SUSAN CLEGG'S FULL DAY
"Well," said Miss Clegg, with strong emphasis, as she mounted Mrs.
Lathrop's steps, "I don't know, I'm sure, what I've come over here for
this night, for I never felt more like goin' right straight off to bed
in all my life before." Then she sat down on the top step and sighed
heavily.
"It's been a full day," she went on presently; "an' I can't deny as I
was nothin' but glad to remember as Elijah was n't comin' home to
supper, for as a consequence I sha'n't have it to get. A woman as has
had a day like mine to-day don't want no supper anyhow, an' it stands to
reason as if I don't feel lively in the first place, I ain't goin' to be
made any more so by comin' to see you, for I will remark, Mrs. Lathrop,
that seein' you always makes me wonder more'n ever why I come to see you
so often when I might just as well stay home an' go to bed. If I was in
my bed this blessed minute I'd be very comfortable, which I'm very far
from bein' here with this mosquito aimin' just over my slap each time;
an' then, too, I'd be alone, an' no matter how hard I may try to make
myself look upon bein' with you as the same thing as bein' alone, it is
n't the same thing an' you can't in conscience deny _that_, no matter
how hard you may sit without movin'."
Mrs. Lathrop made no reply to this frank comment on her liveliness, and
after a short pause, Miss Clegg sighed heavily a second time, and
continued:
"It's been a full day, a awful full day. In the first place the rooster
was woke by accident last night an' he up an' woke me. He must of woke
me about three o'clock as near as I can figure it out now, but I
supposed when I was woke as of course it was five so I got right up an'
went in an' woke Elijah. Elijah told me last week as he did n't believe
he'd ever seen the sun rise an' I was just enough out of sorts to think
as to-day would be a good time for him to begin to turn over a new leaf
as far as the sunrise was concerned. I must say he was n't very spry
about the leaf, for all he did was to turn himself over at first, but I
opened his window an' banged the blinds three or four times an' in the
end he got woke up without really knowin' just what had woke him. We had
breakfast with a candle, an' then Elijah was so tired lookin' out for
the sunrise that he looked in at his watch an' see as it was only
quarter to four then. He was real put out at that at first 'cause he
wrote till half past two last night, an' in the end he went back to bed
an' it certainly was a relief to see the last of him, for I may in
confidence remark as I never see him look quite so stupid afore. After
he was gone back to bed I washed up the breakfast dishes an' then I
went out in the wood shed in the dark an' there I got another surprise,
for I thought I'd look over the rags I was savin' for the next rag rug
an' when I poured 'em out in my lap, what do you think, Mrs. Lathrop,
what _do_ you think poured out along with 'em?--Why, a nest of young
mice an' two old ones!
"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, you can maybe imagine my feelin's at four in the
mornin' with Elijah gone back to bed an' my own lap full of mice, but
whatever I yelled did n't disturb him any an' I just made two jumps for
the lamp in the kitchen, leavin' the mice wherever they hit to rearrange
their family to suit themselves. Well, the second jump must needs land
me right square on top of the cistern lid, an' it up an' went in, takin'
my left leg along with it as far as it would go. Well, Mrs. Lathrop,
talk of girls as can open an' shut, like scissors, in a circus--I was
scissored to that degree that for a little I could n't think which
would be wisest, to try an' get myself together again in the kitchen or
to just give up altogether in the cistern. In the end I hauled the leg
as had gone in out again, an' then I see where all the trouble come
from, for the cistern lid was caught to my garter an' what I'd thought
was a real injury was only it swingin' around an' around my leg. I put
the lid back on the cistern an' felt to sit with my legs crossed for
quite a while, thinkin' pleasant thoughts of the rooster as woke me, an'
by that time it was half past four, an' I could hear all the other
chickens stirrin' so I got up an' began to stir again myself. I opened
the front door an' looked out an' that did n't bring me no good luck
either, for as I looked out a bat flew in an' just as the bat flew in he
managed to hook himself right in my hair. Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I tell you
I _was_ mad then. I don't know as I ever was madder than I was then. I
was so mad that I can't tell you how mad I was. The bat held on by
diggin' in like he thought I wanted to get him off, an' I pulled at him
so hard that I can't in conscience be surprised much over his takin'
that view of it. Well, in the end I had to take all my hairpins out
first an' then sort of skin him out of my hair lengthways, which,
whatever you may think about it, Mrs. Lathrop, is far from bein' funny
along afore dawn on a day as you 've begun at three thinkin' as it was
five."
"Susan!" ejaculated Mrs. Lathrop; "don't--"
"No, I'll have some when I get home. I like mine better than yours
anyway. Now you've made me forget where I was in my story."
"You--" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"Oh yes, I remember now. Well, I was too put out at first to notice what
the bat did after I got him out o' my head, but when I went upstairs I
found him circlin' everywhere in a way as took every bit of home feelin'
out of the house an' I just saw that I'd have no peace till I could be
alone with Elijah again. So I got up an' got a broom an' went a battin'
for all I was worth. Well, Mrs. Lathrop, you can believe me or not just
as you please, but for one solid hour I run freely an' gayly up an' down
an' over an' under my own house after that bat. I never see nothin' like
that bat before or behind. He just sort of sailed here an' there an'
everywhere, an' wherever he sailed smoothly an' easily there was me
runnin' after him with the broom, whackin' at him every chance I got. We
was upstairs, we was downstairs, we was in the wood shed an' out of the
wood shed, we was under the kitchen table, we was over father's picture
on the mantel--we was everywhere, me an' that bat. Then all of a sudden
he disappeared completely an' I sit down in the rockin'-chair to puff
an' rest. Elijah slept till most eight an' I was so tired I let him
sleep although I never was one to approve of any man's sleepin', but
before he woke something worse than a bat come down on me, an' that was
Mrs. Sweet's cousin, Jerusha Dodd. You know Jerusha Dodd, Mrs. Lathrop,
an' so do I, an' so does everybody an' as far as my observation 's
extended bats is wise men bringin' their gifts from afar to visit you
compared to Jerusha Dodd when she arrives in the early mornin'. I would
n't never have gone to the door only she stepped up on the drain-pipe
first an' looked in an' saw me there in the rockin'-chair afore she
knocked. I tell you I was good an' mad when I see her an' see as she see
me an' I made no bones of it when I opened the door. I says to her frank
an' open--I says, 'Good gracious, Jerusha, I hope you ain't lookin' to
see me pleased at seein' as it's you.' But laws, you could n't smash
Jerusha Dodd not if you was a elephant an' she was his sat-down-upon
fly, so I had her sittin' in the kitchen an' sighin' in less'n no time.
She was full of her woes an' the country's woes as usual. Congress was
goin' to ruin us next year sure, an' she had a hole in her back fence
anyway; she did n't approve of Mr. Rockefeller's prices on oil, an'
there was a skunk in her cellar, an' she said she could n't seem to
learn to enjoy livin' the simple life as she'd had to live it since her
father died, a _tall_. She said that accordin' to her views life for
single women nowadays was too simple an' she said she really only lacked
bein' buried to be dead. She says as all a simple life is, is havin' no
rights except them as your neighbors don't want. She says for her part
she's been more took into the heart of creation than she's ever cared
about. I do hate to have to listen to the way she goes on an' no one can
say as I ever was one to encourage her in them views. I don't think it's
right to encourage no one in their own views 'cause their views is never
mine an' mine is always the right ones. This mornin' I stood it as long
as I could from Jerusha an' then I just let out at her an' I says to
her, I says, 'Jerusha Dodd, you really are a fool an' Heaven help them
as ever makes more of a fool of you, by tellin' you as you ain't.' You
know Jerusha Dodd, Mrs. Lathrop; she began to cry hard an' rock harder
right off, said she knowed she was a fool, but it was nature's fault an'
not hers for she was born so an' could n't seem to get the better of it.
I told her my view of the matter would be for her to stay home an' patch
up that hole in her fence an' pull up some o' that choice garden full of
weeds as she's growin', an' brush the dust off the crown of her bonnet,
an' do a few other of them wholesome little trifles as is a good deal
nearer the most of us than Mr. Rockefeller] an' what congress in its
infinite wisdom is goin' to see fit to deal out in the daily papers next
year.
"But she only kept on cryin' an' rockin' an' finally I got so tired
listenin' to her creak an' sob that I went out an' had a real bright
idea. I got the little sink scratcher an' tied a wet piece of rag to
the handle an' went around behind her an' hung it suddenly in her back
hair. She put up her hand an' felt it, an' give a yell that woke Elijah.
You know how Jerusha Dodd acts when she's upset! She spun around so the
sink scratcher fell right out but she did n't have sense enough left in
her to know it. She yelled, 'What was it? what was it?' an' I yelled,
'It was a bat, it was a bat;' an' at that I see the last of Jerusha
Dodd, for she was out of my kitchen an' out of my sight afore Elijah
could get to the top of the stairs to begin yellin', 'What was it? what
was it?' on his own hook. I had to tell him all about it then an' he
wanted it for a item right off. He said he'd have a dash for Jerusha an'
a star for me, an' the idea took him like most of his ideas do, an' he
laughed till he coughed the coffee as I'd saved for him all the wrong
way, an' dropped a soft boiled egg as I'd boiled for him into the water
pitcher, an', oh my, I thought misfortunes never would come to a end or
even to a turnin'. But after he'd fished out the egg an' eat it, he went
off down to his uncle's an' he was n't more'n gone when in come Mrs.
Sweet to see if Jerusha left her breastpin, 'cause in her quick
breathin' it had fallen somewhere an' Jerusha was havin' hysterics over
losin' that now. While I was talkin' to Mrs. Sweet at the gate I smelt
somethin' burnin' an' there my whole bakin' of bread was burnt up in the
oven owin' to Jerusha Dodd's breathin' her breastpin out over a bat. I
felt to be some tempered then, an' Mrs. Sweet saw it an' turned around
an' left me, an' after she was gone I went into the house an' pulled
down the shades an' locked the door an' went to sleep. I slept till
Elijah come home to dinner an' of course there was n't no dinner ready
an' that put Elijah out. Elijah's got a good deal of a temper, I find,
an' the only thing in the world to do with a man in a temper, when he is
in a temper, is to make him so mad that he goes right off in a huff an'
leaves you to peace again. So I just made one or two remarks about my
opinion of things as he feels very strong about, an' he said he guessed
he'd get supper down town an' sleep at the store to-night. So he took
himself off an' he was hardly out of the way when Mrs. Macy come to tell
me about Judy Lupey's divorce."
"Is--" cried Mrs. Lathrop.
"Not yet, but she soon will be," said Miss Clegg. "Mrs. Macy's just back
from Meadville an' she says all Meadville is churned up over it. They
ain't never had a divorce there afore, an' every one is so interested to
know just how to do it, an' I will say this much for Mrs. Macy, an' that
is that she was nothin' but glad to tell me all about it. Seems as the
Lupeys is most awful upset over it though an' Mrs. Kitts says she ain't
sure as she won't change her will sooner than leave money to a woman
with two husbands."
"Two--" cried Mrs. Lathrop.
"Mrs. Macy says," continued Susan, "as Mrs. Lupey ain't much better
pleased than Mrs. Kitts over it all, an', although she did n't say it in
so many words, she hinted pretty plain as it seemed hard as the only one
of the girls to get married should be the same one as is gettin'
divorced. Mrs. Macy said she see her point of view, but to her order of
thinkin' the world don't begin to be where old maids need consider
divorces yet awhile. She says she stayed in the house with 'em all three
days an' she says she cheered Mrs. Lupey all she could; she says she
told her to her best ear as no one but a mother would ever have dreamed
of dreamin' of Faith or Maria's ever marryin' under any circumstances.
She said Mrs. Lupey said it was the quickness of Judy's gettin' tired of
Mr. Drake as had frightened her most. Why, she says as before the first
baby was through teethin' in her day, Judy was all up an' through an'
completely done with Mr. Drake. All done with him an' home again, an'
the family not even countin' to consider.
"Mrs. Macy says as she's learned a awful lot about divorce as she did
n't know before. She said she could n't help being surprised over how
much a divorce is like a marriage, for Busby Bell was there every night
an' Judy an' the whole family is hard at work gettin' her clothes ready.
But Mrs. Macy says them as suppose the real gettin' of the divorce
itself is simple had ought to go an' stay at the Lupeys awhile. Why, she
says the way the Lupeys is complicated an' tied up by Judy an' Mr. Drake
is somethin' beyond all belief. To begin with, Judy decided to be
deserted because she thought it'd really be the simplest an' easiest in
the end an' she hated to bother with bein' black an' blue for witnesses
an' all that kind of business. But it seems being deserted, when you
live in the same town with a husband who rides a bicycle an' don't care
where he meets you, is just enough to drive a woman nigh to madness
itself. Why, Mrs. Macy says that Judy Lupey actually can't go out to
walk a _tall_, not 'nless Faith walk a block ahead of her an' Maria a
block behind, an' even then Mr. Drake's liable to come coastin' down on
'em any minute. She says it's awful tryin', an' Judy gets so mad over it
all that it just seems as if they could _not_ stand it.
"But that ain't the only trouble neither, Mrs. Macy says. Seems Judy got
Solomon Drake for her lawyer 'cause he knowed the whole story, through
eatin' dinner at the Drakes every Sunday while they was stayin' married.
She thought havin' Solomon Drake would save such a lot of explainin'
'cause Mr. Drake is so hard to explain to any one as has just seen him
ridin' his bicycle an' not really been his wife. Well, seems as Judy
never calculated on Solomon's keepin' right on takin' Sunday dinner with
Mr. Drake, after he became her lawyer, but he does, an' none of the
Lupeys think it looks well, an' Judy finds it most tryin' because all
she an' Solomon talk over about the divorce he tells Mr. Drake on Sunday
out of gratitude for his dinner an' because it's a subject as seems to
really interest Mr. Drake. Seems Mr. Drake is a hard man to interest.
Judy says he was yawnin' afore they got to the station on their
honeymoon.
"But Mrs. Macy says that ain't all, neither, whatever you may think, for
she says what do you think of Mr. Drake's goin' an' gettin' Busby Bell
of all the men in Meadville for _his_ lawyer, when the whole town knows
as it's Busby as Judy's goin' to marry next. Mrs. Lupey says as Judy
would have took Busby for her own lawyer only they was so afraid of
hurtin' each other's reputations, an' now really it's terrible, 'cause
Busby says as he don't well see what's to be done about their
reputations if the worst comes to the worst, for he's explained as very
likely Judy's goin' to need one more man than a husband to get her her
divorce. Mrs. Macy says Mrs. Lupey says as Busby said as if he had n't
been Mr. Drake's lawyer he'd have been more than ready to be the other
man, but as Mr. Drake's lawyer he can't help Judy no more'n if he was
Mr. Drake himself. Mrs. Macy says Mrs. Lupey cried, an' she told her as
she knowed as there was any number of quiet elderly men as any one could
depend on right here in our own community as'd be nothin' but glad to go
over to Meadville an' help anyway they could, but Mrs. Lupey asked Judy
about it, an' Judy asked Busby, an' Busby said men as you could depend
on anywhere was n't no use in divorce suits a _tall_. It's quite another
kind, it seems. Mrs. Macy says she's really very sorry for them all, for
it really seems awful to think how the Lupeys need a man an' the only
man they've got Judy's busy gettin' rid of as hard as she can.
"Mrs. Macy says it's all most upsettin'. She says she never lived
through nothin' like it afore. Judy's cross 'cause she can't go out an'
meet Busby without runnin' the risk of meetin' Mr. Drake an' losin' all
the time she's put in so far bein' deserted. An' then there's a many
things as a outsider never would know about or even guess at unless
they've lived right in the house with a real live divorce. Mrs. Macy
says as Martha Hack, as does the washin' for 'em all, is forever
forgettin' an' sendin' Judy's wash home with Mr. Drake's just as if they
was still completely married. That would n't be so bad only Mr. Drake
waits for Solomon to get 'em Sunday, an' Solomon's kind-hearted an'
gives 'em to Busby so as to give him a excuse to make two calls in one
day. Well, Mrs. Macy says the come out of it all is as when Judy wants
to take a bath just about all Meadville has to turn out to see where
under heaven her clean clothes is.
"I tell you, Mrs. Lathrop, tellin' it all to you does n't matter so
much, but to hear Mrs. Macy tell it makes you wonder if it's worth while
to try an' leave a man as you can't live with. Seems to me it'd be
easier to live with him. Mrs. Macy says as she met Mr. Drake several
times herself on his bicycle an' he looked most bloomin'. No one need
be sorry for him, an' not many is sorry for Judy. But Mrs. Macy says
there's only one person as all Meadville's sorry for, an' that's Busby
Bell."
Mrs. Lathrop started to speak.
"Yes," Susan went on hurriedly. "Elijah said just that same thing the
other day when he was talkin' about the Marlboroughs. He thinks as
divorces is all a mistake, but then you're a widow an' Elijah ain't
married so you're both pretty safe in airin' your views."
Susan rose just here and descended the steps. "I must go," she said, "I
don't seem to take no particular interest in what you might be goin' to
tell me, Mrs. Lathrop, even if there was any chance of your ever gettin'
around to tellin' it, an' I've told you all I know, an' I'm very tired
talkin'. As I said before, it's been a full day an' I'm pretty well beat
out. I forgot to tell you as after Mrs. Macy was gone I found as it was
n't the bread I smelt in the oven--it was the bat. I suppose when I see
Mr. Kimball he'll make one of his jokes over bread-dough an' bats an'
batter, but I'll be too wore out to care. Did I say as Elijah said he'd
sleep at the store to-night?"
"Will--" cried Mrs. Lathrop, all of a sudden.
"Why, of course," said Susan, "it did n't hurt either loaf a mite. I'd
be as much of a fool as Jerusha Dodd if I let a little thing like a bat
spoil a whole bakin' of bread for me, Mrs. Lathrop. As for Elijah, he
did n't know nothin' about it an' I sha'n't tell him, you may be sure,
for he's the one as eats all the bread--I never touch it myself, as you
well know."