"Well, Lucy has got Hiram!"
There was such a strong inflection of triumphant joy in Miss Clegg's
voice as she called the momentous news to her friend that it would have
been at once--and most truthfully--surmised that the getting of Hiram
had been a more than slight labor.
Mrs. Lathrop was waiting by the fence, impatience written with a
wandering reflection all over the serenity of her every-day expression.
Susan only waited to lay aside her bonnet and mitts and then hastened to
the fence herself.
"Mrs. Lathrop, you never saw nor heard the like of this weddin' day in
all your own days to be or to come, and I don't suppose there ever will
be anything like it again, for Lucy Dill didn't cut no figger in her own
weddin' a-_tall_,--the whole thing was Gran'ma Mullins first, last and
forever hereafter. I tell you it looked once or twice as if it wouldn't
be a earthly possibility to marry Hiram away from his mother, and now
that it's all over people can't do anything but say as after all Lucy
ought to consider herself very lucky as things turned out, for if things
hadn't turned out as they did turn out I don't believe anything on earth
could have unhooked that son, and I'm willin' to swear that anywhere to
any one.
"Do you know, Mrs. Lathrop, that Gran'ma Mullins was so bad off last
night as they had to put a mustard plaster onto her while Hiram went to
see Lucy for the last time, an' Mrs. Macy says as she never hear the
beat o' her memory, for she says she'll take her Bible oath as Gran'ma
Mullins told her what Hiram said and done every minute o' his life while
he was gone to see Lucy Dill. And she cried, too, and took on the whole
time she was talkin' an' said Heaven help her, for nobody else could,
an' she just knowed Lucy'd get tired o' Hiram's story an' he can't be
happy a whole day without he tells it, an' she's most sure Lucy won't
like his singin' 'Marchin' Through Georgia' after the first month or
two, an' it's the only tune as Hiram has ever really took to. Mrs. Macy
says she soon found she couldn't do nothin' to stem the tide except to
drink tea an' listen, so she drank an' listened till Hiram come home
about eleven. Oh, my, but she says they had the time then! Gran'ma
Mullins let him in herself, and just as soon as he was in she bu'st into
floods of tears an' wouldn't let him loose under no consideration. She
says Hiram managed to get his back to the wall for a brace 'cause
Gran'ma Mullins nigh to upset him every fresh time as Lucy come over
her, an' Mrs. Macy says she couldn't but wonder what the end was goin'
to be when, toward midnight, Hiram just lost patience and dodged out
under her arm and run up the ladder to the roof-room an' they couldn't
get him to come down again. She says when Gran'ma Mullins realized as he
wouldn't come down she most went mad over the notion of her only son's
spendin' the Christmas Eve to his own weddin' sleepin' on the floor o'
the attic and she wanted to poke the cot up to him but Mrs. Macy says
she drew the line at cot-pokin' when the cot was all she'd have to sleep
on herself, and in the end they poked quilts up, an' pillows an'
doughnuts an' cider an' blankets, an' Hiram made a bed on the floor an'
they all got to sleep about three o'clock.
"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, what do you think? What _do_ you think? They was so
awful tired that none of 'em woke till Mrs. Sperrit come at eleven next
day to take 'em to the weddin'! Mrs. Macy says she hopes she'll be put
forward all her back-slidin's if she ever gets such a start again. She
says when she peeked out between the blinds an' see Mrs. Sperrit's
Sunday bonnet an' realized her own state she nearly had a fit. Mrs.
Sperrit had to come in an' be explained to, an' the worst of it was as
Hiram couldn't be woke nohow. He'd pulled the ladder up after him an'
put the lid on the hole so's to feel safe, an' there he was snug as a
bug in a rug an' where no human bein' could get at him. They hollered
an' banged doors an' sharpened the carvin' knife an' poured grease on
the stove an' did anything they could think of, but he never budged.
Mrs. Macy says she never was so close beside herself in all her life
before, for Gran'ma Mullins cried worse 'n ever each minute an' Hiram
seemed like the very dead couldn't wake him.
"They was all hoppin' around half crazy when Mr. Sperrit come along on
his way to the weddin' an' his wife run out an' told him what was the
matter an' he come right in an' looked up at the matter. It didn't take
long for him to unsettle Hiram, Mrs. Macy says. He got a sulphur candle
an' tied it to a stick an' h'isted the lid with another stick, an' in
less 'n two minutes they could all hear Hiram sneezin' an' comin' to.
An' Mrs. Macy says when they hollered what time it was she wishes the
whole town might have been there to see Hiram Mullins come down to
earth. Mr. Sperrit didn't hardly have time to get out o' the way an' he
didn't give his mother no show for one single grab,--he just bounced
into his room and you could have heard him gettin' dressed on the far
side o' the far bridge.
"O' course, us at Lucy's didn't know anythin' a-_tall_ about Mrs. Macy's
troubles. We had our own, Heaven help us, an' they was enough, for the
very first thing of all Mr. Dill caught his pocket on the corner of Mrs.
Dill an' come within a ace of pullin' her off her easel. That would have
been a pretty beginnin' to Lucy's weddin' day if her father had smashed
her mother to bits, I guess, but it couldn't have made Lucy any worse;
for I will say, Mrs. Lathrop, as I never see no one in all my born life
act foolisher than Lucy Dill this day. First she'd laugh an' then she'd
cry an' then she'd lose suthin' as we'd got to have to work with. An'
when it come to dressin' her!--well, if she'd known as Hiram was
sleepin' a sleep as next to knowed no wakin' she couldn't have put on
more things wrong side out an' hind side before! She wasn't dressed till
most every one was there an' I was gettin' pretty anxious, for Hiram
wasn't there neither, an' the more fidgety people got the more they
caught their corners on Mrs. Dill. I just saved her from Mr. Kimball,
an' Amelia saw her goin' as a result o' Judge Fitch an' hardly had time
for a jump. The minister himself was beginnin' to cough when, all of a
sudden, some one cried as the Sperrits was there.
"Well, we all squeezed to the window, an' such a sight you never saw.
They was gettin' Gran'ma Mullins out an' Hiram was tryin' to keep her
from runnin' the color of his cravat all down his shirt while she was
sobbin' 'Hi-i-i-i-ram, Hi-i-i-i-i-ram,' in a voice as would wring your
very heart dry. They got her out an' got her in an' got her upstairs,
an' we all sat down an' begin to get ready while Amelia played 'Lead,
Kindly Light' and 'The Joyous Farmer' alternate, 'cause she'd mislaid
her Weddin' March.
"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, you never knowed nothin' like it!--we waited,
_an'_ we waited, _an'_ we waited, an' the minister most coughed himself
into consumption, an' Mrs. Dill got caught on so often that Mr. Kimball
told Ed to stand back of her an' hold her to the easel every minute.
Amelia was just beginning over again for the seventeenth time when at
last we heard 'em bumpin' along downstairs. Seems as all the delay come
from Lucy's idea o' wantin' to walk with her father an' have a weddin'
procession, instid o' her an' Hiram comin' in together like Christians
an' lettin' Mr. Dill hold Gran'ma Mullins up anywhere. Polly says she
never see such a time as they had of it; she says fightin' wolves was
layin' lambs beside the way they talked. Hiram said frank an' open as
the reason he didn't want to walk in with his mother was he was sure she
wouldn't let him out to get married, but Lucy was dead set on the
procession idea. So in the end they done it so, an' Gran'ma Mullins's
sobs fairly shook the house as they come through the dinin'-room door.
Lucy was first with her father an' they both had their heads turned
backward lookin' at Hiram an' his mother.
"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, it was certainly a sight worth seem'! The way that
Gran'ma Mullins was glued on! All I can say is as octopuses has got
their backs turned in comparison to the way that Hiram seemed to be all
wrapped up in her. It looked like wild horses, not to speak of Lucy
Dill, wouldn't never be able to get him loose enough to marry him. The
minister was scared; we was all scared. I never see a worse situation to
be in.
"They come along through the back parlor, Lucy lookin' back, Mr. Dill
white as a sheet, an' Hiram walkin' like a snow-plough as isn't sure how
long it can keep on makin' it. It seemed like a month as they was under
way before they finally got stopped in front o' the minister. An' then
come _the_ time! Hiram had to step beside Lucy an' take her hand an' he
couldn't! We all just gasped. There was Hiram tryin' to get loose and
Mr. Dill tryin' to help him. Gran'ma Mullins's tears dripped till you
could hear 'em, but she hung on to Hiram like he'd paid for it. They
worked like Trojan beavers, but as fast as they'd get one side of him
uncovered she'd take a fresh wind-round. I tell you, we all just held
our breath, and I bet Lucy was sorry she persisted in havin' a
procession when she see the perspiration runnin' off her father an'
Hiram.
"Finally Polly got frightened and begun to cry, an' at that the deacon
put his arm around her an' give her a hug, an' Gran'ma Mullins looked up
just in time to see the arm an' the hug. It seemed like it was the last
hay in the donkey, for she give a weak screech an' went right over on
Mr. Dill. She had such a grip on Hiram that if it hadn't been for Lucy
he'd have gone over, too, but Lucy just hung on herself that time, an'
Hiram was rescued without nothin' worse than his hair mussed an' one
sleeve a little tore. Mr. Sperrit an' Mr. Jilkins carried Gran'ma
Mullins into the dinin'-room, an' I said to just leave her fainted till
after we'd got Hiram well an' truly married; so they did.
"I never see the minister rattle nothin' through like that
marriage-service. Every one was on whole papers of pins an' needles, an'
the minute it was over every one just felt like sittin' right straight
down.
"Mrs. Macy an' me went up an' watered Gran'ma Mullins till we brought
her to, and when she learned as it was all done she picked up wonderful
and felt as hungry as any one, an' come downstairs an' kissed Lucy an'
caught a corner on Mrs. Dill just like she'd never been no trouble to no
one from first to last. I never seen such a sudden change in all my
life; it was like some miracle had come out all over her and there
wasn't no one there as wasn't rejoiced to death over the change.
"We all went out in the dinin'-room and the sun shone in and every one
laughed over nothin' a-_tall_. Mrs. Sperrit pinned Hiram up from inside
so his tear didn't show, and Lucy and he set side by side and looked
like no one was ever goin' to ever be married again. Polly an' the
deacon set opposite and the minister an' his wife an' Mr. Dill an'
Gran'ma Mullins made up the table. The rest stood around, and we was all
as lively as words can tell. The cake was one o' the handsomest as I
ever see, two pigeons peckin' a bell on top and Hiram an' Lucy runnin'
around below in pink. There was a dime inside an' a ring, an' I got the
dime, an' they must have forgot to put in the ring for no one got it."
Susan paused and panted.
"It was--" commented Mrs. Lathrop, thoughtfully.
"Nice that I got the dime?--yes, I should say. There certainly wasn't no
one there as needed it worse, an', although I'd never be one to call a
dime a fortune, still it _is_ a dime, an' no one can't deny it the
honor, no matter how they feel. But, Mrs. Lathrop, what you'd ought to
have seen was Hiram and Lucy ready to go off. I bet no one knows they're
brides--I bet no one knows _what_ they are,--you never saw the like in
all your worst dreams. Hiram wore spectacles an' carpet-slippers an'
that old umbrella as Mr. Shores keeps at the store to keep from bein'
stole, and Lucy wore clothes she'd found in trunks an' her hair in
curl-papers, an' her cold-cream gloves. They certainly was a sight, an'
Gran'ma Mullins laughed as hard as any one over them. Mr. Sperrit drove
'em to the train, an' Hiram says he's goin' to spend two dollars a day
right along till he comes back; so I guess Lucy'll have a good time for
once in her life. An' Gran'ma Mullins walked back with me an' not one
word o' Hiram did she speak. She was all Polly an' the deacon. She said
it wa'n't in reason as Polly could imagine him with hair, an' she said
she was thinkin' very seriously o' givin' her a piece o' his hair as
she's got, for a weddin' present. She said Polly 'd never know what he
was like the night he give her that hair. She said the moon was shinin'
an' the frogs were croakin', an' she kind o' choked; she says she can't
smell a marsh to this day without seein' the deacon givin' her that
piece of hair. I cheered her up all I could--I told her anyhow he
couldn't give Polly a piece of his hair if he died for it. She smiled a
weak smile an' went on up to Mrs. Brown's. Mrs. Brown asked her to stay
with her a day or two. Mrs. Brown has her faults, but nobody can't deny
as she's got a good heart,--in fact, sometimes I think Mrs. Brown's good
heart is about the worst fault she's got. I've knowed it lead her to do
very foolish things time an' again--things as I thank my star I'd never
think o' doin'--not in this world."
Mrs. Lathrop shifted her elbows a little; Susan withdrew at once from
the fence.
"I must go in," she said, "to-morrow is goin' to be a more 'n full day.
There's Polly's weddin' an' then in the evenin' Mr. Weskin is comin' up.
You needn't look surprised, Mrs. Lathrop, because I've thought the
subject over up an' down an' hind end foremost an' there ain't nothin'
left for me to do. I can't sell nothin' else an' I've got to have money,
so I'm goin' to let go of one of those bonds as father left me. There
ain't no way out of it; I told Mr. Weskin I'd expect him at sharp eight
on sharp business an' he'll come. An' I must go as a consequence. Good
night."
* * * * *
Polly Allen's wedding took place the next day, and Mrs. Lathrop came
out on her front piazza about half past five to wait for her share in
the event.
The sight of Mrs. Brown going by with her head bound up in a white
cloth, accompanied by Gran'ma Mullins with both hands similarly treated,
was the first inkling the stay-at-home had that strange doings had been
lately done.
Susan came next and Susan was a sight!
Not only did her ears stand up with a size and conspicuousness never
inherited from either her father or her mother, but also her right eye
was completely closed and she walked lame.
"The Lord have mercy!" cried Mrs. Lathrop, when the full force of her
friend's affliction effected its complete entrance into her
brain,--"Why, Susan, what--"
"Mrs. Lathrop," said Miss Clegg, "all I can say is I come out better
than the most of 'em, an' if you could see Sam Duruy or Mr. Kimball or
the minister you'd know I spoke the truth. The deacon an' Polly is both
in bed an' can't see how each other looks, an' them as has a eye is
goin' to tend them as can't see at all, an' God help 'em all if young
Dr. Brown an' the mud run dry!" with which pious ejaculation Susan
painfully mounted the steps and sat down with exceeding gentleness upon
a chair.
Mrs. Lathrop stared at her in dumb and wholly bewildered amazement.
After a while Miss Clegg continued.
"It was all the deacon's fault. Him an' Polly was so dead set on bein'
fashionable an' bein' a contrast to Hiram an' Lucy, an' I hope to-night
as they lay there all puffed up as they'll reflect on their folly an'
think a little on how the rest of us as didn't care rhyme or reason for
folly is got no choice but to puff up, too. Mrs. Jilkins is awful mad;
she says Mr. Jilkins wanted to wear his straw hat anyhow and, she says
she always has hated his silk hat 'cause it reminds her o' when she was
young and foolish enough to be willin' to go and marry into a family as
was foolish enough to marry into Deacon White. Mrs. Jilkins is extra hot
because she got one in the neck, but my own idea is as Polly Allen's
weddin' was the silliest doin's as I ever see from the beginnin', an'
the end wan't no more than might o' been expected--all things
considered.
"When I got to the church, what do you think was the first thing as I
see, Mrs. Lathrop? Well, you'd never guess till kingdom come, so I may
as well tell you. It was Ed an' Sam Duruy an' Henry Ward Beecher an'
Johnny standin' there waitin' to show us to our pews like we didn't know
our own pews after sittin' in 'em for all our life-times! I just shook
my head an' walked to my pew, an' there, if it wasn't looped shut with a
daisy-chain! Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I wish you could have been there to
have felt for me, for I may remark as a cyclone is a caterpillar wove up
in hisself beside my face when I see myself daisy-chained out o' my own
pew by Polly Allen. Ed was behind me an' he whispered 'That's reserved
for the family.' I give him one look an' I will state, Mrs. Lathrop, as
he wilted. It didn't take me long to break that daisy-chain an' sit down
in that pew, an' I can assure you as no one asked me to get up again.
Mrs. Jilkins's cousins from Meadville come an' looked at me sittin'
there, but I give them jus' one look back an' they went an' sat with
Mrs. Macy themselves. A good many other folks was as surprised as me
over where they had to sit, but we soon had other surprises as took the
taste o' the first clean out o' our mouths.
"Just as Mrs. Davison begin to play the organ, Ed an' Johnny come down
with two clothes-lines wound 'round with clematis an' tied us all in
where we sat. Then they went back an' we all stayed still an' couldn't
but wonder what under the sun was to be done to us next. But we didn't
have long to wait, an' I will say as anythin' to beat Polly's ideas I
never see--no--nor no one else neither.
"'Long down the aisle, two an' two, an' hand in hand, like they thought
they was suthin' pretty to look at, come Ed an' Johnny an' Henry Ward
Beecher an' Sam Duruy, an' I vow an' declare, Mrs. Lathrop, I never was
so nigh to laughin' in church in all my life. They knowed they was
funny, too, an' their mouths an' eyes was tight set sober, but some one
in the back just _had_ to giggle, an' when we heard it we knew as things
as wasn't much any other day would use us up this day, sure. They
stopped in front an' lined up, two on a side, an' then, for all the
world like it was a machine-play, the little door opened an' out come
the minister an' solemnly walked down to between them. I must say we was
all more than a little disappointed at its only bein' the minister, an'
he must have felt our feelin's, for he began to cough an' clear up his
throat an' his little desk all at once. Then Mrs. Davison jerked out the
loud stop an' began to play for all she was worth, an' the door behind
banged an' every one turned aroun' to see.
"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, we saw,--an' I will in truth remark as such a
sawin' we'll never probably get a chance to do again! Mrs. Sweet says
they practised it over four times at the church, so they can't deny as
they meant it all, an' you might lay me crossways an' cut me into
chipped beef an' still I would declare as I wouldn't have the face to
own to havin' had any hand in plannin' any such weddin'.
"First come 'Liza Em'ly an' Rachel Rebecca hand in hand carryin'
daisies--of all things in the world to take to a weddin'--an' then come
Brunhilde Susan, with a daisy-chain around her neck an' her belt stuck
full o' daisies an'--you can believe me or not, jus' as you please, Mrs.
Lathrop, an' still it won't help matters any--an' a daisy stuck in every
button down her back, an' daisies tangled up in her hair, an' a bunch o'
daisies under one arm.
"Well, we was nigh to overcome by Brunhilde Susan, but we drawed some
fresh breath an' kept on lookin', an' next come Polly an' Mr. Allen. I
will say for Mr. Allen as he seemed to feel the ridiculousness of it
all, for a redder man I never see, nor one as looked more uncomfortable.
He was daisied, too--had three in his button-hole;--but what took us all
was the way him an' Polly walked. I bet no people gettin' married ever
zig-zagged like that before, an' Mrs. Sweet says they practised it by
countin' two an' then swingin' out to one side, an' then countin' two
an' swingin' out to the other--she watched 'em out of her attic window
down through the broke blind to the church. Well, all I can say is, that
to my order o' thinkin' countin' an' swingin' is a pretty frame o' mind
to get a husband in, but so it was, an' we was all starin' our eyes off
to beat the band when the little door opened an', to crown everythin'
else, out come the deacon an' Mr. Jilkins, each with a daisy an' a silk
hat, an' I will remark, Mrs. Lathrop, as new-born kittens is blood-red
murderers compared to how innocent that hat o' Mr. Jilkins' looked. Any
one could see as it wasn't new, but he wasn't new either, as far as that
goes, an' that was what struck me in particular about the whole
thing--nothin' an' nobody wasn't any different only for Polly's
foolishness and the daisies.
"Well, they sorted out an' begun to get married, an' us all sittin'
lookin' on an' no more guessin' what was comin' next than a ant looks
for a mornin' paper. The minister was gettin' most through an' the
deacon was gettin' out the ring, an' we was lookin' to get up an' out
pretty quick, when--my heavens alive, Mrs. Lathrop, I never will forget
that minute--when Mr. Jilkins--poor man, he's sufferin' enough for it,
Lord knows!--when Mr. Jilkins dropped his hat!
"That very next second him an' Ed an' Brunhilde Susan all hopped an'
yelled at once, an' the next thing we see was the minister droppin' his
book an' grabbin' his arm an' the deacon tryin' madly to do hisself up
in Polly's veil. We would 'a' all been glum petrified at such goin's on
any other day, only by that time the last one of us was feelin' to hop
and grab an' yell on his own account. Gran'ma Mullins was tryin' to slap
herself with the seat cushion, an' the way the daisies flew as folks
went over an' under that clematis rope was a caution. I got out as quick
as I--"
"But what--" interrupted Mrs. Lathrop, her eyes fairly marble-like in
their redundant curiosity.
"It was wasps!" said Susan, "it was a young wasps' nest in Mr. Jilkins's
hat. Seems they carried their hats to church in their hands 'cause Polly
didn't want no red rings around 'em, an' so he never suspected nothin'
till he dropped it. An' oh, poor little Brunhilde Susan in them short
skirts of hers--she might as well have wore a bee hive as to be like she
is now. I got off easy, an' you can look at me an' figure on what them
as got it hard has got on them. Young Dr. Brown went right to work with
mud an' Polly's veil an' plastered 'em over as fast as they could get
into Mrs. Sweet's. Mrs. Sweet was mighty obligin' an' turned two
flower-beds inside out an' let every one scoop with her kitchen spoons,
besides runnin' aroun' herself like she was a slave gettin' paid. They
took the deacon an' Polly right to their own house. They can't see one
another anyhow, an' they was most all married anyway, so it didn't seem
worth while to wait till the minister gets the use of his upper lip
again."
"Why--" interrogated Mrs. Lathrop.
"Young Dr. Brown wanted to," said Susan, "he wanted to fill my ears with
mud, an' my eye, too, but I didn't feel to have it done. You can't die
o' wasps' bills, an' you can o' young Dr. Brown's--leastways when you
ain't got no money to pay 'em, like I ain't got just at present."
"It's--" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"Yes," said Susan, "it struck me that way, too. This seems to be a very
unlucky town. Anything as comes seems to catch us all in a bunch. The
cow most lamed the whole community an' the automobile most broke its
back; time'll tell what'll be the result o' these wasps, but there won't
be no church Sunday for one thing, I know.
"An' it ain't the least o' my woes, Mrs. Lathrop, to think as I've got
to sit an' smile on Mr. Weskin to-night from between two such ears as
I've got, for a man is a man, an' it can't be denied as a woman as is
mainly ears ain't beguilin'. Besides, I may in confidence state to you,
Mrs. Lathrop, as the one as buzzed aroun' my head wan't really no wasp
a-_tall_ in comparison to the one as got under my skirts."
Mrs. Lathrop's eyes were full of sincere condolence; she did not even
imagine a smile as she gazed upon her afflicted friend.
"I must go," said the latter, rising with a groan, "seems like I never
will reach the bottom o' my troubles this year. I keep thinkin' there's
nothin' left an' then I get a wasp at each end at once. Well, I'll come
over when Mr. Weskin goes--if I have strength."
Then she limped home.
* * * * *
It was about nine that night that she returned and pounded vigorously on
her friend's window-pane. Mrs. Lathrop woke from her rocker-nap, went to
the window and opened it. Susan stood below and the moon illuminated her
smile and her ears with its most silvery beams.
"He's just gone!" she announced.
"Yes," said Mrs. Lathrop, rubbing her eyes.
"He's gone; I come over to tell you."
"What--" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"I wouldn't care if my ears was as big as a elephant's now."
"Why--" asked Mrs. Lathrop.
"Mrs. Lathrop, you know as I took them bonds straight after father died
an' locked 'em up an' I ain't never unlocked 'em since?"
Mrs. Lathrop assented with a single rapt nod.
"Well, when I explained to Mr. Weskin as I'd got to have money an' how
was the best way to sell a bond, he just looked at me, an' what do you
think he said--what _do_ you think he said, Mrs. Lathrop?"
Mrs. Lathrop hung far out over the window-sill--her gaze was the gaze of
the ever earnest and interested.
Susan stood below. Her face was aglow with the joy of the affluent--her
very voice might have been for once entitled as silvery.
"He said, Mrs. Lathrop, he said, 'Miss Clegg, why don't you go down to
the bank and cut your coupons?'"