HE COMMITS SUICIDE.
Two days after the fair (one day after the bonfire), some time during
the afternoon, I found myself alone in the store. Business was so dull
that father, with a yawn, said he guessed he'd go to the post-office
and have a chat with the men.
"Be sure you don't leave the store a moment alone, John," was his
parting admonition.
Of course I wouldn't think of such a thing--he need not have mentioned
it. I was a good business fellow for my age; the only blunders I ever
made were those caused by my failing--the unhappy failing to which I
have hitherto alluded.
I sat mournfully on the counter after father left me, my head
reclining pensively against a pile of ten-cent calicoes; I was
thinking of my grandmother's legacy gone up in smoke--of how Belle
looked when she found I had conducted her into the coal-cellar--of
those tidies, cradle-quilts, bib-aprons, dolls' and ladies' fixings,
which had been nefariously foisted upon me, a base advantage taken of
my diffidence!--and I felt sad. I felt more than melancholy--I felt
mad. I resented the tricks of the fair ones. And I made a mighty
resolution! "Never--never--never," said I, between my clenched teeth,
"will I again be guilty of the crime of bashfulness--_never_!"
I felt that I could face a female regiment--all Babbletown! I was
indignant; and there's nothing like honest, genuine indignation to
give courage. Oh, I'd show 'em. I wouldn't give a cent when the deacon
passed the plate on Sundays; I wouldn't subscribe to the char----
In the midst of my dark and vengeful resolutions I heard merry voices
on the pavement outside.
Hastily raising my head from the pile of calicoes, I saw at least five
girls making for the store door--a whole bevy of them coming in upon
me at once. They were the same rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, deceitful,
shameless creatures who had persuaded me into such folly at the fair.
There was Hetty Slocum, the girl who coaxed me into buying the doll;
and Maggie Markham, who sold me the quilt; and Belle, and two others,
and they were chatting and giggling over some joke, and had to stop on
the steps until they could straighten their faces. I grew
fire-red--with indignation.
"Oh, father, why are you not here?" I cried inwardly. "Oh, father,
what a shame to go off to the post-office and leave your son to face
these tried to feel as I felt five minutes before, like facing a
female regiment. _Now_ was the time to prove my courage--to turn over
a new leaf, take a new departure, begin life over again, show to these
giggling girls that I had some pride--some self-independence--some
self-resp----"
The door creaked on its hinges, and at the sound a blind confusion
seized me. In vain I attempted, like a brave but despairing general,
to rally my forces; but they all deserted me at once; I was hidden
behind the calicoes, and with no time to arrange for a nobler plan of
escaping a meeting with the enemy--no auger-hole though which to
crawl. I followed the first impulse, stooped, and _hid under the
counter_.
In a minute I wished myself out of that; but the minute had been too
much--the bevy had entered and approached the counter, at the very
place behind which I lay concealed. I was so afraid to breathe; the
cold sweat started on my forehead.
"Why! there's no one in the store!" exclaimed Belle's voice.
"Oh, yes; there must be. Let us look around and see," responded
Maggie, and they went tiptoeing around the room, peeping here and
there, while I silently tore my hair. I was so afraid they would come
behind the counter and discover me.
In three minutes, which seemed as many hours, they came to the
starting-point again.
"There isn't a soul here."
"La, how funny! We might take something."
"Yes, if we were thieves, what a fine opportunity we would have."
"I'll bet three cents it's John's fault; his father would never leave
the store in this careless way."
"What a queer fellow he is, anyway!"
"Ha, ha, ha! so perfectly absurd! _Isn't_ it fun when he's about?"
"I never was so tickled in my life as when he bought that quilt."
"I thought I would die laughing when he took me into the coal-cellar,
but I kept a straight face."
"Do _you_ think he's good-looking, Hetty?"
"Who? John Flutter! _good-looking_? He's a perfect fright."
"That's just what I think. Oh, isn't it too good to see the way he
nurses that little mustache of his? I'm going to send him a
magnifying-glass, so that he can count the hairs with less trouble."
"If you will, I'll send a box of cold cream; we can send them through
the post-office, and he'll never find out who they came from."
"Jolly! we'll do it! Belle won't send anything, for he's dead in love
with _her_."
"Much good it'll do him, girls! Do you suppose I wouldn't marry that
simpleton if he was made of gold."
"Did you ever see such a red face as he has? I would be afraid to come
near it with a light dress on."
"And his ears!"
"Monstrous! and always burning."
"And the awkwardest fellow that ever blundered into a parlor. You know
the night he waited on me to Hetty's party? he stepped on my toes so
that I had to poultice them before I went to bed; he tore the train
all off my pink tarlatan; he spilled a cup of hot coffee down old Mrs.
Ballister's back, and upset his saucer of ice-cream over Ada's sweet
new book-muslin. Why, girls, just as sure as I am standing here, I saw
him cram the saucer into his pocket when Belle came up to speak with
him! I tell you, I was glad to get home that night without any more
accidents."
"They say he always puts the tea-napkins into his pocket when he takes
tea away from home. But it's not kleptomania, it's only bashfulness. I
never heard before of his pocketing the saucers."
"Well, he really did. It's awful funny. I don't know how we'd get
along without John this winter--he makes all the fun we have. What's
that?"
"I don't know, it sounded like rats gnawing the floor."
(It was only the amusing John gritting his teeth, I am able to
explain).
"Did you ever notice his mouth?--how large it is."
"Yes, it's frightful. I don't wonder he's ashamed of himself with that
mouth."
"I don't mind his mouth so much--but his _nose_! I never did like a
turn-up nose in a man. But his father's pretty well off. It would be
nice to marry a whole store full of dry-goods and have a new dress
every time you wanted one. I wonder where they have gone to! I believe
I'll rap."
The last speaker seized the yard-stick and thumped on the counter
directly over my head.
"Oh, girls! let's go behind, and see how they keep things. I wonder
how many pieces of dress-silk there are left!"
"I guess I'll go behind the counter, and play clerk. If any one comes
in, I'll go, as sure as the world! and wait on 'em. Won't it be fun?
There comes old Aunty Harkness now. I dare say she is after a spool of
thread or a paper of needles. I'm going to wait on her. Mr. Flutter
won't care--I'll explain when he comes in. What do you want, auntie?"
in a very loud voice.
My head buzzed like a saw--my heart made such a loud thud against my
side I thought stars! she wanted "an ounce o' snuff," and that
article was kept in a glass jar in plain sight on the other side of
the store. There was a movement in that direction, and I recovered
partially, I half resolved to rise up suddenly--pretend I'd been
hiding for fun--and laugh the whole thing off as a joke. But the
insulting, the ridiculous comments I had overheard, had made me too
indignant. Pretty joke, indeed! But I wished I had obeyed the dictates
of prudence and affected to consider it so. Father came bustling in
while the girls were trying to tie up the snuff, and sneezing
beautifully.
"What! what! young ladies! Where's John?"
"That's more than we know--tschi-he! We've been waiting at least ten
minutes. Auntie Harkness wanted some stch-uff, and we thought we'd do
it for her. I s'pose you've no objections, Mr. Flutter?"
"Not the least in the world, girls. Go ahead. I wonder where John is!
There! you'll sneeze your pretty noses off--let me finish it. John has
no business to leave the store. I don't like it--five cents, auntie,
to _you_--and I told him particularly not to leave it a minute. I
don't understand it; very sorry you've been kept waiting. What shall I
show you, young lady?" and father passed behind the counter and stood
with his toes touching my legs, notwithstanding I had shrunk into as
small space as was convenient, considering my size and weight. It was
getting toward dusk of the short winter afternoon, and I hoped and
prayed he wouldn't notice me.
"What shall I show you, young ladies?"
"Some light kid gloves, No. 6, please."
"Yes, certainly--here they are. I do believe there's a strange dog
under the counter! Get out--get out, sir, I say!" and my cruel parent
gave me a vicious kick.
I pinched his leg impressively. I meant it as a warning, to betray to
him that it was I, and to implore him, figuratively, to keep silence.
But he refused to comprehend that agonized pinch; he resented it. He
gave another vicious kick. Then he stooped and looked under--it was a
little dark--too dark, alas! under there. He saw a man--but not to
recognize him.
"Ho!" he yelled; "robber! thief! burglar! I've got you, fellow! Come
out o' that!"
I never before realized father's strength. He got his hand in my
collar, and he jerked me out from under that counter, and shook me,
and held me off at arm's length.
"There, Mr. Burglar," said he, triumphantly, "sneak in here again
will--JOHN!"
The girls had been screaming and running, but they stood still now.
"Yes, _John_!" said I, in desperation. "The drawer came loose under
the counter, and I was nailing on a strip of board when those _young
ladies_ came in. I kept quiet, just for fun. They began to talk in an
interesting manner, curiosity got the better of politeness, and I'm
afraid I've played eavesdropper," and I made a killing bow, meant
especially for Belle.
"Well, you're a pretty one!" exclaimed father.
"_So they say_," said I. "Don't leave, young ladies. I'd like to sell
you a magnifying-glass, and some cold cream." But they all left in a
hurry. They didn't even buy a pair of gloves.
The girls must have told of it, for the story got out, and Fred
advised me to try counter-irritation for my bashfulness.
"You're not a burglar," said he, "but you're guilty of
counter-fitting."
"Nothing would suit me better," I retorted, "than to be tried for it,
and punished by solitary confinement."
And there was nothing I should have liked so much. The iron had
entered my soul. I was worse than ever. I purchased a four-ounce vial
of laudanum, went to my room, and wrote a letter to my mother:
"Mother, I am tired of life. My nose is turn-up, my mouth is large; I
pocket other people's saucers and napkins; I am always making
blunders. This is my last blunder. I shall never blush again.
Farewell. Let the inscription on my tombstone be--'Died of
Bashfulness.' JOHN."
And I swallowed the contents of the vial, and threw myself on my
little bed.