Part 14 (1/2)

”Well, maybe you can imagine her feelings! She says she was never so mad in all her life. She called through the door, but not a sound. There was a crack big enough to put your hand through under the door, and she tried to look through it, but it wasn't high enough to put your eye to.

Then she heard a shout and run to the window. There they all was, out on the gra.s.s in front,--all but Bocaj, who was asleep in his cradle down-stairs. Well, such doings! She says 'Zile, who was always full of ideas, was just outstripping herself in ideas this time. They had a old pair of scissors, and first they went to work for half an hour cutting each other's hair. She says you can maybe think of her feelings in the upper window, left in charge of 'em, with full permission to whip 'em if necessary, and having to sit and watch 'em trim each other anyway the notion hit 'em. She says tying a man to a tree while cannibals eat up his family is the only thing as would express it a _tall_. After they got done cutting hair, they went in and got a pot of jam and brought it out and sat down in full sight and eat jam with their fingers till there was no more jam. She says she'd stopped calling things to 'em by that time and was just sitting quietly in the window, thanking G.o.d for every minute as they stayed where she could see what they was doing. But when they had finished the jam, they went in the house and was so deathly quiet she was scared to fits. She thought maybe they was setting fire to something. But after a while they begun to bang on the piano, and when she was half crazy over the noise, she looked towards the door, and there was the key poked under. She made a jump for the key, and it was jerked back by a piece of string. And her own string at that. Then she was called to the window by Gringer yelling, and while she was trying to hear what he had to say--the piano jangling worse than ever--they opened the door suddenly and bundled Bocaj into the room and then locked the door again.

”The baby was just woke up and hungry, and it was a pretty kettle of fish. She says she made up her mind then and there to quit that house and adopt Bocaj. She says she saw as there was no use trying to reform the rest; but Bocaj was so little and helpless, and nothing in her heart made her feel as he couldn't be raised to be practical. She went to work and fed him crackers soaked in boiling water while she packed her trunk.

And when her cousin came home, she was sitting with her bonnet on ready to go. Her cousin just naturally felt awful. She wanted to call it a joke; but Mrs. Sperrit is a woman whose feelings isn't lightly took in vain. She left, and she took Bocaj with her. She telegraphed Mr.

Sperrit, and he met her at the train. He was some disappointed because he'd forgotten about the baby's name and thought from reading it in the telegraph that she was bringing back a monkey. Seems Mr. Sperrit has always wanted a monkey, and she wouldn't have one. But now she says he can have a monkey or anything else, if he'll only stay practical. She says she doesn't believe she could ever live with any one as wasn't practical, after this experience.”

Susan paused, Mrs. Macy and Gran'ma Mullins rose to go to their kitchens and get suppers for their guests. When they had gone, Susan, having Mrs.

Lathrop alone, eased a troubled conscience.

”Oh, Mrs. Lathrop,” she confided, ”do you remember me saying the other evening I'd had a letter from Jathrop?”

Mrs. Lathrop suddenly stopped rocking. ”Yes--yes, Susan,” she answered eagerly. ”I--”

”Well, I didn't have one. It was just as everybody in this community has got their minds fixed on Jathrop's being wild about me, so I felt to mention a letter, and I shall go on mentioning getting a letter from him whenever the spirit moves me.”

”Why, Susan--!” exclaimed Mrs. Lathrop.

”It doesn't hurt him a _tall_,” said Susan Clegg with calm decision, ”and it saves me from being asked questions. And you know as well as I do, Mrs. Lathrop, that I can have him if I want him.”

Mrs. Lathrop sat open-mouthed, dumb.

”If I don't have him, it'll be because I don't want him,” added Miss Clegg with dignity. ”So it's no use your saying one other word, Mrs.

Lathrop.”

And Mrs. Lathrop, thus adjured, refrained from further speech.

X

SUSAN CLEGG DEVELOPS IMAGINATION

”Far be it from me, Mrs. Lathrop,” said Susan Clegg, returning from an early errand down-town and dropping in at Mrs. Macy's to find her friend still in her own room and rocking in her old-gold stationary rocker. It was now autumn, and to take the chill off the room an oil burner was brightly ablaze. ”Far be it from me to say anything disrespectful of such a good Samaritan as your son Jathrop, but as we have it in the scriptures, he certainly does move in a mysterious way his neighbors to inform. It's mighty good of him to go to all the expense of building over my house in a way I'd never in this wide world have had it if I could 'a' understood those plans of that boy architect, and it may be--providing we escape earthquake, fire, blood, and famine--that I'll get into it once more before next summer, notwithstanding it's all of two months behind yours, you being his mother, Mrs. Lathrop, and me only your friend. But a early frost is sure to crack the plaster, and, seeing as the gla.s.s blowers has gone on a strike, there's no telling when they'll blow the panes for the windows. Just the same, kind and good as Jathrop is, he might have had more consideration for me as would this day have been his wife, if I'd felt to answer him with a three-letter word instead of a two, than to put me on the pillar of scorn before a community as has known me always as a scrupulous lover of the voracious truth.”

”You don't--” began Mrs. Lathrop, in mild astonishment.

”Yes, I do,” continued Susan, with growing indignation. ”Jathrop has done his best to make me out a liar, and I don't know as I'll ever be able to hold my head up again. He's struck me in the tenderest spot he could strike me in, and not boldly neither, but in a skulking, underhand way that makes it all the bitterer pill to swallow.”

”I can't see--” objected Mrs. Lathrop.

”No, nor me neither. But he did, and in no time everybody'll know it from Johnny, at the station, to Mrs. Lupey in Meadville, not forgettin'

the poor demented over to the insane asylum. And it all comes of those letters I have been getting from Jathrop during the summer.”

”But--”

”Yes, I know and you know there was no letters a _tall_. But everybody else, except you and me and the postmaster, believed I had a letter regular every week. Whenever I run short of subjects at the Sewing Society, I just fell back on my last letter from Jathrop and told them all about what he was doing in those islands. I'd read the book he sent, and I'd read it to good profit. There was some things as I didn't quite understand, of course, but on them I just put my own interpretations, and knowing Jathrop as I did, it was easy enough for me to figure out how he'd be most likely to act in a strange, barbaric land. The book didn't have a word to say about the costumes of the native tribes, but I'm not so ignorant as not to know how those South Sea Islanders never wear nothing more hamperin' than sea-sh.e.l.l earrings and necklaces of sharks' teeth; and I'd read, too, that foreign visitors, on account of the unbearable heat, was in the habit of adoptin' the native fas.h.i.+ons in dress. When you get started makin' things up, there's no knowing just where you're likely as to end. It's so easy to go straight ahead and say just whatever you please that seems in any way interesting. And so, when Mrs. Fisher asked me one day whether I supposed there was any cannibals there, I said there was one cannibal tribe that was most ferocious and had appet.i.tes that there was no such thing as quenchin'. I said that in Jathrop's last letter he had written me about how this tribe had captured the cook off the yacht and that when they finally found his captors and defeated them in a desperate battle lasting three days, all that was found of the cook was two chicken croquettes.”

”For gra--!” cried Mrs. Lathrop.

”That's what Mrs. Fisher said. Of course, with the cook eat up--all but what was in the two croquettes, that is,--Jathrop and his millionaire friends was a good deal put about. There wasn't a one of 'em as knew the first thing about cooking, and after the exercise of the three days'