TIMOTHEUS AND HIS NEIGHBORS
"Whao! Whao! I tell ye. Be ye deef, or be ye jest contrary?
"I b'lieve them critters 'd like ter see me wait 'til June fer
plaoughin'."
The ill-matched pair came to a standstill, and so listless was their
bearing, that one would say that having decided to halt, nothing would
induce them to again draw the plough.
"There, ye can rest naow, fer a spell, 'til ye git yer wind, an' then I'll
set ye at it agin."
One of the horses snorted derisively, but Jabez Brimblecom cared little
for that. He drew from his hip pocket a large envelope, and opening the
letter which it contained, adjusted his spectacles and laboriously read it
for the third time.
"Wal, all I got ter say 'baout it is, that it's pooty full er big words,
an' flourishes, but biled daown, it 'maounts ter jist this; Sabriny's sot
her mind on makin' us an' everlastin' long visit. I shan't hev ter stand
much on't, however; I'll be aout doors most of the time, when I _have_
ter, an' I vum I'll be aout all the rest of the time because I _choose_
ter.
"Sabriny's a team, an' so's Mis' Brimblecom. They never did pull together.
Not but that they _pull_ 'nough, only it's allus the opposite ways. I
don't stay in doors much arter she arrives! No, Siree!
"G'lang there! G'lang I say!
"Well, fust ye won't stop, an' then ye won't budge! I vaow I never see a
pair er critters like ye, 'cept my wife an' cousin Sabriny!"
When at last the pair concluded to move, they started forward with a most
surprising lurch, and Jabez Brimblecom found his hands full in guiding the
plough, and the two horses who, having decided to bestir themselves,
tramped diligently back and forth, leaving the long rows of furrowed
earth as evidence of their willingness to work when their ambition was
aroused.
Again they stopped to rest and again Mr. Brimblecom fumbled in his pocket
for the envelope, but he did not take it out.
"Why didn't she write the letter 'stead er gittin' that husband er hern
ter write fer her? I'd 'nough rather she'd told Mis' Brimblecom she wuz
comin', 'stead er leavin' me ter tell her. She'll be mad's a hornet, an' I
vaow I won't blame her.
"G'lang there! Wal, I'll be switched if she isn't comin' daown ter the
bars naow. Wonder what's up?"
"Jabez! Jabez! _Ja--bez!_"
"All right, I'll be there," was the answer, but in an aside he remarked
apparently to the horses,
"'F I git my courage up, I'll tell her 'baout Sabriny naow and be done
with it;" but his bravery was not put to the test. Before he could reach
the bars where his wife stood waiting, she cried out vehemently, "Jabez
Brimblecom, what do ye think? Mis' Hodgkins used ter know yer cousin
Sabriny when they both wuz girls, an' she says she's jest got a letter a
sayin' that Sabriny's comin' here ter make er long visit. She's goin' ter
spend two weeks with Mis' Hodgkins, an' all the rest er the summer with
us. Jabez, I'd rather heerd of er cyclone a hittin' us, fer ye well know
that there'll be no peace 'til she packs an' starts fer home."
"I know it, I know it," Jabez answered, with feeling.
"I got er letter in my pocket, an' I been hatin' ter show it to ye, but
mebbe ye might as well read it and make what ye can out'n it."
Mrs. Brimblecom wiped her glasses and commenced to read the letter.
"Naow what's the use'n his talkin' baout the 'wonderful mountain air,' an'
the 'sparklin' springs,' an' er sayin' that they'll do such a sight fer
Sabriny?
"We know what the air is, an' fer that matter, so does she; she's allus
lived here. An' as ter the springs; she never so much as looked at 'em
when she was here before, but she spent a lot er time tellin' me how she
couldn't sleep on my corded beds. She said she had ter sleep on springs
an' I was baout tired a hearin' tell of our short comin's; an' I told her
if springs was necessary to her well-bein', she'd no doubt be best off ter
hum where she'd been braggin' she had plenty of 'em."
"I didn't blame ye fer gittin' riled," said Jabez, "but I s'pose we'll hev
ter welcome her, even if we're driven ter speed her departur;" and they
both laughed good-naturedly, and mentally decided to make the best of the
self-invited guest.
"Wal, she ain't here yit," said Mrs. Brimblecom, "and the fust two weeks
she spends with Mis' Hodgkins, an' p'raps by the time she arrives here,
I'll be cooled daown 'nough ter be kind er perlite, though I shan't say,
'I'm glad ter see ye Sabriny,' fer that'd be a lie."
"_I_ shall say, 'I hope I see ye well, Sabriny,' fer massy knows I
wouldn't want her ter be sick fer ye ter wait on," remarked Jabez, with a
twinkle in his eye.
"Wal," he continued, "I must git this piece er plaoughin' done. I can't
set daown an' luxooriate an' wait 'til we see Sabriny acomin'."
With a loud "G'lang there," he aroused his placid horses, and across the
fields they sped, and Mrs. Brimblecom, with the letter in her hand,
hastened back to the house where, after placing the large envelope under
the cushion of her rocking chair, she busied herself with household tasks.
Later, when she felt that she had earned a few leisure moments, she drew
the letter from its hiding-place and sat down to study it.
"'F I hadn't hid ye under the cushion, like as not when I wanted ter read
ye, ye'd be lost," she remarked.
A few moments she read in silence, then her disgust moved her to speak.
"Sabriny feels better in a 'higher altitude,'--well, why doesn't she git
one, whatever 'tis, an' git inter it an' stay there, 'stead a pesterin' me
with her visits." Mrs. Brimblecom perused a few more lines, when again she
spoke.
"She seems ter 'have little energy,'--wal, I don't want ter be mean, but I
can't help a hopin' that she won't gain any. Sabriny without energy would
be er sight that'd cheer me. Her tremenjous vim nearly wore me aout last
season. Ef she'd jest manage ter leave her energy ter hum, I do'no's I'd
mind her comin'."
While good Mrs. Brimblecom was studying the letter, Mrs. Hodgkins had
sallied forth to tell the great news, that the visitor was expected, and
as she passed the village store, old Mr. Simpkins, in the doorway, was
taking leave of Silas Barnes.
"Yes, sir, he's a great feller, he is. There ain't another as 'riginal as
he is on the globe, I bet ye. He's done a lot er bright things time an'
time 'n again, but this time beats the other times all holler."
"What's he done naow?" asked Barnes.
"Hey?" remarked Mr. Simpkins, with his hand at his ear.
"I say, what's he done _naow_?" roared Barnes.
"Oh, I ain't tellin' yit. Even his brother Joel don't know, an' won't know
this week, but next week the taown will be 'baout wild with the news er
what Timotheus has done. Ye'll be 'bliged ter wait 'til then," said Mr.
Simpkins.
"I guess I'll be able to stand it," remarked Silas Barnes in an undertone.
"Hey? Did ye say ye'd understand it? Wal, I ain't sure whether ye will er
not. It's most too much fer _me_," Mr. Simpkins replied, as he made his
way cautiously down the rickety steps.
"Fer goodness sakes, what's Timotheus been a doin' naow, I wonder,"
muttered Mrs. Hodgkins. "I shan't ask, an' be told ter wait, as Silas
Barnes was.
"I'd like ter know one thing," she continued, "an' that is whether the boy
is 'specially bright as his _father_ thinks, or whether he's a little
lackin' as _I_ think, an' I do'no who's ter decide."
Up the road she trudged, and as she turned the corner, a most surprising
sight caused her to stop and ejaculate. "Land er the livin'! What ails him
naow?"
Timotheus Simpkins, unaware that he was observed, was executing a most
fantastic jig in the middle of the road.
"I've did it naow, I bet ye 'n even Joel 'll have ter admit I'm a sight
bigger'n anybody 'n taown. Good-bye ter farmin' and hooray fer literatoor,
I say."
"Wal, be ye losin' yer senses, er clean gone crazy?" asked Mrs. Hodgkins
in disgust.
Timotheus paused in his wild pirouette, and gave Mrs. Hodgkins a withering
glance.
"It ain't wuth while ter explain Mis' Hodgkins, bein's I don't feel ye'd
be able ter' understand the magnitood er what I've done."
"_Dew tell!_" remarked Mrs. Hodgkins with fine contempt, "I hope the
taown is still big 'nough ter hold ye, _Mr._ Simpkins."
Her irony was wasted, however.
"I'm glad ye reelize the time's come ter 'dress me as 'Mr.,'" remarked
Timotheus, and Mrs. Hodgkins vouchsafed no answer, but hurried along the
road, "afeared ter speak," as she afterward said, "lest I'd say a deal
more'n I orter."
In the long drawing-room Randy and Helen Dayton were chatting merrily with
Jotham and Professor Marden when Aunt Marcia joined them, expressing
pleasure in being at home to share the call.
In two weeks the private school would close, when Randy would say
"good-bye" to her city home and the two dear friends who had entertained
her, to the schoolmates of whom she had become so fond, and then she would
be speeding over the rails every mile of which would take her nearer home,
the dear country home. As Jotham was to leave the city at the same time,
he asked the pleasure of accompanying Randy upon the journey, and his
offer was gladly accepted.
"And have you heard the latest news from home, Randy?" asked Jotham.
Without awaiting a reply he continued,
"Timotheus Simpkins has 'blossomed aout,' as his father expresses it and a
specimen of his 'literatoor' is printed in the county paper. Father sent
me a marked copy, and if you like I will read the article."
"I should indeed like to hear it," said Aunt Marcia; "from what Randy says
of him I think Timotheus must be an unique character."
"He is truly an odd specimen," said Helen, "I cannot imagine what he would
write."
"Read it, do read it," said Randy, and Jotham read the following:
"THORT.
"Thort is the gratest thing that has ever been thort of. I don't
know of eny thing bigger than thort that I have thort of, less
twas riginalty, an reely _thats_ thort. When I'm busy thinkin'
thorts I aint apt ter have my mind on eny thing else mostly. Most
of the books what I have read I think was writ without enough
thort. Take the almanic; if _Id_ writ the almanic whare they say,
'bout this time expect rain,' _Id_ a said, bout this time expect
weather. Id a put some thort on the matter and Id a knowd that
yed natraly have weather er some kind, cause theres _allus_
weather round about these parts, but most folks havent no power
ter have thort, an thats why theres so few folks that is great. I
mean ter spend my time in thort an' casionally do a little
ploughing. I thort so continooal that I had ter leave school in
order ter git time ter think in, so havin learnt all there was
ter learn, I left school ter the fellers as thort so little that
they didn't need much time fer it an now I shall put on paper
such thort as most folks can tackle, but some er my thort is so
thortful that most any body couldn't understand it, an so no more
until Ive thort again.
"Yours thortfully
TIMOTHEUS SIMPKINS."
"Poor Timotheus," said Helen Dayton.
"And why 'poor Timotheus'?" asked Professor Marden. "With his stock of
egotism, I think the fellow must be happier than the average man. I know
of no one who considers himself the only thinker in the universe, except
this young Simpkins. He must, indeed, be supremely happy."
"And the joke is," said Jotham, "that he received a small sum for the
article, and a personal letter from the editor. The money, (I believe it
was the immense sum of two dollars,) pleased Timotheus, but the letter
puzzled him extremely. He considered the article to be a serious, as well
as a lofty effort, whereas the editor evidently supposed it to be
humorous, and believed the unique spelling to be a part of the fun.
Timotheus told my father that 'the money showed that his "literatoor" was
wuth something but that the editor man must be dull ter think that it was
anything but a tremenjous hefty comp'sition.'
"Old Mr. Simpkins considers Timotheus a prodigy, and seems to feel
contempt for his elder son, Joel, who as he expressed it, 'ain't
intellectooal like Timotheus,' and Joel usually retaliates by saying,
'It's lucky one son er the Simpkins family has got jest plain common
sense.'
"The paper is not published in our town," continued Jotham, "it is a
county paper, and its editor and publisher lives in a distant village, so
that, unacquainted with the Simpkins family, he supposed Timotheus to be a
would-be humorist, little dreaming that he was offending a genius, by
seeing fun where fun was not intended."
"Timotheus, however, had the joy of feeling that his literary work had a
market value," said Professor Marden, with a laugh.
Randy and Helen were much amused, but although Aunt Marcia's eyes
twinkled, she said,
"Poor boy! I wonder when and how he will outgrow his egotism? There surely
is no chance for him to learn until he is made to realize how little he
knows, and who would care to attempt the task of opening his eyes?"
"There are a plenty of persons in our town," said Jotham, "who have
repeatedly tried to enlighten him, but they have been obliged to
relinquish the effort. It is useless to tell him that talented people
think it necessary to obtain a fine education. He only insists that he is
a genius, and that there is nothing left for him to learn."
"We must not worry for Timotheus," said Helen, "he is as happy as one
could wish; rather we should remember the old adage, 'Where ignorance is
bliss, etc.'" and the little company agreed that perhaps after all,
Timotheus Simpkins should be congratulated rather than commiserated.
When the callers arose to depart, Jotham said,
"Then on two weeks from to-day, Randy, I may call for you, and together we
will travel toward home?"
"Yes, oh yes," Randy answered, an odd little note in her voice, "and how
hard it will be to say good-bye to these two dear friends, how delightful
to know that late in the afternoon I shall greet the dear ones whose faces
I so long to see. How I wish you both were going back with me, then I
should not say good-bye at all."
"And since we cannot accompany you," said Aunt Marcia, laying her hand
gently upon Randy's arm, "we count ourselves fortunate that we are going
to our summer home soon after you leave us. You have been a ray of
sunlight in our home, Randy, and we could not easily or quickly become
used to your absence."
"Oh, is it unkind to be glad that you will miss me?" asked Randy looking
quickly from Aunt Marcia to Helen. "I am puzzled, for I know that I would
do anything to make you happy; then why, when I love you so truly, am I
glad to have you grieved when I go?"
She glanced at Professor Marden who, while apparently answering her
questioning, looked fixedly at Helen Dayton as he said, "That is not an
unkind thought, Miss Randy; if we can be assured that when absent we are
missed, we are then doubly sure that our presence is welcome."
"No one should have so faint a heart as to for a moment doubt that he is
welcome," said Aunt Marcia, receiving in return a grateful smile from
Professor Marden, who bowed low over Miss Dayton's hand, and then with
Jotham walked briskly down the avenue.
"Professor Marden is a most charming young man," said Aunt Marcia, as she
stood at the window watching his receding figure. "He is very like his
father, who was once my most valued friend."
Helen turned quickly to look at her aunt, expecting that she was about to
tell more of the elder Marden, but she had left the window and stood by a
large jar of roses, rearranging the blossoms with infinite care, and when
she again spoke it was not of the Mardens, father or son, but of their
engagements and the weather for the morrow.