Mrs. Mumpson Negotiates and Yields
Mr. Weeks, on his return home, dropped all diplomacy in dealing with
the question at issue. "Cynthy," he said in his own vernacular, "the
end has come, so far as me and my folks are concerned--I never expect
to visit you, and while I'm master of the house, no more visits will be
received. But I haint taken any such stand onconsiderately," he
concluded. "I've given up the whole forenoon to secure you a better
chance of living than visiting around. If you go to Holcroft's you'll
have to do some work, and so will your girl. But he'll hire someone to
help you, and so you won't have to hurt yourself. Your trump card will
be to hook him and marry him before he finds you out. To do this,
you'll have to see to the house and dairy, and bestir yourself for a
time at least. He's pretty desperate off for lack of women folks to
look after indoor matters, but he'll sell out and clear out before
he'll keep a woman, much less marry her, if she does nothing but talk.
Now remember, you've got a chance which you won't get again, for
Holcroft not only owns his farm, but has a snug sum in the bank. So
you had better get your things together, and go right over while he's
in the mood."
When Mrs. Mumpson reached the blank wall of the inevitable, she
yielded, and not before. She saw that the Weeks mine was worked out
completely, and she knew that this exhaustion was about equally true of
all similar mines, which had been bored until they would yield no
further returns.
But Mr. Weeks soon found that he could not carry out his summary
measures. The widow was bent on negotiations and binding agreements.
In a stiff, cramped hand, she wrote to Holcroft in regard to the amount
of "salary" he would be willing to pay, intimating that one burdened
with such responsibilities as she was expected to assume "ort to be
compensiated proposhundly."
Weeks groaned as he dispatched his son on horseback with this first
epistle, and Holcroft groaned as he read it, not on account of its
marvelous spelling and construction, but by reason of the vista of
perplexities and trouble it opened to his boding mind. But he named on
half a sheet of paper as large a sum as he felt it possible to pay and
leave any chance for himself, then affixed his signature and sent it
back by the messenger.
The widow Mumpson wished to talk over this first point between the high
contracting powers indefinitely, but Mr. Weeks remarked cynically,
"It's double what I thought he'd offer, and you're lucky to have it in
black and white. Now that everything's settled, Timothy will hitch up
and take you and Jane up there at once."
But Mrs. Mumpson now began to insist upon writing another letter in
regard to her domestic status and that of her child. They could not
think of being looked upon as servants. She also wished to be assured
that a girl would be hired to help her, that she should have all the
church privileges to which she had been accustomed and the right to
visit and entertain her friends, which meant every farmer's wife and
all the maiden sisters in Oakville. "And then," she continued, "there
are always little perquisites which a housekeeper has a right to look
for--" Mr. Weeks irritably put a period to this phase of diplomacy by
saying, "Well, well, Cynthy, the stage will be along in a couple of
hours. We'll put you and your things aboard, and you can go on with
what you call your negotiations at Cousin Abiram's. I can tell you one
thing though--if you write any such letter to Holcroft, you'll never
hear from him again."
Compelled to give up all these preliminaries, but inwardly resolving to
gain each point by a nagging persistence of which she was a mistress,
she finally declared that she "must have writings about one thing which
couldn't be left to any man's changeful mind. He must agree to give me
the monthly salary he names for at least a year."
Weeks thought a moment, and then, with a shrewd twinkle in his eyes,
admitted, "It would be a good thing to have Holcroft's name to such an
agreement. Yes, you might try that on, but you're taking a risk. If
you were not so penny-wise and pound-foolish, you'd go at once and
manage to get him to take you for 'better or worse.'"
"You--misjudge me, Cousin Lemuel," replied the widow, bridling and
rocking violently. "If there's any such taking to be done, he must get
me to take him."
"Well, well, write your letter about a year's engagement. That'll
settle you for a twelvemonth, at least."
Mrs. Mumpson again began the slow, laborious construction of a letter
in which she dwelt upon the uncertainties of life, her "duty to her
offspring," and the evils of "vicissitude." "A stable home is woman's
chief desire," she concluded, "and you will surely agree to pay me the
salary you have said for a year."
When Holcroft read this second epistle he so far yielded to his first
impulse that he half tore the sheet, then paused irresolutely. After a
few moments he went to the door and looked out upon his acres. "It'll
soon be plowing and planting time," he thought. "I guess I can stand
her--at least I can try it for three months. I'd like to turn a few
more furrows on the old place," and his face softened and grew wistful
as he looked at the bare, frost-bound fields. Suddenly it darkened and
grew stern as he muttered, "But I'll put my hand to no more paper with
that Weeks tribe."
He strode to the stable, saying to Timothy Weeks, as he passed, "I'll
answer this letter in person."
Away cantered Timothy, and soon caused a flutter of expectancy in the
Weeks household, by announcing that "Old Holcroft looked black as a
thundercloud and was comin' himself."
"I tell you what 'tis, Cynthy, it's the turn of a hair with you now,"
growled Weeks. "Unless you agree to whatever Holcroft says, you haven't
the ghost of a chance."
The widow felt that a crisis had indeed come. Cousin Abiram's was the
next place in the order of visitation, but her last experience there
left her in painful doubt as to a future reception. Therefore she tied
on a new cap, smoothed her apron, and rocked with unwonted rapidity.
"It'll be according to the ordering of Providence--"
"Oh, pshaw!" interrupted Cousin Lemuel, "it'll be according to whether
you've got any sense or not."
Mrs. Weeks had been in a pitiable state of mind all day. She saw that
her husband had reached the limit of his endurance--that he had
virtually already "flown off the handle." But to have her own kin
actually bundled out of the house--what would people say?
Acceptance of Holcroft's terms, whatever they might be, was the only
way out of the awkward predicament, and so she began in a wheedling
tone, "Now, Cousin Cynthy, as Lemuel says, you've got a first-rate
chance. Holcroft's had an awful time with women, and he'll be glad
enough to do well by anyone who does fairly well by him. Everybody
says he's well off, and once you're fairly there and get things in your
own hands, there's no telling what may happen. He'll get a girl to help
you, and Jane's big enough now to do a good deal. Why, you'll be the
same as keeping house like the rest of us."
Further discussion was cut short by the arrival of the victim. He
stood awkwardly in the door of the Weeks sitting room for a moment,
seemingly at a loss how to state his case.
Mr. And Mrs. Weeks now resolved to appear neutral and allow the farmer
to make his terms. Then, like other superior powers in the background,
they proposed to exert a pressure on their relative and do a little
coercing. But the widow's course promised at first to relieve them of
all further effort. She suddenly seemed to become aware of Holcroft's
presence, sprang up, and gave him her hand very cordially.
"I'm glad to see you, sir," she began. "It's very considerate of you to
come for me. I can get ready in short order, and as for Jane, she's
never a bit of trouble. Sit down, sir, and make yourself to home while
I get our things together and put on my bonnet;" and she was about to
hasten from the room.
She, too, had been compelled to see that Holcroft's farmhouse was the
only certain refuge left, and while she had rocked and waited the
thought had come into her scheming mind, "I've stipulated to stay a
year, and if he says nothing against it, it's a bargain which I can
manage to keep him to in spite of himself, even if I don't marry him."
But the straightforward farmer was not to be caught in such a trap. He
had come himself to say certain words and he would say them. He
quietly, therefore, stood in the door and said, "Wait a moment, Mrs.
Mumpson. It's best to have a plain understanding in all matters of
business. When I've done, you may conclude not to go with me, for I
want to say to you what I said this morning to your cousin, Lemuel
Weeks. I'm glad he and his wife are now present, as witnesses. I'm a
plain man, and all I want is to make a livin' off the farm I've been
brought up on. I'll get a girl to help you with the work. Between
you, I'll expect it to be done in a way that the dairy will yield a
fair profit. We'll try and see how we get on for three months and not
a year. I'll not bind myself longer than three months. Of course, if
you manage well, I'll be glad to have this plain business arrangement
go on as long as possible, but it's all a matter of business. If I
can't make my farm pay, I'm going to sell or rent and leave these
parts."
"Oh, certainly, certainly, Mr. Holcroft! You take a very senserble
view of affairs. I hope you will find that I will do all that I agree
to and a great deal more. I'm a little afraid of the night air and the
inclement season, and so will hasten to get myself and my child ready,"
and she passed quickly out.
Weeks put his hand to his mouth to conceal a grin as he thought, "She
hasn't agreed to do anything that I know on. Still, she's right;
she'll do a sight more than he expects, but it won't be just what he
expects."
Mrs. Weeks followed her relative to expedite matters, and it must be
confessed that the gathering of Mrs. Mumpson's belongings was no heavy
task. A small hair trunk, that had come down from the remote past,
held her own and her child's wardrobe and represented all their worldly
possessions.
Mr. Weeks, much pleased at the turn of affairs, became very affable,
but confined his remarks chiefly to the weather, while Holcroft, who
had an uneasy sense of being overreached in some undetected way, was
abstracted and laconic. He was soon on the road home, however, with
Mrs. Mumpson and Jane. Cousin Lemuel's last whispered charge was,
"Now, for mercy's sake, do keep your tongue still and your hands busy."
Whatever possibilities there may be for the Ethiopian or the leopard,
there was no hope that Mrs. Mumpson would materially change any of her
characteristics. The chief reason was that she had no desire to
change. A more self-complacent person did not exist in Oakville. Good
traits in other people did not interest her. They were insipid, they
lacked a certain pungency which a dash of evil imparts; and in the
course of her minute investigations she had discerned or surmised so
much that was reprehensible that she had come to regard herself as
singularly free from sins of omission and commission. "What have I ever
done?" she would ask in her self-communings. The question implied so
much truth of a certain kind that all her relatives were in gall and
bitterness as they remembered the weary months during which she had
rocked idly at their firesides. With her, talking was as much of a
necessity as breathing; but during the ride to the hillside farm she,
in a sense, held her breath, for a keen March wind was blowing.
She was so quiet that Holcroft grew hopeful, not realizing that the
checked flow of words must have freer course later on. A cloudy
twilight was deepening fast when they reached the dwelling. Holcroft's
market wagon served for the general purposes of conveyance, and he
drove as near as possible to the kitchen door. Descending from the
front seat, which he had occupied alone, he turned and offered his hand
to assist the widow to alight, but she nervously poised herself on the
edge of the vehicle and seemed to be afraid to venture. The wind
fluttered her scanty draperies, causing her to appear like a bird of
prey about to swoop down upon the unprotected man. "I'm afraid to jump
so far--" she began.
"There's the step, Mrs. Mumpson."
"But I can't see it. Would you mind lifting me down?"
He impatiently took her by the arms, which seemed in his grasp like the
rounds of a chair, and put her on the ground.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, in gushing tones, "there's nothing to equal the
strong arms of a man."
He hastily lifted out her daughter, and said, "You had getter hurry in
to the fire. I'll be back in a few minutes," and he led his horses
down to the barn, blanketed and tied them. When he returned, he saw
two dusky figures standing by the front door which led to the little
hall separating the kitchen from the parlor.
"Bless me!" he exclaimed. "You haven't been standing here all this
time?"
"It's merely due to a little oversight. The door is locked, you see,
and--"
"But the kitchen door is not locked."
"Well, it didn't seem quite natural for us to enter the dwelling, on
the occasion of our first arrival, by the kitchen entrance, and--"
Holcroft, with a grim look, strode through the kitchen and unlocked the
door.
"Ah!" exclaimed the widow. "I feel as if I was coming home. Enter,
Jane, my dear. I'm sure the place will soon cease to be strange to
you, for the home feeling is rapidly acquired when--"
"Just wait a minute, please," said Holcroft, "and I'll light the lamp
and a candle." This he did with the deftness of a man accustomed to
help himself, then led the way to the upper room which was to be her
sleeping apartment. Placing the candle on the bureau, he forestalled
Mrs. Mumpson by saying, "I'll freshen up the fire in the kitchen and
lay out the ham, eggs, coffee, and other materials for supper. Then I
must go out and unharness and do my night work. Make yourselves to
home. You'll soon be able to find everything," and he hastened away.
It would not be their fault if they were not soon able to find
everything. Mrs. Mumpson's first act was to take the candle and survey
the room in every nook and corner. She sighed when she found the
closet and bureau drawers empty. Then she examined the quantity and
texture of the bedding of the "couch on which she was to repose," as
she would express herself. Jane followed her around on tiptoe, doing
just what her mother did, but was silent.
At last they shivered in the fireless apartment, threw off their scanty
wraps, and went down to the kitchen. Mrs. Mumpson instinctively looked
around for a rocking chair, and as none was visible she hastened to the
parlor, and, holding the candle aloft, surveyed this apartment. Jane
followed in her wake as before, but at last ventured to suggest,
"Mother, Mr. Holcroft'll be in soon and want his supper."
"I suppose he'll want a great many things," replied Mrs. Mumpson with
dignity, "but he can't expect a lady of my connections to fly around
like a common servant. It is but natural, in coming to a new abode,
that I should wish to know something of that abode. There should have
been a hired girl here ready to receive and get supper for us. Since
there is not one to receive us, bring that rocking chair, my dear, and
I will direct you how to proceed."
The child did as she was told, and her mother was soon rocking on the
snuggest side of the kitchen stove, interspersing her rather
bewildering orders with various reflections and surmises.
Sketching the child Jane is a sad task, and pity would lead us to
soften every touch if this could be done in truthfulness. She was but
twelve years of age, yet there was scarcely a trace of childhood left
in her colorless face. Stealthy and catlike in all her movements, she
gave the impression that she could not do the commonest thing except in
a sly, cowering manner. Her small greenish-gray eyes appeared to be
growing nearer together with the lease of time, and their indirect,
furtive glances suggested that they had hardly, if ever, seen looks of
frank affection bent upon her. She had early learned, on the round of
visits with her mother, that so far from being welcome she was scarcely
tolerated, and she reminded one of a stray cat that comes to a dwelling
and seeks to maintain existence there in a lurking, deprecatory manner.
Her kindred recognized this feline trait, for they were accustomed to
remark, "She's always snoopin' around."
She could scarcely do otherwise, poor child! There had seemed no place
for her at any of the firesides. She haunted halls and passage-ways,
sat in dusky corners, and kept her meager little form out of sight as
much as possible. She was the last one helped at table when she was
permitted to come at all, and so had early learned to watch, like a
cat, and when people's backs were turned, to snatch something, carry it
off, and devour it in secret. Detected in these little pilferings, to
which she was almost driven, she was regarded as even a greater
nuisance than her mother.
The latter was much too preoccupied to give her child attention.
Ensconced in a rocking chair in the best room, and always in full tide
of talk if there was anyone present, she rarely seemed to think where
Jane was or what she was doing. The rounds of visitation gave the
child no chance to go to school, so her developing mind had little
other pabulum than what her mother supplied so freely. She was
acquiring the same consuming curiosity, with the redeeming feature that
she did not talk. Listening in unsuspected places, she heard much that
was said about her mother and herself, and the pathetic part of this
experience was that she had never known enough of kindness to be
wounded. She was only made to feel more fully how precarious was her
foothold in her transient abiding place, and therefore was rendered
more furtive, sly, and distant in order to secure toleration by keeping
out of everyone's way. In her prowlings, however, she managed to learn
and understand all that was going on even better than her mother, who,
becoming aware of this fact, was acquiring the habit of putting her
through a whispered cross-questioning when they retired for the night.
It would be hard to imagine a child beginning life under more
unfavorable auspices and still harder to predict the outcome.
In the course of her close watchfulness she had observed how many of
the domestic labors had been performed, and she would have helped more
in the various households if she had been given a chance; but the
housewives had not regarded her as sufficiently honest to be trusted in
the pantries, and also found that, if there was a semblance of return
for such hospitality as they extended, Mrs. Mumpson would remain
indefinitely. Moreover, the homely, silent child made the women
nervous, just as her mother irritated the men, and they did not want
her around. Thus she had come to be but the specter of a child,
knowing little of the good in the world and as much of the evil as she
could understand.
She now displayed, however, more sense than her mother. The habit of
close scrutiny had made it clear that Holcroft would not long endure
genteel airs and inefficiency, and that something must be done to keep
this shelter. She did her best to get supper, with the aid given from
the rocking chair, and at last broke out sharply, "You must get up and
help me. He'll turn us out of doors if we don't have supper ready when
he comes in."
Spurred by fear of such a dire possibility, Mrs. Mumpson was bustling
around when Holcroft entered. "We'll soon be ready," she gushed, "we'll
soon place our evening repast upon the table."
"Very well," was the brief reply, as he passed up the stairs with the
small hair trunk on his shoulder.