THE TIMBER CRUISER
Jealousy is about as reasonable as lightning; it is fully as deadly, and
often much more unexpected. And because Biscuit Westfall's mother's
brother-in-law (who was a farmer with a fine woodlot) when bringing in
the annual Christmas tree for Biscuit, had also brought one for Nancy
Guilford's Christmas party, he had aroused Sube's groundless jealousy of
Biscuit to the striking point.
Biscuit cared nothing for Nancy; he had a lady love of his own. Of
course he was polite to Nancy, but he was polite to every lady. And
Nancy cared nothing for Biscuit. She had found him useful in her scheme
of life, and had accordingly made use of him. But she loved him not.
However, as far as the Christmas tree was concerned she was innocent of
using him even as an exciter. He had offered the tree, and she had taken
it.
Somewhere Sube had learned the history of the tree, and when he saw it
he shook his head dubiously. "Pretty punk, isn't it?" he asked. "Is
that the best you could get?"
"Uh huh, the very best," Nancy emphatically assured him.
"Why didn't you let _me_ get you a tree?" he demanded. "I'd 'ave got you
one a hundred times better'n that."
"Oo--oo! Could you, honest?"
"Could I!"
"Will you do it?"
"Will I? Half a dozen if you want 'em."
Nancy assured him that one was all she could possibly use, and thereupon
he obtained his ax and set out to conquer the forest. But he soon found
that Biscuit's uncle Peter had spoken the truth when he said that good
Christmas trees were scarce. They were; decidedly scarce. The few that
had come through the dry fall without unwithered limbs had already been
hewn by the early tree-hunters. And Sube was hard to please.
He had in his mind the picture of an ideal Christmas tree, and as he
rejected one prospect after another, the picture became more vivid.
"You're a rusty runt," he informed an anaemic-looking pine that appeared
in his path. "And you're too much like a beanpole," he told another.
"Yes, and you're lop-sided," he explained to a third; "you look like
you'd had an arm cut off."
The afternoon waned. Dusk came on. To be in the woods after dark would
be quite useless, so he might as well be starting for home. And still
the picture of the perfect tree possessed his mind. If he could only
think where it was.
Then suddenly it came to him. Why, of course! That was just where he had
seen it! It wasn't exactly growing wild, but the people who inhabited
the place wouldn't care. He felt quite sure about that. And anyway, it
would be dark by the time he reached there.
An hour later when Nancy Guilford opened the door in response to his
ring (for which she had been listening for some time) a perfect specimen
of cypress greeted her delighted gaze. It was bright green, symmetrical
and bushy-limbed. It was as perfect as the picture on a Christmas card.
Nancy's exclamations and gurglings of delight brought her mother to the
door, with the result that Sube was invited over that evening to help
trim the tree.
When he arrived some two hours later he found the gift tree mounted in a
disguised soap box, and standing at one end of the parlor from which the
furniture had been removed to facilitate the laying of the crash, with
the entire household gathered round about offering on-lookers' advice as
to the most effective way of decorating it.
This was not exactly as he had anticipated. He had planned to arrange
those details according to his own ideas and Nancy's. But somehow he
managed to live through it. If, however, he had known that the Guilfords
were entertaining company he would not have come. He hated to meet
strangers, especially tall women dressed all in black who think they
have got to talk to a fellow all the time.
When Sube was presented to Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger he fastened his gaze on
a little red spot on the crash and moved his lips deferentially,
although no sound came. Observing his embarrassment, Mrs.
Hotchkiss-Harger attempted to put him at his ease by the questionable
method of interrogation.
"So this is the young man," she remarked in her deep voice, "to whom we
are indebted for this beautiful tree?"
Sube nodded microscopically.
"It's a cypress, isn't it?" she persisted.
Again Sube's head moved slightly, although it would have taken a mind
reader to translate the movement.
"Why, I had no idea that cypresses were indigenous to this part of the
country. Where did you get that tree, young man?"
Sube started visibly. This was a question he was hardly prepared to
answer. "Th--that tree, th--there?" he stammered in confusion. "That
tree?--Why--"
Once more the success of well-handled dilatory tactics was evident; for
Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger suddenly burst into tears.
"Oh, it all comes back so clearly," she sobbed. "I went to the nursery
myself--broken and crushed as I was--and selected the four dainty
cypresses that were planted at the four corners of the lot where my poor
dear Clarence was laid to rest. They must be just about the size of this
one! I _must_ go and see them to-morrow. Why, I haven't seen those
darling little trees since the day they were set out!--Oh, dear--!"
"There, there, sister," comforted Mrs. Guilford. "How could you have
seen them when you have been abroad all the time? They've had the best
of care, and they were looking be-autiful the last time I saw them--"
"Ah, yes, I stayed away that I might learn to forget!" moaned Mrs.
Hotchkiss-Harger between huge convulsive sobs. "But how the old grief
closes in on me the moment I return. Oh, I must go to the cemetery
to-morrow!"
[Illustration: "MY FATHER GOT IT FOR ME"]
"Oh, I don't believe I'd go on the day before Christmas," Mrs. Guilford
advised gently.
"I must!--I must!--I can't wait a moment longer!"
Then with a supreme effort Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger mastered her grief, and
removing her black-bordered handkerchief from her reddened eyes, turned
to Sube who had been watching her with keen interest, and said:
"You haven't yet told me where you got that tree, young man."
Sube had to swallow once or twice before he managed to mumble, "Don't
know exackly."
"Don't know?" she demanded. "How can it be possible that you don't know?
You cut this tree yourself, did you not?"
"No, ma'am. I--"
"You didn't! Well, who did, then?"
"Ma'am? Oh,--who cut this tree?--Why,--why, my father got it for me!" he
finally stammered out. "I don't know jus' where he did get it. Out in
the woods somewheres, I should--"
"Ah! Then he cut it himself, did he?"
"Yes, ma'am. He cut it all right! He likes to cut Chris'mus trees. He
says most people don't know a good Chris'mus tree when they see one."
"One could scarce say that about him."
This delicate compliment brought forth no response from Sube except a
dark scowl, but it terminated Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger's part of the
conversation, and she yielded to her sister's earnest solicitation that
she lie down for a while.
Left alone with Nancy for a moment Sube began to look around for his
cap. "I gotta be goin' home," he whispered huskily.
"Going home!" cried Nancy. "Why, you just got here! And besides, we
haven't put a thing on the tree yet!"
"I know it," muttered Sube, "but my mother tole me I could only stay a
couple of minutes--"
"Why, it isn't late at all! What time do you have to go?"
"What time is it now?"
Nancy stepped to the door and looked at the big clock in the hall. "Why,
it's only twenty-five minutes after seven!" she announced joyfully.
"I gotta go at ha'-past," said Sube, as he struggled to extricate his
cap from his coat-pocket where he had finally located it.
"That's _mean_!" cried Nancy petulantly. "It's just as mean as it can
be! Why didn't you come earlier?"
"Well, I did come right after supper--"
"Then what you got to go so soon for?"
"Why--why, my mother's got to go to see a sick lady."
"A sick lady? Who's sick that your mother's got to go and see, I'd like
to know?"
"I guess you don't know everybody that's sick!"
"I guess I know everybody that's sick that your mother's got to go and
see! Now, who is it?"
"It's Auntie Emma! Yah, you didn't know she was sick at all! Did you?"
"Well, it must have been awful sudden, because I saw her go by just
yesterday."
"Sudden! I guess it was sudden. She was sittin' at the supper table jus'
well as you are, and _Bingo!_ she fell right out of her chair onto the
floor sick abed!"
Nancy was deeply moved. "Oh, isn't that awful! What made it?"
"Huh?--What made it?--Why, I can't think what they call it. It's an
awful funny name."
"Was it heart disease?" ventured Nancy.
"Aw, it was a million times worse'n that!"
Nancy gasped. "She isn't going to die, is she?"
"Well, I dunno," he replied dubiously. "She was still alive when I come
away, but--"
"I'm sorry," murmured Nancy. "Awful sorry. I hope--"
"Well, I gotto be goin'. They might need me any minute!"
"I'm so sorry about it. Do you s'pose you'll be able to--to come to my
party?"
This was a new phase of the matter that Sube had not considered. "Well,
you can't tell," he replied. "It's a funny disease. Doc Richards says
she may be dead one minute, or may be well the next."
"Oh, I do hope she'll be well," said Nancy earnestly; and as Sube passed
out of the door she called after him, "I'm going right in and tell mamma
about it."
Sube stopped in his tracks. But the heavy front door had slammed behind
him. Oh, well, he'd tell them to-morrow that she was sick one minute,
and well the next. That would be easy to fix up. But he was not going to
stay round there all the evening and have that big tall woman in black
keep asking _him_ questions. Probably she'd forget all about the
Christmas tree by to-morrow anyway. And besides, nobody would ever
suspect his father of hooking a Christmas tree from a cemetery lot.
Evergreen trees were so much alike that nobody could tell one from
another, for that matter. And dismissing these trivial matters from his
mind he paid an unexpected call on his friend Gizzard. He reached home
shortly after nine o'clock.
"You oughta see that Chris'mus tree!" he cried as he entered the house.
"It's a pippin! We got it all covered with glass balls and nickel-plated
shavings and red and green candles, about a million of 'em!"
"When did you do all this?" asked his mother.
"Jus' got through!"
"You did?" she asked incredulously. "Why, I understood Mrs. Guilford to
say that you had already left there when she telephoned me over an hour
ago."
"Well,--you see--you see, I did leave there, but I jus' went outdoors,
and then came right back again."
"But what did you mean by telling her that Auntie Emma was desperately
ill and that you had to come home--"
"Did she 'phone you that?" cried Sube eagerly. "Did she honest?"
"Of course she did; and I want to know--"
"Oh, I guess I didn't fool _her_ all right!" he laughed boisterously.
"Oh, no! Guess not!"
"But I want to know what you meant--"
"Why, she said she bet I couldn't fool her, so in a little while, I tole
her Auntie Emma was sick and I had to go home, and jus' to fool her I
went outdoors and stayed a while; but I didn't know I fooled her so much
that she 'phoned--"
"Then what did Nancy mean when she called up and asked for you about
half an hour later?"
"Oh, ho!" cried Sube gleefully. "Then I fooled her, too! Did she call me
up, honest? You see I was outdoors again and I didn't know it!"
"You must not fool so much, my boy. You'll get the reputation of being
very untruthful--"
"_Get_ it!" interjected Mr. Cane. "_Get_ it! If he could get any more of
a repu--"
"Samuel!" cried Mrs. Cane in a voice she seldom found it necessary to
use. And as her husband subsided she turned again to Sube. "Nancy wanted
you to call her up as soon as you came in," she said.
"Oh, that's all right," Sube explained. "She's seen me since then."
"They why do you suppose she called again about five minutes before you
came?" asked his mother.
"Prob'ly I was on the way home," he suggested. "I stopped to talk to
some kids. I'll call her up anyway."
Sube went to the telephone, and removing the receiver with one hand he
carefully pressed down the hook with the other to avoid arousing the
operator, and called loudly for Guilfords' number. Then he held an
illuminating though strictly imaginary conversation with Nancy, in the
course of which he twitted her playfully about being so easily fooled.
"Put an'thing more on the tree?" he asked finally. "That's right! I
guess we put on everything there was. Well, g'by! See you to-morrow!"
And he hung up the receiver.
He had just resumed his chair after this master-stroke when the
telephone rang. This time it was the _real_ Nancy.