right off day before yesterday,
+and another'll get his everlastin' if his roof isn't mended before
+sundown. It's 'Oh, Seth, when be you comin' to hang that bell-wire?' and
+'Seth, where was you yesterday when you wasn't mendin' that gate-post?'
+and--I dono! sometimes I get so worked up I think I'll do the way Father
+did. Father never bothered with 'em. He just laid out his week to suit
+himself. Two days he'd paint, and two days he'd odd-job, and two days
+he'd fish. Further and moreover, whatever he was doin', he'd do it his
+own way. Paintin' days, he'd use the paint he had till he used it up.
+Didn't make no difference what folks said to him; he was just that deef
+he only heard what he wanted to, and he didn't care. Gorry! I can see
+him now, layin' on the blue paint on old Mis' Snow's door, and she
+screechin' at him, 'Green! green, I tell ye! I want it green!' Old
+Father, he never took no notice, and that door stayed blue till it wore
+off. Yes, sir! that was the way to handle 'em; but I can't seem to fetch
+it. Guess I was whittled out of a softer stick, kind o' popple stuff,
+without no spunk to it. A woman tells me she must have a new spout to
+her pump or she'll die, and I'm that kind of fool I think she will, and
+leave all else to whittle out that pump-spout. Wal, it takes all kinds.
+That was quite a meetin' last night, Elder."
+
+"It was indeed," Mr. Bliss assented. "A notable meeting, Seth. As I have
+just been writing to Doctor Strong, it was a great pleasure to find the
+feeling so nearly unanimous in regard to carrying out the wishes of our
+revered friend."
+
+Seth grinned.
+
+"Yes!" he said. "Me and Salem saw to that."
+
+"Saw to it?" repeated Mr. Bliss.
+
+"We went round and sized folks up, kind of; you know the way, Elder;
+same as you do come parish-meetin' time. No offence! There don't
+everybody know which way they're goin' to jump till you tell 'em. Most
+of 'em was all right enough, and saw reason good, same as we did, for
+doin' as Mis' Tree wished done; but there's some poor sticks in every
+wood-pile; John Peavey's one of 'em. Gorry! I guess likely he'll be some
+further down the ro'd before he gets _his_ shack painted, unless he doos
+it himself. That'll be somethin' tangible for him, as Old Man Butters
+said."
+
+He paused, and a twinkle came into his eyes; but the minister did not
+twinkle back.
+
+"You've heerd of Uncle Ithe's last prayer-meetin'?" said Seth. "No? now
+ain't that a sight!"
+
+He came down a round or two, and settled himself afresh, the twinkle
+deepening. "Uncle Ithe--Old Man Butters, Buffy Landin' Ro'd--you
+remember him, Elder?"
+
+"Surely! surely! I remember Mr. Butters well, but I cannot recall his
+having attended a prayer-meeting during my incumbency in Elm--I would
+say Quahaug."
+
+Seth chuckled. "No more you would," he said. "No more he did. 'Twas
+before you come, in Mr. Peake's time. Elder Peake, he was a good man;
+I've nothin' to say against him; he meant well, every time. But he was
+one of those kind o' men, he had his two-foot rule in his pants pocket,
+and, if you squared with that, you was all right, and, if you didn't,
+you was all wrong. Now some folks is like a two-foot rule, and some is
+like a kedge-anchor, and the Lord made 'em both, I expect; but Elder
+Peake, he couldn't see it that way, and he took it into his head that
+Uncle Ithe warn't doin' as he should. Old Uncle Ithe--I dono! he had a
+kind o' large way with him, as you might say; swore some, and made too
+free with Scripture, some thought; did pretty much as he was a mind to,
+but cal'lated to live square, and so did--'cordin' to his idees, and
+mine. You might say Uncle Ithe was like--wal, like this hammer. He
+couldn't rule a straight line, mebbe, but he'd hit the nail every time.
+Wal, Elder Peake met up with him one day, and spoke to him about his way
+of life. 'I'd like to see things a trifle different with you, Mr.
+Butters,' he says; 'man of your age and standin',' he says, 'ought to be
+an example,' he says. You know the way they talk--excuse me, Elder. Some
+of 'em, I would say. Nothin' personal, you understand."
+
+"I understand, Seth; pray go on."
+
+"'What do ye mean?' says Uncle Ithe. 'What have I been a-doin' of,
+Elder?'
+
+"'Oh, nothin' tangible,' says Mr. Peake, 'nothin' tangible, Mr.
+Butters. I hear things now and again that don't seem just what they
+should be in regards to your spiritual condition,--man of your age and
+standin', you understand,--but nothin' tangible, nothin' tangible!' And
+he waved himself off, a way he had, as if he was tryin' to fly before
+his time.
+
+"Old Uncle Ithe, he never said a word, only grunted, and worked his
+eyebrows up and down, the way _he_ had; but come next prayer-meetin',
+there he was, settin' up in his pew, stiff as a bobstay, with his eye on
+the elder. Elder Peake was tickled to death to think he'd got the old
+man out, and when he'd had his own say, he sings out: 'Brother Butters,
+we should be pleased to hear a few remarks from you.'
+
+"Old Uncle Ithe, he riz up kind o' slow, a j'int at a time, till he
+stood his full hei'th. Gorry! I can see him now; he seemed to fill the
+place. He looks square at Elder Peake, and he says: 'Darn your old
+prayer-meetin'!' he says. 'There's somethin' tangible for ye!' he says;
+and off he stumped out the room, and never set foot in it ag'in. I tell
+ye, he was a case, old Uncle Ithe."
+
+"I think he was, Seth!" said Mr. Bliss, laughing. "I am rather glad, do
+you know, that I only knew him later, when age had--in a
+degree--mellowed his disposition."
+
+At this moment Will Jaquith put his head out of the post-office window.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Bliss!" he said. "There's another story about Old Man
+Butters that Seth must tell you, if you have not already heard it,--
+about the trouble with his second wife."
+
+Seth twinkled more than ever. "Sho!" he said. "That's last year's
+p'tetters. I make no doubt Elder Bliss has heard that a dozen times."
+
+"Not once, I assure you, Seth," said Mr. Bliss. "I shall be glad to hear
+it, and then I really must--" he checked himself. Was not this an
+opportunity, come to him unsought? Seth Weaver was not as regular at
+church as could be wished.
+
+"Pray let me hear the anecdote!" he said, heartily. "And yet," he added
+to himself, "I caution my people against listening to gossip,--life is a
+tangled skein."
+
+"That was before I was born or thought of," said Seth. "Uncle Ithe's
+second wife was Drusilly Sharp (his fust was a Purrington), and she was
+a Tartar. Gra'm'ther Weaver told me this; she was own sister to Uncle
+Ithe. Gra'm'ther used to say there warn't another man under the canopy
+could have lived with Drusilly Sharp only her brother Ithuriel. As I was
+sayin' a spell back, he had a kind o' large way of lookin' at things.
+Gra'm'ther says to him once: 'I don't see how you stand it, Ithuriel,'
+she says. 'I don't stand it,' says Uncle Ithe. 'I git out from under
+foot, and wait till the clouds roll by,' he says. 'Spells she gets out
+of breath, and them's the times I come into the kitchen. There's where a
+farmer has the pull,' he says. 'Take a city man, and when he's in the
+house he's in it, and obleeged to stay there. But take a farmer, and, if
+it's hot in the kitchen, he's got the wood-shed, and, when you're
+choppin', you can't hear what she's sayin',' he says. 'Somebody's got to
+put up with Drusilly,' he says, 'and I'm used to it, same as I am red
+pepper on my hash.'
+
+"Wal, one day Uncle Ithe come home, and she warn't there. He found a
+note on the dresser, sayin' she warn't comin' back, she couldn't stand
+it no longer. Land knows what _she_ had to stand! She had baked bread
+and pies, she said (she was a master good cook), and the beans was in
+the oven, and that was all there was to it, from his truly Drusilly
+Butters.
+
+"Wal, Uncle Ithe studied over it a spell, and then he sot down and _he_
+wrote a note, and this was the way it read:
+
+"'Whereas my wife Drusilly has left my bed and board while I was down to
+Tupham diggin' clams, and whereas I never give her reason good for so
+doin', resolved that all persons is warned to pay no bills of her
+contractin' from now on; but the cars will run just the same.'
+
+"Signed his name out in full, and sent it to the paper. I got it now to
+home, in Gra'm'ther's scrap-book. Yes, sir, that was Uncle Ithe all
+over."
+
+"And what was the outcome of it, Seth?" asked Mr. Bliss.
+
+"Oh, she come back! He knew she would. She stayed with her folks a
+spell, and they reasoned with her; and then she saw the notice in the
+paper, and that made her so mad she run all the way home. Uncle Ithe was
+settin' in the kitchen smokin' his pipe, at peace with all mankind, when
+she run in, all out of breath, and mad as hops. 'You take that notice
+out the paper, Ithuriel Butters!' she hollers. 'You're the meanest
+actin' man ever I see in my life, and the ugliest, and so I've come to
+tell you.' And then she couldn't say another word, she'd run that fast
+and was that mad.
+
+"Uncle Ithe took his pipe out of his mouth, and turned round and give
+her a look, and then put it back.
+
+"'How do, Drusilly?' he says. 'I was lookin' for you,' he says. 'I'm on
+the last pie now.' And that was every word he said about it, or she,
+either."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+IN MISS PENNY'S SHOP
+
+
+The Reverend John Bliss walked homeward, revolving many things. Seth's
+stories, the vexed question of prayer-meetings, the Second Epistle to
+the Hebrews, from which his text was taken, Mrs. Tree's will, and the
+New England character (Mr. Bliss was a Minnesota man) made an intricate
+network of thought which so absorbed his mind that his feet carried him
+whithersoever they would.
+
+"A tangled skein!" he said aloud, shaking his head; "a tangled skein!"
+and then he stopped abruptly, looked about him, and began to retrace his
+steps hurriedly. He had forgotten the pink worsted.
+
+The little minister entered Miss Penny Pardon's shop with an air of
+nervous apology, and an inward shiver. He hated women's shops; he was
+always afraid of seeing crinoline, or hair-curlers, or some other
+reprehensibly feminine article.
+
+"Why will they?" he murmured to himself, as even now his unwilling eye
+lighted on a "Fluffy Fedora." "Why will--oh, good morning, Miss Pardon;
+a beautiful morning after the rain."
+
+"Good mornin', Mr. Bliss!" said Miss Penny, with a beaming smile.
+"You're quite a stranger, ain't you? Yes, sir, 'tis elegant weather; and
+the rain, too, so seasonable yesterday. I think weather most always _is_
+seasonable right along; far as I've noticed, that is. Pleasant to see
+spring comin', isn't it, Mr. Bliss? Not but what I've enjoyed the
+winter, too, real well. I think the snow's real pretty, specially _in_
+winter. That's right; yes, sir, we should be thankful for all. Was there
+anything I could do for you to-day, Mr. Bliss?"
+
+"Yes! yes, Miss Pardon," said Mr. Bliss, nervously. "I--that is--Mrs.
+Bliss desired some pink--pink--worsted, I think it was. Yes, I am quite
+positive it was pink worsted. Have you the article?"
+
+He looked relieved, and met Miss Penny's eye almost hardily.
+
+"Worsted, sir? Yes, indeed, we keep it. What kind did she wish, Mr.
+Bliss? Single zephyr, do you think it was, or Germantown?"
+
+Miss Penny's tone was warmly sympathetic; she always felt for gentlemen
+who came on such errands.
+
+"They feel like a fish on a sidewalk," she would say; "real homesick!"
+
+Mr. Bliss pondered. "I--I think it _was_ a German town," he said,
+slowly. "I am almost positive it was a German town,--or province; the
+exact name escapes me. Hanover, perhaps? Nassau? Saxe-Coburg? I incline
+to think it was Saxe-Coburg, Miss Pardon. Have you the article?"
+
+It was Miss Penny's turn to look puzzled. "We don't keep that, sir," she
+said. "I don't know as I ever heard of it. All we keep is Germantown and
+Saxony, and--"
+
+"That is it!" cried the little minister. "Saxony! to be sure! Saxony, of
+course. And--yes, I have a sample--somewhere!"
+
+He felt in his pockets, and produced a parish circular, a calendar, a
+note-book, a fishing-line, and finally the envelope containing the
+sample.
+
+Miss Penny beamed at sight of it. "Yes, sir, we have it," she announced,
+joyfully.
+
+"Mis' Bliss got it here only last week. How much did she say, Mr.
+Bliss?"
+
+"Two pounds," said Mr. Bliss, promptly and decidedly.
+
+"Two--" Miss Penny looked aghast. "Why, we don't generally--I doubt if
+we have that much in the store, Mr. Bliss. Was she goin' to make a
+slumber robe?"
+
+"It was--I think--for an infant's jacket," Mr. Bliss hazarded, looking
+sidelong at the door. These things were hard to bear; harder than
+Marietta knew; yet how gladly should he do it for her, on that very
+account. He turned an appealing glance on Miss Penny. "An infant's
+jacket would not, you think, require two pounds?" he asked.
+
+"A jacket for your little Beauty Darlin', to be sure! She bought a
+pattern, too, I remember, a shell border, and then--don't you believe
+p'r'aps it was skeins she said, Mr. Bliss, instead of pounds? I presume
+most likely it was." Her voice was tender now, as if addressing a little
+child.
+
+"You are probably right, Miss Penelope," said the minister, dejectedly.
+"I seem to have singularly little faculty for these matters. Two
+skeins--ah, yes! I perceive it is so written here on the envelope. I beg
+your pardon, Miss Penelope!"
+
+"You've no need to, Mr. Bliss, not a mite!" cried Miss Penny. "We all
+make mistakes, and, if you never done anything worse than this, you'd be
+sure of the Kingdom. Not but what you are anyways, I expect. Gentlemen
+don't have any call to know about fancy work as a rule, especially a
+pastor, whose mind on higher things is set; you remember the hymn. There
+is those, though, that finds comfort in it, same as a woman doos. I knew
+a gentleman once who used to come and get his worsted of me just as
+regular! _He_ crocheted for his nerves; helped him to sleep, so he
+thought, and it _is_ real soothin', but he's dead and buried now. I
+often think, times when I hear of a man bein' nervous and crotchety
+about the house, there! I think, if he'd only set down and crochet a
+spell, or knit, one of the two, what a comfort it would be to him and
+his folks. We're made as we are, though; that's right. Was there
+anything more, Mr. Bliss? Twenty cents; thank _you_, sir. Real pleased
+you came in; call again, won't you? _Good_ morning!"
+
+Miss Penny looked anxiously after the minister as he walked away. "I do
+hope he'll get that home safe!" she said. "I set out to ask him if he
+didn't think he'd better put it in his pocket, but I was afraid he might
+think me forth-puttin'. Like as not he'll forget every single thing
+about it, and drop it right in the street. There! I don't see _why_
+men-folks is so forgetful, do you, Sister? Not that they are all alike,
+of course."
+
+"Some ways they are," said Miss Prudence.
+
+Miss Prudence was invisible, but the door between the shop and her
+sanctum was always ajar, for she liked to hear what was going on.
+
+"I never see the man yet that I'd trust to carry a parcel home; not a
+small parcel, that is. If it's a whole dress, he'll take it all right,
+if he takes it at all; but give him a small parcel that wants to be
+carried careful, and he'll drop it, or else scrunch it up in his pocket
+and forget it. I've got to run up these brea'ths now; Miss Wax is comin'
+at eleven to try on."
+
+There was a silence, broken only by the cheerful whir of the
+sewing-machine, and the still more cheerful voice of Miss Penny cooing
+to her birds. She hopped from one cage to another, feeding, stroking,
+caressing.
+
+"You're lookin' dumpy to-day, darlin'," she said, addressing a rather
+battered-looking mino bird. "There! the fact is, you ain't so young as
+once you was. You're like the rest of us, only you don't know it, and we
+do--some of us! Here's a nice bit of egg for you, Beauty; that'll shine
+you up some, though I do expect you've seen your best days. Luella
+Slocum told me she expected me to make this bird over as good as new,
+Sister. I told her I guessed what ailed him was the same as did the rest
+of us. Stop the clock tickin', I told her, and she'd stop his trouble
+and hers as well. She was none too well pleased. She'd just got her a
+new front from Miss Wax, and not a scrap of gray in it. She'd ought to
+sing 'Backward, turn backward,' if anybody ought. There!" The
+exclamation had a note of dismay in it.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Miss Prudence; the machine had stopped, and
+her mouth was apparently full of pins.
+
+"Why, I never thought to ask Mr. Bliss how Mr. Homer was, and he just
+the one to tell us. Now did you ever! Fact is, when he come in, I hadn't
+got my face straight after that woman askin' for mesmerized petticoats.
+I was shakin' still when I see Mr. Bliss comin', and my wits flew every
+which way like a scairt hen. But speakin' of petticoats reminds me,
+Tommy Candy was in this mornin' while you was to market, and _he_ said
+Mr. Homer was re'l slim. 'Pestered with petticoats' was what he said,
+and I said, 'What do you mean, Tommy Candy?' and he said, 'Just what I
+say, Miss Penny,' he said. 'I guess you and Miss Prudence are the only
+single or widder women in Quahaug that ain't settin' their caps for Mr.
+Homer,' he said. And I said, 'Tommy Candy, that's no way for you to
+talk, if you _have_ had money left you!' I said. He said he knew it
+wasn't, but yet he couldn't help it, and you and I had always ben good
+to him sence his mother died. He has a good heart, Tommy has, only he
+doos speak up so queer, and love mischief. But he says it's a fact, they
+do pester Mr. Homer, Sister. There! it made me feel fairly ashamed.
+'Don't tell me Miss Bethia Wax is one of 'em,' I said, 'because I
+shouldn't believe you if you did,' I said. 'Well, I won't,' he said,
+'for she ain't; she's a lady.' But some, he said, was awful, and he
+means to stand between; he don't intend Mr. Homer should marry anybody
+except he wants to, and it's the right one. Seemed to have re'l good
+_i_deas, and he thinks the world of Mr. Homer. I like Tommy; he has a
+re'l pleasant way with him."
+
+"You'd make cream cheese out of 'most any skim-milk, Sister," said Miss
+Prudence, kindly. "Not but what Tommy has improved a vast deal to what
+he was. It's his lameness, I expect."
+
+"That's right!" cried little Miss Penny, the tears starting to her round
+brown eyes. "That's it, Sister, and that's what turns my heart to the
+boy, I expect. So young, and to be lame for life; it is pitiful."
+
+"He did what he had a mind to do," said Miss Prudence, grimly. "He had
+no call to climb that steeple, as I know of."
+
+"Oh, Sister, there's so many that has no call to do _as_ they do, and
+yet many times they don't seem to get their come-uppance, far as we can
+see; I expect they do, though, come to take it in the yard _or_ the
+piece. But, howsoever, Mis' Tree has done handsome by Tommy, and he has
+a grateful heart, and means to do his part by Mr. Homer and the
+_Mu_seum, I feel sure of that. Sister, do you suppose Pindar Hollopeter
+is alive? Seem's though if he was, he'd come home now, at least for a
+spell: Homer in affliction, as you may say, and left with means and all.
+How long is it since he went away?"
+
+"Thirty years," said Miss Prudence. "I always thought it was a good
+riddance to bad rubbidge when Pindar went away."
+
+"Why, Sister, he was an elegant man, flighty, but re'l elegant; at
+least, so he appeared to me; I was a child then. Why did he go, Sister?
+I never rightly understood about it."
+
+"He went from flightiness," said Miss Prudence. "Him and Homer was both
+crazy about Mary Ashton, and Pindar asked her to have him. She'd as soon
+have had the meetin'-house weathercock, and when she told him so,--I
+don't mean them words; Mary would have spoke pleasant to the Father of
+Evil."
+
+"Why, Sister!"
+
+"Well, she would. Anyhow, when she said no, he made sure she was going
+to have Homer, and off he went, and never come back. So that's _his_
+story."
+
+"I want to know!" said Miss Penny. "But she never--"
+
+"She never cast a look at ary one of 'em. She give her heart to George
+Jaquith to break, and he done it; and now he's dead, and so is she. But
+Homer is alive, and so is Pindar, for all I know. He never liked here as
+Homer did; he always wanted to get away, from a boy. Old Mis' Hollopeter
+run a great resk, I always thought, the way she brought up those two
+boys, fillin' their heads with poetry and truck. If she had learned 'em
+a good trade, now, it would be bread in their mouths this day; not that
+Homer is ever likely to want now. I wish't he'd marry Bethia Wax."
+
+"I don't know, Sister Prudence," said Miss Penny, who was romantic.
+"Some is cut out for a single life, and I think's it's real pretty to
+see a man faithful to the ch'ice of his youth."
+
+"Ch'ice of his grandmother!" retorted Miss Prudence, sharply. "Don't
+talk foolishness, Penny! A woman can get along single, and oftentimes do
+better, and it's meant some of 'em should, or there wouldn't be so many
+extry; but leave a man alone all his life, and either he dries up or
+else he sploshes out, and either way he don't amount to what he should.
+They ain't got enough _to_ 'em, someways. There! this is ready to try
+on, and Miss Wax ain't here. She said she'd be here by eleven."
+
+"I see her comin' now," cried Miss Penny. "It's just on the stroke;
+she's 'most always punctual. She has a re'l graceful, pretty walk. _I_
+think Miss Wax is a fine-lookin' woman, though a little mite more flesh
+would set good on her."
+
+"Her clo'es would set better on her if she had it," said Miss Prudence.
+"I know that. I don't know but I'd sooner fit a bolster than a
+bean-pole."
+
+"Hush, Sister, for pity's sake! Good mornin', Miss Wax. You're right on
+the dot, ain't you? I was just sayin' to Sister how punctual you always
+was. Yes'm, we're smart; the same old story, peace and poverty. You can
+go right in, Miss Wax; Sister's expectin' you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE SORROWS OF MR. HOMER
+
+
+"Morning, Direxia," said Will Jaquith. "How is Mr. Homer this morning?
+Better, I hope, than he was feeling yesterday."
+
+Direxia Hawkes laid down her duster, and turned a troubled face to the
+visitor. "There!" she said, "I'm glad you've come, Willy. I can't do
+nothin' with that man. He ain't eat a thing this day, only just a mossel
+of toast and a sosser of hominy. It's foolishness, I will say. Mis' Tree
+may have had her ways,--I expect we all do, if all was known,--but I
+will say she eat her victuals and relished 'em. I don't see why or
+wherfore I was left if there ain't anybody ever going to eat anythin'
+in this house again; there! I don't."
+
+"Oh, Dexy, don't be foolish!" said Will. "I'm coming out this minute to
+get a doughnut. You will have to live till my wife learns to make as
+good ones as yours, and that will be some time. Just wait till I see Mr.
+Homer a minute, and then I'll come out and make love to you, you dear
+old thing."
+
+Direxia brightened. "Don't she make 'em good?" she asked. "Well, she's
+young yet. I dono as I had just the hang of 'em when I was her age.
+Doughnuts is a thing you've got to have the hang of, I've always said."
+
+She retired, beaming, to heap goodies on fine china dishes for her
+darling, and Jaquith turned his steps toward "the Captain's room." This
+was a small room looking out over the harbor, and had been Captain
+Tree's special sanctum. It was fitted like a ship's cabin, with lockers
+and swinging shelves, all in teak-wood and brass. On the walls were
+ranged telescopes, spyglasses, and speaking-trumpets of all sizes and
+varieties, and over the desk hung a picture of the good ship _Marcia D._
+of Quahaug, Ethan Tree, master. This picture was a triumph of Japanese
+embroidery, having been done in colored silks while the ship lay in the
+harbor of Nagasaki, and, next to his wife's miniature, it was the
+Captain's most precious possession. The year after it was made, the
+_Marcia D._ had gone down in a typhoon in the South Seas: all hands were
+saved, to be tossed about for three days on a life-raft, and then tossed
+ashore on a wild island. The bright shells which framed the picture had
+been picked up by his wife on the shore, where she watched all day for a
+coming sail, while master and mariners caught fish and turtles, and
+gathered strange fruits for her, their lady and their queen. Ethan Tree
+used to say that that week on the island was one of the best in his
+life, even though he had lost his ship.
+
+"True blue!" he would murmur, looking up at the picture. "She showed her
+colors that time. She never flinched, little Marcia. Her baby coming,
+and not a woman or a doctor within a thousand miles; but she never
+flinched. Only her cheeks flew the flag and her eyes signalled, when I
+sung out, 'Sail ho!' True blue, little wife!"
+
+Now, instead of the stalwart figure of Captain Tree, the slender form of
+Mr. Homer Hollopeter occupied, but did not fill, the chair beneath the
+picture. The little gentleman sat huddled disconsolately over some
+papers, and it was a melancholy face that he lifted in response to Will
+Jaquith's cheery "How are you, Mr. Homer? pretty well this morning?"
+
+Mr. Homer sighed. "I thank you, William, I thank you!" he
+said. "My corporal envelope is, I am obliged to you,
+robust;--a--vigorous;--a--exempt for the moment from the ills that flesh
+is heir to--Shakespeare; we perceive that even our greatest did not
+disdain upon occasion to conclude a phrase with a preposition, though
+the practice is one generally reprehended;--a--condemned;--a--denied the
+sanction of the critics of our own day. I trust you find yourself in
+health and spirits, William?"
+
+"Capital!" said Will. "Lily and I and the boy, all as well as can be. I
+have brought the mail, Mr. Homer. I thought you might not feel like
+coming down this morning, as you were not well yesterday."
+
+As he spoke, he laid the mail-bag on the table, and, seating himself,
+proceeded to unlock it. Mr. Homer's eyes brightened in spite of
+himself; his face grew animated. "That was kind of you, William!" he
+said. "That was--a--considerate; that was--a--benevolent. I am greatly
+obliged to you; greatly obliged to you."
+
+He opened the bag with trembling fingers, and began to sort the letters
+it contained.
+
+"The occupation of twenty years," he continued, plaintively, "is not to
+be relinquished lightly. If I did not feel that I was leaving it in
+worthy hands, I--ah! here is a letter for Susan Jennings, from her son.
+There is an enclosure, William. Probably Jacob is doing better, and is
+sending his mother a little money. She is a worthy woman, a worthy
+woman; I rejoice for Susan. A dutiful son, sir, is an oasis in the
+desert; a--fountain in a sandy place; a--a number of gratifying things
+which I cannot at this moment name. You were a dutiful son, William.
+That must be an unspeakable satisfaction to you, now that your sainted
+mother has--a--departed; has--a--gone from us; has--a--ascended on wings
+of light to the empyrean. You were a dutiful son, sir."
+
+William Jaquith colored high. "Not always, Mr. Homer," he said. "In
+thinking of these late happy years, you must not forget the others that
+went before. I should be dead, or a castaway, this day, but for Mrs.
+Tree."
+
+"I rejoice at it, my dear sir!" cried Mr. Homer, his gentle eyes
+kindling. "That is to say--I would not wish to be understood as--but I
+am sure you apprehend me, William. I would say that my respect,
+my--a--reverence, my--a--affection and admiration for my cousin Marcia,
+sir, are enhanced a hundredfold by the knowledge of what she did for
+you. It cheers me, sir; it--a--invigorates me; it--a--causes a bud of
+spring to blow in a bosom which--a--was sealed, as I may say, with ice
+of--a--in short, with ice:--a--what is that pink envelope, William?"
+
+"For Joe Breck, sir; from S. E. Willow, South Verona. That is Sophy, I
+suppose?"
+
+Mr. Homer quivered with pleasure as he took the long, slim note in his
+hand. "This is from Sophia!" he said. "Sophia Willow is a sweet
+creature, William;--a--dewy flower, as the lamented Keats has it;
+a--milk-white lamb that bleats for man's protection, as he also
+observes. And Joseph Breck, sir, is a worthy youth. He has 'sighed and
+looked and sighed again' (Dryden, sir! a great poet, though unduly
+influenced by the age in which he lived) these two years past, I have
+had reason to think. Of late his letters to Sophia have been more
+frequent; there was one only yesterday, if you remember, a bulky one,
+probably containing--a--remarks of a tender nature;--a--outpourings
+of an ardent description. This is the response. Its rosy hue
+leads me to hope that it is a favorable one, William. The shape,
+too: a square envelope has always something of self-assertion
+about it; but this long, slender, graceful note has in its
+very appearance something--a--yielding; something--a--acquiescent;
+something--a--indicative of the budding of the tender passion. I augur
+happily from the aspect of this note. A--I trust your sentiments accord
+with mine, William?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, sir," said Will, heartily. "I am sure Sophy would not have
+the heart to say 'no' on such pretty paper as this; not that I think she
+ever meant to. But here is a letter for you, Mr. Homer, and this is a
+long envelope, too, only it is green instead of pink. Postmark Bexley."
+
+Mr. Homer started. "Not Bexley, William!" he said, nervously. "I trust
+you are mistaken; look again, if you will be so good. I cannot conceive
+why I should receive a letter from Bexley."
+
+"I'm sorry, sir," replied Will, "but Bexley it is. Would you like me to
+open it, Mr. Homer?"
+
+Mr. Homer cast a glance of aversion at the green envelope; it certainly
+was somewhat vivid in tint, and was rather liberally than delicately
+scented.
+
+"I should be glad if you would do so, William," he said. "I seem to
+feel--a--less vigorous than when you first came in. I should be obliged
+if you would look it over, William."
+
+With a glance wherein compassion struggled with amusement, Jaquith
+opened the letter and glanced through it.
+
+"From Mrs. Pryor," he said, briefly.
+
+Mr. Homer moved uneasily in his seat. "I--a--apprehended as much," he
+said. "Go on, William."
+
+With another compassionate twinkle, Will complied, and read as follows:
+
+     "'MY DEAREST HOMER:'"
+
+Mr. Homer winced, and wiped his forehead nervously.
+
+     "'Ever since that dreadful day which I _will not name_, I have been
+     _prostrated_ with grief and mortification; grief on my own account;
+     mortification--I blush to say it--for the sake of one whose present
+     condition _seals my lips_. Need I say that I allude to Aunt Marcia?
+     For some time I felt that all relations between me and Elmerton
+     must be _closed forever_.'"
+
+Mr. Homer looked up.
+
+     "'But in the end a more Christian spirit prevailed.'"
+
+Mr. Homer looked down again.
+
+     "'I have conquered my pride; you can imagine what a struggle it
+     was, for you know what the Darracott pride _is_, though the
+     Hollopeters only intermarried with us in your grandfather's time. I
+     came out of the struggle a _physical wreck_.'"
+
+Mr. Homer looked up once more.
+
+     "'But with me, as all who know me are aware, _flesh_ is _nothing,
+     spirit_ is _all_! I have resolved to let bygones be bygones, Homer;
+     to put all this sad and shocking business behind me, and strive to
+     forget that it ever existed. In this spirit, my dear cousin, I
+     write to offer you the _affection_ of a _sister_.'"
+
+Mr. Homer uttered a hollow groan, and dropped his head in his hands.
+
+     "'We are both alone, Homer. My girls are married; and, though the
+     greater portion of my heart is _in the grave_ with Mr. Pryor,
+     enough of it yet breathes to keep a _warm corner_ for you, my
+     nearest _living relative_. The extraordinary and iniquitous
+     document, which I will not further describe, has laid a heavy
+     burden on your shoulders; and I feel it a _duty_ to give you all
+     the aid in my power in the work of arranging and classifying the
+     collection of worldly trifles by which our late unhappy relative
+     set such store. _I_, Homer, have _outgrown_ such matters. It is for
+     Aunt Marcia's own sake that I feel, as you must, the necessity of
+     something like an equitable arrangement in regard to all this
+     trumpery. My _duty to my children_ obliges me, much against my
+     will, to protest against Vesta Strong's having all the lace and
+     jewelry. If she had any sense of decency, she would not accept what
+     was clearly the raving of _senile dementia_. As to the grasping and
+     mercenary spirit shown by her and her husband, I say nothing: let
+     their consciences deal with them, if they _own such an article; I_
+     am _above_ it.
+
+     "'Let me know, dearest Homer, when you are ready for me, and I will
+     come to you on the instant. I will bring an excellent maidservant
+     to replace the old creature, whom I trust you have dismissed ere
+     this. If not, let me urge you strongly to get rid of her at once.
+     She is not a fit person to have charge of you. I feel that the
+     _sooner_ I come to you the _better_; let us lose no time, so pray
+     write at once, dear Homer, to
+
+     "'Your loving cousin,
+
+     "'MARIA DARRACOTT PRYOR.'"
+
+Will's eyes were twinkling as he folded up the letter, but they were
+very tender as he turned them on Mr. Homer, sitting crumpled like a
+withered leaf in his chair.
+
+"Cheer up, Mr. Homer!" said the young postmaster. "Look up, my dear
+friend. You don't suppose we are going to let her come, do you? She
+shall not put her foot inside the door, I promise you."
+
+Mr. Homer groaned again. "She will come, William!" he said. "I feel it;
+I know it. She will come, and she will stay. I have not strength to
+resist her. Oh, Cousin Marcia, Cousin Marcia, you little thought what
+you were doing when you laid this burden on me. I don't think I can bear
+it, William! I will go away; I will leave the village. I
+do--not--think--I can bear it!"
+
+"Oh, I think you can, sir," said Will Jaquith. "Consider the wishes of
+our dear old friend. Think how hard it would be for us all to see
+strangers in this house, so full of memories of her. I hope that after
+awhile you can grow to feel at home, and to be happy here. Then, too,
+the work will be of a kind that will interest you. The arrangement of
+all these rare and curious objects, the formation of a museum,--why, Mr.
+Homer, you are made for the work, and the work for you. Cheer up, my
+good friend!"
+
+Mr. Homer sighed heavily. "I thank you, William," he said. "I thank you.
+You are always sympathetic and comforting to me. Your words are--are as
+balm; as--as dew upon Hermon; as--oil which runs down--" The poor
+gentleman broke off, and looked piteously at his companion. "My metaphor
+misleads me," he said. "It is often the case at the present time. I--I
+am apprehensive that my mind is not what it was; that I am in danger of
+loss of the intellect; of the--a--power of thought; of the--a--chair,
+where Reason sits--or in happier days did sit--enthroned. I am a wreck,
+William, a wreck."
+
+He sighed again, hesitated, and went on. "All you say is true, my
+friend, and I could, I think, find much interest and even inspiration in
+the task entrusted to me by my venerated and deplored relative, if--I
+could do it in my own way: but--I am hampered, sir. I am--trammelled; I
+am--a--set upon behind and before. The ladies--a--in short--Hark! what
+is that?"
+
+He started nervously as a knock was heard at the front door, and
+clutched Will Jaquith's coat with a feverish grasp. "Don't leave me,
+William!" he cried. "On no account leave me! It is a woman. I--I--cannot
+be left alone with them. They come about me--like locusts, William!
+Listen!"
+
+A wheezy, unctuous voice was heard:
+
+"Mr. Hollopeter feelin' any better to-day?"
+
+"No, he ain't," came the reply in Direxia's crisp accents.
+
+"I'm real sorry. I've brought him a little relish to eat with his
+supper. I made it myself, and it's nourishin' and palatable. Shall I
+take it in to him?"
+
+"I'll take it," said Direxia. "He won't tetch it, I can tell you that."
+
+"You never can tell," said the voice. "Sometimes a new hand will give
+victuals a freshness. Besides, Homer must be real lonesome. I'm comin'
+in to set with him a spell, and maybe read him a chapter. I've ben
+through affliction myself, Direxia, well you know, and the sufferin'
+seeks their like. You let me in now! You ain't no right to keep me out,
+Direxia Hawkes. This ain't your house, and I'll take no sarce from you,
+so now I tell you."
+
+Mr. Homer started from his seat with a wild look, but Will Jaquith laid
+a quiet hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Sit still, sir!" he said. "I'll take charge of this one, and Tommy
+will be back soon. Cheer up, Mr. Homer!"
+
+He passed out. Mr. Homer, listening feverishly, heard a few words spoken
+in a cheerful, decided voice; then the door closed. Mr. Homer drew a
+long breath, but started again nervously as Direxia's brown head popped
+in at the door.
+
+"Mis' Weight brung some stuff," she said, briefly. "Looks like skim-milk
+blue-monge bet up with tapioky. Want it?"
+
+"No!" cried Mr. Homer, with something as near a snarl as his gentle
+voice could compass.
+
+"Well, you needn't take my head off!" said Direxia. "I didn't make it.
+I'll give it to the parrot; he's rugged."
+
+She vanished, and Mr. Homer's head dropped in his hands again.
+
+"Like locusts!" he murmured. "Like locusts! Oh, Cousin Marcia, how could
+you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+CONCHOLOGY AND OTHER THINGS
+
+
+The two trustees had had a busy day. They had just begun upon the
+collection of shells which for years had lain packed away in boxes in
+the attic. There were thousands of them, and now as they lay spread out
+on long tables in the workshop, the glass-covered room where the Captain
+used to keep his tools and his turning-lathe, Mr. Homer's mind was
+divided between admiration of their beauty, and dismay at the clumsiness
+of the names which Tommy Candy read out--painfully, with finger on the
+page and frequent moppings of an anxious brow, for the polysyllabic was
+still something of a nightmare to Tommy, spite of his twenty years and
+his Academy diploma.
+
+"Look at this, Thomas," said Mr. Homer, carefully polishing on his
+sleeve a whorl of rosy pearl. "Observe this marvel of nature, Thomas!
+This should have a name of beauty, to match its aspect; a name
+of--a--poetry; of--divine affluence. 'Aurora's Tear' would, I am of
+opinion, fitly express this exquisite object. Number 742: how does it
+stand in the volume, Thomas?"
+
+"Spiral Snork," said Thomas.
+
+Mr. Homer sighed, and laid the shell down. "This is sad, Thomas," he
+said. "This is--a--painful; this is--a--productive of melancholy. I have
+never been of the opinion--though it is matter of distress to disagree
+in any opinion with the immortal Bard of Avon--that 'a rose by any other
+name'--you are doubtless familiar with the quotation, Thomas. To my
+mind there is much in a name--much. 'Snork!' The title is repellent;
+is--a--in a manner suggestive of swine. Pork--snort--snork! the
+connotation is imperative, I am of opinion. How, why, I ask you, Thomas,
+should such a name be applied to this exquisite object?"
+
+"Named for Simeon Snork, mariner, who first brought it to England," said
+Tommy, his finger on the paragraph. "Rare: value ten pounds sterling."
+
+The little gentleman sighed again. "We must put the name down, Thomas,"
+he said. "We must write it clearly and legibly; duty compels us so to
+do. But do you think that we should be violating our trust if we
+suggested--possibly in smaller type--the alternative, 'sometimes known
+as Aurora's Tear'? There could be no harm in that, I fancy, Thomas? It
+_is_ known as Aurora's Tear to me. I can never bring myself to think of
+this delicate production of--nature's loom--as 'Spiral--a--Snork.' My
+spirit rebels;--a--revolts;--a--"
+
+"Jibs?" suggested Tommy Candy.
+
+"I was about to say 'rises up in opposition,'" said Mr. Homer, gently.
+"Your expression is terse, Thomas, but--a--more colloquial than I
+altogether--but it is terse, and perhaps expressive. You see no
+objection to writing the alternative, Thomas?"
+
+"None in life!" said Tommy. "Have ten of 'em if you like, Mr. Homer;
+give folks their choice."
+
+"A--I think not, Thomas," said Mr. Homer. "I am of opinion that that
+would be unadvisable. We will put the single alternative, if you please.
+I thank you. Now to proceed. Here again."
+
+He selected another shell, breathed on it, and rubbed it on his
+coat-sleeve.
+
+"Here again is an exquisite--a--emanation from nature's loo--I would
+rather say from nature's workshop. Observe, Thomas, the rich blending of
+hues, violet and crimson, in this beautiful object. I trust that we
+shall be more fortunate this time in the matter of nomenclature. Number
+743, Thomas. How is it set down in the book?"
+
+"Hopkins's Blob," said Tommy.
+
+"Dear! dear!" said Mr. Homer. "This is sad, Thomas; this is sad, indeed.
+Blob! a most unlovely word. And yet"--he paused for a moment--"it
+rhymes--it rhymes with 'sob.' Do me the favor to pause an instant,
+Thomas. I have an idea: a--an effluence;--a--an abstraction of the
+spirit into the realms of poesy."
+
+He was silent, while Tommy Candy watched him with twinkling gray eyes.
+At first the little gentleman's face wore a look of intense gravity;
+but soon it lightened. He passed his hand twice or thrice across his
+brow, and sighed, a long, happy sigh; then he turned a beaming look on
+his companion.
+
+"I do not know, my young friend," he said, mildly, "whether you have
+ever given much thought to--a--the Muse; but it may interest you to note
+the manner in which she occasionally wings her flight. A moment ago,
+this gracious object"--he waved the shell gently--"was, so far as we are
+aware, unsung;--a--uncelebrated;--a--lacking its meed of mellifluous
+expression. Now--but you shall judge, sir. In this brief moment of
+silence, the following lines crystallized in my brain. Ahem!"
+
+He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and folded his hands
+meekly; then began to recite in a kind of runic chant:
+
+    "The poet-heart doth sigh,
+    The poet-soul doth sob,
+        To see a sight
+        Of beauty bright
+    Oppressed by name of 'blob'!
+
+    "O cacophonic crowd!
+    O unmellifluous mob!
+        The poet's lip
+        Would nectar sip,
+    But scorns to browse on 'blob'!
+
+The expression is condensed," said Mr. Homer, with modest pride; "but I
+am of opinion that condensation often lends strength;--a--are you also
+of that opinion, Thomas?"
+
+"Every time!" said Tommy Candy.
+
+Mr. Homer looked bewildered, but bowed gently, accepting the
+commendation expressed in Tommy's voice. "I am glad that my little
+effusion meets with your approval, Thomas," he said. "It is the first
+effort I have been able to make since the death of my lamented
+relative. A--a simple movement, sir, of the Muse's wing; a--a--"
+
+"Flap?" suggested Tommy Candy.
+
+Mr. Homer looked still more bewildered, but bowed again, waving his
+hands with a gesture of mingled protest and deprecation.
+
+"I am of opinion, Thomas," he said, "that prose is the vehicle in which
+your thoughts are most apt to find expression. The wings of the Muse do
+not, in my opinion,--a--a--flap. But it is a matter--a--scarcely germane
+to the occasion. We will pursue our researches, if you please."
+
+The next names were more fortunate. The Golden Gem was followed by the
+Mermaid's Comb, and Mr. Homer glowed with poetic joy as he placed the
+pretty things on the shelves of the cabinet that awaited them.
+
+"I foresee, Thomas," he exclaimed, joyfully, "a resuscitation of the
+poetic faculty. I feel that, surrounded by these shapes of beauty, and
+not oppressed by such inappropriate cacophonies as Blork and Snob--I
+would say Snork and Blob--I shall often joyfully, as well as strictly,
+meditate the--I find myself unable to characterize the Muse as
+'thankless,' in spite of my profound admiration for the immortal Milton.
+My spirit will, I feel it, once more sing, and--wing, sir! 'Mermaid's
+Comb!' In gazing on this symmetrical shape, my young friend, may we not
+in our mind's eye, Horatio--I would say Thomas--the remark is Hamlet's,
+as you are without doubt aware--behold it in the hand of some fair
+nymph, or siren, or--or person of that description--and behold her
+'sleeking her soft alluring locks,' in Milton's immortal phrase?
+A--candor compels me to state, Thomas, that on the few--the very
+few--occasions when--when I have seen the locks of the fair sex in a
+state of--a--dampness;--of--humidity;--a--of--moisture, I have not
+thought" (Mr. Homer blushed very red) "that the condition was one which
+enhanced; which--a--added to, the charms with which that sex is--in a
+large number of cases--endowed."
+
+"That's so!" said Tommy. "Take 'em after a shampoo, and they're a sight,
+even the good-lookin' ones."
+
+Mr. Homer blushed still redder, and took out his handkerchief. "I have
+never,--" he began, and then coughed, and waved the subject delicately
+away.
+
+"It is probable," he said, "that if--a--such semi-celestial individuals
+as those described by the poet existed--a--possessed a corporal
+envelope--a--were endowed with a local habitation and a
+name--Shakespeare--they would not be subject to conditions which--which
+tend to the--a--obscuration of beauty; but we will proceed, if you
+please, Thomas. Hark! was that a knock at the door?"
+
+They listened. There was a silence; then, beyond question, came a knock
+on the outer door; a loud, imperative rap, with a suggestion of rhythm,
+almost of flourish, in its repetition. "Rat-ta-tat, rat-ta-tat,
+rat-ta-tat!" Then silence again.
+
+"Direxia is in bed," said Tommy Candy. "I'll go."
+
+"Wait; wait a moment, Thomas!" said Mr. Homer, nervously. "Do you
+think--it is near nine o'clock--do you think that courtesy absolutely
+demands our opening the door?"
+
+Tommy looked at him in amazement.
+
+"It--it is probably a lady!" said Mr. Homer, piteously. "She is without
+doubt bringing me--a--food;--a--bodily pabulum;--a--refreshment for the
+inner man. Thomas, I--I do not feel as if I _could_ receive another
+dish at present. I have received four--have I not?--assaults--a--I would
+say, gifts, to-day, all tending to--overtax the digestive powers, even
+if Direxia's friendly ministrations did not invite--or more properly
+demand--all the powers of that description which I possess."
+
+"Pineapple cream, Miss Wax," replied Tommy Candy, briefly. "That was
+good; I ate it myself. Lobster salad, Miss Goby; claws round it; might
+have boiled her own for a garnish; calf's-foot jelly, Widder Ketchum;
+plum cake, Mis' Pottle. Seth Weaver says that when Doctor Pottle is
+short of patients, the old lady always bakes a batch of fruit-cake and
+sends it round. It's sure to fetch somebody; you could ballast a
+schooner with it, Seth says. Yes, that makes four, sir. But maybe this
+isn't a woman, Mr. Homer. I don't think it sounds like one, and anyhow,
+I wouldn't let one in, noways. You'd better let me go, sir."
+
+The knock sounded again, still more imperative; and now a voice was
+heard, a man's voice, thin and high, crying, impatiently: "Within there!
+house! what ho! within!"
+
+Mr. Homer gasped, and loosened his necktie convulsively.
+
+"My mind is probably failing," he said. "That voice--is probably a
+hallucination;--a--an aberration; a--you hear no voice, I should
+surmise, Thomas?"
+
+He gazed eagerly at Tommy, who, really alarmed for his friend's reason,
+stared at him in return.
+
+"Of course I hear it, sir," he said. "He's hollering fit to raise the
+roof. Riled, I expect; you'd better let me go, Mr. Homer."
+
+Mr. Homer relaxed his hold. "Thomas," he said, solemnly, "I think it
+improbable that you will find any corporal substance at that door:
+nevertheless, open it, if you will be so good! open it, Thomas!"
+
+Greatly wondering, Tommy Candy ran to the door and flung it wide open.
+There on the threshold stood a man, his hand raised in the act of
+knocking again. A little man, in a flyaway cloak, with a flyaway necktie
+and long, fluttering mustaches; a little man who looked in the dim light
+like a cross between a bat and the Flying Dutchman.
+
+"House!" said the little man. "Within there!"
+
+"Well," said Tommy, slowly, "I never said it was a monument!"
+
+The stranger made a gesture of brushing him away.
+
+"Minion," he said, "bandy no words, but straightway tell me, does Homer
+Hollopeter lurk within?"
+
+"Did you wish to see him?" inquired Tommy, civilly yet cautiously. A
+backward glance over his shoulder gave him a curious impression. Mr.
+Homer's shadow, as he stood just within the parlor door, was thrown on
+the pale shining wood of the hall floor; this shadow seemed to flutter,
+with motions singularly like those of the stranger. Another moment, and
+the little gentleman came forward, carrying a candle. He was trembling
+violently, and, as he held the candle high, its wavering light fell on
+the countenance of the stranger.
+
+[Illustration: "AS HE HELD THE CANDLE HIGH, ITS WAVERING LIGHT FELL ON
+THE COUNTENANCE OF THE STRANGER"]
+
+"Gee whiz!" muttered Tommy Candy. "It's himself over again in black."
+
+"It is my brother Pindar!" cried Mr. Homer, dropping the candle. "It is
+my only brother, whom I thought dead--a--defunct;--a--wafted to--my dear
+fellow, my dear brother, how are you? This is a joyful moment; this
+is--a--an auspicious occasion; this is--a--an oasis in the arid plains
+which--"
+
+"Encircle us!" said Mr. Pindar. "Precisely! Homer, embrace me!"
+
+He flung his arms abroad, and the batlike cloak fluttered out to its
+fullest width. Mr. Homer seemed to shrink together, and it was himself
+he embraced, with a frightened gesture.
+
+"Oh, quite so!" he cried, hurriedly. "Very much so, indeed, my dear
+brother. The spirit, Pindar, the spirit, returns your proffered salute;
+but foreign customs, sir, have never obtained in Quahaug. I bid you
+heartily, heartily welcome, my dear brother. Come in, come in!"
+
+Mr. Pindar flung up his hand with a lofty gesture. "My benison upon this
+house!" he cried. "The wanderer returns. The traveller--a--sets foot
+upon his native heath--I would say door-step. Flourish and exeunt. Set
+on!"
+
+The two brothers vanished. Tommy Candy, still standing on the threshold,
+stared after them with his mouth wide open, and slowly rumpled his hair
+till it stood on end in elfish spikes, as it had done in his childhood.
+
+"I swan!" said Tommy Candy. "I swan to everlastin' gosh! the Dutch is
+beat this time!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+MR. PINDAR
+
+
+Tommy Candy was about to reenter the house, when something seemed to
+attract his attention. He gazed keenly through the soft darkness at the
+house opposite; then he uttered a low whistle, and, leaning on his stick
+(for Miss Penny was right; poor Tommy was very lame, and had climbed his
+last steeple), made his way down the garden-path to the gate. "Annie
+Lizzie, is that you?" he asked, in a low tone.
+
+"Hush!" the answer came in a soft voice. "Yes, Tommy. How you scared me!
+I didn't think there was any one up. Ma thought she heard something,
+and wanted I should look out and see if there was any one round."
+
+"You tell her the Sheriff has come to get Isaac," said Tommy, "and he's
+stopping with us overnight. He'll be over in the morning, tell her, with
+the handcuffs, bright and early."
+
+"Oh, hush, Tommy! you hadn't ought to talk so!" said the soft voice, and
+a slender figure slipped across the road in the dark, and came to the
+gate. "Honest, Tommy, I wish you wouldn't talk so about Isaac and the
+rest of 'em. It don't seem right."
+
+"Annie Lizzie," said Tommy, "I never said a word against ary one of 'em,
+so long as I thought they was your kin; but since I found out that you
+was only adopted, why, I don't see no reason why or wherefore I
+shouldn't give 'em as good as they deserve, now I don't."
+
+"Well, they did adopt me," said Annie Lizzie. "Don't, Tommy, please! Ma
+says--"
+
+"She ain't your Ma!" interrupted Tommy; "and I don't want you should
+call her so, Annie Lizzie; there!"
+
+"Well, she says I would have gone on the town only for them," the soft
+voice went on. "You wouldn't want I should be ungrateful, would you,
+Tommy?"
+
+"No, I wouldn't," said Tommy, grimly. "I'm willing you should be
+grateful for all the chance you've had to wash and scrub and take care
+of them Weight brats. But this ain't what I called you over for, Annie
+Lizzie. Say, there did some one come just now; Mr. Homer's brother!"
+
+"I want to know!" said Annie Lizzie. In the darkness, Tommy could almost
+see her glow with gentle wonder and curiosity. "What is he like, Tommy?
+I didn't know Mr. Homer had a brother, nor any one belongin' to him
+nearer than Mis' Strong."
+
+"No more did I," said Tommy. "But here he is, as like Mr. Homer as two
+peas, only he's a black one."
+
+"For gracious' sake, Tommy Candy! you don't mean a colored man?"
+
+"No, no! I mean dark-complected, with black eyes. You make an errand
+over to-morrow, and you'll see him. He looks to be a queer one, I tell
+you!"
+
+"If he's as good as Mr. Homer," said Annie Lizzie, "I shouldn't care how
+queer he was."
+
+"No more should I," cried Tommy, warmly; "but he'd have to work pretty
+hard to ketch up with Mr. Homer in goodness. Say, Annie Lizzie, come a
+mite nearer, can't you?"
+
+"I can't, Tommy. I must go home this minute; Ma will be wonderin' where
+I am. There! do let me go, Tommy!"
+
+A window was raised in the house opposite, and the wheezy voice of Mrs.
+Weight was heard:
+
+"Annie Lizzie, where are you? Don't you l'iter there now, and me
+ketchin' my everlastin' hollerin' for you. Come in this minute, do you
+hear?"
+
+There was a soft sound that was not a voice; and Annie Lizzie slipped
+back like a shadow across the road.
+
+"I'm comin', Ma!" she said. "It's real warm and pleasant out, but I'm
+comin' right in."
+
+"Do you see any one round?" asked the Deacon's widow.
+
+Annie Lizzie shut her eyes tight, for she was a truthful girl. "No'm,"
+she said; "I don't."
+
+In the Captain's room, Mr. Homer's favorite apartment, the two brothers
+stood and looked each other in the face. As Tommy said, the likeness was
+intimate, spite of the difference in color: the same figure, the same
+gestures, the same general effect of waviness in outline, of flutter in
+motion; yet, to speak in paradox, with a difference in the very
+likeness. There was an abruptness of address in the newcomer, foreign to
+the gentle ambiguous flow of Mr. Homer's speech; where Mr. Homer waved,
+Mr. Pindar jerked; where Mr. Homer fluttered feebly, his brother
+fluttered vivaciously. They fluttered now, both of them, as they stood
+facing each other. For a moment neither found words, but it was Mr.
+Pindar who spoke first.
+
+"I have surprised you, brother!" he cried; "confess it! Surprise, chief
+tidbit at the Feast of Life! Alarums and excursions! enter King Henry,
+with forces marching. You did not expect to see the Wanderer?"
+
+"I certainly did not, my dear brother!" cried Mr. Homer, the tears
+standing in his mild eyes. "I have not even felt sure, Pindar, of your
+being alive in these latter years. Why, why have you kept this silence,
+my dear fellow? think how many years it is since I have heard a word
+from you!"
+
+Mr. Pindar fluttered vivaciously; he was certainly more like a bat than
+the Flying Dutchman. "I apologize!" he cried. "I have been at fault,
+Homer, I admit it. To own him wrong, the haughty spirit bows--no more of
+it! The past"--he swept it away with one wing--"is buried. This night
+its obsequies! Hung be the heavens with black; a pickaxe and a spade, a
+spade; other remarks of a similar nature. Homer, our cousin Marcia loved
+me not!" (it was true. "I can stand a beetle," Mrs. Tree was used to
+say, "or I can stand a bat; but a bat-beetle, and a dancing one at that,
+is more than I can abide. Cat's foot! don't talk to me!").
+
+"Yet when I heard--through the medium of the public prints--that she was
+no more, I felt a pang, sir, a pang. I would have assisted at the
+funeral solemnities; it would have been a pleasure to me to compose a
+dirge; the first strophe even suggested itself to me. 'Ta-ta, tarum,
+tarum' (muffled drums); 'ta tee, ta tidol' (trombones); but these things
+require time, sir, time."
+
+"Surely!" said Mr. Homer, with a meek bow; "surely; and indeed,
+Pindar, the ceremonies were of the simplest description, in accordance
+with the wishes of our revered and deceased relative. But sit
+down, my dear brother; sit down, and let me procure some
+refreshment;--a--sustenance;--a--bodily pabulum, for you. Have you come
+far, may I ask?"
+
+"From the metropolis, sir; from New York!" replied Mr. Pindar, seating
+himself and throwing back his little batlike cloak.
+
+"By rail to the Junction; the evening stage, a jolt, a rattle, and a
+crawl,--behold me! A crust, Homer, a crust! no disturbance of domestic
+equilibrium. A consort lurks within?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, Brother!" said Mr. Homer, with a bewildered look.
+
+"A wife, sir, a wife!" said Mr. Pindar. "Are you married, Homer?"
+
+"Oh, no; no, indeed, my dear brother!" said Mr. Homer, hastily, and
+blushing very red. "Nothing of the kind, I assure you. And you?"
+
+"Perish the thought!" said Mr. Pindar; and he waved the Sex out of
+existence.
+
+Mr. Homer looked troubled, but hastened out of the room, and, after some
+ineffective appeals to Tommy, who, as we know, was talking with Annie
+Lizzie at the gate, foraged for himself, and returned with crackers and
+cheese, doughnuts and cider. Seated together at this simple feast, the
+two brothers looked at each other once more, and both rubbed their hands
+with precisely the same gesture.
+
+"Food!" cried Mr. Pindar, vivaciously; "and drink! necessities, base if
+you will, but grateful, sir, grateful! Brother, I pledge you!"
+
+"Brother, I drink to you!" cried Mr. Homer, filling his glass with a
+trembling hand. "To our reunion, sir! the--the rekindling of--of
+affection's torch, my dear brother. Long may it--"
+
+"Blaze!" cried Mr. Pindar, with a sudden skip in his chair. "Snap!
+crackle! flame! crepitate! Pindar to Homer shall, bright glass to
+glass--enough!" He ceased suddenly, and fell upon the crackers and
+cheese with excellent appetite.
+
+Mr. Homer watched him in anxious and bewildered silence: once or twice
+he opened his lips as if about to speak, but closed them each time with
+a sigh and a shake of the head. The visitor was the first to speak,
+beginning, when the last cracker had disappeared, as suddenly as he had
+left off.
+
+"Brother," he said, "why am I here?"
+
+Mr. Homer repeated the words vaguely: "Why are you here, my dear
+brother? I doubt not that affection's call, the--voice of sympathy,
+of--a--brotherhood, of--consanguinity,--a--sounded in your ears--"
+
+"Trumpets!" Mr. Pindar struck a sonorous note, and nodded thrice with
+great solemnity. "Alarums and excursions; enter long-lost brother,
+centre. You are right, Homer; but this was not all. The Dramatic Moment,
+sir, had struck."
+
+With these words, he folded his arms, and, dropping his head on his
+breast, gazed up through his eyebrows in a manner which Mr. Homer found
+highly disconcerting.
+
+"Oh, indeed!" said Mr. Homer, with vague politeness.
+
+"Struck!" repeated Mr. Pindar, nodding solemnly. "Sounded. Knelled--no!
+tolled--not precisely! larumed, sir, larumed!"
+
+"'Larumed' is a fine word," said Mr. Homer, meekly, "but I fail to
+apprehend your precise meaning, Brother Pindar."
+
+"You know what 'dramatic' means, I suppose, Homer," replied Mr. Pindar,
+testily, "though you never had an atom of the quality in your
+composition. And you know what a moment is. The Dramatic Moment--I
+repeat it--in your life and the life of this village--has larumed, sir.
+Listen to it, Homer; look upon it, sir; grasp it! The old order--gone!"
+he swept it away. "The new--its foot upon the threshold!" he beckoned
+toward the door, and Mr. Homer looked round nervously. "Usher it in, to
+sound of trump and drum. We must celebrate, Homer, celebrate. To that
+end, behold me!"
+
+Mr. Homer passed his hand across his brow and sighed wearily. "My dear
+brother," he said, "you must excuse me if I do not yet altogether
+understand,--a--comprehend,--a--accord the hospitality of the intellect,
+to--to the idea that you desire to convey. I feel little if any
+resemblance at this moment to a watcher of the skies--Keats, as I need
+not remind you; but I cannot feel that this is a time for rejoicing,
+Pindar."
+
+"For celebration, sir! for celebration!" cried Mr. Pindar, eagerly.
+"The words are not synonymous, as you are no doubt aware. Let the
+mysteries be solemn, if you will, the sable scarf of cinerary pomp, the
+muffled drum, and wail of deep bassoon; but this was my idea, sir; thus
+the vision rose before my mind's eye, Horatio,--I would say, Homer. A
+procession, sir. Maidens, white-clad, flower-crowned, scattering roses;
+matrons, in kirtle and gown, twirling the distaff; village elders,
+in--in--our native costume is ill adapted, I confess, but suitable robes
+might be obtained at trifling cost, sir, at trifling cost. You in the
+midst, crowned with bays, the poet's robe your manly limbs enfolding.
+Following,--or preceding, as you will,--musicians, with brass
+instruments. You write an ode, I set it to music. Rhymes will readily
+suggest themselves: 'jog,' no! 'clog;' hardly! 'agog;' precisely!
+
+    "Ta-ta, ta-ta, with joy agog;
+    Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
+
+Kettledrums, you understand; cymbals; superb effect! You see it, Homer?
+you take it in?"
+
+He paused, and gazed on his brother with kindling eyes, his arms
+extended, the little cloak fluttering from them; certainly nothing human
+ever looked so like a bat.
+
+"A goblin!" said Mr. Homer to himself. "My only brother is a goblin!"
+
+He sighed again, yet more wearily, and once more passed his hand across
+his brow.
+
+"My dear brother," he said, "the hour is late. I find myself incapable
+of--of thought. The weary pinion of the brain--I find myself incapable
+even of metaphor, sir. You must excuse me. To-morrow--"
+
+"To fresh fields and pastures new!" cried Mr. Pindar, rising with a
+batlike wave. "Precisely! Enter attendants with torches. The minion
+waits without?"
+
+"Oh!" said Mr. Homer, "not exactly, Pindar. Direxia Hawkes
+has--a--retired to rest; has--a--sought the sleep which--which--"
+
+"Knits up the ravelled sleeve of care!" suggested Mr. Pindar.
+
+"Oh, very much so!" cried Mr. Homer. "You surely remember Direxia,
+brother, and will no doubt agree with me that the term 'minion' cannot
+properly be applied to Cousin Marcia's old and faithful retainer.
+And--the youth who--who admitted you, is Thomas Candy, my friend and
+fellow trustee. Thomas is an invaluable person, Pindar; he is like a son
+to me, I assure you. You will, I am sure, value Thomas. I will suggest
+to him the advisability of bringing candles. Oh, here he is! Thomas,
+this is my brother Pindar, my only brother, returned after the lapse of
+many years to--to his native heath, if I may so express myself. Thomas
+Candy, my dear brother!"
+
+"Son of Silas?" cried Mr. Pindar. "Ha! 'tis well. Stripling, thy hand!
+lives yet thy father, ha?"
+
+Tommy grinned, and rumpled his hair with an elfish look eminently
+unfitting a trustee.
+
+"You are the one he used to play ghost with, and scare the Weightses,"
+he said. "I've heard of you, sir. Father isn't livin', but Mis' Tree
+told me about it. Glad to see you, sir!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+"_QUAND ON CONSPIRE_"
+
+
+Mr. Pindar Hollopeter slept long and late the next morning, as became a
+gentleman of metropolitan habits; he had not yet made his appearance
+when Will Jaquith came swinging along the street and turned in at the
+gate. Tommy Candy was at work in the garden, trimming the roses, as Will
+himself had been used to do before he was a family man and a postmaster,
+and at sight of him Will stopped.
+
+"Just the man I was looking for, Tom!" he said. "I want to consult you."
+
+"Same here!" said Tommy, straightening himself and looking over the
+sweetbriar bush. "What's up your way?"
+
+"This!" said Will, taking a postal card from his pocket. "I don't make a
+practice of reading postal cards, Tom, but I thought I'd better do it
+this time, as I recognized the handwriting;" and he read aloud: "'Expect
+me to-morrow at eleven, for the day. M. DARRACOTT PRYOR.'"
+
+"Gee!" said Tommy Candy.
+
+"Whiz!" said Will Jaquith. "Exactly. Now what are we to do? I promised
+Mr. Homer that she should not torment him."
+
+"And I promised Her," said Tommy, slowly ("Her" was Mrs. Tree, once and
+for all time, with Tommy Candy), "that that woman should never stay in
+this house. Didn't I tell you? It was the last time ever I was sittin'
+with her. I'll never forget it; she knew she hadn't long to stay, for as
+brisk and chirk as she was; she knew it right enough. 'Tommy,' she
+says, 'when I'm gone, I look to you to keep cats off the place; do you
+hear?' She couldn't abide cats, you know. I says, 'There sha'n't any cat
+come on the place if I can help it, Mis' Tree,' I says, 'and I expect I
+can.' I didn't have no _i_dea at first what she meant. She raps her
+stick and looks at me. Gorry! when she looked at you, she hadn't hardly
+no need to speak; her eyes did the talkin'. 'Cats!' she says.
+'Four-legged cats, two-legged cats. Cats that say "miaouw!" cats that
+say "Maria!" keep 'em off, Tommy! worry 'em, Tommy! Worry 'em! do you
+hear?'
+
+"'I hear, Mis' Tree,' I says, 'and I'll do it.'
+
+"'Good boy, Tommy!' she says; and she pulls out the table-drawer, same
+as she always did--Gorry! I can't talk about it!" His voice faltered,
+and he turned away. "She was my best friend!" he said, brokenly; "she
+was the best friend ever a fellow had."
+
+"Mine, too, Tommy," said Will, laying his hand kindly on the lad's
+shoulder. "We'll think of her together, boy, and we'll carry out her
+wishes if it takes a--"
+
+He checked himself, with a glance at the stick that never left Tommy's
+side; but Tommy finished the sentence simply:
+
+"A leg! that's what we'll do. I'd give my good leg, let alone the poor
+one; I shouldn't have had that if it hadn't been for her; if she hadn't
+sent for Doctor Strong that day. Old Pottle was going to take it off,
+you know. 'I'll take off your ears first!' she says, and 'rap' goes her
+stick. 'Ninnyhammer!' she says; 'noodle!' she says; 'send for Geoffrey
+Strong.' That rap was the first thing I heard; I believe it brought me
+back, too, from--from wherever there is. Gorry! I wish't I could bring
+her back!"
+
+"We cannot do that, Tommy," said Will Jaquith, sadly; "but what we can
+do, we will. Now about this--lady!"
+
+"Look-a-here!" said Tommy, eagerly. "I don't believe but what this fays
+in with what has been goin' on here. Last night--" and he told briefly
+of the advent of Mr. Pindar.
+
+"He's plum crazy," he added, "crazy as a loon; but yet it's a knowin'
+kind of crazy, and I don't believe but what he could help us."
+
+Will pondered. "I should not wonder if he could, Tom," he said at
+length. "I'd like to see him, anyhow. Where is he, and where is Mr.
+Homer?"
+
+"Mr. Homer's gone for a walk," said Tommy. "He was all worked up about
+his brother's comin', and some kind of rinktum he wants to get up, here
+in the village; kind of crazy circus, near as I could make out from the
+little he said. He didn't eat hardly any breakfast, and Direxia was in a
+caniption, so I got him to go for a walk in the woods, to ca'm him down.
+That ca'ms him down better than 'most anything, generally, unless it's
+Miss Wax's barrel-organ, and she's busy mornin's. Come in, Will. The
+other one wasn't down when I come out, but I presume likely he is now. I
+tell you he's a queer one!"
+
+They went in; and, sure enough, Mr. Pindar was in the dining-room,
+eating toast and marmalade, and holding forth to Direxia Hawkes, who
+stood in the doorway, half-admiring, half-distrustful. Her early opinion
+of Pindar Hollopeter had been unfavorable, but he certainly had an
+elegant way with him, and used beautiful language.
+
+"The orange," he was saying, as he waved a spoonful of the translucent
+sweetmeat, "has ever been the friend of man; unless, indeed, we share
+the view of those who hold that it was the original Apple of Discord.
+The answer to this theory would appear to lie in the fact that it is not
+an apple at all. But soft! whom have we here? A stranger! alarums and
+entrances. Enter mysterious individual, r. u. e."
+
+"It's Willy Jaquith and Tommy," said Direxia. "I'll go now; if you want
+more toast, you can ring the bell."
+
+"Good morning, sir!" said Tommy, advancing. "I hope you slept well. Let
+me make you acquainted with Mr. Jaquith; this is Mr. Homer's brother,
+Will, that I was telling you about."
+
+"I am glad to meet you, sir!" said Will. "Mr. Homer is a great friend of
+mine."
+
+Mr. Pindar rose, and held out his hand with a superb gesture.
+
+"My brother's friends," he said, "find safe asylum in this rugged
+breast. Sir, I salute you. Can I offer you refreshment--the wheaten
+loaf, the smooth, unrifled egg, the bland emollience of the butter-pat?
+No?"
+
+"Thanks!" said Will. "I have breakfasted, Mr. Hollopeter; but don't let
+me interrupt you. Thanks." He seated himself in response to a
+magnificent wave. "Pray finish your breakfast, sir!"
+
+But Mr. Pindar had apparently finished, and was besides in a
+communicative mood. After explaining to them at great length the theory
+of Ate's apple, he gave them a brief disquisition on the proper boiling
+of eggs, touched lightly on the use of butter among the Hebrews, and
+then, to their great delight, proceeded to advert to his own coming. It
+was a sudden inspiration, he informed them. Some thirty years had
+blossomed o'er his head since his foot had trod the soil from which he
+sprang. He left, a stripling in his early flower; he returned--"what you
+see!" His gesture transformed the little shabby bat-cloak into an ermine
+mantle. "A son of Thespis, gentlemen, at your command!"
+
+Tommy opened wide eyes at this, having always heard that Mr. Hollopeter
+senior had rejoiced in the name of Ecclesiastes Nudd; but Will bowed
+respectfully in response to the wave. "An actor, sir?" he asked,
+deferentially.
+
+Mr. Pindar bowed and waved again. "Actor, dramatist, musician, composer!
+
+    "By many names men know me,
+      In many lands I dwell;
+    Well Philadelphia knows me,
+      Manhattan knows me well.
+
+A man of cities, sir, of cities! I have come to assist at the
+celebration of the New Order, and shall be glad to count you among my
+aids." Here Mr. Pindar bowed profoundly, twirled his mustaches,
+fluttered his wings, and proceeded to unfold his scheme of a
+Processional Festival Jubilee, matrons, maidens, distaffs, and all. He
+declared that Will was the very figure of Apollo, and that Tommy, on
+account of his lameness, was evidently created for the part of Vulcan.
+
+"A disparity of years, I grant you, my young friend," he said,
+graciously; "but what! the gods were young when time was. The Boy
+Hephaestos! what say you?"
+
+Tommy Candy, probably for the first time in his young life, found
+nothing to say; but Will pronounced the scheme a most interesting one.
+Before going fully into it, however, he said, he was anxious to consult
+Mr. Pindar on a matter connected with his brother.
+
+Mr. Pindar bowed again, still more profoundly, and crossing his arms on
+his breast, nodded thrice, each time more impressively than the last.
+
+"Concerning Homer!" he said. "My father's son; my mother's fair-haired
+joy; in short, my brother. Gentles, say on; my ears are all your own."
+
+"We have--learned," Will began cautiously, "that a visitor is coming
+here this morning whom we think Mr. Homer would greatly prefer not to
+see. The lady is a cousin of yours, sir; Mrs. Pryor, formerly Miss
+Darracott--"
+
+He stopped, for Mr. Pindar fixed him with a gleaming eye and an
+outstretched forefinger, and uttered one word.
+
+"Maria?"
+
+"The same!" said Will.
+
+"Maria!" repeated Mr. Pindar. "Ye gods! Strike home, young man! my bosom
+to the knife--strike home!"
+
+"Mr. Homer has dreaded her coming," said Will, taking courage; "and Mrs.
+Tree--a--did not--was not fond of her, we will say. We thought that you
+might possibly help us, sir, in devising some plan by which, without
+being uncivil, we might spare Mr. Homer the distress which--which an
+interview with this lady could hardly fail to give him."
+
+Mr. Pindar still looked fixedly at him. "Maria!" he muttered once more.
+"My boyhood's knotted scourge! the most horrid child that ever--What
+does she want?"
+
+"She desires to be a sister to Mr. Homer, sir," said Will, simply.
+
+Mr. Pindar recoiled. "Perish the thought!" he exclaimed. "Sepulchred
+deep the curst conception lie! and you? ye seek assistance, ha?"
+
+"We thought you might be able to help us out, sir," said Will.
+
+"I bet you could fix her!" said Tommy.
+
+Mr. Pindar's eyes flashed. "Your hands!" he cried. "The Dramatic Moment
+strikes. Ding dong! But soft; we must dissemble!"
+
+Mr. Pindar laid his finger on his lips, and rolled his eyes on his
+visitors with a warning glance. Then rising, he stole with measured and
+elaborately noiseless steps to the door, and listened at the keyhole,
+then to the window, and peered out with dramatic caution; then, still
+with his finger on his lips, he turned to his companions.
+
+"All is well!" he said; he waved the little bat-cloak, and then drew it
+round him with a flap of mystery.
+
+"Approach!" he whispered, beckoning the two friends toward him,
+"Conspiracy is the soul of Drama: approach, friends, and give--or rather
+receive--the counter-sign!"
+
+It was a pleasant sight to see Mr. Pindar Hollopeter, his eyes gleaming
+with dramatic fire, yet with a twinkle in the black depths of them,
+waving his arms abroad (the gesture so like his brother's, yet so
+unlike), expounding, suggesting, illustrating. It was pleasant, too, to
+see the responsive twinkle that danced and deepened in the blue and gray
+eyes as they met his.
+
+"I said you would fix it, sir!" cried Tommy Candy, smiting his thigh.
+
+"That will be capital, sir!" said Will. "Your coming seems really
+providential just at this time. Of course we could not have shown any
+incivility to a member of your family; but if you can arrange this--"
+
+"Sir," said Mr. Pindar, dropping his head forward, and gazing up through
+his eyebrows. "I know not 'if.' Regard the thing as done!"
+
+Punctually at eleven o'clock, Mrs. Pryor bustled and crackled up the
+garden path, and rang a defiant peal at the bell. She had brought no
+luggage with her; this was a preliminary skirmish, so to speak, merely
+to try her ground and assert her rights; but she was prepared to do
+fierce battle with Direxia Hawkes or any one else who might attempt to
+impede her progress in the Path of Duty. Accordingly, when she heard
+footsteps approaching along the hall, she stood with heaving breast and
+glittering eye, ready and determined to effect an entrance the instant a
+crack of the door should be opened.
+
+But there was no question of a crack this time. The door swung open to
+its fullest extent, and, instead of the small and warlike figure of
+Direxia Hawkes, it was Tommy Candy who stood on the threshold, with
+subdued and sorrowful looks.
+
+"How do you do, Mis' Pryor?" he said. "I'm rejoiced you have come. I
+took the liberty of reading your postal, and it seemed as though I
+couldn't hardly wait till eleven o'clock came. We need you here, the
+wust way, Mis' Pryor."
+
+Mrs. Pryor's bristling panoply smoothed itself, and she even gave an
+approving look at the youth, who certainly was a good-looking youth, and
+had probably been subjected to evil influences in his childhood.
+
+"I am glad that I have come at the right moment, Tommy," she said,
+benignly. "People sometimes say that when I come, it is apt to be the
+right moment, but we will not speak of that now. What is wrong? Have you
+had difficulty in getting rid of the old woman? I will attend to that
+with pleasure; it is my duty." And she stepped into the hall, Tommy
+making way for her with alacrity.
+
+"Oh, no'm," said Tommy. "It wasn't that; I don't suppose you could hire
+Direxia to stay--now!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked the visitor. "What has happened? Mr. Homer is
+not ill? nothing contagious, I--" and she made a step backward.
+
+"Oh, no'm!" said Tommy, mournfully. "No, I never heard of its bein'
+contagious, any more than a person couldn't stand it long; but now you
+have come, you will see to everything, I expect, and how thankful shall
+we be. This way, mum!" and he opened the parlor door.
+
+"There can't but one go in at a time," he whispered. "It excites him too
+much; but he's been pretty quiet this last hour or so; I guess there
+won't be no danger, not for a spell at least."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Pryor, in alarm. "Tell me at once what
+has happened, Thomas Candy!"
+
+Tommy shook his head sadly, and turned away with something like a sob.
+"You'll find out soon enough!" he murmured. "There's things you don't
+care to put into words. I'm real glad you've come, Mis' Pryor."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I can't tell you all he said," said Tommy over the garden gate that
+evening, "for I wasn't in the room. I couldn't hear only a scrap now and
+again, when he'd give a kind of screech; but you'd sworn, to look at
+him, it was Mr. Homer gone crazy. He looks like him, anyway, and he put
+on one of his co'ts and blue neckties, and sort of flopped his hair down
+over his forehead,--I tell ye, he was complete! and of course she never
+suspicioned anything about the other--Mr. Pindar--bein' in the land of
+the livin', or this part of it anyway. We had the room darkened, and he
+sot there hunched up in a big chair with his back to the light, sort o'
+mutterin' to himself, when I shew her in.
+
+"I kinder prepared her mind, just as he told me, and she felt a mite
+scary, I guess; well, Annie Lizzie, he did the rest; I had no part or
+lot in it. I tell you he's a circus, that man! I heard him ask her right
+off the first thing would she marry him, and be his young gazelle: that
+pleased her, and yet she was took aback a mite, and said: 'Oh, Homer,
+this is very sudden!'
+
+"'We'll be married by candle-light,' he says, 'and go off in a balloon,
+by registered mail. The Emperor of China is expecting us to tea; we are
+to wear our skulls outside, and cross-bones in our clustering locks.
+Hark to the wedding knell! tzing boom! tzing boom! cymbals and bass
+drum!'
+
+"I heard that plain, but then he went on muttering for a spell, and I
+couldn't make out a word, till she said, kinder sharp and twittery: 'I
+must go now, Homer; I have an important engagement;' and she said
+something about coming back soon. But he hollers out:
+
+    "'Black sperits and white,
+    Red sperits and gray,
+    Mingle, mingle, mingle,
+    Ye that mingle may!'
+
+And I heard them fussin' round, as if she was tryin' to get out the room
+and he was keepin' between her and the door. At last and finally, he
+must have got right up close't the door, for I heard him as plain as I
+do you. 'Rats and bears! rats and bears!' he says, 'all over the room!
+all over the room! look at 'em! look at 'em!' She let one yell out--that
+was the one you heard--and come runnin' out, and he come as fur as the
+door after her, flappin' his arms and hoppin' up and down--great Jonas!
+I expect she'd ben runnin' now if she hadn't have caught the down
+stage. I tell ye, I won't forget that one while."
+
+"Oh, Tommy!" said Annie Lizzie, in her soft, reproachful voice. "I think
+'twas awful mean to scare a lady that way, now I do. I don't think you'd
+oughter have done it; 'twasn't pretty actin', no way, shape, or manner,
+don't tell me it was."
+
+"Annie Lizzie," said Tommy, "you don't know Mis' Pryor; you warn't
+nothin' but a child when she was here before. There's some folks you
+_have_ to scare; it's the only way to git red of 'em, and we _had_ to
+git red of her. Let alone what Mis' Tree said to me the last time ever I
+saw her,--though that was enough for me, and what she said goes, as long
+as I live,--but let that alone, do you think we was goin' to let that
+woman set right down on Mr. Homer, and smother him with sarce? I guess
+not. If Prov'dence hadn't sent his brother right in the nick of time,
+Will and me'd have had to do it ourselves, and like as not made a mess
+of it, and Mr. Homer found out, and ben worked up worse than what he is
+now; but, as it was, it was all done in the family, and there warn't a
+word said but what was polite, if 'twas crazy. He couldn't do no more
+than ask her to marry him, could he?"
+
+"Oh, well, Tommy, you can always talk!" said Annie Lizzie.
+
+"There's other things I can do besides talk," said Tommy Candy; and he
+did one of them.
+
+"Tommy!" said Annie Lizzie. "How you act!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A PLEASANT HOUR
+
+
+One of the spots I have always liked best in Quahaug (it is hard for me
+even now not to say "Elmerton," though I highly approve the change) is
+Salem Rock's back yard. The front yard is the special province of Mrs.
+Rock, a person whose mind runs to double petunias, and coleus; but the
+back premises are Salem's own, and quaint and homely as himself. A neat
+path of oyster shells pounded fine runs straight from the back porch to
+the little pier where the white dory lies sunning herself, and the
+sailboat dips and rises on the ripple. On either side of the path is a
+square space of green, with a few ancient apple-trees here and there, a
+white lilac-bush, and a little round summer-house so overgrown with
+honeysuckle and clematis, and so clustered round by bees that it looks
+like a quaint flowering beehive itself. There are real beehives, too,
+six of them, set along the wall; and in a narrow border that runs all
+round the yard are the flowers that bees like best, sweet rocket and
+foxglove, mignonette and sweet alyssum, and a dozen others. All these
+pleasant things may be found in other back yards, but there are some
+things that belong to this alone. In the exact centre of one green space
+is a ship's spar, set upright, with a tiny flag fluttering from its top;
+in the other stand two life-size figures, facing each other; the figures
+of a man and a woman. The man is in the dress of the thirties, high
+stock and collar, shirt-frill and frock-coat; the lady in flowing
+classical draperies; the man is painted in lively colors, his coat and
+wig (it is certainly a wig!) a bright snuff-brown, his eyes and
+waistcoat sky-blue, his cheeks and stock a vivid crimson; but the lady
+is all white, cheeks, lips, robes and all; she might be marble, if she
+were less palpably wood. The most singular thing about this singular
+pair is that they seem to be coming up out of the earth; to have got out
+as far as their knees, and then to have given it up and stopped. It is
+evident that they are not coming any farther, for the grass grows close
+about them, and a wild convolvulus has crept up into the lady's lap and
+round her arm, making the prettiest of bracelets; while, actually, a
+yellow warbler has built his nest in the gentleman's shirt-frill, and
+sings there all summer long.
+
+There the two stand, facing each other, with cheerful looks; and there
+they have stood for fifty years.
+
+On a certain pleasant morning, about the time of which I am writing,
+Salem Rock and Seth Weaver were having what they called their annual
+spree. Seth had brought his brushes and a variety of paint-pots; Salem,
+according to custom, had provided tobacco, and a great stone pitcher
+containing ginger, molasses, and water, with plenty of ice tinkling in
+it. This pitcher was set down between the two images, within reach of
+either man: Seth was at work on the white lady, while Salem, with
+infinite and loving care, went over the gentleman's attire, picking out
+the waistcoat pattern, and doing wonderful things to the buttons with a
+tiny brush dipped in gold leaf.
+
+"Old Sir's goin' to look tasty this time, now I tell ye!" he said,
+drawing back, with his head on one side, to study the effect. "I've
+give him a yeller sprig to his vest, see? I expect Old Marm'll say 'yes'
+this time, for as long as she's held out."
+
+"Yes!" grumbled Seth, pipe in mouth. "You never let me have a chanst at
+him, nor yet you won't let me brisk the Old Lady up to match. Give her a
+pink dress now, and hair her up some, and she'd be a fine-lookin' woman
+as there is in this village. I'll do it, too, some night; you'll see."
+
+"No, you don't!" said Salem, slowly, as he drew a scarlet line down the
+seams of "Old Sir's" coat. "White Old Marm begun, and white she'll stay.
+Wal, you was beginnin' to tell me about this ruction up to Home's. What
+is it Pindar's after? I ain't seen him yet."
+
+"He's after a strait-weskit, and he'll get it, don't you have no fears!"
+replied Seth. "He calls it a Pro-cessional Festival Jubilee. He's hired
+the band from the Corners, and he's got the women-folks churned up till
+they don't know whether they're butter or cheese. They're routin' out
+all their old clo'es from up attic, and tryin' of 'em on, and
+cacklin'--there! I thought I'd heerd hens before; but this mornin' I was
+in to Penny's store, and there was a passel of 'em in there talkin' it
+over, and I tell you there ain't a hen-yard in this State to ekal it. I
+come away without my bird seed. Gorry! there's times when it feels good
+to be a single man."
+
+"That may be so, Seth," replied Mr. Rock, soberly; "but there's other
+times--meal-times, and rheumatiz, and such--when it ain't so handy. How
+does Homer feel about all this ran-tan?"
+
+"Poor old Home!" said Seth, shaking his head. "He's pooty well broke up.
+He was jest beginnin' to take notice, and get used to things the new
+way, and sense it that it warn't goin' to kill him to have money in the
+bank; and now comes Pindar, flappin' and squeakin' like a
+ravin'-distracted June-bug, and stands him on his head, and he don't
+know where he is again; Home don't, I mean. He never could stand up
+against Pindar, you know. You remember at school we used to call 'em
+Loony and Moony; Homer was Moony. We used to call after 'em--
+
+    "'Loony and Moony,
+    Both got spoony,
+    Dance for Mame when she plays 'em a toony.'
+
+There! I ain't thought o' that for thirty years, I don't believe. There
+never was a single mite o' harm in Homer that I could see."
+
+"I left school before they come," said Salem. "I was on my fust voyage
+with Cap'n time they got there. But I ric'llect old Mis' Hollopeter,
+and the way she used to ride round in that old carryall of her'n. I can
+see her now, settin' straight as a broomstick, holdin' up that little
+mite of a green parasol. Covered carryall, too; I remember I used to
+wonder what on airth she wanted with that parasol."
+
+"Mebbe 'twas charity for the neighbors," said Seth. "She didn't handsome
+much, old Mis' Hollopeter didn't. I rec'llect the carryall, too. When
+the boys got big enough, one of them would drive her, and she'd set
+there and pour poetry into him like corn into a hopper. Home asked me to
+go one day, and I was so scairt I like t' ha' died. Not but what the old
+lady meant well, for she did; but what I mean is, them boys never had no
+chanst to _be_ boys--not like other boys do. Who's this comin'?"
+
+There was a flutter of pink beside the great mallow-bush at the corner
+of the house; a slender girl appeared, and paused bashfully, with a
+doubtful smile.
+
+"'Tis Annie Lizzie!" said Salem Rock. "Nice little gal! Come in, Annie
+Liz, come in! there's no one here only Seth and me. What can we do for
+ye? Want me to touch up them cheeks with a mite of this red paint?
+'Pears to me they ain't quite so rosy as common."
+
+Both men looked approvingly at the girl as she came slowly toward them
+across the grass. Annie Lizzie never seemed in haste; she was in fact
+rather slow, but it was a soft, graceful slowness, and her motions were
+so pretty that one could not wish to hurry them. Everything about the
+girl was soft, gentle, leisurely; she had little to say, but that little
+was so pleasantly said, and her soft voice lingered so sweetly over the
+vowels, that one was sorry when she had done speaking.
+
+She smiled very sweetly on the two middle-aged men. "Good mornin', Mr.
+Rock," she said. "'Mornin', Mr. Weaver! Ma sent me on an errand to you,
+Mr. Weaver; I went to the shop fust, and then I thought likely you might
+be here, so I come along down."
+
+"Yes!" said Seth. "You knew it was about time for all the foolishness
+there is in Salem Rock to bust out in paint. Look at the figuree he's
+makin' out of Old Sir there!"
+
+"Yay-us!" said Annie Lizzie, admiringly. "Don't he look nice? I think
+he's real handsome, Mr. Rock."
+
+Salem Rock nodded, and gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Seth's jealous,"
+he said. "Don't you take no notice of him, Annie Lizzie!"
+
+"She'll hev to take notice of me," said Seth, "or she won't get what
+she come for. What does your Ma want, little gal?"
+
+"She wanted to know if you was comin' to paint the stairs to-morrow.
+This festival comin' on and all, she says she's ashamed to have 'em look
+as they doos."
+
+"The festival ain't goin' up her back stairs, is it?" asked Seth. "I
+wish it was, and out the back winder and across lots to Tom Fool's
+Pastur, where it come from."
+
+"Why, Mr. Weaver, how you talk!" said Annie Lizzie, in soft reproach. "I
+think it'll be elegant. I'm jest as excited about it!"
+
+"Think likely!" grunted Seth. "What kind o' figuree is Pindar goin' to
+make out of you, young un? Psyche? Wal, it takes all kinds! You tell
+your Ma them stairs'll have to wait a spell. There's too many folks
+wantin' the outside o' their cups and platters done up, tell her, for me
+to 'tend to the insides yet awhile. I'll get round to it bumby, tell
+her; if ever I get done with this job!" he added, tilting back on his
+heels, and surveying the white lady. "I s'pose you've got to have three
+co'ts on her, Sale?"
+
+"That's what!" said Salem. "I'd never skimp Old Marm in her co'ts, not
+if I had to go in my shirt-sleeves to do it."
+
+"Mr. Rock," said Annie Lizzie, "you promised me you'd tell me some day
+about those images, and you never. What do they represent, may I ask?
+They ain't man and wife, be they?"
+
+"I guess not!" said Seth, with a chuckle. "I never heard 'em jaw each
+other, many times as I've been over 'em. Tell her about 'em, Sale. Annie
+Lizzie, you set down, and he'll tell the stories now, or, if he won't, I
+will."
+
+"Sho!" said Salem Rock. "What's the use of rakin' up old stories? These
+two figgers have set here so long they don't need no stories; they jest
+belong here, same as the trees doos."
+
+"But I _love_ stories, Mr. Rock!" said Annie Lizzie, in her soft,
+pleading voice. "Do tell me, Mr. Rock, now please!"
+
+She sat down on the grass, and gathered her pink skirts round her: she
+might have been a great, soft rose dropped on the green.
+
+"Bile in, Salem!" said Seth Weaver. "You ain't forgot, have ye?"
+
+[Illustration: "'BILE IN, SALEM!' SAID SETH WEAVER, 'YOU AIN'T FORGOT,
+HAVE YE?'"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+SPINNING YARNS
+
+
+"No, I ain't forgot," said the older man, slowly; "nor like to forget."
+
+He laid his brush down carefully after a critical glance at "Old Sir's"
+buttons.
+
+"I guess mebbe I'll let them buttons dry a spell before I put on the
+last co't," he said. "No, I ain't forgot, Seth; but it takes a kind of a
+h'ist to get back into things that seems so long ago you kinder think
+they must have happened to somebodys else beside yourself.
+
+"Wal, little gal, these two figgers is figgerheads, you see: kem off two
+ships I sailed in long before your two bright eyes opened on to this
+world of sin and--"
+
+"Deestruction!" said Seth Weaver. "Chirk up a mite, Salem! This ain't a
+funeral, is it?"
+
+"I dono but 'tis, kind of," said Salem Rock, soberly. "It's amazin' how
+many folks is dead and buried nowadays. Howsoever, them was two good
+ships, the _Merchant Cap'n_ and the _White Lady_. Old Sir here, he come
+off the _Cap'n_; they made her over into a barge, and I begged for him,
+and they let me have him. The builder meant him for a kind of compliment
+to Cap'n Tree; sing'lar compliment, _I_ used to think. Cap'n Tree was a
+pictur' of a man, if ever I sot eyes on one, and Old Sir always
+resembled a wooden image, and no special reason why he shouldn't.
+
+"Wal, I took my fust voyage in the _Merchant Cap'n_; I was cabin-boy,
+and Mis' Tree was along; it was the last voyage but one they took
+together, him and her, and I was along on both. Wal, sir, I tell you
+'twas a sight to see them two sail a ship together. He'd taught her
+navigation, and she took to it like them bees to that rocket yonder. She
+was as good a navigator as ever I see. We was tradin' round Borneo ways,
+and had laid in a cargo of spices and truck, and started on the homeward
+voyage. Come up a hurricane, and blowed us clear'n out of our course;
+went on blowin', and kep' us hitherin' and thitherin' for three days,
+till we didn't know where we was, nor hardly whether we was in this
+world at all, or that part of the next that we wasn't anyways particklar
+_about_ bein' in. The third night of it was the wust, and, gorry! I tell
+ye 'twas awful! and then all of a suddin, like takin' off your hat, it
+fell dead calm. When mornin' broke, 'twas wuss yet, for there was land
+dead ahead, and the _Merchant Cap'n_ driftin' on to it as fast as tide
+could take her. Wal, Mis' Tree had jest come up-stairs, and I tumbled up
+behind her, cur'us as a monkey, same as all boys be. She looks at the
+land, and then up at Cap'n, that quick way she had, like a bird. 'What
+is it?' she says; and Cap'n says, 'Solomon Islands!'
+
+"I hadn't no notion what that meant; I thought from the sound it might
+be some extry fine place, like the Bible, ye know, cedars of Lebanon,
+and Queens of Sheby, and like that; but Cap'n's voice had a queer sound
+to it, and I looked at him, and he was the color of her there!" he
+nodded toward the white image.
+
+"Little Mis' Tree, she never turned a hair, though she knew what I
+didn't, that them islands was cannibal, the wust sort, and no white man
+had ever come off 'em inside his own skin. She never turned a hair,
+only slid her mite of a hand into his, and said, quiet-like: 'We're both
+here, Ethan!' Cap'n give a kind of groan. 'I'd give my soul, Marshy,' he
+says, 'if you was safe to home!' She stood up straight--Jerusalem! I can
+see her now; 'twas like a flame risin', near as I can put it--and looks
+him in the face. 'I be to home!' she says; that was every word she said.
+
+"Wal, word got round what land it was,--some of the crew had been that
+way before,--and I tell ye we was a pooty sick-lookin' crew. There
+warn't a breath o' wind, nor the shadow of a breath; and we kep' on
+a-driftin', till pooty soon we could see the shore plain, and black
+savages runnin' up and down, hollerin', and wavin' their arms. They see
+us, and were all ready for us; and pooty soon we could make out that
+they was pilin' up logs o' wood, makin' fires--Seth, what in time made
+you start me in on this yarn? 'Tain't no kind o' thing for this gal to
+hear."
+
+Annie Lizzie's eyes were like brown stars, her cheeks like Old Sir's
+carmine stock. "Oh, Mr. Rock!" she cried, "if Mis' Tree could bear it, I
+guess I can. Please go on! I _have_ to hear the rest. And besides," she
+added, naively, "of course I know you wasn't all--"
+
+She paused.
+
+"No, we wasn't eat," said Salem Rock; "but I tell ye, little gal, we was
+as near it as a person is anyways desirous to come. We was that near, we
+see them critters grinnin' their white teeth at us, and heard their
+devils' screechin' and chatterin'. When it got to that, Cap'n called the
+crew aft, and told 'em, quiet and easy, how things was.
+
+"'If the wind comes up within ten minutes,' he says, 'we are safe; if
+not, then we've had our time in this world,' he says, 'and behoves us
+be ready for another. I see no reason, and Mis' Tree sees no reason, why
+we should go in that beastly fashion yonder,' he says, pointin' to the
+yellin' savages; 'and therefore I have give my orders, and before we
+touch that shore the doctor will serve an extry grog, that will take you
+through sleep to the presence of your Maker, and may He have mercy on
+your souls and mine!'
+
+"'Amen!' says Mis' Tree, clear and crisp; and I see she had a little
+bottle in her hand, holdin' it tight, and the other hand in Cap'n's.
+Jerusalem! she had grit!
+
+"Wal, there was no words said. 'Twas a good crew, 'most all of 'em
+Quahaug men; your father was one of 'em, Seth."
+
+Seth nodded gravely.
+
+"But we got together forrard, and watched the shore, and Cap'n and Mis'
+Tree stood aft and kep' their eye on the wind.
+
+"That shore come nearer; it come nearer than was anyways comfortable. I
+warn't nothin' but a boy, and I can remember wonderin' whether the folks
+to home would ever know, and whether Cap'n would write the story and put
+it in a bottle, same as in books I'd read; and what'd become of the
+ship, and the little monkey I was tamin' for my sister. And then--then
+somebody sung out somethin', and I turned round; and there stood Cap'n
+Tree, with the tears runnin' over his face, and his arm up, p'intin' at
+the pennon on the masthead.
+
+"'Bout ship!' he says; and that same moment come a puff o' wind from the
+shore; and then pooty soon another; and then the land-breeze set in good
+and steady.
+
+"The helmsman put her about, and she come round with a dip and a sweep
+like a dancin' lady, and went curtseyin' off over the waves--you never
+see a sight like that, little gal, nor never will see.
+
+"'Let us give thanks to Almighty God!' says Cap'n Tree; and we give 'em,
+kneelin' on the deck."
+
+Salem Rock drew a long breath, and took up his brush again.
+
+"There!" he said. "You've had your story, Annie Lizzie. I dono as it's a
+very pooty one, but truth ain't allers pooty, I've noticed."
+
+"Oh, it's a wonderful story, Mr. Rock!" cried little Annie Lizzie. "I
+thank you a thousand times for tellin' me. But ain't you goin' to tell
+the other one, too, about the lady? Please, Mr. Rock!"
+
+"I guess not!" said Salem. "I guess I'm jaw-weary for this time."
+
+"No, you ain't," said Seth Weaver. "Take more'n that to jaw-weary you,
+Sale, with the practice you have," and he cast a cautious glance at the
+house. "Let the little gal hev the other story if she wants it. Fust
+thing we know you and me'll be to Kingdom Come, and who's to tell the
+stories then? The young folks ought to know 'em, too; this one special.
+Bile in, old hoss!"
+
+Salem Rock drew another long breath. "You tell her about the spar
+yonder," he said, "while I third-co't these buttons; I've got to give my
+mind to 'em. I ain't the only man ever was to sea, Annie Lizzie: you
+sick him on to spin you that yarn, and then we'll see."
+
+"Sho!" said Seth. "Ain't no story _to_ that. All about it, Sale and me
+was both shipwrecked one time,--'twas after Cap'n Tree was dead,--and us
+two and that spar was all that come ashore. Now go 'long, and let her
+hear about the _White Lady_, and let the buttons go to Tinkham and see
+the sights."
+
+Salem Rock cast a glance of affectionate comprehension at his companion.
+It was little less than heroic for Seth Weaver, the best story-teller in
+Quahaug, thus to break and knot up his favorite yarn, the proper
+spinning of which took a good half-hour; but it was very rarely that
+Salem Rock could be brought to tell these two sea tales, and Seth was a
+good friend and a good listener.
+
+So, when he repeated "Go 'long!" Salem nodded, and laid down his brush
+again.
+
+"It's easy to see you're doin' this job by the day," he said. "I dono as
+Mis' Weight'll ever get them stairs done at this rate. Wal, if I've
+gotter, I've gotter, I s'pose. Up anchor and square away, hey? Wal, her
+there," he nodded toward the White Lady, "was figgerhead and likeness,
+fur as I know, to the _White Lady of Avenel_, full-rigged ship, seven
+hundred and fifty tons, Ethan Tree master and owner. She was a clipper,
+the _White Lady_ was, if ever such sailed the seas. Old Marm here is a
+fine-appearin' woman, fur as she goes,"--he indicated by a wave of his
+hand the incompleteness which marred the perfect symmetry of the
+figure,--"but she ain't to be named within a week of the vessel herself.
+Mis' Tree named her out of a book she'd ben readin',--she was a great
+reader,--and had her all painted white, not a dark spot on her; I tell
+ye, she was a sightly vessel. So we sailed for Singapore, and I was
+second mate then, and prouder than ary peacock ever strutted, because I
+was young for the berth, ye see, and Cap'n promoted me for efficiency,
+so he said. Had a good voyage, and discharged our cargo, and loaded up
+again with coffee and raw silk, and off for home. Wal, sir, all went as
+it should the fust few weeks, though I was none too well pleased with
+the make-up of the crew. That is to say, most of 'em was all right, or
+would have ben if they'd ben let alone; but two of 'em was strangers,
+picked up at Singapore, where two of our men died of jungle fever; and
+the fust mate broke his leg, ridin' a fool four-legged hoss, and had to
+be left in hospital; so we was both short-handed and left-handed, as you
+might say.
+
+"Still we got on, and mebbe we might have come through all right, but
+then Cap'n took sick. I think he got some kind o' malaria p'ison ashore,
+and Mis' Tree thought so, too: anyway, he was terrible sick, and she
+nussed him, and run the ship, her and me together. She was allers good
+to me, ever sence she bought my mud pie when I was no more'n a baby; and
+we had good weather, and so things went from day to day after a
+fashion.
+
+"But them two strangers, they was ugly, grumble-groan kind of fellers,
+lookin' for trouble. You mind me, Annie Lizzie; a man that's lookin' for
+trouble will find it, if he has to break the eggs from under a settin'
+hen to get at it. The minute these two fellers heard Cap'n was sick,
+they see their chance, and they commenced workin' on the men, talkin' of
+'em round, and makin' 'em think they was abused. You mind this, too,
+little gal; you tell a man often enough that he's got a crick in his
+back, and he'll come to think it's broke, and go hollerin' to raise the
+roof for a plaster to mend it. Same way with our men: some of 'em, that
+is. There was others that was all right, and stayed all right, but yet,
+you know how 'tis: when there's two-three bad ones in a crew, it makes
+trouble all through, someways."
+
+Seth nodded sympathetically. "Same as a drop o' paint'll rile a hull
+pail o' water; or take it t'other way round, a spoonful o' water'll
+spile a hull can o' paint."
+
+"That's so!" said Salem Rock, gravely. "Ile and water, good and evil;
+the Lord can mix 'em so they'll make a good wearin' color, but the hand
+of man cannot so do. Wal, come one day, Cap'n was so bad, Mis' Tree
+didn't leave his side all the mornin'; and I was busy with the log, and
+one thing and another, and, all about it, these fellers thought they see
+their chance to hatch up a mutiny. There was a big feller in the crew,
+Bob Moon his name was; a good seaman, but he warn't more'n half there in
+his upper story. He'd had a block drop on his head, and it kind o' mixed
+his idees so they never got straight. He was sort o' gormin' and gappin'
+most of the time, and he'd go anyways any person had a mind to head him,
+and go hard, for he had the stren'th of a bull and the mule-headedness
+of a--of a mule. Wal, these fellers--Faulkner and Higgins their names
+was--they got holt of Bob and two-three others, and give 'em to
+understand now was their time. Cap'n sick, and her tendin' of him, and
+me nothin' but second mate; and they allowed they'd ruther stop at the
+Azores and drop us three there, and go off with the vessel, tradin' on
+their own account. See? quite a pooty plot they hatched up; might ha'
+ben a story-book. But they got holt of the wrong stick when they tackled
+Ben Gray, the ship's carpenter. Ben was a straight stick of white pine
+timber as ever I see. He give 'em a smooth answer; said he'd think it
+over, and let 'em know, and he shouldn't be surprised if there was
+considerable in what they said, and like that; and then he come hotfoot
+and told me every word, and what should we do? I took him straight down
+to the cabin, and called Mis' Tree to the door and told her. She looked
+us right through, as if she was countin' the j'ints in our back-bones.
+'Are most of the men straight?' she says. So we told her how 'twas, most
+of 'em was all right at bottom, but yet they'd got sorter warpled
+through these fellers workin' on 'em, and we was feared there might be
+trouble. She studied a bit, still sarchin' us with them black eyes of
+her'n--gorry! seemed as though I could feel my soul rustlin' round
+uneasy inside me. Then she give us our orders, quick and quiet, and not
+too many of 'em; and we went off, and l'itered up on deck separate, and
+I sot down behind one of the bo'ts, nigh hand to the companion, and
+coiled rope. It was Bob Moon's watch on deck, and he was hunchin' round,
+mutterin' and growlin', and I could see he was workin' himself up to
+somethin'. 'Twarn't a gre't while before up comes Ben Gray, and with
+him Faulkner, one of the two grumble-groans, talkin' mighty earnest.
+'Here!' says Ben. 'Here's Bob Moon this minute. He's safe, ain't he?'
+
+"'Bet yer life,' says Faulkner. 'He's all pie for us!' he says; 'ain't
+yer, Bob?' and Bob hunches himself and rubs his big hands, and allows
+he'll fix things to beat creation once he gits started.
+
+"'You tell him, then,' says Ben, 'what you've jest told me, and mebbe we
+can run it off to-night,' he says.
+
+"Moon was sittin' on the hatchway, with his back to the stairs, and
+Faulkner squats down beside him and commences dealin' out to him what he
+proposed; and Gray stood back a leetle mite, and I peeked round the eend
+of the bo't.
+
+"Then--we never heerd a sound; but, all in a minute, there was Mis' Tree
+standin' behind them two, close up. They was both men that had hair,
+Bob with a curl on him like a mattress, and t'other a kind o' thick
+tousle like a yeller dog's. That little woman never spoke, but she took
+those two by the hair--twisted her little hands in and got a good
+holt--and brought their two heads together with a crack--Jerusalem!
+'twas like a pistol-shot! Every man on board jumped, and come runnin' to
+see what was up; but them two never stirred, jest sot there: their wits
+was clean jarred out of 'em. Then Mis' Tree spoke up, clear and crisp;
+she never hollered, she no need, her voice carried like a trumpet.
+
+"'Mr. Rock,' she says, 'put this man in irons, and George Higgins the
+same. Bob Moon, you come with me; I want you to nurse Cap'n for me. The
+rest go to your quarters.'
+
+"She took holt of Bob's collar--he was nearer seven foot than six, and
+had the brea'th of an ox--and give a little h'ist, and he come up like
+he was a rag dolly. 'Come along, Bob,' she says, 'Cap'n wants you,' and
+she marched him off like Mary had a little lamb, and he nussed Cap'n
+like his own mother from that hour. Further and moreover, he got his
+wits back likewise from that hour. Yes, sir, he did so. 'Peared as if
+one blow had shook his brains one way, and the next shook 'em back the
+other; I expect there wasn't enough of 'em to fill his head solid, so
+they wouldn't travel. And that man nussed Cap'n, and follered Mis' Tree
+like a span'el dog the rest of the voyage."
+
+"But what become of those two mean men, Mr. Rock?" asked Annie Lizzie,
+who had followed the story with breathless interest. "Did they make any
+more trouble?"
+
+"Not a mite!" said Salem Rock. "They was put in irons, and so remained
+till we come to the Azores, and there we left 'em, though not so
+agreeable to their wishes as the way they had planned. It seemed they
+belonged there, and was wanted for various causes; so we left 'em in the
+calaboose and come away. But for Cap'n's bein' so poorly, I'd never ask
+for a better voyage. The men was like pie, every man Jack of 'em, and if
+Mis' Tree wanted to wipe her shoes, there warn't ary one but would have
+ben proud to be her door-mat. Yes, sir; that was a great voyage--till it
+come to the eend."
+
+He was silent; and Annie Lizzie, thinking the tale was over, made a
+motion to rise, but Seth checked her with a silent gesture.
+
+"Go on, Sale," he said, quietly. "Finish up, now you're about it."
+
+"There ain't but a little more," said the old sailor, speaking half to
+himself. "It behoved to be a good voyage, for it was the last. Cap'n
+fit hard, and she fit for him, but 'twas not so to be. The p'ison, or
+whatever 'twas, had got too strong a holt on him; he couldn't shake it.
+But yet for awhile, when we was nearin' home, he seemed to gain up a
+mite, and would come up on deck, and set and see her take the
+observation, and pass the time of day with the boys. Looked like his
+shadow, he did, and white as his shirt under the tan; but his courage
+was good, and he was allers sayin' he'd get well so soon as he was to
+home.
+
+"'Home, Marshy!' he'd say. 'We'll be there soon, little woman!'
+
+"And she'd nod and smile, and say they would so, sure enough; and Bob
+Moon'd go off and cry behind a bo't. I punched his head good every time
+I co't him at it, fear they'd notice, but I don't think they did, they
+was wropped up in each other.
+
+"Wal, at last and finally, sure enough we sighted Quahaug P'int. It was
+a fine day, I ric'llect, south by west, clear and warm; pretty a day as
+ever I see. Cap'n was on deck, and he was mighty weak that day. His
+voice was no more'n a whisper, but yet cheerful, you understand, and he
+had a word for every one that come by, and we all made out _to_ come by,
+one errant or another. She was sittin' beside him, fannin' him, and
+talkin' away easy and pleasant, tellin' how that they'd be in soon now,
+and Lucy--that was Mis' Blyth, their daughter, Arthur's mother--would be
+comin' from the West to visit 'em, and all; and Cap'n listened, and
+seemed real pleased, and put in a word now and again.
+
+"I was standin' close by, makin' believe tinker somethin',--I was allers
+nigh hand them days, case o' need,--when the lookout says, 'Quahaug
+P'int in sight, Cap'n! 'and we looked, and there it was, sure enough,
+and the sun goin' down behind it, and the water all the likeness of gold
+in between. Cap'n raised his head, and begun to talk sudden and quick.
+'Marshy,' he says, 'I couldn't find a pineapple this mornin',' he says;
+'but here's custard-apples and turtles' eggs; we'll manage to make out a
+breakfast,' he says. I looked up at him, and his eyes were bright as
+lamps, and his cheeks like fire. Mis' Tree put her hand on his arm,
+quiet like. 'That's just as good, Ethan,' she says. 'Them's beautiful,'
+she says; 'I was gettin' kinder tired of pineapples.' Then he goes on,
+sort o' like talkin' to himself. 'True blue, little Marshy!' he says.
+'True blue, little wife! we'll get home yet; safe home, safe home!'
+
+"Then all of a suddent he riz up to his feet, stood up every inch of
+him,--he was a tall man,--and stands lookin' out forrard. 'Sail ho!' he
+says, 'sail ho! we'll see home again, home!' and he dropped back in her
+arms, and his sperit passed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MISS WAX AT HOME
+
+
+Miss Bethia Wax was at work one afternoon, bending over her little round
+table, busily plaiting a hair chain, when she heard her front door open.
+She looked up in some disturbance, for Phoebe, the little maid, was
+out, and there were few visitors, since Mrs. Stedman died, with whom she
+was on "run-in" terms: her disturbance was not lessened when the billowy
+form of Mrs. Malvina Weight appeared in the doorway.
+
+"Good afternoon, Malvina," said Miss Wax, rather coldly. "I heard no
+knock; I trust you have not been kept waiting. My domestic is out."
+
+"Yes, I see her go past the house," said the visitor, "and I thought I'd
+jest make a run-in. How are you feelin', Bethia? You're lookin' re'l
+poorly. I noticed it in meetin' last Sabbath. I said to myself, 'That
+woman is goin' jest the way all her fam'ly has, and she the last of 'em.
+As a friend _of_ the fam'ly,' I said, 'it's my dooty to warn her'; and
+so I do."
+
+Mrs. Weight sat down, and fanned herself with a small and rather dingy
+pocket-handkerchief.
+
+"I am much obliged to you," said Miss Bethia. "I am in my usual health,
+Malvina, though I am never very robust. I was always delicate, as you
+may say, but yet I don't know but I have held my own with others of my
+age. Flesh isn't always a sign of health," she added, not without a
+touch of gentle malice.
+
+"I expect I am aware of that!" cried Mrs. Weight. "I expect there's few
+knows the frailness that comes with layin' on flesh. What I suffer
+nights is beyond the power of tongue to tell. But all the more it
+behoves me, as the widder of a sainted man and deacon of this parish, to
+do my dooty by others; and I ask you, Bethia Wax, if you are doctorin'
+any."
+
+"I am not," said Miss Bethia, dryly.
+
+"Well, you ought so to do," said Mrs. Weight, impressively. "It come to
+me right in meetin', when I ought to have ben listenin' to the
+sermon,--though the land knows I have hard work _to_ listen sometimes,
+the sort o' talk Elder Bliss gives us: Gospel's well enough, but a
+person wants _some_ doctrine, and it don't set good, any way, shape, or
+manner, for a man of his years to be the everlastin' time tellin' them
+as might be his mothers that they'd oughter do thus and so. I was
+leadin' in prayer when Elder Bliss was a bottle-baby, at least he looks
+it if ever I see one. But what I started in to say was, it come over me
+all of a suddent that what you wanted was a bottle of my spring
+med'cine, and so I brought you one."
+
+She produced a bottle from under her shawl, and set it on the table with
+a defiant air.
+
+"I am much obliged to you, Malvina," Miss Wax began; but Mrs. Weight
+went on impressively.
+
+"Now you want to _take_ that med'cine, Bethia Wax! You want to take a
+gre't spoonful with your victuals, and in between your victuals. You
+take three bottles of that remedy, and you won't know yourself for the
+same woman. If you're a mind to pay me fifty cents for this bottle and
+sixty for the next two (that's thirty cents apiece, three spoonfuls for
+a cent, less than half what you'd pay for any boughten stuff), you may,
+and, if not, it's all ekal to me; the Lord will provide. He feeds the
+ravens when they call, and I've never had no doubts of bein' one, far as
+_I'm_ concerned."
+
+Mrs. Weight here drew a long and deep breath, settled herself deeper in
+her chair, and took a fresh start.
+
+"So now _that's_ off my mind, and my dooty done, whether it's ordered
+that you should remain, or pass away same as your folks has done. Now,
+there's another thing I come to speak about. Be you goin' to march in
+this procession?"
+
+Miss Wax colored painfully. "I have not decided, Malvina," she said. "I
+am considering the matter. Mr. Pindar Hollopeter has invited me to
+appear as--as Minerva--"
+
+"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Weight. "I knew it. I felt it in these bones!"
+She indicated the spaces which veiled her anatomy. "I felt certing to my
+inwards that this would end in pagan blasphemy, and so it has. Oh, that
+I should live to see jedgment on this village, as I've lived in, and my
+fathers before me, sence--"
+
+"I do not understand you, Malvina," Miss Wax interrupted, with some
+warmth. "The Mr. Hollopeters are Christian men, I believe; at least, I
+know Homer is, and I've never heard anything to the contrary about
+Pindar."
+
+"Have you ever heard anything about Pindar, anyway?" cried Mrs. Weight,
+her little eyes gleaming. "Do you, or doos any one in this village know,
+how or where that man has ben livin' these thirty years past? He never
+was one to hide his light under a booshel, if he had any to hide. Don't
+tell me, Bethia Wax! For thirty years Pindar Hollopeter has ben livin'
+let them know how as he serves, and never a cent, nor so much as a
+breathin' word for the place that give him birth. But direckly he hears
+that Mis' Tree has passed away, and left her money to Homer, and Satan's
+own words and works in regards to changin' the name of this--"
+
+Miss Bethia interrupted her again, promptly. "Malvina," she said,
+firmly, "I have told you before, and I tell you again, that no word
+disrespectful to Mrs. Tree shall be spoken in this house. There is no
+need of bringing her into this matter at all; but I should like to know
+why you call the Festival Procession pagan."
+
+"And ain't it pagan?" cried Mrs. Weight, leaning forward, her hands on
+her knees. "Ain't you jest told me with your own lips, Bethia Wax, that
+he asked you, a church-member in reg'lar standin', to strut and stomp
+as a heathen goddess, in heathen clo'es? Ain't that enough? Hasn't he
+got all the girls in this village takin' their Mas' best sheets and
+table-cloths and sewin' of 'em up to make toonics for muses and graces
+and all sich pagan trollops? Ain't that enough? Do you think sheets is
+fit and suitable clo'es for church-members? or table-cloths? And 'tain't
+as if he hadn't ben shown a better path. 'Pindar,' I said, when he come
+to see about Annie Lizzie, 'you get up an Old Folks' Concert,' I says,
+'and I'll be the Goddess of Liberty for ye,' I says. I had that red,
+white, and blue buntin', you know, that we hired for the Centennial.
+Some of it was damaged, and the man wouldn't take it back, and it's ben
+in my attic ever sence; and I thought 'twould be a good way to use it
+up, and help him out at the same time. Why, Bethia, that man looked at
+me--why, I believe he's ravin' distracted; he poured out a string o'
+stuff that hadn't no sense or meanin' in it; and then said,
+'Shakespeare,' as if that made it any better. Deacon never would have
+Shakespeare's works in the house; he said they was real vulgar, and that
+was enough for me. So he see I was real indignant, and he blinked his
+eyes and spoke up and said I might be a Roman matron if I was a mind to.
+But I says, 'No, sir!' I says. 'I am an American lady, and the widder of
+a sainted man, and _I_ am not goin' travellin' and traipsin' in heathen
+and publican clo'es, whatever others may do!' and so I come away, and
+left him flappin' there on the door-steps. He's ravin' crazy, Pindar
+Hollopeter is; he'd oughter be shut up. And I told Annie Lizzie she
+shouldn't have anything to do with it in any way, shape, or manner.
+She's ben bawlin' all day about it, but I tell her I didn't take her out
+of the street to have her rigged out with wings. If she'd think of her
+end, I tell her, and how she can aim a pair to walk the golden streets
+with, it would set _her_ better. Well, I must be goin', Bethia; I only
+run in jest for a minute. Now I hope you'll take that med'cine reg'lar,
+and benefit by it. I couldn't answer to Deacon when I meet him in glory
+if I hadn't done my dooty to them as is neighbors to me, specially when
+they look as gashly as you do, Bethia; but I'm in hopes we've taken it
+in time, and you may be spared. _Good_ day!"
+
+The visitor gone, Miss Wax heaved a sigh of relief, and tried to settle
+to her work again; but it would not do. Her mind had been disturbed,
+and, as she often said, her profession required calm. The hand must be
+steady, the nerves tranquil, or the delicate strands would twist and
+knot; and now her long, slim fingers were trembling, and the silken
+threads danced before her eyes. "I must give it up for to-day," said
+Miss Bethia, sadly; and she put away the little table, and took out a
+clean silk duster.
+
+A parlor must be dusted twice in the day, according to Miss Wax's
+theory: once in the morning, to remove the night's accumulation of dust,
+and again toward evening, to take up such particles of the evil thing as
+had settled during the day on chair or table, book or ornament. The
+morning task was an anxious one, and apt to be complicated by fears of
+the coffee's boiling over; but the afternoon dusting was one of the good
+lady's pleasures, and she took her time over it. She loved to linger
+over the glass cases, polishing them, admiring the treasures they
+protected, and recalling the circumstances of their making. It was
+pleasant to accompany her, as one was sometimes permitted to do, on one
+of these friendly rounds.
+
+"These pond-lilies," she would say, "were a wedding present to my cousin
+Cilissa Vinton, deceased. They were admired by some; Cilissa thought
+they were real, and wished to wear them in her hair. After her lamented
+death (of spasms), the family returned them to me as a memento. That
+spray of roses is made of feathers, the breast-feathers of the domestic
+goose. I never allowed them to be plucked from the living bird, my dear!
+I used to wear them in my hair; some thought the contrast pretty." And
+Miss Bethia would sigh gently, and glance at the long mirror, which
+reflected her tall and angular gentility.
+
+But this afternoon the good lady's thoughts were not reminiscent. As she
+stood before the rosewood "what-not," lifting each article, wiping it,
+and replacing it with delicate nicety (I can see them all: the two
+mandarins, the china baby in the bath-tub,--you could take him out! the
+whole thing would go into a walnut-shell,--the pink-and-gold Dresden
+shepherd and shepherdess, the Chinese puzzles, and all the other quaint
+pleasantnesses), it was of to-day rather than yesterday that Miss Bethia
+was thinking. Should she--_could_ she--walk in a public procession
+attired as Minerva? She put aside with an inward shudder Mrs. Weight's
+characterization of the possible performance. She, Bethia Wax, could not
+"strut and stomp" if she tried. Her walk was graceful, as she was well
+aware; in her youth she had been said to glide.
+
+    "As a swan o'er the water,
+    Quahaug's fairy daughter
+    In majesty maiden doth glide;
+    May the day Wax and wane
+    When the sighs of her swain
+    May waft her to bliss as a bride!"
+
+Homer Hollopeter had written that in her album at a time when she and
+Pindar were--oh, no! not engaged, certainly not; only very good
+friends. Homer, she was aware, had regarded her as a sister, had
+wished--but she never laid it up against Mary; no, indeed! Who could
+wonder at any one's falling in love with Mary?
+
+And now, after all the years, Pindar had come back; still an elegant
+man, Miss Wax thought, though nervous, to be sure, sadly nervous. "But
+perhaps it is his emotions," she said. "No doubt he feels it, coming
+back after thirty years, and all so changed." And he had pressed her
+hand, and murmured, "Ye gods!" which was almost profane, Miss Bethia
+feared,--yet not quite, she hoped; and had asked her to represent
+Minerva, goddess of wisdom, in the Festival Procession. He was coming
+this very evening for her answer; what should it be?
+
+Miss Bethia glanced again at the long mirror. The angular, yet not
+ungraceful, figure, the long, oval face with its delicate features and
+arched eyebrows, the glossy bands of hair, still jet-black,--the whole
+reflection was familiar, friendly, not--Miss Wax modestly hoped--not
+wholly unpleasing. She tried to imagine the figure clad in flowing
+draperies; there was a rose-colored slip under the spare room spread;
+sateen always draped prettily; pink was her color, and she could not
+somehow feel that sheets would be quite--quite what she would wish to be
+seen in. And--on her head, now! Would a helmet be necessary? There was
+not such an article in the village, but she presumed with silver
+paper--and yet, a wreath would be so much more becoming; the
+feather-work roses, for example! She took them from under their round
+glass case, and laid them against her hair, then put them back with a
+sigh. The contrast certainly used to be thought becoming, but
+somehow--and after all was it suitable? What would Phoebe and Vesta
+Blyth--what would Mrs. Tree have said?
+
+With the thought, a vision rose before Miss Wax's eyes: a little figure
+seated in a high-backed chair, leaning on an ebony crutch-stick; black
+eyes gleaming with merriment, lips curving in a shrewd yet kindly
+smile--
+
+Miss Wax glanced at the trophy of silver coffee-spoons which still
+adorned the mantelpiece; sighed again, and turned away from the glass.
+"After all," murmured dear Miss Bethia, and this time she smiled, though
+it was a rather wan smile; "after all, Minerva was the goddess of
+wisdom!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE SORROWS OF MR. PINDAR
+
+
+It must not be supposed that Mr. Pindar Hollopeter's path was altogether
+set with roses at this time; on the contrary, many a thorn and bramble
+arrested his progress, and the poor gentleman's enthusiasm received many
+a prickly wound. He had been able to wave Mrs. Weight away with a lofty,
+"Off, woman, off! this hour is mine!" but there were others who could
+not be so dismissed. Mrs. Ware had gently but firmly declined to lead
+the band of Roman Matrons; and Salem Rock, when approached in regard to
+leading the Village Elders, had expressed his mind with massive
+finality.
+
+"Pindar," he said, "I don't exactly know what you mean by robes, but my
+gen'al idee of 'em is somethin' white and flappin'. Now I wore a
+christenin' robe when I was a baby, and I expect to wear a burial robe
+when I'm laid out; but, betwixt them two, I expect co't and pants will
+have to do me. Jest as much obleeged to you," he added, kindly, seeing
+Mr. Pindar's look of disappointment.
+
+Again, Mr. Pindar was amazed and distressed by the lack of youth and
+beauty in the village. It did seem unfortunate that Sophy Willow and the
+three pretty Benton girls were away, and that Villa Nudd's mother was
+ill and could not spare her. Beautiful Lily Jaquith could not leave her
+new baby, and Vesta Strong wrote that she should have been delighted to
+be Juno, but _all_ the children had just come down with chicken-pox. On
+the other hand, Mr. Pindar found to his dismay that the line between
+youth and middle age was less closely drawn in the village than in the
+theatres of the metropolis. That very morning, Miss Luella Slocum had
+come simpering up to him in the street, and had given him to understand
+that she would have no objection to taking the part of Psyche "to
+accommodate," as she heard that Annie Lizzie Weight was not to be
+allowed to walk in the Procession. Now Miss Luella would never see
+forty-five again, and her eyes, as has already been intimated, took
+widely divergent views of things in general; but she had always had a
+"theatrical turn," she informed Mr. Pindar, and had taken the part of
+Mrs. Jarley when they had the Wax Works.
+
+"And I do love to accommodate!" said Miss Luella, blandly. "I know what
+it is to have folks set back and keep out of things, Mr. Hollopeter. I
+don't know but Mis' Weight is right about Annie Lizzie; she's too young
+to be dressin' up and comin' forward in public, and besides, she's had
+no experience, as you may say. You couldn't expect her to have the
+_air_, like a person that's had experience. That's what I always say;
+you have to have the air, or you can't do it as it should be done. Don't
+say a word, Mr. Hollopeter; I shall be real pleased to help out, and I
+have a flowered Cretan that I'd like to have you call and see if 'twill
+do."
+
+"I wonder if he _is_ a little wantin'," said Miss Luella, in telling
+Miss Eliza Goby of the incident afterward. "He didn't hardly say a word,
+only give a kind of groan, and flapped his cloak, and begun walkin' off
+backwards in the most sing'lar way. I'm goin' to take this Cretan in to
+Prudence this afternoon, and see if she can make it over; it's Princess
+shape, and that's always stylish, I think; and I thought put on pink
+silk reveres would kind of liven it up: Psyche wants to look kind of
+youthful, I presume. The sleeves are a mite snug, but I don't know as
+that matters; I sha'n't have to raise my arms. What are you goin' to
+wear, Eliza?"
+
+"White muslin," said Miss Eliza Goby, "and a blue sash, or green, I
+haven't decided which; green is my color, but I have that blue Roman
+sash, you know. I think Pindar _is_ queer, Luella. One thing, he doesn't
+seem to have hardly any knowledge about this village; I don't know as he
+takes the paper even. Why, he thought I was married, and wanted I should
+walk with the married ladies; matrons, he called 'em; the _i_dea! I told
+him I'd never ben married, and didn't hardly know as I should; anyways,
+I warn't thinking of it at present, and I'd go with the rest of the
+girls."
+
+"And what did he say?" asked Miss Slocum.
+
+"I don't believe that man is well," said Miss Goby, gravely. "He made
+pretty much the same answer as he did you, sort of groaned and flapped.
+I think he had a pain in--in his digestion, and didn't like to speak of
+it. He's a perfect gentleman, if he is a mite flighty. That man had
+ought to have him a home, and some one to look after him, that's the
+fact; him and Homer, too."
+
+"That's so!" said Miss Slocum.
+
+But the unkindest cut of all was administered by the hand of Miss
+Prudence Pardon. It was Mrs. Bliss who advised him to take counsel with
+Miss Prudence in regard to costumes in general, and the little lady was
+smitten with remorse afterward for having done so.
+
+"It was base of me, John, I know," she said; "but I simply _could_ not
+tell him myself; he was so hopeful and confiding, and so--so pitiful,
+somehow, John. I don't think he is a bit more crazy than other
+people,--I believe I am a little cracked myself on some subjects, and I
+_know_ you are,--only his craziness is in a different line, that we know
+nothing about. And when he blinks at me with his nice brown doggy eyes,
+and flaps his little bat-cloak, and says, 'The Dramatic Moment, Mrs.
+Bliss!' I want to be a Roman Matron, and a Village Elder, and everything
+else, just to please him. I would, too, if you would let me, John. I
+don't believe that man had enough to eat before he came here; he's a
+perfect skeleton."
+
+"I do not precisely see the connection, Marietta, my dear," said the
+Reverend John, mildly.
+
+"You never do, dear!" replied his wife. "Talk of bats! but--well, so I
+just told him that I should have _loved_ to if I hadn't been a
+minister's wife, but that you were a cruel tyrant and wouldn't let me;
+and then I advised him to go to Miss Prudence, because she would know
+all about tunics and togas and everything else. I knew, you see, that
+she was all ready to give him a piece of her mind, because she gave me
+just a scrap the other day, when I was trying on my blue dimity. It's
+going to be perfectly sweet, John. Oh, I do hope she will not hurt his
+poor dear funny feelings _too_ much: she can be frightfully severe."
+
+But even while Mrs. Bliss was speaking, Miss Prudence Pardon,
+Rhadamanthus in a black alpaca apron, was laying down the law to Mr.
+Pindar, and emphasizing her points with a stiffly extended pair of
+shears. Miss Prudence had sat on the same bench at school with the
+Hollopeter boys, and saw no reason for mincing matters.
+
+"Pindar," she said, "if you hadn't have come to me, I should have held
+my peace; but seeing as you have come, and asked my opinion, you shall
+have it, without fear or favor. I think this whole thing is ridic'lous
+nonsense; and I think if you go on with it as you've begun, you will
+prove yourself, if I must use such an expression, what I call a gonoph."
+
+Mr. Pindar shrank for an instant before the epithet, but gathered
+himself together with a protesting wave.
+
+"Madam!" he cried, "you fail to comprehend--"
+
+"Excuse _me_!" said Miss Prudence, waving the shears in return. "I
+expect if there's any one in this village as ought to comprehend, it's
+me, with all I've ben through this week. Do you see that pile of truck?"
+She pointed stiffly with the shears at a mass of drapery piled high on
+the haircloth sofa. "There's thirty whole dresses there, let alone odd
+skirts and polonays. There's full sleeves and snug sleeves, and gored
+skirts and full skirts, and ruffles and box-plaits, and more styles than
+ever you heard of in your life, and every material from more antique to
+sarsnet cambric. I am expected to make all them over into toonics and
+togas, and the hens only know what other foolery; and I tell you,
+Pindar, it can't be done, nor I ain't going to try to do it."
+
+She paused for a moment, for Mr. Pindar was waving his arms and flapping
+his cloak in fervid assent.
+
+"My dear madam," he cried; "my dear Prudence, if I may take the liberty
+of an old schoolmate, I agree with you fully, entirely. I have
+endeavored to point out to the ladies with whom I have conversed, that a
+harmony of costume is absolutely imperative; that flowing drapery--the
+classic, Prudence, the classic!--is what the occasion demands. A glance
+at statuary will readily convince you--"
+
+Miss Prudence pointed the shears rigidly. "Pindar Hollopeter," she said,
+"I have seen considerable statuary in the course of my life, both Parian
+and wax, and I say this to you: I never see a statue yet with clothes
+that I would say fitted,--where there was any!" she added, grimly, and
+compressed her lips. "As to hanging sheets and the like of that on human
+beings, as if they was clo'es-horses," she went on, "it's no part of the
+trade I was brought up to, and I've no idee of beginning at my time of
+life, and so I tell you. Now my advice to you is this: give up all this
+foolishness of a procession, and have a reception at the house, or the
+_mu_seum, or whatever it is to be called from now on. Have it a pink
+tea, if you like, and I'll get up some real tasty dresses for the girls,
+the few there is, and the ladies can receive. That'll part the cats
+from the kittens, and I dunno's there's anything else will. The _i_dea
+of 'Lize Goby in white muslin! She'd look like lobster and white of egg,
+and so I told her.
+
+"The fact is, Pindar," Miss Prudence went on, more gently, laying down
+the shears for an instant, "you and Homer was both brought up real
+peculiar, and you're feeling it now. I don't mean to set in jedgment on
+your Ma, far from it; but look at the way it has worked out. Homer is a
+poet; well, luckily for him, he got into the post-office, where it
+didn't do a mite of harm. Homer is well liked and respected by all in
+this village," she added, benevolently, "and there was no one but
+rejoiced at his being left well off. But you, Pindar, took to the
+Drayma. Well, I've nothing to say against the Drayma, either, because
+I've had no experience of it, nor wished to have, only this: it never
+had any holt in this village, and when you try to bring it here, you
+make a big mistake. What is it, P'nel'pe?"
+
+Miss Penny, kindest soul in the village where so many are kind, had been
+hovering uneasily about the door during this interview. She respected
+Sister Prudence's judgment highly, and her own cheerful common sense
+forced her to agree with it in this instance; and yet her heart ached to
+see Mr. Pindar--such an elegant man!--sitting forlorn and dejected, with
+drooping head and wings, he who had entered with so jaunty a stride,
+Importance throned on his brow and the Dramatic Moment flapping in his
+cloak. She did wish Sister Prudence had not been quite so severe.
+
+But now Miss Penny looked in, with anxious eyes and heightened color.
+"Excuse _me_," she said. "I see some of the ladies comin', Sister, and I
+thought likely they was comin' to try on. I didn't know but Mr.
+Hollopeter would wish--" She paused to listen, and then hurried back,
+for already the little shop was full of voices.
+
+"Is Prudence in, Penny? Has she got that polonay ready to try on,
+think?"
+
+"Penny, I want to know if you've got any linin's to match this pink
+cheese-cloth; it don't hardly show over white."
+
+"Penny, I found this up attic, and I've come to show it to Prudence. See
+here! don't you think it'll make an elegant toonic, take and piecen it
+out with a Spanish flounce, and cut off this postilion? Shall I go--"
+
+Mr. Pindar sprang to his feet and looked wildly about him. Miss Prudence
+spoke no word, but, raising the shears, pointed toward the red-curtained
+glass door that opened into the little back garden.
+
+"--right in?" The door from the shop opened, and admitted Mrs. Pottle,
+her massive arms filled with polka-dotted purple merino.
+
+"How are you, Prudence?" said Mrs. Pottle. "You look feverish."
+
+"I'm as well as common, thank you," said Miss Prudence, grimly. "Won't
+you be seated?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE DRAMATIC MOMENT
+
+
+Mr. Pindar, as has already been said, was to call on Miss Wax that
+evening for her answer; but Mr. Homer was before him, for this was
+Friday evening, which the little gentleman invariably spent with his
+life-long friend. Punctually at a quarter before eight he appeared, and
+found Miss Wax ready for him, sitting under the portrait, with her elbow
+resting on the little table. Her silk dress, of the kind called _chine_,
+displayed bunches of apple-blossoms on a pale purple ground; she wore a
+scarf of rose-colored crape, and a profusion of hair jewelry. Mr. Homer,
+as he advanced to greet her, made his usual mental comment that she was
+an elegant female, and pressed her hand cordially; Miss Bethia returned
+the pressure, and inquired anxiously for his health. "I trust you are
+feeling better, Homer," she said, kindly; "all this excitement is very
+disturbing to you, I am sure. But it will soon be over now."
+
+Mr. Homer sighed, as he took his accustomed seat. "Either it or I must
+soon be over, Miss Bethia," he said, mournfully. "I feel that I cannot
+much longer cope with--a--the present circumstances. I am aware that I
+should have more fortitude; more--a--longanimity; but--as the lamented
+Keats has it, 'Misery most drowningly doth sing in my lone ear.' The cup
+of joy, Miss Bethia, has become a poisoned chalice. The firmament
+outblackens Erebus; the brooks utter a gorgon voice. Many phrases which
+I have formerly considered as mere poetical ebullitions,--a--wafts of
+the Wings of Poesy, if I may so express myself,--now seem to me the fit
+expression,--a--realization,--a--I may say concretion,--of my present
+state of mind. I thought I appreciated the great Keats before, but--" He
+waved his hands and shook his head in speechless emotion.
+
+"Can you not dismiss the subject from your mind for a time, Homer?"
+asked Miss Bethia, soothingly. "Your studies have always sustained you,
+and have been of great benefit, I am sure, to your friends as well as
+yourself. Have you written any more of the Epic, the 'Death of
+Heliogabalus'? I was in hopes you might have another scene to read to me
+this evening."
+
+Mr. Homer shook his head. "I have not touched the Epic," he said,
+"since--since the events which have recently concatenated, if I may so
+express myself. I sometimes think that I shall never touch it again,
+Miss Bethia."
+
+"Oh, don't say that, Homer!" Miss Wax protested; but the little
+gentleman went on, with an agitated wave.
+
+"I sometimes feel as if the Muse had deserted me; had--a--ceased to gild
+with her smile the--shall I say the peaks of my fancy? I have endeavored
+to woo her back. My brother Pindar is most anxious that I should write
+an--an ode--for this celebration which he is planning; but the numbers
+in which I have been in the habit of lisping, and which--I may
+say to you, my valued friend--were wont in happier days to
+flow,--to--a--meander,--to--a--babble o'er Pirene's sands, with ease
+and--and alacrity, now hesitate;--a--reluctate;--a--refuse the meed of
+melody which--which the occasion demands. My brother Pindar,--you have
+seen him, Miss Bethia?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Miss Wax, softly. "He was here yesterday. He asked--he
+was so good as to invite me to appear in the Festival Procession as--as
+Minerva."
+
+Mr. Homer looked up eagerly. "And you replied?" he asked.
+
+"I asked for time to consider," said Miss Wax, looking down. "I need not
+say to you, Homer, that it is not easy to refuse Pindar's first request,
+after so many years of absence;" she sighed gently; "but--but reflection
+has convinced me that it would not be altogether--shall I say suitable?
+I have never appeared in public, Homer, and I hardly feel--"
+
+She paused, for Mr. Homer was waving his hands and opening and shutting
+his mouth in great agitation.
+
+"Precisely so!" he cried. "Oh, very much so indeed, my dear friend. It
+is an unspeakable consolation to find that you share my sentiments on
+this subject. May I, Miss Bethia,--with friendship's key,--unlock, so to
+speak, the counsels of my--my bleeding breast? We are old friends: we
+twa--if I may quote Burns in this connection--ha' paidl't i' the
+burn,--I speak metaphorically, my dear lady, as I need not assure
+you,--frae mornin' sun till dine; the poets refuse occasionally the
+bonds of grammar, and both rhyme and metre require the verb in this
+instance, as you will readily perceive, even though--"
+
+Mr. Homer waved the subject to its conclusion, and hurried on: "You have
+also known Pindar from childhood, and have always felt--may I not say
+kindly, toward the wayward but high-souled lad?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" murmured Miss Bethia, softly, with another gentle sigh.
+
+"This being so," Mr. Homer went on, "I may say to you without hesitation
+that this whole matter of the celebration is a--is a nightmare to me! I
+have led a secluded life, Bethia, as befits a votary of the Muse. Blest
+with a limited but sufficient number of congenial friends, principally
+ladies,--though William Jaquith and Thomas Candy have been as sons to me
+of late, as sons,--I have kept, Miss Bethia, the noiseless tenor of my
+way,--the expression is Gray's, as you are well aware, and is commonly
+misquoted, _even_ tenor being the customary, though wholly incorrect
+version;--a--where was I? Oh, yes, as I was about to say, I have kept
+the noiseless tenor of my way, in peace and pleasantness, hitherto.
+
+"'For indeed,' as the lamented Keats observes in an early poem which is
+too little known:
+
+    "'For indeed, 'tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure,
+    (And blissful is he who such happiness finds,)
+    To possess but a span of the hour of leisure
+    In elegant, pure, and aerial minds.'
+
+That peculiar pleasure, Miss Bethia, has been mine up to the present
+time. My brother Pindar's course has been far different. At an early
+age, as you are aware, he sought the maddening throng; the--a--busy hum;
+the--a--in short, the roaring mart. I understand that much of his time
+has been devoted to music, and the remainder to histrionic art. He is
+permanently employed, as I understand, at a--a metropolitan place of
+amusement, where he occasionally takes part in Shakespearian
+representations (he has played the Ghost in 'Hamlet,' he tells me), and
+at other times performs upon the--in short, the kettledrums. You will
+readily perceive, my dear friend, that such a life conduces to the
+development of ideas which are discrepant;--a--divergent
+from,--a--devoid of commensurability with, the _genius loci_, the spirit
+which hovers, or has hitherto hovered, over Elm--I would say Quahaug.
+Miss Bethia, we are not a dramatic community. With the exception of Mrs.
+Jarley's Wax Works, some thirty years ago, and an Old Folks' Concert at
+a somewhat later period, I am unable to recall any occurrence of a--of
+a histrionic nature in our--shall I say midst? And now,--Miss Bethia,
+I love my brother tenderly, and am anxious, deeply anxious, to
+respond to the feeling, the--a--propendency, the--kindling of
+affection's torch, which has led him to seek his early home. I also
+respect,--a--revere,--a--entertain the loftiest sentiments in regard to
+the Muse; but when I am asked to appear in public, clad in draperies
+which--in short, of domestic origin,"--he waved further detail
+delicately away,--"and crowned with bays, I--Miss Bethia, I assure you
+my spirit faints within me. Nor can I feel that the proposed
+demonstration would in any way have commended itself to my cousin
+Marcia. It is borne in upon me--strenuously, I may say--that, if my
+cousin Marcia were present at this time in the--a--fleshly tabernacle,
+she would receive this whole matter in a spirit of--levity;
+of--a--derision; of--a--contumely. Am I wrong in this supposition, Miss
+Bethia?"
+
+"I feel positive that you are right, Homer!" said Miss Wax. "I speak
+with conviction. In fact, it was the thought of--of Her we honor,"--she
+glanced at the trophy with an introductory wave,--"that brought me to a
+decision on the point. I do feel for you, Homer, and share with you the
+distress of having to--to deny Pindar anything he desires. He will be
+here soon, and perhaps if we speak to him gently on the subject, he may
+see it in the light in which it presents itself to us. Probably this
+side has not been suggested to him." (Has it not? Oh, Miss Prudence!
+Miss Prudence!) "I think that if we compose our thoughts to a greater
+degree of calm, we may have more effect. A little music, Homer?"
+
+Mr. Homer put his hand to his head with a sigh. "Miss Bethia," he said,
+"a little music would be balm to the thirsty soul;--a--wings to the
+rainbow-hued spirit; a--oil which runs down the--" He waved the rest of
+the simile away. "I thank you, my elegant and valued friend. May I
+conduct you to the instrument?"
+
+It was a pleasant sight to see Mr. Homer conducting Miss Bethia Wax to
+the instrument. After a profound bow (his feet in the first position in
+dancing), he held out his hand; she laid the tips of her long fingers
+delicately in it, and, thus supported, glided across the room; a
+courtesy of thanks, a bow of acknowledgment, and she sank gracefully on
+the music-stool, while Mr. Homer returned to his favorite chair, drew a
+long breath, and sank back with folded hands and closed eyes.
+
+Miss Wax's instrument was one of Mr. Homer's chief sources of
+inspiration, and I must give it a word of description, for perhaps there
+never was another precisely like it. Tommy Candy called it a
+barrel-organ, and indeed it was not wholly unlike an idealized barrel of
+polished rosewood, standing erect on four slender legs. The front was
+decorated with flutings of red silk; the wood was inlaid with flowers
+and arabesques in mother-of-pearl. Beneath the silk flutings appeared an
+ivory handle, and it was by turning this handle that Miss Bethia
+"performed." "Cecilia's Bouquet" was the name inscribed on the front in
+flourishing gilt letters; and Miss Bethia had often been told that, when
+playing on the instrument, she reminded her hearers of the saint of that
+name. It was perhaps on this account that she was in the habit of
+assuming a rapt expression at such times, her head thrown back, her eyes
+raised to the level of the cornice. Thus seated and performing, Miss
+Bethia was truly a pleasant sight; and the melodies that came faltering
+out from the old music-box (for really it was nothing else!) were as
+pensive, mild, and innocent as the good lady herself. "The Maiden's
+Prayer," "The Sorrowful Shepherd," "Cynthia's Roundelay," and "The
+Princess Charlotte's Favorite;" these were among them, I remember, but
+there were twelve airs, and it took quite half an hour to play them all
+through.
+
+On this occasion, long before the half-hour was over, Mr. Homer's brow
+had cleared, and his face grown as placid as Miss Bethia's own. "The
+Princess Charlotte's Favorite" was also his (a most melancholy air I
+always thought it, as if the poor princess had foreseen her early death,
+and bewailed it, a Jephthah's Daughter in hoop and powder), and he
+followed it with pensive pleasure, bowing his head and waving his hands
+in time to the music, and occasionally joining in the melody with a thin
+but sweet falsetto. "Ta-ta, ta-tee, ta-ta, ta-tum!" warbled Mr. Homer,
+and Miss Bethia's gentle heart rejoiced to hear him.
+
+The two friends were so absorbed that they did not hear the
+door-bell,--indeed, it rang in the kitchen, and was a subdued tinkle at
+that,--nor Peggy's steps as she went to answer the call; and it was only
+when the "Princess Charlotte's Favorite" had faltered to its dismal
+conclusion that Mr. Homer, chancing to raise his eyes, saw his brother
+standing in the doorway. The vision was a disconcerting one. Mr. Pindar
+stood with his arms folded in his little cloak, his head bent forward,
+peering up through his eyebrows with a keen and suspicious look. Thus he
+stood for an instant; but, on meeting his brother's eyes, he flung up
+both arms as if in invocation,--whether of blessing or malediction was
+not clear to Mr. Homer's perturbed gaze,--the cloak fluttered in batlike
+sweeps, and he was gone.
+
+Mr. Homer sprang to his feet with an exclamation of dismay; and Miss
+Bethia, whose back had been turned to the door, rose also in wonder and
+distress. "What is the matter, Homer?" she asked. "You appear disturbed.
+Is--is any one there?" she added, seeing his look still fixed on the
+empty doorway.
+
+"It was my brother!" replied Mr. Homer. "It was Pindar. He was
+apparently--moved;--a--agitated;--a--under stress of emotion. I fear he
+is ill, Miss Bethia; I must hasten after him."
+
+"Pindar ill!" cried Miss Bethia. "Oh, Homer, bring him back, will you
+not? bring him back, and let me give him some of my Raspberry
+Restorative! Do hasten!"
+
+Mr. Homer promised to return if it were possible, and hurried away,
+leaving his hostess wringing her hands and uttering plaintive murmurs.
+He hastened along the quiet street. The moon was up, and he could see a
+figure fluttering on ahead of him, with waving cloak and hasty,
+disordered steps.
+
+"Pindar!" cried Mr. Homer. "My dear brother! wait for me, I implore you.
+It is I, Homer; I entreat you to pause!"
+
+The figure wavered, halted; finally turned round, and stood with folded
+arms till Mr. Homer hurried up, anxious and breathless.
+
+"Are you ill, Pindar?" cried the little gentleman. "Some sudden seizure,
+my dear brother? I am truly distressed: let me support you!"
+
+But Mr. Pindar waved him aside with a lofty gesture. "I require no
+support, Brother!" he said. "My corporal envelope is robust, I am
+obliged to you."
+
+"Then why--why this sudden appearance and disappearance?" asked Mr.
+Homer, bewildered. "Miss Wax was expecting you; we were both expecting
+you, sir!"
+
+"Were you?" said Mr. Pindar, bitterly. "I should hardly have thought it.
+I judged that I intruded, sir. It appeared to me that tender passages
+were in progress. I inferred that the advent of the Wanderer was
+unwelcome, sir, unwelcome."
+
+Mr. Homer attempted to speak, but Mr. Pindar waved him off, and hurried
+on, a real feeling struggling through the pompous structure of his
+sentences. "It would appear that I was in error, sir, when I requested
+you to compose an ode. I should have demanded an epithalamium; flute and
+clarionet, sir:
+
+    "Tweedle, tweedle, toodle turn,
+    Clash the cymbal, bang the drum!
+    Cupid and his antic choir
+    Sing for Homer and Bethia!
+
+But you might have told me, Homer; you might have told me, sir!"
+
+Mr. Homer Hollopeter blushed very red all over; if it is discreet even
+to allude to Mr. Homer's toes, I am quite sure that even they must have
+grown rosy. He looked gravely at his brother, who was waving his cloak
+in great excitement.
+
+"My dear brother," he said, slowly, "it--I--I fail to find words in
+which to express the--the--_enormousness_ of your misconception. I
+regard Miss Wax, sir, as a sister, an esteemed and valued sister."
+
+At the place where Mr. Homer had overtaken his brother, stood a
+watering-trough, a hollowed section of a huge oak-tree, through which
+ran a tiny crystal stream. The companion oak, still vigorous,
+overshadowed the trough, making a pleasant circle of shade, and around
+this oak ran a rustic seat. It was a favorite gathering-place of the
+village boys, but now the boys were in bed, and all was still save for
+the gurgle of the little rill as it babbled along the trough.
+
+To Mr. Homer's utter amazement and discomfiture, Mr. Pindar now flung
+himself down upon this seat, and, pulling out a large blue cotton
+handkerchief, buried his face in it and burst into tears.
+
+"Nobody is glad to see me!" cried Mr. Pindar, sobbing violently.
+"Everybody thinks I am mad. Prudence Pardon called me a--a gonoph, and
+refused to make tunics for the Village Elders. A horrible fat
+woman--rightly named Weight--_horresco referens!_--wished to be Goddess
+of Liberty, and, when I shrank appalled, she robbed me of the pretty
+child who should have been my Psyche. I am--unappreciated, sir. I am
+mocked at and derided. The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanche, and
+Sweetheart--I returned to benefit my native heath: to cause--blossoms of
+histrionic art to spring up in the--arid pathways--oyster shells!"--he
+indicated by a wave the white and glittering paths which led to one and
+another silent house, and which are indeed the pride of the village. "I
+have piped to everybody, and nobody will dance, except--hideous persons
+who squint. I came for comfort and sympathy to Bethia Wax, the playmate
+of my early days; I found--" He waved his arms with a gesture of
+despair. "And I am so tired of playing the kettledrum!" said the poor
+gentleman; and he wept afresh.
+
+Mr. Homer sat down by his brother's side, and laid his hand on his
+shoulder. "Don't cry!" he said. "Don't cry, Pindy! Mother wouldn't like
+to have you cry."
+
+His voice, faltered on the long-unspoken diminutive; but, at the sound
+of it, Mr. Pindar, still holding the handkerchief to his eyes with his
+right hand, held out his left; Mr. Homer grasped it, and the two sat
+silent, hand in hand, while the little stream trickled cheerfully along,
+and the black leaf-shadows flickered on the white road.
+
+Mr. Homer opened and shut his mouth several times, and patted his
+brother's hand, before he spoke again. At length he said, very gently:
+
+"My dear boy, my dear fellow, you are unnerved. Compose yourself,
+compose yourself! I also have been sadly unnerved, Pindy. An hour ago I
+could have mingled my tears with yours freely, sir, freely. But music
+hath charms, as you are aware, to soothe the--Savagery is far from my
+breast at the present time, sir, but the quotation is too familiar to
+require elucidation. Our friend Miss Wax has been performing upon the
+instrument, and an hour spent in her society, when thus employed, is
+invariably soothing to the wounded spirit. I wish, my dear brother, that
+you had come earlier in the evening."
+
+Mr. Pindar groaned, and dried his eyes, but made no reply. Mr. Homer,
+pausing, looked carefully about him, as if struck by a sudden thought.
+
+"Pindar," he said, in an altered tone, "do you know where we are
+sitting? Look about you!"
+
+Mr. Pindar looked around, then up at the tree which bent friendly over
+them. "It is the oak-seat!" he exclaimed. "The oak-seat and the
+watering-trough. Muffled drums! Enter Homeless Wanderer, weeping."
+
+"Do you remember the day when Silas Candy ducked Ephraim Weight?" said
+Mr. Homer, disregarding the last remark. "We were sitting here, Pindar,
+and we did not interfere. I have sometimes reflected that it was a--an
+error, sir; a--a faltering in the way; a--a dereliction from
+the--a--star-y-pointing path; but we were young, sir, and Ephraim
+was--shall I say unattractive? But--Pindy, when Silas came along--I
+remember it as if it were yesterday--I had just been cutting some
+initials in the tree. Upon my word, they are here still!" With a
+trembling finger he pointed out some half-obliterated letters. "B. H.,
+sir; do you see them? Bethia Hollopeter!"
+
+Mr. Pindar nodded gloomily, and, putting away the blue handkerchief,
+crossed his arms on his breast. "I see them, sir," he said. "Why turn
+the dagger in the wound? I see them!"
+
+"What was my thought, Brother," Mr. Homer went on, growing more and more
+animated, "when I made those letters; when I--a--wounded the oaken
+breast which--which--not precisely nourished, but certainly cheered and
+comforted me? Brother, I fancied Bethia as your bride. Stay! hear me!"
+as Mr. Pindar made a hasty gesture of dissent. "I knew later that--that
+your affections, like my own, were placed elsewhere; but--but Fate, sir,
+planted an arrow, of a highly barbed description, in our twin breasts.
+No more of that. Miss Bethia Wax, sir, has been the friend, the elegant
+and valued friend, of my entire life. Since the lamented death of our
+cousins, Phoebe and Vesta, and recently the irreparable loss I have
+sustained in the death of Cousin Marcia, we--Miss Bethia and I--have
+been brought into yet closer and more sympathetic companionship. Aside
+from the devoted tenderness of Thomas and William, and the--the
+faithful, if occasionally violent ministrations of Direxia Hawkes, Miss
+Bethia has been my chief stay and comfort in these troublous days. But I
+assure you, sir, with my hand on my heart,"--Mr. Homer suited the action
+to the word,--"that nothing of a tender nature has ever passed, or will
+ever pass, between me and my elegant and valued friend. Yet once more
+hear me, Brother! It is my firm belief, Pindar, that one image, and one
+only, has remained since youth implanted in--in that bosom, sir, to
+which I allude with the highest respect; that image, sir, I believe to
+be yours!"
+
+Mr. Homer paused, much moved. Mr. Pindar waved his cloak in protest, but
+his countenance brightened perceptibly.
+
+"Not so!" he murmured. "Not so! Thunder. Exit Homeless Wanderer, pursued
+by furies. Brother, I will return to my hated task. Enough! I thank you,
+but I go."
+
+"Brother, I implore you not so to do!" cried Mr. Homer, earnestly. "I
+believe that other and happier things are in store for you. I have a
+vision, sir, of a home replete with elegant comfort. Miss Bethia, though
+not opulent, is possessed of a comfortable competence--though Mammon is
+far from my thoughts!" cried Mr. Homer, blushing again. "A home, I say,
+sir, brightened by the society of--of Woman, and by every evidence of a
+refined and cultivated taste. My dear brother, return with me now to
+the--the bower, if I may so express myself, of our esteemed and valued
+friend. Miss Bethia urged, I may say, implored, me to bring you back."
+
+"Not so!" murmured Mr. Pindar. "Alarums and excursions. Exit--"
+
+But Mr. Homer interrupted him, a sudden fire shining in his mild eyes.
+"Brother Pindar," he cried, "you have many times alluded, since your
+return, to the Dramatic Moment; you have commented upon the absence of
+the dramatic element in my composition. But, sir, it is borne in upon me
+strongly at this instant that a Dramatic Moment is now striking in--in
+your life and that of our esteemed and valued friend. As you yourself
+would observe, hark to it, sir! it strikes;--a--resounds;--a--larums,
+sir, larums."
+
+The two brothers had risen, and stood facing each other in the
+moonlight. They waved their arms with an identical gesture; never had
+they looked so alike. "It larums!" repeated Mr. Pindar, solemnly.
+Suddenly he seized his brother's hand, and motioned him forward.
+
+"Flourish and a sennet!" he cried. "Possible joy-bells! Brother, set
+on!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+AFTER ALL!
+
+
+And after all, as every one said, everything went off so beautifully
+that people need not have been disturbed. The Processional Festival
+Jubilee was given up (really, I think, to Mr. Pindar's relief as well as
+that of every one else,--except Miss Luella Slocum), and a reception
+substituted for it; not a Pink Tea, but a dignified and really charming
+occasion. Mrs. Bliss and Will Jaquith planned it, and the whole village
+helped to carry it out. The day was perfection, the very crown jewel of
+the summer: the house was thrown open, and the guests were met in the
+hall by a Reception Committee, consisting of the Messrs. Hollopeter,
+Mr. and Mrs. Bliss, Miss Wax and Mrs. Ware, and Dr. Geoffrey Strong.
+First, Doctor Strong made a brief address of welcome, which put every
+one into a holiday humor of twinkling anticipation; and then there were
+tableaux, framed in the wide low arch of the dining-room door,
+illustrating the history of the village since the first Darracott,
+Timothy Philo, settled here in 1680. The First Service, the Indian
+Massacre (Mr. Pindar superb as King Philip, in full war-paint and
+feathers, flourishing a real tomahawk from the Collection over the
+prostrate form of Tommy Candy), the departure of the Quahaug Company of
+Patriot Militia for Lexington, the women of Quahaug praying for the
+success of Washington's arms, and so on down to the last, when the
+Guardian Spirit of the village was represented as mourning for the death
+of Mrs. Tree. This was dear Miss Wax's idea, and she besought the
+Committee so earnestly to carry it out, "as a token of respect for Her
+we honor," that they had not the heart to refuse. Mrs. Bliss was
+secretly afraid that it might make people smile; and so it might have
+done if Annie Lizzie had not looked so sweet, in her white dress and
+drooping wings (she got them, after all!), that everybody cried instead.
+
+Between the scenes the band, stationed in the garden, "discoursed
+acceptable strains," as the paper said next day; and, after the final
+scene, Mr. Homer made a little speech. He had been most unwilling to
+speak, but everybody insisted that he, and no one else, must actually
+open the Museum. So the dear gentleman got up, very pink and fluttering,
+and said that joy and sorrow had woven a mingled wreath to crown this
+day, but that it was the proudest one of his life, and that the
+proudest action of that life was to open the Captain and Mrs. Ethan Tree
+Museum of Quahaug.
+
+And then--then every one sang the Ode. Mr. Homer had written the words,
+and Mr. Pindar set them to music, and words and music were printed on
+white silk and distributed as souvenirs. The two brothers did not know
+that, when the music began, they took hold of hands, and stood so all
+through, waving their free arms and bowing their heads in time to the
+melody, and opening and shutting their mouths; but the rest of the
+company knew it, and cried so that they could hardly sing.
+
+These are the words:
+
+                     ODE
+
+    FOR THE OPENING OF THE CAPTAIN AND MRS.
+       ETHAN TREE MUSEUM OF QUAHAUG
+
+    As smooth the bivalve opes its jaws,
+      Admitting crystal flood,
+    So opes our own Museum its doors
+      To all of native blood.
+    On honored bier we drop the tear,
+      And then, with joy agog,
+    Our village proud doth cry aloud,
+      Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
+
+    Our patroness we fondly bless,
+      And likewise honor him
+    Who filled so free this treasury,
+      Then sought the cherubim.
+    Of objects fair, so rich and rare,
+      Description would but clog;
+    So let us sing till welkin ring,
+      Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
+
+    Captain and Mrs. Ethan Tree
+      We honor so this day,
+    As Muses nine, with fire divine,
+      Alone could fitly say.
+    Yet still each heart would bear its part,
+      With this for epilogue:
+    While life remains we'll praise thy plains,
+      Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
+
+(The "bangs" were not printed on the souvenirs, but without them one
+does not get the effect of the cymbals, which really were superb.)
+
+And then the Museum was open, and the village flowed in through the
+rooms, examining, wondering, praising. It was really a fine collection,
+and beautifully arranged. Mr. Homer and Tommy Candy had been at work for
+a month, with much help from the Jaquiths and Annie Lizzie, and
+everything was classified and marked, and displayed to the best
+advantage. In one room, the "Captain's room," were the samples of wood,
+smooth little slabs of ebony, satinwood, violet, leopard, dragon,
+sandal, and every other known wood, polished till they shone like wooden
+mirrors. In another were the minerals: rough crystals, rose and
+amethyst, smoky yellow and clouded brown; nuggets of gold, of silver, of
+copper; uncut gems of every variety, from the great ruby that Captain
+Tree took from the Malay pirate's turban down to the pink and lilac
+pearls found in our own oysters and mussels in Quahaug harbor.
+
+The carved crystal, jade, ivory, and amber, and the enamels, were
+displayed in the parlor, and were so skilfully arranged that the
+character of the room was not changed, only the dim richness
+accentuated. The light fell softly on bowls and cups of translucent
+green, on the rounded backs of ivory elephants, on exquisite shapes of
+agate, jasper, and chalcedony, on robes stiff with gold and crusted with
+gems; but still it was Mrs. Tree's own parlor, and still the principal
+thing in it was the ebony chair, with the crutch-stick leaning against
+it.
+
+The shells, in glass cases, lined the sides of the long room known as
+the Workshop; and, as Seth said, "Gosh! if they didn't beat the
+everlastin' Dutch!"
+
+"Why," he said, turning to Salem Rock, who was behind him in the slowly
+moving throng that filled the room, "you wouldn't think, to look at all
+these, that that man had done anything all his life only pick up
+shells."
+
+"He certingly was the darndest!" replied Salem, soberly.
+
+"I wouldn't use language, Pa!" said Mrs. Rock, who rustled beside him in
+her best black silk.
+
+"I expect you would, Ma," retorted her husband, "if things came home to
+you as they do to me this day. They had that way with 'em, both Cap'n
+and Mis' Tree, that when we had shore leave, and they said: 'Pick up
+some shells, will you, boys?' that was every livin' thing any man aboard
+that ship desired to do. Jerusalem! I can feel the crick in my back
+still, stoopin' over them blazin' beaches, pickin' up--Here, Ma! look at
+this beauty, with the pink and yeller stripes. See them sharp spines,
+and one of 'em broke off? Wal, that broke off in my foot. It was wropped
+up in seaweed, and I trod square on it. I don't know as it would be real
+becomin' to repeat what I said, here and now."
+
+"I don't know as it would be real improvin' to hear it, either, Pa!"
+replied his consort, calmly. "Let's us move on a mite further, shall
+we?"
+
+Refreshments were served in the dining-room and on the broad piazza
+outside it, and here Direxia Hawkes was in her glory. The ladies might
+sit at the tables, and did so, Miss Bethia Wax pouring tea, Mrs. Bliss
+coffee, while Miss Slocum and Miss Goby simpered and bridled, twin
+sirens of the lemonade table; but Direxia's Dramatic Moment had struck,
+and she was taking full advantage of it. She had assumed the rigid
+little bonnet and cape, which were her badge of equality with anybody in
+the land except "the Family," and she moved among the guests, apparent
+queen. Annie Lizzie, all smiles and roses, came and went at her bidding,
+with a tendency to gravitate toward the piazza railing, on which Tommy
+Candy sat, beaming good-will to all mankind, ladling out frozen pudding
+and ice-cream from the great freezers.
+
+"Annie Lizzie, Miss Wax ain't eatin' a thing. You tell her to let the
+folks wait for their tea a spell, and have somethin' herself. Here! take
+her this orange cream, and tell her I made it, and I expect her to eat
+it. And--Annie Lizzie, look here! you tell Mr. Homer I don't want he
+should touch that frozen puddin'. It's too rich, tell him; but he can
+have all the strawberry and vanilla he wants. I ain't goin' to have him
+sick after this, all worked up as he is."
+
+There were forty-seven different kinds of cake, all "named varieties,"
+as the flower catalogues say. Every housewife in the village had sent
+her "specialty," from Miss Wax's famous harlequin round down to the
+Irish christening loaf of good old Mrs. Flanagan, the laundress, who was
+helping Diploma Crotty wash cups and plates in the kitchen. Mrs.
+Flanagan refused to come in, spite of Mr. Homer's urgent invitation.
+
+"I thank ye, dear!" she said. "I thank ye kindly, but I'll not come in
+among the Quality. I wish ye well, Mr. Homer. May no dog ever bite ye
+but mine, and I'll kape a cat!"
+
+Through the crowd, here and there, moved Mr. Homer and Mr. Pindar,
+bowing and smiling, waving and flapping, happiest of all the happy
+throng. Under the genial sun of cheer and encouragement that had been
+shining on him during the last two weeks, since the Procession had been
+given up, Mr. Pindar had grown less and less abrupt and jerky, and more
+and more like his brother; and the village readily accorded him a share
+of the benevolent affection with which they regarded Mr. Homer.
+
+"I always said there warn't a mite of harm in Home," said Seth Weaver,
+"and I begin to think there ain't none in Pindar, either. They come out
+the same nest, and I expect they're the same settin' of aigs, if they be
+speckled different. Hatched out kinder queer chicks, old Mis' Hollopeter
+did, but, take 'em all round, I dunno but they're full as good as
+barn-door fowls, and they certingly do better when it comes to crowin'."
+
+"That's right!" said Salem Rock.
+
+And when at last it was over, and, with hand-shakings and
+congratulations, the tide of visitors had flowed out through the door
+and down the garden path, the two brothers stood and looked at each
+other with happy eyes.
+
+"It has been a great occasion, Brother Pindar!" said Mr. Homer.
+
+"It has!" said Mr. Pindar, fervently. "Flourish of trumpets. Enter
+Herald proclaiming victory. It has been a Dramatic Moment, sir."
+
+"It has been the happiest occasion of my life!" Mr. Homer went on. "I
+wish Mother could have been present, Pindar; it would have been a
+gratification to her;--a--an oblectation;--a--a--but where are you
+going, my dear brother?"
+
+Mr. Pindar, before replying, cast a glance toward the garden gate,
+through which at that moment a tall, slender figure was passing slowly,
+almost lingeringly; then he met his brother's eye hardily.
+
+"Brother Homer," he said, and, though he blushed deeply, his voice was
+firm and cheerful, "I am going to see Bethia home!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+MARRIAGE BELLS
+
+
+The village certainly had never seen a summer like this. People had not
+stopped talking of the Celebration, when the news of Miss Wax's
+engagement to Mr. Pindar Hollopeter set the ball of conversation rolling
+again. Everybody was delighted; and Mrs. Weight was not the only lady in
+the village who secretly hoped that, now Pindar had set him the example,
+Homer would see his way to following it, and would provide him with a
+helpmeet, "one who had ben through trouble and knew how to feel for
+him."
+
+Mr. Pindar was an ardent wooer, and pressed for an early marriage;
+indeed, there seemed no reason for delay. They were to live at the "Wax
+Works," and Mr. Pindar was to give lessons in elocution, and also on the
+flute and hautboy, if pupils could be found. Miss Bethia sighed gently,
+and told Mr. Pindar he was too impetuous; but she finally yielded, and
+they were married quietly one day, in the quaint, pleasant parlor, the
+bride dignified and gracious in lavender satin, and the bridegroom
+resplendent in white waistcoat and pearl-colored tie. He had a brand-new
+flyaway cloak for the occasion, and could hardly be persuaded to lay it
+aside during the ceremony, for, as he said, it assisted him in
+expression, sir, in expression.
+
+Mr. Homer was best man, and never was that usually lugubrious part more
+radiantly filled. He accompanied the whole service in dumb show, bowing
+and waving in response to every clause; and Geoffrey Strong declares
+that when he came forward to give the bride away, he heard Mr. Homer
+murmur "until death do us part," in happy echo of his brother's
+response.
+
+Then the bridal pair went off on a bridal trip, and the village shouted
+and cheered after them; and Mr. Homer went home and wept tears of joy on
+the back porch.
+
+Amid the general rejoicing, one face was grave, or smiled only a
+perfunctory smile when occasion required it; this was the face of Thomas
+Candy. It was such an extraordinary thing for Tommy to be grave on any
+festive occasion that Mr. Homer noticed it, and took him gently to task,
+as they sat on the aforesaid porch that evening. "Thomas," said the
+little gentleman, "you appear pensive. You have not seemed to enjoy, as
+I expected, this festival; this--a--halcyon, I might almost say,
+millennial day. Is there any oppression on your spirits, my dear young
+friend?"
+
+Tommy rumpled his black hair, and cast a look at Mr. Homer,
+half-whimsical, half-sorrowful. "I s'pose it's all right, sir!" he said,
+slowly. "Of course it's all right if you say so; but--the fact is, I'd
+planned otherwise myself, and I s'pose there ain't any one but thinks
+his own plan is the best. The fact is, Mr. Homer, I hoped to see Miss
+Wax in this house, instead of Mr. Pindar bein' in hers."
+
+"Indeed, Thomas!" said Mr. Homer. "How so?"
+
+"There's no harm in speakin' of it now, as I see," said Tommy. "Fact is,
+Mr. Homer, you need somebodys else in this house beside Direxia; some
+woman, I mean, to make things as they should be for you. Direxia's fine,
+and I think everything of her, but she's old, and--well, there! there'd
+oughter be somebodys else, that's all, if 'twas only to keep the rest of
+'em off; and there was only one in this village that I could see anyways
+suitable, and that was Miss Wax. So I picked her out, and got my mind
+made up and all, and then along come Mr. Pindar and whisked her off
+under our noses, so to say. I've nothin' against Mr. Pindar, he's all
+right; but it was a disappointment, Mr. Homer, and I can't make believe
+it wasn't. There ain't another woman in this village that Mis' Tree
+would see set over this house," said Tommy Candy, with simple finality.
+
+Mr. Homer smiled, and patted Tommy's arm cheerfully. "Things are much
+better as they are, Thomas," he said; "far better, I assure you.
+Besides, I have other thoughts--a--fancies--a--conceptions, in regard to
+this house; thoughts which, I fancy, would not have been disapproved
+by--as my brother's bride says, by Her we honor. I have felt as you do,
+my young friend, the want of--a--gracious and softening influence,--in
+short, the influence of Woman, sir, in this house; but this influence
+has suggested itself to me in the guise of youth--of--a--beauty;
+of--a--the morning of life, sir, the morning of life. I have
+thought--fancied--in short,--how would you like, sir, to see our
+charming neighbor across the way established in this house?"
+
+Tommy looked at him, stupefied. "Mrs. Weight!" he cried.
+
+But Mr. Homer waved the thought away indignantly. "No, no, Thomas! how
+could you suppose--not for an instant!--in fact, it was partly with a
+view to removing her from--sordid and sinister surroundings, that this
+idea suggested itself to me. What would you say to Annie Lizzie,
+Thomas?"
+
+Mr. Homer beamed, and bent forward, rubbing his hands gently, and
+trying to see Tommy's face through the gathering dusk.
+
+Tommy grew very pale.
+
+"Annie Lizzie!" he said, slowly.
+
+"Annie Lizzie!" repeated Mr. Homer, with animation. "I have watched that
+young person, Thomas, since her early childhood. I have seen her come up
+as a flower, sir, in an arid waste; as a jewel of gold in a--But I would
+not be discourteous. To remove this sweet creature from uncongenial
+surroundings; to transplant the blossom to more grateful soil, if I may
+so express myself; to beds of amaranth and moly--I speak in metaphor,
+sir; to see it unfold its vermeil tints beneath the mellow rays
+of--a--the tender passion--would give me infinite gratification. It
+would be my study, sir, to make her happy. What do you--how does this
+strike you, my dear young friend? But perhaps I have been too sudden,
+Thomas. Take time, sir. Consider it a little."
+
+Thomas Candy rose slowly and painfully. "Thank you, sir!" he said,
+speaking slowly and steadily. "I will take a little time, if you please.
+It is--rather sudden, as you say."
+
+Leaning heavily on his stick, the young man walked slowly down the
+garden path, and stood by the garden gate, looking across the way.
+
+Annie Lizzie! Annie Lizzie marry Mr. Homer! the thought was monstrous.
+Annie Lizzie, only seventeen, a little soft, sweet rose, his own little
+sweetheart. Good heavens! could such a thing exist even as a dream in
+any human brain?
+
+Then other thoughts came; ugly thoughts, which forced their way to the
+front in spite of him. Mr. Homer was rich now, rich and kind and
+generous. Women liked money, people said: Annie Lizzie had been bitter
+poor all her life, had never had a penny to call her own; might she be
+tempted? And, if she were, had he the right to stand in her way? Was he
+sure, sure, that her love for him, the love that he had taken for
+granted as he took the sunlight, would stand the test?
+
+Faster and uglier came the hateful thoughts; he could almost see them as
+visible forms, with wicked, sneering faces. Was this why she had been so
+attentive to Mr. Homer of late, running in and out of the house on this
+or that pretended errand, coaxing Direxia to let her help with the work,
+begging a flower from the garden, a root from the vegetable border? He
+had never doubted that it was on his own account she came. Was she false
+and shallow, as well as sweet and soft and and--
+
+Tommy Candy never knew how long he stood there at the garden gate,
+watching the house across the way, where a slender shape flitted to and
+fro in the lamplight. But by and by he struck his stick into the gravel
+and came back with a white set face, and stood before Mr. Homer, who was
+rocking happily in his chair and repeating the "Ode to a Nightingale."
+
+"Mr. Homer," he said, and at the sound of his voice the little gentleman
+stopped rocking and looked up in alarm: "when it comes to things like
+this, it's man to man, I expect. If Annie Lizzie wants to marry you, I
+won't stand in her way. I'll take myself and my stick off out o' sight
+somewheres, where she'll never hear of neither one of us again. But
+if--"
+
+He stopped short; for Mr. Homer had risen to his feet in great
+agitation, and was waving his hands and blinking painfully through the
+dusk.
+
+"My dear young friend!" he cried. "My dear but mistaken young friend,
+you distress me infinitely. You do not think--it cannot be possible that
+you think that this poor child has--has formed any such--such monstrous
+conception? If I thought so, I should resign my being,--a--cease upon
+the midnight, not without pain, but unspeakably the reverse. It is a
+most extraordinary thing that twice within a single summer I should have
+been exposed, sir, to a misapprehension of this amazing,
+this--a--portentous, this--a--unspeakably inauspicious description. I am
+not a marrying man, Thomas. Though regarding the Sex with the deepest
+veneration, sir, I have for many years regarded it across a gulf, if I
+may so express myself; a chasm, sir; a--a--maelstrom of separation, to
+speak strongly. Your suggestion fills me with pain; with--anguish;
+with--a--gorgons and chimera dire--meaning no disparagement to the
+young person in question. I had thought, Thomas,--I had conceived,--I
+had formed the apprehension, sir, that she was attached to you, and that
+you admitted the soft impeachment; that your heart responded to
+the--a--soft flutings of the tender passion. I thought to see you
+wedded, and sharing my home, being as son and daughter to me. I--I--I--"
+
+Mr. Homer's voice faltered. But Tommy Candy caught the distressedly
+waving hands in his.
+
+"Mr. Homer," he cried, with a broken laugh, "don't, sir! don't take on!
+I'm a fool, that's all, the biggest fool the world holds this minute.
+I've loved Annie Lizzie ever since I was ten years old, and I believe
+she has me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE LAST WORD
+
+
+"Come back, have they?" said Seth Weaver. Seth was painting the outside
+of Miss Penny Pardon's shop, and Miss Penny was hopping in and out,
+hovering about the door like a lame robin, dividing her attention
+between Seth and the birds.
+
+"Wal, have 'em a good time, did they?"
+
+"Elegant!" replied Miss Penny, joyously. "They had them an elegant time,
+Seth. Miss Wax--There! look at me! and I said 'Mis' Hollopeter' just as
+slick when she come in! She was in this mornin', to tell Sister about
+the latest styles. I thought 'twas real kind of her, with all she had
+to think of in her golden joy. Folks _is_ so kind, I don't see how it
+comes to be such a wicked world as some calls it. Well, she told us all
+about it. They went to Niag'ry Falls first. He was wishful to take her
+to Washin'ton, but she said Nature come first in her eyes, even before
+Gov'ment; she has fine thoughts, and an elegant way of expressin' 'em, I
+always think. There! she said the Falls was handsome! 'twas beyond the
+power of thought, she said. Ain't you gettin' jest a dite too much red
+in that trimmin', Seth?"
+
+"I guess not!" said Seth. "You don't want it to look like you was
+advertisin' a new brand of mustard, do ye? Where else did they go?"
+
+"They went to New York," said Miss Penny. "It was there she see the
+styles. Went to the theatre, and to Central Park, and walked down Fifth
+Avenue; and his friends give them a testimonial dinner, and--oh, it was
+lovely to hear her tell about it. I declare, I should like to go to New
+York some day myself. Big sleeves is comin' in again; not that you care
+about that, Seth, but Sister was real pleased to know it. And Mr. Pindar
+has commenced to flesh up some already, Mis' Hollopeter says. He was as
+poor as a split flounder, you know: hadn't ben nourished good for years,
+she thinks. There! Men-folks don't know how to feed themselves, seems
+though, no more nor birds doos. Take that parrot there; you'd think he'd
+know by this time that fresh paint don't agree with him real well, yet
+he'll get at it and chaw it every chance he gets, and then has to come
+to me for doctorin'; it's the same with men-folks, the best of 'em. But
+Mr. Pindar'll get the best of victuals from now on!" Miss Penny
+concluded with an emphatic nod.
+
+"She don't want to feed him too high all of a suddin," said Seth,
+drawing his brush carefully round a window-casing. "He might go the way
+of Job Joralemon's hoss."
+
+"What way was that?" asked Miss Penny, pausing with a cage in her hand.
+"Who is Job Joralemon? I don't know as I ever heard of him."
+
+"He was a man over to Tinkham Corners," said Seth. "Meanest man in them
+parts, where they get the gold medal for meanness every year, some say.
+Come along a man one day, travellin' man, lookin' for a hoss to buy. His
+hoss had died, or run away, or ben stole, or somethin', I dono what.
+Anyways, he heard Job had a hoss to sell, and come to look at him. He
+warn't much of a one to look at,--the hoss, I mean, though Job warn't no
+Venus, neither; but this man, he thought likely he could fat him up and
+drive him a spell, till he got through his business, and then sell him
+for a mite more than he give for him. Wal, he took the hoss--he was
+stayin' at Rowe's Tavern over there--and give him a good solid feed, hay
+and grain, and then started out to drive on to the next town. Wal,
+sir,--ma'am, I should say,--quick as he got out the yard, that hoss
+started on the dead run; man couldn't hold him any more than you could a
+yearlin' steer. He run like wild-fire a little ways, and then he clum
+over a fence, buggy and all,--stump-fence it was,--and then he fell
+down, and rolled over, and died, then and there. The man collected
+himself out of the kindlin's, and looked round, and see old Rowe, the
+tavern-keeper, comin' up, grinnin' all over.
+
+"'What does this mean?' the man hollers out, mad as hops. 'What kind of
+a hoss do you call this?' he says.
+
+"Old Rowe kinder grunts. 'I call that a sawdust hoss,' he says.
+
+"'Sawdust Granny!' says the man. 'What d'ye mean by that?'
+
+"'Wal!' says old Rowe. 'Fact is, Job's ben in the habit of feedin'
+sawdust to that hoss, and keepin' green goggles on him so's he'd think
+'twas grass. Come to give him a good feed, ye see, and 'twas too much
+for him, and car'd him off.'
+
+"So what I say is, you tell Mis' Hollopeter she wants to be careful how
+she feeds Pindar up, that's all."
+
+"Seth Weaver, if you ain't the beat!" exclaimed Miss Penny. "I believe
+you made that up right here and now. Ain't you ashamed to tell such
+stories?"
+
+"Not a mite! not a mite!" said Seth, comfortably. "Take more'n that to
+shame me. Ask Annie Lizzie if it don't. Here she comes along now. Ain't
+she a pictur'?"
+
+Annie Lizzie came blossoming along the street in her pink calico dress;
+her pink sunbonnet was hanging on her shoulders, and her soft dark hair
+curled round her face just for the pleasure of it. She was swinging a
+bright tin pail in her hand; altogether the street seemed to lighten as
+she came along it.
+
+"Hello, Annie Lizzie!" said Seth, as she came up to the shop. "Comin' to
+see me, ain't ye?"
+
+"I guess not!" said Miss Penny. "I expect she's come to see me, ain't
+you, Annie Lizzie? I've got a new piece of ribbin in, jest matches your
+dress, and your cheeks, too."
+
+Annie Lizzie dimpled and smiled shyly. "I'd love to see it, Miss Penny,"
+she said; "but first I come with a message for Mr. Weaver."
+
+"Then I'll go and feed the rest of them birds," said Miss Penny.
+"There! hear 'em hollerin' the minute I say 'feed'? They are the
+cutest!"
+
+She vanished into the shop, and Seth looked up at the young girl with a
+friendly twinkle. "Back stairs again, Annie Liz?" he asked. "I expect to
+get at 'em to-morrow, honest I do."
+
+"No, sir, 'twasn't the stairs this time," said Annie Lizzie, looking
+down. "Ma didn't know I was comin', or she might have said something. I
+come with a message from Tommy, Mr. Weaver. He wanted to know could you
+spare him some white paint."
+
+"What does he want of white paint?" asked Seth.
+
+"Wants to paint the front gate," replied Annie Lizzie.
+
+"Sho!" said Seth. "The front gate was painted only last fall. There
+ain't no need to paint it ag'in for three years."
+
+"I know!" said the girl, patiently. "But all the same he's goin' to
+paint it, and he wants you should put somethin' in it so's it won't
+dry."
+
+"So's it _will_ dry, you mean!" corrected Seth. "Tell him I won't do it.
+Hastenin' white paint's like hastenin' a mud-turtle; it's bad for his
+constitution, and _then_ he don't get anywheres. White paint has to dry
+slow, or it's no good. You tell Tommy that, and tell him he'd oughter
+know it, much as he's hung round my shop."
+
+"He doos know it!" said Annie Lizzie, in her cooing voice. "He don't
+want it to dry, Mr. Weaver."
+
+"Don't want it to dry!" repeated Seth.
+
+"No, sir. He said I might tell you, so's you'd understand; he knew you
+wouldn't let it go no further, Mr. Weaver. Fact is, he wants to keep
+folks away for a spell, so's Mr. Homer can get rested up. He's real
+wore out with all these celebrations and goin's on, and he has so many
+callers he don't have no chance to live hardly. So Tommy thought if he
+could paint the gate, and keep on paintin' it, with a good paint that
+lasted wet, you see, it would--Well, what he means is,--there couldn't
+anybody get in but what had pants on. It's a narrow gate, you know."
+
+"I know," said Seth, with a grim twinkle. "I see. That's Tommy Candy all
+over. Tell him I'll fix him up an article will do the business; he
+needn't have no fears. But how about them little pink petticuts of
+yourn, Annie Lizzie? I dono as Tommy is so special anxious to keep them
+out, is he?"
+
+The pink of Annie Lizzie's dress was surely not a fast color, for it
+seemed to spread in a rosy cloud over her soft cheeks, up, up, to the
+soft rings of hair against her forehead.
+
+"Direxia's real good to me," she said, simply. "She lets me come in the
+back gate."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+By LAURA E. RICHARDS
+
+    MRS. TREE'S WILL
+    MRS. TREE
+    GEOFFREY STRONG
+    FOR TOMMY
+    LOVE AND ROCKS
+    CAPTAIN JANUARY
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mrs. Tree's Will, by Laura E. Richards
+
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