"I'll be up afore day to-morrow morning, Regnan."
"I'll sleep an hour longer, Kitty."
"That may bring bad luck, Regnan. Remember Nordad, the tinker."
"He mended a pot and married a woman the same hour."
"That was well enough. He always had a bit of bacon for the pot and a
faithful wife."
"What of his bad luck, Kitty?"
"He fell asleep on the day of his anniversary, was kidnapped, gagged and
locked up in his garret. On payment of a neat little sum his wife was
informed where he was, just in time for the ceremony."
"Anything may befall me, Kitty, just so we stand before the preacher
again to-morrow night."
Thus spoke Regnan and Kitty, his wife, the night before their
twenty-fifth anniversary.
Kitty arose early the next morning, fed Posey, the mare, chatted with a
neighbor, and returned to find Regnan still snoring.
"Regnan," cried she, "will you remember Nordad, the tinker?"
"Kitty," rejoined Regnan, "will you always remember to bring bad news?"
"Out with you, Regnan."
"Be lovely to-day, Kitty."
"The bottom of your foot is clean."
"That tickles! That tickles, Kitty!"
"Your big toe is a good door-knob."
"Oh, Kitty."
"Out, Regnan!"
"'Tis better to stand on two feet than to lose one big toe. I love you,
Kitty."
"The way you stand such treatment shows it. A true lover is the old man
who enjoys the whims of an old wife."
"You are a young wife to-day."
"A good breakfast, a hard day's work and the ceremony to-night! I'll
warrant that you'll outshine the preacher, Regnan."
Regnan and Kitty were good, religious people. They took pride in the
fact that they divided their religious duties. He prayed night and
morning. She said the blessing at all times. She gathered the moral and
religious news of the neighborhood, and he discussed it for their own
benefit. At these functions Kitty was Kitty and Regnan was Regnan.
Joking and arguing always found other means of outlet.
"Let us be serious, Kitty." She looked at him and nodded her haid. "Let
us pray." They knelt and prayed. He prayed aloud, and she silently. His
"amen" seemed to be a link connecting the past and the present. So much
for a beautiful human picture.
Regnan, his wife, and friends were negroes. He dealt in rags, old iron,
and second-hand furniture. Kitty was a plain housewife.
"I'll have a breakfast like the one we ate twenty-five years ago,
husband."
"Do, wife! I'll give Posey a good currying-ing."
"Do, husband!"
Kitty set about getting breakfast, and Regnan curried Posey. Kitty
talked to the pancakes, and Regnan talked to Posey.
"I would not burn a pancake on my husband's wedding day. Now, cakes,
turn well!"
"I would not slight you, Posey, on my wife's wedding day. Now, Posey,
shining Posey, see yourself!"
When Regnan and Kitty sat down to breakfast, Posey, hitched to the
wagon, was standing with her head partly in the window. A pancake was
passed to the plates of Regnan and Kitty, and one to the mouth of Posey.
When breakfast was over Regnan kissed Kitty, patted Posey, and drove
off, saying: "Nordad the tinker comes ever to my mind. I wonder what
to-day will bring. I will prepare for to-night."
Regnan had a district where he bought and sold. He was regular, honest,
and good-natured; and therefore popular. His "rag-cry" was his own. It
always brought trade. It ran something like this: "_R-a-g-s_, rags,
rags, _r-a-g-s_! Any _r-a-g-s_, _o-l-d iron_? Come up, Posey! _R-a-g-s_,
old iron!" This cry had brought a little fortune. As this was his
anniversary he thought he would not buy any rags, but deal in other
things.
A newly married man, whose wife had made kindling wood of the furniture,
sold Regnan a cooking stove. "Beware of the first wedding day," said the
man. Regnan thought him unwise, and drove on. He knew of another newly
married couple who were living in hopes of many anniversaries. To these
he would sell the stove. He could fancy the good wife cooking pancakes
for her husband. Ere he could reach them he exchanged the stove for a
sofa. "All good wives need rest," said he. "The sofa will therefore
serve as well as the stove. I can see the good man and his wife resting
upon it now."
Later in the afternoon an old friend stopped Regnan.
"Now, listen," said he, "to an anniversary march. While I play you think
of the days agone." The friend played, and the tears stole down
Regnan's cheeks.
"How much for the fiddle?" asked Regnan. "Take the fiddle for the sofa."
The exchange was made. "The newly married couple are loving and patient.
They can wait," said Regnan. "I will stop here and get my beaver hat,
white vest, and swallow-tailed coat." He went into the tailor's shop and
got them. He had had them cleaned for the anniversary.
Regnan was now very tired. He had been in the hot sun all day. He had
had nothing to eat since morning. Besides, the malaria made him drowsy.
So he stopped under a tree to rest. The clothes and fiddle were
tempting. He spread the coat upon some newspapers in the wagon and put
the vest in the proper place. He then placed the beaver at the head.
"Kitty," said he, as though she was present, "look at your husband." He
became more and more drowsy. He played. He nodded and closed his eyes.
He stopped playing with his fingers on the bow and the bow on the
strings.
Several boys were watching Regnan. They thought it would be nice to put
the vest, coat, and hat on the biggest boy and dance around him while
Regnan "played in his dreams." It was done. The boy so dressed stood in
a clear place and held out the tails of the coat. The others circled
around him.
In every neighborhood there are at least two factions among the boys.
Fight is born in a boy. Letting it out occasionally will help to tame
him. It was so in this case. It happened that the opposing faction had
business that way. When they saw what was going on, they cried: "Fun,
boys, fun!" A dozen pebbles fell among the dancers, who fled from the
attack, and the fun began. The beaver hat and swallow-tailed coat were
kept in the lead. The opposing faction followed, threw pebbles, and
laughed.
Regnan awoke and began to play. "There must be fun in it," said he.
"That reminds me of my young days." He looked into the wagon. The
playing was cut short. He looked at the boys again. The beaver hat and
swallow-tailed coat were kept in the lead. He called a spectator and
paid him to take Posey and the wagon home. With fiddle in hand and
thoughts on anniversary he followed the boys. The opposing faction
stopped and scattered. It was growing dark. Regnan caught one of the
boys and began to scold him.
"The boy with the beaver hat and swallow-tailed coat is the one you
want. We were trying to catch him," gasped the boy.
This was the truth, but it misled Regnan. The boy escaped. Regnan
gained on the others. The boy followed.
"Mister," said the other boys, as Regnan overtook them, "we just can't
catch him. There he goes. Mister do you care much for such old things?"
As Regnan pursued his moving anniversary suit the boys fell in behind
and shouted: "Run, partner, run! The sum that's after you is an old head
plus young legs. Run, partner, run!" Here the boys left their partner
and Regnan to finish the race.
"Stop, thief!" cried Regnan. The boy looked back, and, thinking the
fiddle a club, turned and ran into a pond. They were now on the edge of
the town. Regnan called to the boy to come out, and raised the fiddle
involuntarily.
"If you throw," said the boy, "I will dip up water in your hat."
Regnan called again, and up went the fiddle.
"If you throw," cried the boy, "I will lie down in the water."
It was growing darker. The boy was going farther into the pond.
"It is the fiddle that frightens him," said Regnan to himself. He laid
it beside a tree. "See, my boy, see! My hands are empty. I will come to
you." He plunged into the pond and followed the boy.
"I will wait on this side. The club is over there," rejoined the boy,
going all the while.
In trying to increase his pace, and watch at the same time, he stumbled
and fell up to his neck in the water. The beaver upset and floated.
Regnan caught it and pushed on. When the boy reached the bank his wits
came to him. He pulled off the coat and vest, left them and disappeared
in the darkness. Regnan embraced the hat, vest, and coat as he walked
around the pond to get his fiddle. He was wet and felt a chill coming
upon him. He sat down beside the fiddle. For an hour he shivered and
thought of his wife, the neighbors, and the anniversary. All at once he
thought of Nordad the tinker.
Just then someone rode a horse up to the pond a short distance from him
and let the reins fall for it to drink.
"Am I to be kidnapped like Nordad the tinker?" whispered Regnan to
himself. "I will crawl off." In dragging the fiddle one of the strings
was broken. The noise frightened the horse. It plunged through the pond.
The rider, in trying to reach the reins, fell into the water, but
quickly rose to his feet and started in pursuit of the fleeing horse.
Soon both horse and rider were out of sight and hearing.
Regnan breathed freely and said: "My fiddle, it may be you have saved me
from being kidnapped." He then arose and started homeward. An hour
later he was on the lawn before his house. Posey, arrived home some time
since, came up to him.
"Posey, my girl," said he, "I wonder if your mistress is as patient as
you are. Oh, how could she be?"
He then crept up to a corner of the house where he could see and hear.
Everything showed that Kitty had done her duty. She was sitting in the
center of some twenty women. Some were fanning her; some were crying.
Others were at her back conducting a mock marriage. The men and women at
the window were discussing Regnan aloud.
"He should never marry _me_ again," said one woman.
"I would never let the first marriage stand," said another.
"Don't be too hard on Regnan," spoke up one on the inside. "Remember his
widow is listening."
"What think you of his case?" asked a young man of an old one.
"Well," answered the old man, "old Welby, who was a wiser man than
Regnan, killed himself upon a similar occasion."
"Gentlemen," asked the woman from within, "do you think that Kitty would
look well in mourning?"
The women on the outside laughed. Some of those on the inside cried
aloud. Kitty buried her head in her hands.
Regnan, now understanding the state of affairs, ran into the room and
cried: "My Kitty!" His breeches were wet and muddy and he had on the
wet, muddy swallow-tailed coat and vest. He held the wet, bedraggled hat
in one hand and the broken fiddle in the other. At his call Kitty made
no motion, but kept her face hidden. The women formed a close circle
around her. Those on the outside sneered: "My Kitty!" while the men
yelled: "Scat, old tom, scat!" and "Is he drunk?" "Is he crazy?" "Is he
going to kill Kitty?" "Help! Help! Call an officer!"
These were some of the cries that came from different parts of the room.
Regnan ran around the circle, crying: "My Kitty! Am I drunk? Am I crazy?
Am I going to kill you, Kitty?" Now two men seized Regnan and dragged
him toward the door.
Just then the preacher entered the other door, wet and muddy from head
to foot. He raised his hand, and Regnan was released. Kitty, noting the
hush, peeped through her fingers, first at Regnan and then at the
preacher. There was a tense silence. The preacher now spoke. He told of
Regnan's trouble with the fiddle, clothes, and pond.
"How do you know?" asked Regnan.
"It was my boy who kept the vest, coat, and beaver in the lead. Tell the
adventure yourself."
"Not here! I will tell it to Kitty."
"What about yourself, parson?" asked Kitty.
"While on my way here," said the preacher, "I stopped my horse at the
pond to drink. There was a noise like the breaking of a fiddle string."
"The fiddle again," interrupted Regnan, and held it up.
"My horse became frightened and ran through the pond. I fell off, waded
out, and have not seen the horse since."
"That's true, ladies and gentlemen."
"How do you know?" asked the preacher.
"I was there, parson." Regnan then told of the chill, the broken string,
and the accident to the rider.
By this time the people were around the edges of the room, leaving
Kitty, Regnan, and the preacher in the middle.