THE HOME.
Lyman saw nothing of Warren the next day, but on the day following he
strode into the room, whistling in tuneless good humor.
"It's all right," he said, as he sat down. "I went out there and found
her at the churn. I said, 'Look here, you'll drive me mad if you don't
let that churn alone--I mean with the charm of the position.' And then
she blushed, and I would have grabbed a kiss, but she shied to one
side. She scolded me somewhat for coming so soon. She said that people
would wonder what brought me out that way so often. I told her that if
people had any sense they wouldn't wonder long--they would know that
she had brought me there. Then I came out square-toed. I told her that
I had discovered early in the action that I loved her, that I had
waited long enough to be sure that it was not a passing fancy, but a
genuine case of love. I told her that her cousin Jerry might believe
in waiting, but that I did not. Then how she did blush and shy. I
looked away, to give her a chance to get herself together again,
looked out into the field where the old man was at work, and peeped
through a crack at the old lady thumping the carpet loom. I didn't
wait too long, though; I didn't want the girl to have time to cool off
completely, so I said, looking at her. 'I want you to marry me, you
understand; with my prospects I could go throughout the country and
pick up most any woman who is struck on writing verses and essays, but
I don't want one of them--I want you, and I want your promise to tell
that fellow Jerry to go to the deuce, as far as you are concerned; and
I want you to promise to wait for me a week or two and then be my
wife.' Then I thought of how tedious it would be to wait so long and I
corrected my statement by telling her that we needn't wait at all. How
she did flounce in surprise. She said she had no idea that I cared
anything for her. But I stopped her right there. 'That ain't the
question,' I said, 'do you care anything for me? That's the question.'
At this she hung her head and said that she didn't know, exactly, but
that she would think about it. 'I don't want any thinking,' said I.
'What I want is for you to tell me right now.' Then she said something
about that fool cousin. And I told her that I would shoot him on sight
and look for him at that. I started to go away and she caught hold of
me and said that if I promised not to shoot Jerry she would tell me
the next day. 'You tell me now,' said I, 'or that fellow will be a
corpse before morning.' Then she agreed that she thought she did love
me a little. I told her that a little wouldn't satisfy me--I didn't
want a breeze, I wanted a storm. She said I was hard to satisfy. She
didn't think she could please me; she knew that she didn't amount to
much in the eyes of town people. She had hoped so much to please me,
and now she was grieved at her disappointment. She acknowledged that
she was afraid to love me, and I told her that she needn't have any
fear and that she might let herself out at once. And after a good deal
of talk she did. I put her arms around my neck and made her squeeze
me, and I called her a divine boa constrictor. She didn't exactly know
what I meant, but it tickled her all the same. Then I went over into
the field to consult the old man about the time I'd have to wait, and
when I mentioned day after tomorrow he snorted. 'Young fellow,' said
he, 'I like your pushing ways, but I don't want to be crowded off the
face of the earth. You wait awhile. I don't want folks to think that I
am anxious to git rid of the best gal that ever lived.' He got next to
me when he put it that way, and I agreed to wait a week or so. Yes,
sir, it's all right, with the exception that I've got to wait. But I
won't wait alone; I'll go out there every once in awhile and make her
wait with me."
Lyman caught hold of him and they stood near the window, laughing, but
the laughter had more the sound of soft music than of two men in a
merry mood. They sat down in the twilight, and their cigars glowed
like the eyes of a beast, far apart.
Warren's restlessness was worn away in part, and the next day and for
days succeeding he went about his work, humming what he supposed to be
a tune. Two weeks dragged along and the time for the marriage was
approaching. Every day or so the young fellow would drive out into the
country to argue with the old man. He had rented a cottage and had
furnished it and he pleaded the crime of permitting it to stand there
empty of the two hearts that yearned to inhabit it. The old man
acknowledged the logic of the argument, but swore that he could not
have it said that he was anxious to get rid of his girl; and Warren
always agreed to this, at the time of its emphatic utterance, but when
he had driven back to town, and put up his horse, a spirit of
rebellion would arise and back he would go the next day to renew the
contest.
One night when Lyman went home he found old man Staggs in the
sitting-room waiting for him. "I've got something to tell you," said
the old man.
Lyman's heart jumped. "Has she returned?" he asked.
"Has who returned?"
"Why, Mrs. McElwin and her daughter?"
"Oh, I reckon not."
"Then what did you want to tell me?"
"I want to tell you that I won't drink any more."
"You told me that some time ago."
"Yes, but under different circumstances. When I told you, I was sick
and wouldn't have touched a drop if a barrel full had been under my
nose; but I tell you now when I am well. Do you know the reason why I
am so strong in the faith now? Of course you don't, and that is what I
am going to tell you. I was out in the stable this evening and I found
a bottle of liquor. Blast me if I hadn't been wanting it all day. But
what did I do? I went out and threw the bottle--and the liquor--as far
as I could send it, and I heard it squash in the street. And now I
want to ask you if that wasn't nerve."
Lyman summoned his patience and agreed that it was nerve, and the old
man continued. "I told my wife about it, but she didn't believe me.
And now what I want you to do is to convince her that it is a fact.
You can do it with a clear conscience, for I will swear to it. The
fact is there's going to be a reunion of the old home guard at
Downer's grove, about fifteen miles from here, and I want to go. I
went last year and--well, I fell, somewhat. But I wouldn't fall this
time, and I want you to tell Tobithy and Annie to let me go."
"And what if you come home drunk?"
"Lyman," said the old man, puffing up, "I have always stood as your
friend. I have got out of bed at night to argue in your behalf, and I
didn't expect no sich treatment as this. If you want to stab me, why
don't you out with your knife and pop it to me right under the ribs.
Here," he added, turning toward Lyman and smoothing his shirt tight
over his side, "stab me right here and I won't say a word; but, for
the Lord's sake, don't question my honor. Let me tell you something: I
am a poor man and in debt; I need clothes and sometimes I am out of
tobacco, but I wouldn't touch a drop of whisky for money enough to dam
the Mississippi river. That's me, Lyman, and you may wollop it about
in your mouth and chew on it. It is no more than natural that I should
want to join my old friends. Of course we were not actually in the
army, but we would have been soldiers if we hadn't been captured and
disarmed, and we have an affection for the old organization. There
ain't many of us left and it is cruelty to keep us apart. And I can't
go unless Tobithy lets me take the money. It won't require more than
five dollars. Will you assure her that I'll come home sober?"
"I don't think I can do that, Uncle Jasper. Understand, now, I believe
you think you'll keep sober, but the truth of it is you can't. Why, if
you didn't drink, the old fellows wouldn't be your companions."
The "veteran" smoothed his shirt over his side. "Stab me," he said.
"Pop your knife under this rib--this one, right here. It will be a
mercy to me if you do. When a man out-lives his word of honor, it's
time to go and go violently. Pop it."
"Your drinking doesn't amount to much, Uncle Jasper. You don't drink
viciously, but reminiscently. However, it is a crime to take money
from those women--Hold on; I know you do all you can to earn a living;
you work whenever anything comes up, but you haven't earned five
dollars in--"
"I earned the money, but the scoundrel didn't pay me," the old fellow
broke in. "I've got hundreds of dollars owin' to me, but the rascals
laugh at me. I cured old Thompson's sick horse--worked with him all
night, nearly, and he gave me a dollar. Haven't earned five dollars!
the devil! How can a man earn five dollars when a scoundrel pays him
one dollar for fifteen dollars' worth of labor? The shirt ain't very
thick. The knife will go in all right. Pop it." He smoothed his shirt
and closed his eyes as if expecting the death blow.
"You didn't let me get through," said Lyman. "I was going to say that
your drinking did no particular harm. To meet your old cronies and to
warm up with them is about all that is left to you of real enjoyment.
Sooner or later we all live in the past, and there can be no very
great evil in bringing the past near. So, now, if you will promise me
to come home in as good condition as you can, I will give you five
dollars."
The old fellow gulped, wheeled about to hide his eyes and leant
forward with his face in his hands. Lyman slipped a bank note between
his fingers and without saying a word went up stairs. At breakfast the
next morning, which was the day of the reunion of the gallant home
guard, old Jasper was full of life and hope, but that night when Lyman
came home, he found him leaning on the gate, unable to find the latch.
"I'm all right," he said.
"I believe you are," Lyman replied.
"Am, for a fact. I promised to come in good shape. Here, all right."
Lyman managed to get him to bed without disturbing anyone, but later
at night he heard the women lashing him with their tongues. He knew
that there was justice in the lashing and he dreaded lest they should
cut at him for abetting the crime, but they did not, for at breakfast
they smiled at him, doubtless not having discovered his complicity.
The old man was heart-sick. "I want to see you," he said to Lyman, and
leading him into the sitting-room, continued: "I have said it before,
I know, but I want to say it now once for all that I'll never touch
another drop as long as I live. Why, confound my old hide, don't I
know exactly what it will do for me; and do you think I'll
deliberately make a brute of myself? I won't, that's all. It's all
right to bring the past back, that is, for a man who can do it, but it
isn't for me, I tell you that. And I don't want to see those home
guards any more. Why, if they had taken my advice, do you suppose they
would have surrendered without firing a gun? They wouldn't. I argued
with them and swore at them, but they stacked their guns; and then
what could I do but surrender? That's neither here nor there,
though--I'm never goin' to drink another drop. Oh, I've said it
before--I know that, but it sticks, this time."