THE LOSING OF MR. STUBBINS
"Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove."
If the Cabbage Patch had pinned its faith upon the efficiency of the
matrimonial agency in regard to the disposal of Miss Hazy, it was
doomed to disappointment. The events that led up to the final
catastrophe were unique in that they cast no shadows before.
[Illustration: "Mrs. Wiggs took pictures from her walls and chairs
from her parlor to beautify the house of Hazy."]
Miss Hazy's letters, dictated by Mrs. Wiggs and penned by Lovey Mary,
were promptly and satisfactorily answered. The original of the spirit
picture proved to be one Mr. Stubbins, "a prominent citizen of Bagdad
Junction who desired to marry some one in the city. The lady must be
of good character and without incumbrances." "That's all right," Mrs.
Wiggs had declared; "you needn't have no incumbrances. If he'll take
keer of you, we'll all look after Chris."
The wooing had been ideally simple. Mr. Stubbins, with the impetuosity
of a new lover, demanded an early meeting. It was a critical time, and
the Cabbage Patch realized the necessity of making the first
impression a favorable one. Mrs. Wiggs took pictures from her walls
and chairs from her parlor to beautify the house of Hazy. Old Mrs.
Schultz, who was confined to her bed, sent over her black silk dress
for Miss Hazy to wear. Mrs. Eichorn, with deep insight into the nature
of man, gave a pound-cake and a pumpkin-pie. Lovey Mary scrubbed, and
dusted, and cleaned, and superintended the toilet of the bride elect.
The important day had arrived, and with it Mr. Stubbins. To the many
eyes that surveyed him from behind shutters and half-open doors he was
something of a disappointment. Mrs. Wiggs's rosy anticipations had
invested him with the charms of an Apollo, while Mr. Stubbins, in
reality, was far from godlike. "My land! he's lanker 'n a bean-pole,"
exclaimed Mrs. Eichorn, in disgust. But then Mrs. Eichorn weighed two
hundred, and her judgment was warped. Taking everything into
consideration, the prospects had been most flattering. Mr. Stubbins,
sitting in Mrs. Wiggs's most comfortable chair, with a large slice of
pumpkin-pie in his hand, and with Miss Hazy opposite arrayed in Mrs.
Schultz's black silk, had declared himself ready to marry at once. And
Mrs. Wiggs, believing that a groom in the hand is worth two in the
bush, promptly precipitated the courtship into a wedding.
[Illustration: "Mr. Stubbins, sitting in Mrs. Wiggs's most comfortable
chair, with a large slice of pumpkin-pie in his hand"]
The affair proved the sensation of the hour, and "Miss Hazy's husband"
was the cynosure of all eyes. For one brief week the honeymoon shed
its beguiling light on the neighborhood, then it suffered a sudden and
ignominious eclipse.
The groom got drunk.
Mary was clearing away the supper-dishes when she was startled by a
cry from Miss Hazy:
"My sakes! Lovey Mary! Look at Mr. Stubbins a-comin' up the street! Do
you s'pose he's had a stroke?"
Lovey Mary ran to the window and beheld the "prominent citizen of
Bagdad Junction" in a state of unmistakable intoxication. He was
bareheaded and hilarious, and used the fence as a life-preserver. Miss
Hazy wrung her hands and wept.
"Oh, what'll I do?" she wailed. "I do b'lieve he's had somethin' to
drink. I ain't goin' to stay an' meet him, Mary; I'm goin' to hide. I
always was skeered of drunken men."
"I'm not," said Mary, stoutly. "You go on up in my room and lock the
door; I'm going to stay here and keep him from messing up this
kitchen. I want to tell him what I think of him, anyhow. I just hate
that man! I believe you do, too, Miss Hazy."
Miss Hazy wept afresh. "Well, he ain't my kind, Mary. I know I'd
hadn't orter marry him, but it 'pears like ever' woman sorter wants to
try gittin' married oncet anyways. I never would 'a' done it, though,
if Mrs. Wiggs hadn't 'a' sicked me on."
By this time Mr. Stubbins had reached the yard, and Miss Hazy fled.
Lovey Mary barricaded Tommy in a corner with his playthings and met
the delinquent at the door. Her eyes blazed and her cheeks were
aflame. This modern David had no stones and sling to slay her Goliath;
she had only a vocabulary full of stinging words which she hurled
forth with indignation and scorn. Mr. Stubbins had evidently been
abused before, for he paid no attention to the girl's wrath. He passed
jauntily to the stove and tried to pour a cup of coffee; the hot
liquid missed the cup and streamed over his wrist and hand. Howling
with pain and swearing vociferously, he flung the coffee-pot out of
the window, kicked a chair across the room, then turned upon Tommy,
who was adding shrieks of terror to the general uproar. "Stop that
infernal yelling!" he cried savagely, as he struck the child full in
the face with his heavy hand.
Lovey Mary sprang forward and seized the poker. All the passion of her
wild little nature was roused. She stole up behind him as he knelt
before Tommy, and lifted the poker to strike. A pair of terrified blue
eyes arrested her. Tommy forgot to cry, in sheer amazement at what she
was about to do. Ashamed of herself, she threw the poker aside, and
taking advantage of Mr. Stubbins's crouching position, she thrust him
suddenly backward into the closet. The manoeuver was a brilliant one,
for while Mr. Stubbins was unsteadily separating himself from the
debris into which he had been cast, Lovey Mary slammed the door and
locked it. Then she picked up Tommy and fled out of the house and
across the yard.
Mrs. Wiggs was sitting on her back porch pretending to knit, but in
truth absorbed in a wild game of tag which the children were having on
the commons. "That's right," she was calling excitedly--"that's right,
Chris Hazy! You kin ketch as good as any of 'em, even if you have got
a peg-stick." But when she caught sight of Mary's white, distressed
face and Tommy's streaming eyes, she dropped her work and held out her
arms. When Mary had finished her story Mrs. Wiggs burst forth:
"An' to think I run her up ag'in' this! Ain't men deceivin'? Now I'd
'a' risked Mr. Stubbins myself fer the askin'. It's true he was a
widower, an' ma uster allays say, 'Don't fool with widowers, grass nor
sod.' But Mr. Stubbins was so slick-tongued! He told me yesterday he
had to take liquor sometime fer his war enjury."
"But, Mrs. Wiggs, what must we do?" asked Lovey Mary, too absorbed in
the present to be interested in the past.
"Do? Why, we got to git Miss Hazy out of this here hole. It ain't no
use consultin' her; I allays have said talkin' to Miss Hazy was like
pullin' out bastin'-threads: you jes take out what you put in. Me an'
you has got to think out a plan right here an' now, then go to work
an' carry it out."
"Couldn't we get the agency to take him back?" suggested Mary.
"No, indeed; they couldn't afford to do that. Lemme see, lemme see--"
For five minutes Mrs. Wiggs rocked meditatively, soothing Tommy to
sleep as she rocked. When she again spoke it was with inspiration:
"I've got it! It looks sometime, Lovey Mary, 's if I'd sorter caught
some of Mr. Wiggs's brains in thinkin' things out. They ain't but one
thing to do with Miss Hazy's husband, an' we'll do it this very
night."
"What, Mrs. Wiggs? What is it?" asked Lovey Mary, eagerly.
"Why, to lose him, of course! We'll wait till Mr. Stubbins is dead
asleep; you know men allays have to sleep off a jag like this. I've
seen Mr. Wiggs--I mean I've heared 'em say so many a time. Well, when
Mr. Stubbins is sound asleep, you an' me an' Billy will drag him out
to the railroad."
Mrs. Wiggs's voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper, and her eyes looked
fierce in the twilight.
Lovey Mary shuddered.
"You ain't going to let the train run over him, are you?" she asked.
"Lor', child, I ain't a 'sassinator! No; we'll wait till the midnight
freight comes along, an' when it stops fer water, we'll h'ist Mr.
Stubbins into one of them empty cars. The train goes 'way out West
somewheres, an' by the time Mr. Stubbins wakes up, he'll be so far
away from home he won't have no money to git back."
"What'll Miss Hazy say?" asked Mary, giggling in nervous excitement.
"Miss Hazy ain't got a thing to do with it," replied Mrs. Wiggs
conclusively.
At midnight, by the dark of the moon, the unconscious groom was borne
out of the Hazy cottage. Mrs. Wiggs carried his head, while Billy
Wiggs and Mary and Asia and Chris officiated at his arms and legs. The
bride surveyed the scene from the chinks of the upstairs shutters.
Silently the little group waited until the lumbering freight train
slowed up to take water, then with a concerted effort they lifted the
heavy burden into an empty car. As they shrank back into the shadow,
Billy whispered to Lovey Mary:
"Say, what was that you put 'longside of him?"
Mary looked shamefaced.
"It was just a little lunch-dinner," she said apologetically; "it
seemed sorter mean to send him off without anything to eat."
"Gee!" said Billy. "You're a cur'us girl!"
The engine whistled, and the train moved thunderously away, bearing an
unconscious passenger, who, as far as the Cabbage Patch was concerned,
was henceforth submerged in the darkness of oblivion.