TOM HUTCHINS' QUARREL.
The church bell was ringing cheerfully on Falls Hill. Indeed, on a day
like that, every sound took a jubilant tone. The sunshine was so bright,
the meadows and foliage so richly green, that one breathed deeply with a
keen sense of enjoyment.
The birds in the pine woods made a perfect riot of music among the
trees, and built their nests lovingly, in defiance of blue laws, and
forgetful--as birds will be sometimes--that it was the Sabbath day. Even
pretty little humming-birds came out in force that morning, and shook
the trumpet honeysuckles like mad things, buzzing their wings, and
setting the great bumble bees that haunted the clover fields a most
indecorous example. Such quantities of fennel as was cut from the green
stalks that morning and tied into dainty bunches, ready to be nibbled at
in church. Such pretty bouquets of violets and wild roses were
made--such lovely new bonnets and muslin dresses as appeared that day
for the first time--I can neither describe or enumerate.
"What was it all about?"
Why a confirmation, a wedding, and a double baptism were to come off
that day, performed by the bishop himself. No wonder all Chewstown came
over from that side of the river. No wonder that Falls Hill, Bungy, and
Shrub Oak--to say nothing of the factory flats--should be one scene of
commotion! The wedding of itself would have been enough to set people
wild. Why the bride was pretty Rose Mason, that little girl who used to
live with her handsome mother down in the pine woods; the sweetest
creature that the sun ever shone upon, and just as beautiful now; in
fact, more so.
"Who was she going to marry?"
Did any one remember a remarkably handsome little fellow who came to
board with Mrs. Allen, in Bungy, about the time that Katy Allen--well,
they would not say any thing about that; poor thing, she had suffered
enough--but he went to school at Shrub Oak, and was a perfect little
gentleman. His name was Paul De Varney, and he had come out so rich that
no one could count his gold.
There was but one thing that could be said against the match--young De
Varney brought a black slave with him when he first came into the State,
and kept him still, for the poor fellow had been about Bungy not two
days ago, and no doubt was there yet. The bishop might have something to
say about that before he would marry the young man; but it was to be
hoped that it would not quite break up the match. Still, a slave in old
Connecticut! that could not be thought of a moment by any Christian
community. Certainly Nelson Thrasher and his wife would be
confirmed--that was all settled with the bishop, who had been informed
about the case thoroughly by Thrasher himself; as for his wife, people
were beginning to think that after all she had been innocent about that
affair. A woman that could kill her own child never yet made a wife like
her. Why those old people fairly worshipped her. When old Mrs. Thrasher
was sick, she never had her clothes off for weeks together. Then she was
so good in sickness; always the first to offer herself, if watchers were
wanted. Why Tom Hutchins might have lost his young wife if it had not
been for her care. Night and day, night and day, that faithful woman was
by her bedside, till the fever left her. The doctor had been heard to
declare, over and over again, that he should not know how to get along
with his patients if it were not for Mrs. Nelson Thrasher. Then Nelson
had turned out such a sensible, steady man, for all his hard life. Yes,
yes; the thing was certain; both he and his wife would be confirmed. No
doubt of that.
Then about the baptism; of course that was for Tom Hutchins' twins--a
girl and a boy that you could not tell apart to save your life. Tom and
his wife were so proud of those young ones they never would be content
till all the town had seen them in their long white christening
dresses. That young fellow did make such a fool of himself. Just as if
nobody had ever had twins to baptize before him.
All this gossip was pretty nearly true. The bishop had come, and was
stopping at the square white house near the willow tree. Paul De Varney
was staying at Mrs. Allen's with Jube. David Rice had built a large side
building to the old house, since he settled on the farm, and it was
plenty large enough to accommodate half a dozen guests if they could
have been persuaded to stay. But when Mr. Prior the minister, and his
little wife, came from Bays Hollow, bringing Rose Mason back to be
married in her native village, they went directly up to old Mrs.
Thrasher's and made the homestead cheerful with company.
Since the arrival of all these people in the village, Tom Hutchins, who
lived in Mrs. Mason's cottage in the pine woods, had been wonderfully
busy, and gave himself up to his friends more completely than could be
expected of a young married man, not two months before made the father
of healthy twins, good as gold and plump as partridges.
Notwithstanding this paternal drawback, Tom had made all arrangements
with regard to the bishop; had seen the publishment properly laid on the
pulpit cushion, ready for use, three legal Sundays, and had twice driven
his steel colored colt into New Haven, to get a pair of satin slippers
and a certain kind of ribbon for Rose, at which his wife pouted, and the
twins, partaking of her ill humor, kept the poor fellow walking the
chamber floor half the night, now with one, and then with the other, in
his arms.
I am afraid Mrs. Hutchins did not, on that occasion, take quite her
share of the nursing. When Tom asked her, in his distress, if she
wouldn't get up and make a little fennel seed tea for the poor little
things, she desired to know if it wouldn't be just as well to make that
request of Rose Mason, with her curls and her gipsy hat on one side, at
which Tom broke forth with energy:
"Talk about Rose Mason," he said; "the girl that was going to marry his
earliest friend, one of the finest fellows on earth--a girl that was
good as gold, and generous as--Oh it was too bad; he wouldn't have
thought it of a wife of his--a woman that he had loved so."
"_Had_ loved!" Mrs. Hutchins murmured, faintly. "_Had_ loved!"
Tom's heart melted within him as he heard the low protest, but he
contented himself by kissing each of the twins, while their little heads
rested on his shoulders, and went on making an iron-hearted fellow of
himself.
Yes, Tom meant _had_. No love in the world could stand such venomous
attacks on that nice girl, who had given him up so handsomely. Where
would she have been but for that? Breaking her heart, and pining herself
to death, instead of taking her place as a respectable married person
and the head of a thriving family. There was the twins, too, precious
dears. Par wasn't scolding them. Where in the world would they have been
if Rose had kept him to his word, as any other girl would have done?
Here Mrs. Hutchins began to sob, and said, penitently, that she hadn't
meant any thing of the kind--in fact, hadn't said a single thing against
Miss Rose Mason, who was breaking her heart though; and--and--oh, dear,
if she'd only stayed at home with her own dear par and mar, instead of
marrying a man that didn't love her, and was keeping her poor babies
out in the cold just to break her heart.
"There, there! just snuggle the little shavers up to you, that's a
darling!" cried Tom, huddling the two babies into their mother's arms,
and leaving a penitential kiss somewhere in the borders of her cap.
"I'll kindle the fire and make some tea myself--I know you didn't mean
it."
"Indeed I didn't, Tom. But you mustn't do it; I will."
"There now, keep quiet, or you'll set 'em a-going again."
"No, Tom, they're both sound asleep."
"You don't say so. Well, they've got me wide awake, anyhow; so I'll just
light a candle and show you what I really was doing in New Haven, and
what Rose Mason wanted me to buy for her."
Tom unlocked a closet that held his cravats and Sunday clothes, from
which he took a long, deep paper box, and carried it to the bed.
"See here!" he cried, lifting up a garment so white and soft that it
seemed woven from snow-flakes. "Two of 'em, just alike; India muslin
that her father sent from Calcutta, she told me to tell you. See how
they are worked round the bottom, and cut up with lace. Then, here's the
caps! One of 'em just fits my fist. It was to get the ribbon for these
cockades she sent me to New Haven--white for the gal, and blue for the
boy. Now what do you think about it?"
Mrs. Hutchins thought that she was the most silly, unreasonable,
good-for-nothing creature that ever lived; but she hoped, for all, that
Tom wouldn't say _had_ again. It was too cruel, even if she was to
blame.
Tom admitted that he was a hard-hearted, cruel, tiger of a fellow, and
not worth half the love she gave him; and so the young couple were
reconciled.