Now Mr. Bennett had traded his farm for a store in town and was now a
merchant prince, my pa said. And he had built him a wonderful stone
house on a hill with a big yard around it. There was a house there
before, and of course lots of trees, bushes around, and walks; and he
had built a fine barn with lightning rods all over it with silver balls
that just glittered. And he had a span of horses that cost $1000 and a
wonderful carriage. He was awful rich. And Nellie was goin' to marry a
man which was from Chicago. Pa and ma were goin' to the wedding; and ma
could hardly get ready it took her so long to dress. She wore her silk
dress which her sister had given her, and looked prettier than I ever
saw her. Mitch and me had to sneak off because I was supposed to stay
with Myrtle and Little Billie, as Delia, our girl, wanted to go out.
Because I went, Delia had to stay, and she was as mad as hops.
But on the way over to Mr. Bennett's, Mitch told me that they had
brought colored waiters from Chicago, from the Palmer House, the finest
hotel in the world, where they had silver dollars in the floor. I
couldn't believe this, but he said he had talked to Harold Carman, who
had seen 'em with his own eyes, and counted 'em till he got tired. Mitch
said that they had an orchestra from Chicago and were goin' to dance,
that the wedding would cost $5000 which Mr. Bennett had offered to
Nellie in money, or to take it for the cost of the wedding; and she took
it for the wedding.
We climbed over the picket fence near the barn and dodged around past
the bushes until we got up to a window where we kind of scrouched down
and looked through lace curtains. There we saw everybody--all dressed up
and talkin' and laughin'; and there was my pa and ma. Ma was holdin' her
fan and talkin' to a man in a long black coat with all his white shirt
showin', and diamonds in the shirt and a white tie. She looked very
smilin' and different than when she talked to pa. Mitch's pa and ma
warn't there, not bein' invited. The orchestra was playin' wonderful
music; and finally all the people quit talkin'; the room got still, and
the orchestra began to play somethin' very beautiful; and pretty soon
Nellie Bennett came in holdin' the arm of Mr. Bennett, all in her veil
and white satin, but I couldn't see the buckles on her shoes. And then
the man she was goin' to marry--his name was Richard Hedges from
Chicago--stepped out, and they both stepped in front of the minister,
who was from Jacksonville, wearin' a black robe with white sash around
his neck; and the orchestra stopped playin'. But just then we heard a
twig or somethin' snap and we looked around quick and there was Doc Lyon
who read the Bible all the time and acted queer. My pa thought he was
crazy. And he began to say: "She doted on her lovers, on the Assyrians,
her neighbors, which were clothed with blue, governors and rulers, all
of them desirable young men, horsemen riding upon horses. I will take
away thy nose and thy ears; and thy residue shall fall by the sword.
They shall also strip thee of thy clothes and take away thy fair
jewels."
Doc Lyon's voice sounded like he was talkin' out of a cistern, and I
grew sick at my stomach I was so scared. But both Mitch and me forgot
the wedding for the time and turned our heads. And pretty soon we saw
Doc Lyon kind of rolling a pistol over in his hand. We could see it. It
glittered in the light; but Mitch and me were lyin' in the shadow there,
and I don't believe he knew we were there. At least until I kind of lost
my balance and fell over against Mitch and bumped him against the house,
makin' a noise. We were scared to death, for we was afraid Doc Lyon
could now see us, and know us, and would come over to us, and do
something to us. Everybody was afraid of him, especially the boys. Well,
probably he didn't know who it was, or but what maybe it was a big dog.
So he stood a minute and then began to back off and finally turned and
ran away into the darkness. Then we looked in again, and by now the
minister was readin' from a book; and finally Mr. Hedges put a ring on
Nellie's finger; then they knelt down and the minister prayed. Then they
got up and kissed and the music started; and everybody stood in line to
shake Nellie's hand and Mr. Hedges' hand, and kiss Nellie. And there was
a lot of talk and laughin' and they began to dance. And Mitch whispered
to me we'd better go; that we'd seen it and we could get to my house so
as to let Delia go out and maybe square everything. So we took a
different way from what Doc Lyon did, and ran as fast as we could,
lookin' out for corners we turned, and got home. Delia was awful mad; it
was about 9 o'clock now and she couldn't go out. She said this wedding
was no wedding anyway; that Nellie Bennett was a heathen, havin' never
been baptized and that people that got married without bein' baptized
committed a sin. She was mad; but we edged around her, and finally she
made some butter scotch for us and promised not to tell on us; and so
did Myrtle and Little Billie.
Then Mitch and me began to talk about Doc Lyon and whether I shouldn't
tell my pa so as to have him arrested; that he was a dangerous
character. But how could I tell him without lettin' him know that we had
been to the weddin', and our havin' Delia fixed? Then Mitch thought if
we told and got my pa to arrest Doc Lyon and he got out, he would come
for us, or maybe do somethin' to my pa. Anyhow Myrtle broke her word and
told; but pa didn't say nothin' or do nothin'; he didn't talk much
sometimes and nobody knew what he was thinkin' about.
Well, finally, Delia took Myrtle and Little Billie up to bed, and Mitch
began to ask me if I knew about marriage. I had never seen anybody
married before, but I knew about it because when I was only 6, the first
day I went to school, a boy told me all about it, and it made me so
shamed I didn't know what to do. And I didn't believe it; and when I
told my ma, she said not to let boys tell me dirty lies, and to walk
away from 'em. But since that time I had thought about it, and heard
other things. I had heard my pa and ma say that Mrs. Rainey was in love
with Temple Scott and wanted to marry him, although already married to
Joe Rainey, her husband; and then you saw a lot of writin' on fences and
sidewalks and on the schoolhouse walls; and some of the girls and boys
said funny things sometimes. All the time it was plain enough that there
couldn't be a family without a father as well as a mother; the father
havin' to earn money, and the mother havin' to take care of the
children, and of course no children where there were no father and
mother, except orphans and things like that. Mitch and me talked this
over and he said that if any boy said any dirty thing to me, to hit him
one; and that if I'd come up some night, his pa would explain to me
about flowers and plants and show me what a wonderful thing flowers are
and how they mean everything when understood. And then he began to talk
of Zueline Hasson, and how she made him feel so happy and so in love
with everything, just because she was so beautiful, and her friendship
was so beautiful to him.
Then Mitch wanted to know if I'd heard that this Mr. Hedges was marryin'
Nellie Bennett for her money, and had come down from Chicago to get her
for her pa's money. I had heard my pa say that; and Mitch said, "I
believe it--there was too much splurge over there, and why wasn't some
man right here in this town good enough for Nellie?" After a while pa
and ma came home, and Mitch hearin' 'em slipped out, and I was up-stairs
by the time they came up, with my light out. So I heard pa and ma talk
in the next room.
Pa said: "Yep, you'll see it before six months. Mr. Bennett don't know
any more about runnin' a store than the man who got his farm knows about
runnin' a farm, which is nothin'. When men change their game, this way,
they always lose. And that ain't all. Mr. Bennett is topplin' now. His
house is mortgaged and he's hard up. But a fine house is always a bait
to young men; and old folks always put out a bait in order to marry
their daughters off."
Ma said: "Nothin' of the kind. They don't have to put out any bait. Look
at you--was there any bait about me?"
"No," says pa.
"Of course there wasn't," said ma. "And you went around sayin' it would
kill you if I didn't marry you--and besides I have your letters for it."
"Oh, well," says pa, "a fellow always does that."
"Yes," ma said, "you're right, a fellow always does that, bait or no
bait. And I think the way you talk about marriage sometimes is just
awful, and if the children heard you, you'd be raisin' up children that
suspicions marriage and every holy thing." And she went on to say that
there was something wrong with pa and with lots of men, who went around
cryin' and pretendin' to die, and then after they got the girl, talked
about baits, and about bein' fooled.
And pa said: "Do you know what a woman is?"
And ma said: "I don't know what you think she is."
"A woman," says pa, "is a bottle of wine. If you look at it and leave it
alone, never open it, the wine is as harmless as water. And if you leave
a woman alone, she can't do nothin' to you. She's just there on the
table or the shelf--harmless and just a woman, just like the bottle of
wine is just a bottle of wine. But if you get in love with her, that's
like drinkin' the wine; she gets hold of you, and you begin to talk and
tell your secrets, and make promises, and give your money away, just
like a drunk man. Then if you marry her, that's like getting over the
wine; you wake up and find you've been drunk and you wonder what you've
said, and if you remember, you smile at yourself, and your wife throws
up to you what you said and that you wrote her letters. And the man who
put wine, women and song together, put three things that was just the
same together."
And ma says: "No, a woman ain't a bottle of wine at all; a woman is a
bird."
"What kind?" says pa.
And ma says: "I don't know the name of the bird, but it roosts on the
back of the hippopotamus. The hippopotamus is big and clumsy like a man
and can't see very well, just like a man, and has lots of enemies like a
man; so when enemies come this here bird sets up an awful clatter and
squawkin' and that warns the hippopotamus and so he can run or defend
himself. And if it wasn't for women, men couldn't get along, because
they have to be warned and told things all the time, and given pointers
what to do and how to act, and what is goin' on around--and the fact is
women is brains, and men is just muscle."
And pa says, "How does this bird live, if it's on the back of the
hippopotamus all the time?" That kind of got ma, for she knew if the
bird got off the back of the hippopotamus to eat, it couldn't warn the
hippopotamus, and as the bird has to live, ma was kind of stumped, and
she says--"Oh, well the bird lives all right, it catches things that
flies by."
"It does?" says pa. "You don't know your botany--that bird feeds off of
the delicious insects that is on the back of the hippopotamus. So it
don't have to get off for food, the same as a woman. And that ain't
all," says pa; "men are performers and women is the audience; and women
just sit and look and criticize, or maybe applaud if they like the
performer; and men have to act their best, write the best books, and
make the best speeches, and get the most money so as to please women
which is the audience--and a woman can't do nothin' but applaud or
criticize, and stir up the men to do their best--just because men,
until they know better, want to please the women so as to get them for
wives or somethin'."
And so pa went on till ma said: "I've heard enough of this--" and she
went into the next room and slept with Little Billie.
And pa called out and said, "You ain't mad, are you?" And ma called
back, "Just keep to your own self and shut up."
But as I can't come back to this again, I'll say that Mr. Bennett did
fail and lose everything; and in about a year Nellie came back, her
husband havin' left her after her pa failed; and she began to clerk in
one of the stores, and is yet.