SAWNEY AND WESTCOTT.
David Sawney was delighted with the news that Albert Charlton and Smith
Westcott had quarreled. "Westcott's run of luck in that quarter's broke.
When a feller has a run of luck right along, and they comes a break, 'ts
all up with him. Broke luck can't be spliced. It's David Sawney's turn
now. Poor wind that blows no whar. I'll bet a right smart pile I'll pack
the little gal off yet."
But if an inscrutable Providence had omitted to make any Smith Westcotts,
Dave Sawney wouldn't have stood the ghost of a chance with Katy. His
supreme self-complacency gave her no occasion to pity him. Her love was
close of kin to her tender-heartedness, and all pity was wasted on Dave.
He couldn't have been more entirely happy than he was if he had owned the
universe in fee simple.
However, Dave was resolved to try his luck, and so, soon after Albert's
departure, he blacked up his vast boots and slicked his hair, and went to
Plausaby's. He had the good luck to find Katy alone.
"Howdy! Howdy! Howdy git along? Lucky, ain't I, to find you in? Haw! haw!
I'm one of the luckiest fellers ever was born. Always wuz lucky. Found a
fip in a crack in the hearth 'fore I was three year old. 'Ts a fack.
Found a two-and-a-half gole piece wunst. Golly, didn't I feel _some_!
Haw! haw! haw! The way of't wuz this." But we must not repeat the story
in all its meanderings, lest readers should grow as tired of it as Katy
did; for Dave crossed one leg over the other, looked his hands round his
knee, and told it with many a complacent haw! haw! haw! When he laughed,
it was not from a sense of the ludicrous: his guffaw was a pure eruption
of delighted self-conceit.
"I thought as how as I'd like to explain to you somethin' that might
'a' hurt yer feelin's, Miss Charlton. Didn't you feel a little teched
at sompin'?"
"No, Mr. Sawney, you never hurt my feelings."
"Well, gals is slow to own up that they're hurt, you know. But I'm shore
you couldn't help bein', and I'm ever so sorry. Them Injin goin'-ons of
mine wuz enough to 'a' broke your heart."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, my sellin' out to Perritaut for ten thousand dollars, only I
didn't. Haw! haw!" and Dave threw his head back to laugh. "You had a
right to feel sorter bad to think I would consent to marry a Injin. But
'tain't every feller as'll git ten thousand offered in five annooal
payments; an' I wanted you to understand 'twan't the Injin, 'twas the
cash as reached me. When it comes to gals, you're the posy fer me."
Katy grew red, but didn't know what to say or do.
"I heerd tell that that feller Westcott'd got his walkin' papers. Sarved
him right, dancin' roun' like a rang-a-tang, and jos'lin' his keys and
ten-cent pieces in his pocket, and sayin' imperdent things. But I could
'a' beat him at talk the bes' day he ever seed ef he'd on'y 'a' gi'n me
time to think. I kin jaw back splendid of you gin me time. Haw! haw! haw!
But he ain't far--don't never gin a feller time to git his thoughts
gethered up, you know. He jumps around like the Frenchman's flea. Put yer
finger on him an' he ain't thar, and never wuz. Haw! haw! haw! But jest
let him stay still wunst tell I get a good rest on him like, and I'll be
dog-on'd ef I don't knock the hine sights offen him the purtiest day he
ever seed! Haw! haw! haw! Your brother Albert handled him rough, didn't
he? Sarved him right. I say, if a man is onrespectful to a woman, her
brother had orter thrash him; and your'n done it. His eye's blacker'n my
boot. And his nose! Haw! haw! it's a-mournin' fer his brains! Haw I haw!
haw! And he feels bad bekase you cut him, too. Jemently, ef he don' look
like 's ef he'd kill hisself fer three bits."
Katy was so affected by this fearful picture of poor, dear Smith's
condition, that she got up and hurried out of the room to cry.
"What on airth's the matter?" soliloquized Dave. "Bashful little creeter,
I 'low. Thought I wuz a-comin to the p'int, maybe. Well, nex' time'll
do. Haw! haw! Young things is cur'us now, _to_ be shore. Mout's well be a
gittin' on, I reckon. Gin her time to come round, I 'low."
With such wooing, renewed from time to time, the clumsy and complacent
Dave whiled away his days, and comforted himself that he had the
persimmon-tree all to himself, as he expressed it. Meanwhile, the notes
of Westcott were fast undoing all that Albert had done to separate him
from "the purty little girl."
[Illustration: "WHAT ON AIRTH'S THE MATTER?"]
Of course, when the right time came, he happened to meet Katy on the
street, and to take off his hat and make a melancholy bow, the
high-tragedy air of which confirmed Katy's suspicions that he meant to
commit suicide at the first opportunity. Then he chanced to stop at the
gate, and ask, in a tone sad enough to have been learned from the
gatherers of cold victuals, if he might come in. In three days more, he
was fully restored to favor and to his wonted cheerfulness. He danced, he
sang, he chirruped, he rattled his keys, he was the Privileged Infant
once more. He urged Katy to marry him at once, but her heart was now rent
by pity for Albert and by her eager anxiety lest he should do something
desperate when he heard of her reconciliation. She trembled every day at
thought of what might happen when he should return.
"Goin' to pre-empt in a few days, Katy. Whisky Jim come plaguey near to
gittin' that claim. He got Shamberson on his side, and if Shamberson's
brother-in-law hadn't been removed from the Land Office before it was
tried, he'd a got it. I'm going to pre-empt and build the cutest little
bird's nest for you.
"If I was young and in my prime,
I'd lead a different life,
I'd save my money, and buy me a farm,
Take Dinah for my wife.
Oh! carry me back--
"Psha! Dat dah ain't de toon, bruddern. Ahem!
"When you and I get married, love,
How jolly it will be!
We'll keep house in a store-box, then,
Just two feet wide by three!
Store-box!
Band-box!
All the same to me!
"And when we want our breakfast, love,
We'll nibble bread and chee--
It's good enough for you, love,
And most too good for me!
White bread!
Brown bread!
All the same to me!
"Dog-on'd ef 'tain't. White bread's good as brown bread. One's jest as
good as the other, and a good deal better. It's all the same to me, and
more so besides, and something to carry. It's all the same, only
'tain't. Ahem:
"Jane and Sukey and July Ann--
Too brown, too slim, too stout!
You needn't smile on this 'ere man,
Git out! git out! git out!
But the maiden fair
With bonny brown hair--
Let all the rest git out!"--
"Get out yourself!" thundered Albert Charlton, bursting in at that
moment. "If you don't get your pack of tomfoolery out of here quick, I'll
get it out for you," and he bore down on Westcott fiercely.
"I beg pardon, Mr. Charlton. I'm here to see your sister with her consent
and your mother's, and--"
"And I tell you," shouted Albert, "that my sister is a little girl, and
my mother doesn't understand such puppies as you, and I am my sister's
protector, and if you don't get out of here, I'll kill you if I can."
"Albert, don't be so quarrelsome," said Mrs. Plausaby, coming in at the
instant. "I'm sure Mr. Westcott's a genteel man, and good-natured to
Katy, and--"
"Out! out! I say, confound you! or I'll break your empty head," thundered
Charlton, whose temper was now past all softening. "Put your hand on
that pistol, if you dare," and with that he strode at the Privileged
Infant with clenched fist, and the Privileged Infant prudently backed out
the door into the yard, and then, as Albert kept up his fierce advance,
the Privileged Infant backed out of the gate into the street. He was not
a little mortified to see the grinning face of Dave Sawney in the crowd
about the gate, and to save appearances, he called back at Albert, who
was returning toward the house, that he would settle this affair with him
yet. But he did not know how thoroughly Charlton's blood was up.
"Settle it?" said Albert--yelled Albert, I should say--turning back on
him with more fury than ever. "Settle it, will you? I'll settle it right
here and now, you cowardly villain! Let's have it through, now," and he
walked swiftly at Westcott, who walked away; but finding that the
infuriated Albert was coming after him, the Privileged Infant hurried on
until his retreat became a run, Westcott running down street, Charlton
hotly pursuing him, the spectators running pell-mell behind, laughing,
cheering, and jeering.
"Don't come back again if you don't want to get killed," the angry
Charlton called, as he turned at last and went toward home.
"Now, Katy," he said, with more energy than tenderness, as he entered the
house, "if you are determined to marry that confounded rascal, I shall
leave at once. You must decide now. If you will go East with me next
week, well and good. If you won't give up Smith Westcott, then I shall
leave you now forever."
Katy couldn't bear to be the cause of any disaster to anybody; and just
at this moment Smith was out of sight, and Albert, white and trembling
with the reaction of his passion, stood before her. She felt, somehow,
that she had brought all this trouble on Albert, and in her pity for him,
and remorse for her own course, she wept and clung to her brother, and
begged him not to leave her. And Albert said: "There, don't cry any more.
It's all right now. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. There, there!"
There is nothing a man can not abide better than a woman in tears.