MATCH-MAKING
The home lot took on a home look in the spring of 1898. The lawn lost
its appearance of newness; the trees became acquainted with each other;
the shrubs were on intimate terms with their neighbors, and broke into
friendly rivalry of blossoms; the gardens had a settled-down look, as if
they had come to stay; and even the wall flowers were enjoying
themselves. These efforts of nature to make us feel at ease were
thankfully received by Polly and me, and we voted that this was more
like home than anything else we had ever had; and when the fruit trees
put forth their promise of an autumn harvest in great masses of
blossoms, we declared that we had made no mistake in transforming
ourselves from city to country folk.
"Aristocracy is of the land," said Polly. "It always has been and
always will be the source of dignity and stability. I feel twice as
great a lady as I did in the tall house on B---- Street."
"So you don't want to go back to that tall house, madam?"
"Indeed I don't. Why should I?"
"I don't know why you should, only I remember Lot's wife looked back
toward the city."
"Don't mention that woman! She didn't know what she wanted. You won't
catch me looking toward the city, except once a week for three or four
hours, and then I hurry back to the farm to see what has happened in my
garden while I've been away."
"But how about your friends, Polly?"
"You know as well as I that we haven't lost a friend by living out here,
and that we've tied some of them closer. No, sir! No more city life for
me. It may do for young people, who don't know better, but not for me.
It's too restricted, and there's not enough excitement."
"Country life fits us like paper on the wall," said I, "but how about
the youngsters? If we insist on keeping children, we must take them into
our scheme of life."
"Of course we must, but children are an unknown quantity. They are _x_
in the domestic problem, and we cannot tell what they stand for until
the problem is worked out. I don't see why we can't find the value of
_x_ in the country as easily as in the city. They have had city and
school life, now let them see country life; the _x_ will stand for wide
experience at least."
"Jane likes it thus far," said I, "and I think she will continue; but I
don't feel so sure about Jack."
"You're as blind as a bat--or a man. Jane loves country life because
she's young and growing; but there's a subconscious sense which tells
her that she's simply fitting herself to be carried off by that handsome
giant, Jim Jarvis. She doesn't know it, but it's the truth all the same,
and it will come as sure as tide; and when it does come, her life will
be run into other moulds than we have made, no matter how carefully."
"I wonder where this modern Hercules is most vulnerable. I'll slay him
if I find him mousing around my Jane."
"You will slay nothing, Mr. Headman, and you know it; you will just take
what's coming to you, as others have done since the world was young."
"Well, I give fair warning; it's 'hands off Jane,' for lo, these many
years, or some one will be brewing 'harm tea' for himself."
"You bark so loud no one will believe you can bite," said this saucy,
match-making mother.
"How about Jack?" said I. "Have you settled the moulds he is to be run
in?"
"Not entirely; but I am not as one without hope. Jack will be through
college in June, and will go abroad with us for July and August; he will
be as busy as possible with the miners from the moment he comes back; he
is much in love with Jessie, the Gordon's have no other child, the
property is large, Homestead Farm is only three miles, and--"
"Slow up, Polly! Slow up! Your main line is all right, but your
terminal facilities are bad. Jack is to be educated, travelled,
employed, engaged, married, endowed with Homestead Farm, and all that;
but you mustn't kill off the Gordons. I swing the red lantern in front
of that train of thought. Let Jack and Jessie wait till we are through
with Four Oaks and the Gordons have no further use for Homestead Farm,
before thinking of coupling that property on to this."
"Don't be a greater goose than you can help," said Polly. "You know what
I mean. Men are so short-sighted! Laura says, 'the Headman ought to have
a small dog and a long stick'; but no matter, I'll keep an eye on the
children, and you needn't worry about country life for them. They'll
take to it kindly."
"Well, they ought to, if they have any appreciation of the fitness of
things. Did you ever see weather made to order before? I feel as if I
had been measured for it."
"It suits my garden down to the ground," said Polly, who hates slang.
"It was planned for the farmer, madam. If it happens to fit the
rose-garden mistress, it is a detail for you to note and be thankful
for, but the great things are outside the rose gardens. Look at that
corn-field! A crow could hide in it anywhere."
"What have crows hiding got to do with corn, I'd like to know?"
"When I was a boy the farmers used to say, 'If it will cover a crow's
back on the Fourth of July, it will make good corn,' and I am farmering
with old saws when I can't find new ones."
"It's all of three weeks yet to the Fourth of July, and your corn will
cover a turkey by that time."
"I hope so, but we shan't be here to see it, more's the pity, as Sir Tom
would say."
"Do you know, Kate says she won't go over. She doesn't think it would
pay for so short a trip. Why do you insist upon eight weeks?"
"Well, now, I like that! When did I ever insist on anything, Mrs.
Williams? Not since I knew you well, did I? But be honest, Polly. Who
has done the cutting down of this trip? You and the youngsters may stay
as long as you please, but I will be back here September 1st unless the
_Normania_ breaks a shaft."
"I wish we could go _over_ on a German boat. I hate the Cunarders."
"So do I, but we must land at Queenstown. We must put Sir Tom under the
sod at that little castle out from Sligo. Then we can do Holland and
Belgium, and have a week or ten days in London."
"That will be enough. I do hope Johnson will take good care of my
flowers; it's the very most important time, you know, and if he neglects
them--"
"He won't neglect them, Polly; even if he does, they can be easily
replaced. But the hay harvest, now, that's different; if they spoil the
timothy or cut the alfalfa too late!"
"Bother your alfalfa! What do I care for that? Kate's coming out with
the babies, and I'm going to put her in full charge of the gardens.
She'll look after them, I'm sure. I'll tell you another bit of news: Jim
Jarvis is bound to go with us, Jack says, and he has asked if we'll let
him."
"How long have you had that up your sleeve, young woman? I don't like it
a little bit! That is why you talked so like an oracle a little while
ago! What does Jane say?"
"She doesn't say much, but I think she wouldn't object."
"Of course she can't object. You sick a big brute of a man on to a
little girl, and she don't dare object; but I'll feed him to the fishes
if he worries her."
"To be sure you will, Mr. Ogre. Anybody would be sure of that to hear
you talk."
"Don't chaff me, Polly. This is a serious business. If you sell my girl,
I'm going to buy a new one. I'll ask Jessie Gordon to go with us and, if
Jack is half the man I take him to be, he'll replenish our stock of
girls before we get back."
"Who is match-making now?"
"I don't care what you call it. I shall take out letters of marque and
reprisal. I won't raise girls to be carried off by the first privateer
that makes sail for them, without making some one else suffer. If
Jarvis goes, Jessie goes, that's flat."
"I think it will be an excellent plan, Mr. Bad Temper, and I've no doubt
that we can manage it."
"Don't say 'we' when you talk of managing it. I tell you I'm entirely on
the defensive until some one robs me, then I'll take what is my
neighbor's if I can get it. If it were not for my promise to Sir Tom, I
wouldn't leave the farm for a minute! And I would establish a quarantine
against all giants for at least five years."
"You know you like Jarvis. He is one of the best."
"That's all right, Polly. He's as fine as silk, but he isn't fine enough
for our Jane yet."