VILLAGE GOSSIP.
After supper on the day he had been visiting Mr. and Mrs. Putnam, Quincy
went to his room and wrote a long letter to his father, inquiring if he
ever had an uncle by the name of James Sawyer. Before retiring he sat
and thought over the experiences of the past fortnight since his arrival
in Eastborough, but the most of his thoughts were given to the remark
made by Mrs. Putnam about his leaving Deacon Mason's. He had been
uniformly polite and to a slight degree attentive to Miss Mason. The
Deacon's horse was a slow one, and so on several occasions he had hired
a presentable rig and a good stepper over to Eastborough Centre, and had
taken Miss Mason out to ride. He reflected now, as he had never done
before, that of course the whole town knew this, and the thought came
home to him strongly that by so doing he might have inflicted a triple
injury upon Miss Mason, Mr. Pettingill, and himself. He was not in love
with Miss Mason, nor Miss Putnam; they were both pretty girls, and in
the city it was the custom to be attentive to pretty girls without
regard to consequences.
He had asked Miss Mason to go riding with him the next day, but he
inwardly resolved that it would be the last time he would take her, and
he was in doubt whether to go back to the city at once or go to some
other town and board at a hotel, or look around and find some other
place in Eastborough. One consideration kept him from leaving
Eastborough; he knew that if he did so the singing-master would claim
that he had driven him out of town, and although he had a hearty
contempt for the man, he was too high spirited to leave town and give
the people any reason to think that Strout's antipathy to him had
anything to do with it.
Finally a bright idea struck him. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He
would go and see Uncle Ike, state the case frankly and ask him to let
him live with him for a month. He could bunk in the kitchen, and he
preferred Uncle Ike's conversation to that of any other of the male sex
whom he had met in Eastborough. With this idea firmly fixed in his mind
he retired and slept peacefully.
While Quincy was debating with himself and coming to the conclusion
previously mentioned, another conversation, in which his name often
occurred, took place in Deacon Mason's kitchen.
The old couple were seated by the old-fashioned fireplace, in which a
wood fire was burning. The stove had superseded the hanging crane and
the tin oven for cooking purposes, but Deacon Mason clung to the
old-fashioned fireplace for heat and light. The moon was high and its
rays streamed in through the windows, the curtains of which had not been
drawn.
For quite a while they sat in silence, then Deacon Mason said, "There is
something I want to speak about, mother, and yet I don't want to. I know
there is nothing to it and nothing likely to come of it, but the fact
is, mother, Huldy's bein' talked about down to the Corner, 'cause Mr.
Sawyer is boardin' here. You know she goes out ridin' with him, which
ain't no harm, and she has a sort o' broken with 'Zekiel, for which I am
sorry, for 'Zekiel is one of the likely young men of the town."
"So I do, father," said Mrs. Mason, "and if you don't meddle, things
will come out all right. Mr. Sawyer don't care nothing for Huldy, and I
don't think she cares anything for him. He will be going back to the
city in a little while and then things will be all right again."
"Well," said the Deacon, "I think Huldy better stop goin' out to ride
with him anyway; she is high spirited, and if I tell her not to go
she'll want to know why."
"But," broke in Mrs. Mason, "ef you tell him won't he want to know why?"
"Well, perhaps," said the Deacon, "but I will speak to him anyway."
The next morning after breakfast Deacon Mason asked Mr. Sawyer to step
into the parlor, and remarking that when he had anything to say he
always said it right out, he asked Quincy if he was on good terms with
Mr. 'Zekiel Pettengill.
"I don't know," said Quincy. "I don't know of anything that I have done
at which he could take offence, but he keeps away from me, and when I do
meet him and speak to him, a 'yes' or 'no' is all I get in reply."
"Haven't you any idea what makes him treat you so?" asked the Deacon.
Quincy flushed.
"Yes, Mr. Mason, I think I do know, but it never entered my mind until
late yesterday afternoon, and then it was called to my attention by a
stranger. I am glad I have this chance to speak to you, Mr. Mason, for
while I have had a very enjoyable time here, I have decided to find
another boarding place, and I shall leave just as soon as I make the
necessary arrangements."
The Deacon was a little crestfallen at having the business taken out of
his hands so quickly, and saying he was very sorry to have the young man
go, he sought his wife and told her everything was fixed up and that Mr.
Sawyer was going away.
Quincy started to leave the house by the front door; in the hallway he
met Huldy, who had just come down stairs. He had asked her to go to ride
with him that day, and as he looked at her pretty face he vowed to
himself that he would not be deprived of that pleasure. It could do no
harm, for it would be their last ride together and probably their last
meeting.
He said, "Good morning, Miss Mason," and then added with that tone which
the society belle considers a matter of course, but which is so pleasing
to the village maiden, "You look charming this morning, Miss Mason. I
don't think our ride to-day could make your cheeks any redder than they
are now." Huldy blushed, making her cheeks a still deeper crimson. "I
will be here at one o'clock with the team," said Quincy. "Will you be
ready?"
"Yes," answered Huldy softly.
Quincy raised his hat, and a moment later he was on his way to
Eastborough Centre.
He walked briskly and thought he would stop at Uncle Ike's and carry out
the resolution he had made the night before, but as he turned up the
path that led to the house he saw a man standing on the steps talking to
Uncle Ike, who stood in the doorway. The young man was Ezekiel
Pettengill. Shakespeare says,
"'Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all,"
and although Quincy at heart was a gentleman, he also knew it was not
quite right for him to take Miss Mason out riding again under the
circumstances; but young men are often stubborn and Quincy felt a little
stiff-necked and rebellious that morning.
He reached Eastborough Centre, mailed his father the letter relating to
Jim Sawyer, and going to the stable, picked out the best rig it could
supply. He always had the same horse. It was somewhat small in size, but
a very plump, white mare; she was a good roadster and it was never
necessary to touch her with the whip. Shake it in the stock and she
would not forget it for the next two miles. The stable keeper told with
much unction how two fellows hired her to go from Eastborough Centre to
Montrose. On their way home they had drunk quite freely at the latter
place, and thought they would touch the mare up with the whip; they were
in an open team and the result was that she left them at different
points along the road and reached home with no further impediment to her
career than the shafts and the front wheels.
Instead of coming back by the main road which led by Uncle Ike's, Quincy
went through by what was called The Willows, which increased the
distance a couple of miles. Nevertheless, it lacked five minutes of one
o'clock when he drove up to Deacon Mason's front door.
Huldy was all dressed for the occasion, and with a "Good-by, mother," to
Mrs. Mason, who was in the kitchen, was out the front door, helped into
the team, and they were off just as the startled matron reached the
parlor window. Mrs. Mason returned to the kitchen and at that moment the
Deacon came in from the barn.
"What's the matter, mother?" asked the Deacon, noticing her excited and
somewhat troubled look.
"Huldy is gone out riding again with Mr. Sawyer," said she.
The Deacon was a good Christian man and didn't swear, but he was
evidently thinking deeply. Finally he said, "Well, mother, we must make
the best of it. I'll help him find a boarding place if he don't get one
by to-morrow."
They had a splendid drive. The air was cool, but not biting, the sun was
warm, the roads had dried up since the recent thaw, which had removed
the snow, with the exception of some patches in the fields, and the
high-topped buggy rolled smoothly over the ground.
They passed through the little square in front of Hill's grocery, and as
luck would have it, Professor Strout was standing on the platform
smoking a cigar. Huldy smiled and nodded to him, and Quincy, with true
politeness, followed a city custom and raised his hat, but the Professor
did not return the bow, nor the salute, but turning on his heel walked
into the grocery store.
"Professor Strout is not very polite, is he, Mr. Sawyer?" asked Huldy,
laughing.
Quincy replied, looking straight ahead, "He has never learned the first
letter in the alphabet of the art."
Quincy had a disagreeable duty to perform. He enjoyed Miss Huldy's
company, but she was not the sort of girl he could love enough to make
his wife. Then the thought came to him, supposing she should fall in
love with him; that was not impossible, and it must be prevented.
When they were about half a mile from Mason's Corner, on their way home,
Quincy realized that he could not put the matter off any longer.
Just as he was going to speak to her she turned to him and said, "Let me
drive the rest of the way home, Mr. Sawyer."
"Oh, no," replied Quincy, "I think I had better keep the reins. You know
I am responsible for you until you are safe at home."
Huldy pouted. "You think I can't drive," said she, "I have driven horses
all my life. Please let me, Mr. Sawyer," she added coaxingly. And she
took the reins from his hands.
"Well," said Quincy, "you are now responsible for me and I shall expect
you to be very careful."
They drove a short distance in silence; then Quincy turned to her and
said abruptly, "This is our last ride together, Miss Mason."
"Why?" inquired she with an astonished look in her face.
"I am going to leave your very pleasant home to-morrow," said Quincy.
The girl's cheeks paled perceptibly.
"Are you going back to Boston?" she asked.
"No, not for some time," Quincy replied, "but I have had some advice
given me and I think it best to follow it."
"You have been advised to leave my father's house," said she, holding
the reins listlessly in her hand.
Quincy said, "You won't be offended if I tell you the whole truth?"
"No; why should I?" asked Huldy.
As she said this she gathered up the reins and gave them a sharp pull.
The white mare understood this to be a signal to do some good travelling
and she started off at a brisk trot.
Quincy said, "I was told yesterday by a friend that if I was not a
marrying man they would advise me to leave Deacon Mason's house at
once."
The blood shot into Huldy's face at once. He was not a marrying man and
consequently he was going to leave. He did not care for her or he would
stay. Then another thought struck her. Perhaps he was going away because
he was afraid she would fall in love with him.
As the Deacon had said, she was high spirited, and for an instant she
was filled with indignation. She shut her eyes, and her heart seemed to
stop its beating. She heard Quincy's voice, "Look out for the curve,
Miss Mason." She dropped the left rein and mechanically gave the right
one a strong, sharp pull with both hands. Quincy grasped the reins, but
it was too late.
Huldy's pull on the right rein had thrown the horse almost at right
angles to the buggy. The steep hill and sharp curve in the road did the
rest. The buggy stood for an instant on two wheels, then fell on its
side with a crash, taking the horse off her feet at the same time.
Huldy pitched forward as the buggy was falling, striking her left arm
upon the wheel, and then fell into the road. Quincy gave a quick leap
over the dasher, falling on the prostrate horse, and grasping her by the
head, pressed it to the ground. The mare lay motionless. Quincy rushed
to Miss Mason and lifted her to her feet, but found her a dead weight in
his arms. He looked in her face. She had evidently fainted. Her left arm
hung by her side in a helpless sort of way; he touched it lightly
between the elbow and shoulder. It was broken. Grasping her in his arms
he ran to the back door and burst into the kitchen where Mrs. Mason was
at work.
Quincy said in quick, excited tones, "There has been an accident, Mrs.
Mason, and your daughter's arm is broken; she has also fainted. I will
take her right to her room and put her on her bed. You can bring her out
of that." Suiting the action to the word, he took Huldy upstairs,
saying, "I will go for the doctor at once."
Then he dashed down the stairs and out of the front door; as he reached
the team he found Hiram standing beside it, his eyes wide open with
astonishment.
"Had a smash-up, Mr. Sawyer?" he asked. "How did it happen?"
"All my carelessness," said Quincy. "Come, give me a lift on the buggy,
quick."
How it was done Quincy could never tell afterwards, but in a very short
time the buggy was righted, the mare on her feet and the harness
adjusted. Hiram took off his cap and began dusting the mare, whose white
coat showed the dust very plainly.
"Where does the nearest doctor live, Hiram?" asked Quincy.
"Second house up the road you just come down," said Hiram. "The folks
say he don't know much, anyway."
"Well, you get him here as quick as possible," said Quincy. "I am going
to Eastborough Centre to telegraph for a surgeon and a trained nurse.
Can you remember that?"
Quincy passed him a dollar bill.
Hiram winked and said, "I guess I can," and darted off up the hill.
Quincy sprang into the team and the white mare dashed forward at full
speed. As he reached the Pettengill house he saw Ezekiel standing at the
front gate. With difficulty he pulled the mare up, for she was greatly
excited.
"Mr. Pettengill," said he, "there has been a serious accident. Miss
Mason has been thrown from her carriage and her left arm is broken. I
sent Hiram for a doctor and I am on my way to Eastborough to telegraph
to Boston for a surgeon and a nurse. I shall not return to-night. Go up
to the Deacon's and stay with her."
As he said this the mare gave a bound forward and she never slackened
pace until Eastborough Centre was reached.
Quincy sent his telegram and returned the injured buggy and the horse to
the stable keeper, telling him to have it repaired and he would pay the
bill. He arranged to have a driver and a four-seated team ready on the
arrival of the train bearing the doctor and the nurse. In about an hour
he received a telegram that they would leave on the 6.05 express and
would reach Eastborough Centre at 7.15.
They arrived, and the hired driver, doctor, and nurse started for
Mason's Corner.
The last train to Boston left at 9.20. Ten minutes before that hour the
team returned with the doctor.
"She is all right," he said. "Everything has been done for her, and the
other doctor will write me when my services are needed again. Good
night."
The train dashed in and the doctor sped back to Boston.
Quincy had engaged a room at the hotel, and he at once retired to it,
but not to sleep. He passed the most uncomfortable night that had ever
come to him.
The next afternoon Hiram told Mandy that he heard Professor Strout say
to Robert Wood that he guessed that "accident would never have occurred
if that city chap hadn't been trying to drive hoss with one hand."
Mandy said, "That Strout is a mean old thing, anyway, and if you tell me
another thing that he says, I'll fill your mouth full o' soft soap, or
my name isn't Mandy Skinner."