THEY DRIVE OLD TOM.
JOBE and me have been to town and we are back alive, thank goodness.
There is no place like home—if it _is_ mortgaged.
Last Tuesday mornin, bright and airly, Jobe and me got up and got ready
to go to town to raise some more interest money.
I wore that blue cambric dress that Simon Kinsey’s wife got me for
helpin her make apple butter last fall three years ago, and the lace cap
mother knit and gave me the year John Sherman fust begin to borrow
greenback money on bonds and burn it up, and that black straw hat Mrs.
Vest Hummel traded me for that half dozen of dominic hens the spring she
was married.
While I was a standin before the lookin glass gittin ready Jobe come in,
as men allers do, and says, says he:
“Betsy, are you ever goin to git ready?”
Then he begin to comment on my clothes. Says he:
“I hope you haint a goin to wear that cap? Why, its out of fashion ten
years ago. Haint you got a dress with bigger sleeves in? Why dont you
borrow a hat more becomin you?”
I stood it as long as I could, then I jist up and says, says I:
“Jobe Gaskins, my mother wore a cap, and she made this one with her own
fingers, and, fashion or no fashion, I expect to wear it when and where
I please. If my dress sleeves haint big enough to suit you, you quit
votin the ticket that is causin us farmers to spend five dollars for
interest and taxes to one for women’s clothes. If my hat is out of date,
sir, you begin to inquire why I haint able to buy a new one, and see if
you cant have sense enough to vote for a better system of laws, instid
of votin for a lot of office-seekin canderdates who belong to your party
for the salary they are a gittin or expect to git. Yes, see if you cant
have sense enough to vote for a party that will make laws for the farmer
as well as for the banker.”
[Illustration: “Started for town bright and airly.”]
You ort a seen him tuck tail and sneak.
The idea of a man, with the sense Jobe Gaskins has, wantin his wife to
put on airs, when he knows it takes all she can rake and scrape to help
pay interest and taxes to the leadin citizens so they and their wives
can put em on!
Well, we loaded in our truck—that is, our chickens and our quilts and
our feathers and sich, and started for town bright and airly.
We hitched old Tom, the only boss we have since we sold Betty, to the
spring wagon.
Tom haint purty, and, bein stringhalted in his right hind leg and lame
in his left fore foot, I couldent help thinkin of poor Betty as we
proceeded toward town. Betty would trot along as though she enjoyed
takin us. Tom he limped and jerked along as though he would like
anything else.
We finally got there, and from the time we struck the superbs of the
town till we hitched in front of Urfer’s store people were a snickerin,
and a titterin, and a pintin at us.
Women would come to the winders and scream out a kind of a holler laf,
and then two or three more would come, and they would laf and titter and
holler until I was ashamed of them.
When we got up to the court-house square a lot of young upstarts,
eighteen or nineteen years old, were standin on the corner by Miller’s
drug-store, smokin paper segars, and they begin to holler at us and poor
old crippled Tom, all sich nonsense as “Git on to that horse,” “See his
gait,” “Where’d yer git that hat?” “Have you got any hay to sell?” “See
her style!” “Oh, haint she a lolly?” etcetery.
I dont know who they were, but they were young men and big enough to
have more sense and better manners; but I guess maybe their raisin was
neglected and they couldent help it. They dident look like coal miners,
or mill hands, or farmers, and I know they wasent sich. They all were
well dressed and wore pinted yaller shoes. They couldent a been the sons
of the leadin citizens, because one would think they would teach their
offspring better sense. Maybe they were orphans, born without parents. I
dont know.
Well, arter we got through the storm of insult and abuse that we had to
suffer because we had to sell our drivin animal to git interest money,
we begin to try to sell our stuff. Most of the stores was willin to
trade goods for what we had, but none of em wanted to spare any money.
We went from one store to another, Jobe a tellin them that he had to
have money to meet interest, and that we were sellin our quilts and
pillers to git it. Fust one and then another would buy somethin, jist to
accommodate us, until we finally got our stuff all disposed of. We got
$14.45 in cash, which, added to what Jobe had, made $106.79, lackin
$19.21 of enough to pay Congressman Richer the $126 interest.
We was in Mathias & Dick’s store when we sold the last of our stuff, and
steppin aside Jobe and me counted up how much we had and how much we
lacked.
“Well, Betsy,” says Jobe, “where will we git the balance?”
I studied a minit. Then it come to me all at once.
“Why, Jobe,” says I, “lets go and accept that canderdate feller’s
invitation to ‘come and see him arter he’s elected;’ he’s elected, and
you voted fur him and fed him and his hoss when he was runnin. He will
lend you the $19.21 you lack.”
“Maybe he will,” says Jobe; “lets go and see.”
And at that we started fur the court-house.
Jist as we got across the street onto them big stone flaggin in front of
the court-house, we met that Republican feller with black mustache and
curly like hair who is hankerin arter the county clerk’s office. Says
he:
“Why, hello, Gaskins, howdy do?” all smilin and nearly shakin the arm
off Jobe. “Well, Gaskins, weve got em out,” says he, “got em out! Every
office in that grand old buildin is now okepied by one of our own
fellers. I tell you, Gaskins, its a day we may well feel proud of,”
hittin Jobe a lick on the shoulder.
“Well,” says Jobe, “I cant see as it makes much difference to me. Taxes
are jist as high and interest money as hard to raise as it was when the
Dimicrats were in. I cant see where us tax-payers has anything to be
proud of; we dont git any of the salaries.”
[Illustration:
“Jobe and me counted up how much
we had.”
]
“Why, Gaskins, what do you mean?” says he. “Dont you feel proud that the
people of our own party, the Republicans, has at last routed the Demmies
from the county offices?”
“No, I cant say as I do,” says Jobe; “fact is, I cant see much
difference to me between a good Dimicrat and a good Republican or
between a bad Dimicrat and a bad Republican, so long as both are willin
to let bad laws remain and good ones go unmade, provided they git to
draw a salary. Where is the difference?” says Jobe, with force.
“Gaskins!” says he, steppin back and lookin at Jobe from head to foot.
“Gaskins, is it possible you are succumbin to pettycoat argament?”
(lookin sideways at me).
I was teched.
I jist up and says, says I:
“Mister Canderdate, it would be a Lord’s blessin if him and more of his
likes would listen to pettycoat argament instid of the argament of you
office-seekin canderdates.” Says I: “Come on, Jobe,” takin hold of his
arm and startin.
I looked back when I got a piece away, and I seed the feller had met Doc
Tinker and was pintin at my clothes and smilin. I thought I heard Doc
say:
“Yes, them are the marks of prosperity the administrations of the past
thirty years have scattered over the country.”
That is what I thought he said. The feller went on across the street. I
dident see him smile or pint any more.
Well, we went on to accept the invitation to see the feller okepy a
county office.
We clumb up them high steps, went through them big doors, past several
fine rooms, till we come to the sign of that office to which he was
elected.
The door was shet.
Jobe knocked, and some one inside hollered, “Come in.”
They hadent manners enough to git up and open the door for us.
In we went. It was a nice place, nicer than my spare room, and so warm
and pleasant. If I could git to live there day in and day out, without
payin interest money or rent, Ide do all their writin for a good deal
less than what I hear they git. It is so nice.
Well, when we got in we found two men and two women settin over next to
the winder, a eatin oranges and laffin. Nobody was doin nothin.
I spect the county officer got up airly so as to do his work before his
visitors would come.
They all was a talkin and a laffin and a shootin orange seeds at each
other, and enjoyin theirselves high.
They stopt when we went in, and the feller what eat our dinner and hoss
feed come up to the fence and asked what he could do for us, lookin
round at the women.
The women they would look at me, then at one another, then whisper, then
look out of the winder and laf.
Jobe, answerin the feller, says, says he:
“I want to borry $19.21 till arter oats harvest.”
Says the feller:
“Why, my dear man, I dont _know_ you,” lookin round towards the women.
They smiled.
“Dont know me?” says Jobe. “Why, Ime Jobe Gaskins, the most prominent
and influential Republican in our township. Jist afore election last
fall you was at my house, when you was runnin. I voted for you.”
The feller studied a minit.
“That may all be, Mr. Gaskins,” says he, “but I saw so many people durin
my campaign, and so many voted for me that if I was to lend each of them
$19.21 I would have nothing left for myself. I can not accommodate you.
You see I have company” (pintin to the women), “so you will have to
excuse me” (turnin to leave us).
I jist up and says, says I:
“Hold on, Mister Officer! Dont be in a hurry. We are here by your
invitation. We paid you for the privilege of visitin you—paid you, sir,
in hoss feed and grub, besides payin by taxes to come here any time we
see fit. We have come to stay all day; to visit with you. I have brought
my knittin and am in no hurry. You ort a be decent enough to ask us over
the fence and give us cheers to sit down on.”
You ort a seen them women. They looked distrest.
The officer looked tired.
The women begun to tuck their skirts close agin their legs. I suppose
they wanted to keep my cambric dress from rubbin em.
But land a goodness! jist to torment em I said I was goin to stay. I
knode they would have no more fun that arternoon if I stayed there. I
knode I wouldent be welcome, and if Ide a had to stayed there Ide a
wanted them women gone.
When that feller said he wouldent I knode it was no use of askin any
more. What does he care for the hardships of old Jobe Gaskins and his
wife Betsy?
So I jist up and says, says I:
“Dont worry, Jobe. Weve got along without any commodation from him; we
can git along agin. Arter this when a office-seekin canderdate comes to
our house and talks about your bein the ‘most intelligent, influential
and prominent Republican in our township,’ and is ‘astonished that you
ever read sich nonsense as Populist noosepapers, much less indorse
them;’ that talks about the Dimicrats all bein rascals and the Populists
all cranks; that feeds you on three-for-five segars and tells you they
are regular five-centers, you have sense enough to charge him 25 cents
for dinner and 15 cents for hoss feed.
“When votin day comes recollect that ‘self-preservation is the fust law
of natur;’ that the officeholder draws the salary and you pay the taxes;
that votin can bring you to distress or prosperity.
“Come on,” says I, and we left.
None of them was laffin. They seemed to be thinkin.
Jobe he was jist so disappinted at not gittin the money, and his
perlitical loyalty was so shockt at the feller furgittin him, that he
wouldent try to borry the interest money any more that day.
We jist got in our wagon and went up that alley by Urfer’s store till we
got out of town. Nobody seen us.
Jobe is diggin a well for Bill Gerber, gittin 50 cents a day.
If they dont strike water too soon, and if it dont take too long, and if
the fust of Aprile dont come too airly, we may be able to raise the
balance of the interest money in time to keep from being foreclosed.
No letter from Congressman Richer yit.
I wish interest was two per cent., dream or no dream.