CHAPTER IV
SWEETER WHEN TAMED?
I wonder if men ever melt suddenly into little boys, and try to squirmand run back to hide their heads in their mothers' skirts. It is an opensecret that starchy, modern women often long to wilt back into droopymusk roses, that climb over gates and things, but they don't let eachother. When I feel myself getting soluble, I write it out to Jane and Iget a bracing cold wave of a letter in reply. The one this morning wason the subject of love, or, at least, that is what Jane would have saidit was on. She wrote:
Yes, it is gratifying to know that Mary Elizabeth is so happily engagedto the young teacher who has been in her work with her. She writes thatshe was encouraged by our resolution, at last to be her best self whilein his presence as she had not had the courage to do last year. You see,Evelina? And also, you are right in your conclusion that there is notenough abstract love in this world of brotherhood and sisterhood; thatthe doctrine of divine love calls us to give more and more of it. Wecannot give too much! But also, considerations for the advancement ofthe world call for experiments by the more illumined women along moredefinite and concrete lines. How old is this Mr. Hayes, on whom you havechosen to note the reactions of sisterly affection? Are you sure that heis not a fit subject for your consideration in the matter of a choicefor a mate?
Remember to be as frank in your expressions of regard for him as he isin his of regard for you. That is the crux of the whole matter. Befrank, be courageous! Let a man look freely into your heart, and thusencouraged he will open his to you. Then you will both have anopportunity to judge each other with reference to a life-long union. Itis the only way; and remember what rests on you in this matter. Thedestinies of many women are involved.
* * * * *
I don't say this in a spirit of levity, but I do wish Polk Hayes andJane Mathers were out on the front steps in the moonlight, after a goodsupper that has made him comfortable, Jane to be attired in somethingsoft that would float against his arm, whether she wanted it to or not!I believe it would be good for Jane, and make things easier for me. Befrank with Polk as to how much he asphyxiates me? I know better than toblow out the gas like that! No, Jane!
But what is a woman going to do when she is young and hearty and husky,with the blood running through her veins at a two-forty rate, when herorchard is in bloom, the mocking-birds are singing the night through,and she is not really in love with anybody? The loneliness does fillher heart full of the solution of love, and she has got to pour off someof it into somebody's life. There is plenty of me to be both abstractand concrete, at the same time, and I thought of Uncle Peter.
Uncle Peter Is the most explosive and crusty person that ever happenedin Glendale, and it takes all of Aunt Augusta's energy, common-sense andforce of character to keep him and the two chips he carries on hisshoulders, as a defiance to the world in general, from being in aconstant state of combustion. He has been ostensibly the Mayor ofGlendale for twenty-five years, and Aunt Augusta has done the work ofthe office very well indeed, while he has blown up things in generalwith great energy. He couldn't draw a long breath without her, but ofcourse he doesn't realize it. He thinks he is in a constant feud withher and her sex. His ideas on the woman question are so terrific that Ihave always run from them, but I concluded that it would be a goodthing for me to liquefy some of my vague humanitarianism, and help AuntAugusta with him, while she wrestles with the City Council on the waterquestion. Anyway, I have always had a guarded fondness for the old chap.
I chose a time when I knew Aunt Augusta had to be busy with his reportof the disastrous concrete paving trade the whole town had been sold outon, and I lay in wait to capture him and the chips. This morning Iwaited behind the old purple lilac at the gate, which immediately gotinto the game by sweeping its purple-plumed arms all around me, so thatnot a tag of my dimity alarmed him as he came slowly down the street.
"Uncle Peter," I said, as I stepped out in front of him suddenly,"please, Uncle Peter, won't you come in and talk to me?"
"Hey? Evelina?"
"Yes, Uncle Peter, it's Evelina," and I hesitated with terror at thesnap in his dear old eyes, back under their white brows. Then I let myeyes uncover my heart full of the elixir I had prepared for him, andoffered him as much as he could drink.
"I'm lonely," I said, with a little catch in my voice.
"Lonely--hey?" he grumbled, but his feet hesitated opposite my gate.
In about two and a half minutes I had him seated in a cushioned rockeron the south side of the porch. Jasper had given us both a mint julep,and Uncle Peter was much Jess thirsty than he had been for a long time.Aunt Augusta is as temperate in all things as a steel ramrod.
"You see, Uncle Peter, I needed you so that I just had to kidnap you," Isaid to him, as he wiped his lips with a pocket-handkerchief, as stifflystarched as was his wife herself.
"Why didn't you go over and live in James's hennery--live with James--hey?"he snapped, with the precision of a pistol cap.
To be just, I suppose Aunt Augusta's adamant disposition accounts, tosome extent, for Uncle Peter's explosive way of thinking and speaking. Ahusband would have to knock Aunt Augusta's nature down to make anyimpression whatever on it. Uncle Peter always has the air of firing anidea and then ducking his head to avoid the return shot.
"His house is so full, and I need a lot of space to carry on my work," Ianswered him, with the words I have used so often in the last two weeksthat they start to come when the Petunia asks me if I want waffles orbatter-cakes for supper.
"Well, Sallie Carruthers will get him, and then there'll be a dozen moreto run the measure over--children--hey? All girls! A woman like Salliewould not be content with producing less than a dozen of herkind--hey?"
His chuckle was so contagious that I couldn't help but join him, thoughI didn't like it so very much. But why shouldn't I? Sallie is such agorgeous woman that a dozen of her in the next generation will be ofvalue to the State. Still, I didn't like it. I didn't enjoy thinking ofCousin James as so serving his country.
"Carruthers left her to James--he'll have to take care of her. Henryturned toes in good time. Piled rotten old business and big family on toJames's shoulders, and then died--good time--hey? Get a woman on yourhands, only thing to do is to marry or kill her. Poor James--hey?" Hepeered at me with a twinkle in his eyes that demanded assent from me.
"Why, Uncle Peter, I don't know that Sallie has any such idea. Shegrieves dreadfully over Mr. Carruthers, and I don't believe she wouldthink of marrying again," I answered, trying to put enough warmth in mydefense to convince myself.
"Most women are nothing but gourd-vines, grow all over a corn-stalk,kill it, produce gourds until it frosts, and begin all over again in thenext generation. James has to do the hoeing around Sallie's roots, andfeed her. Might as well marry her--hey?"
"Does--does Cousin James have to support Sallie and the children, UnclePeter?" I asked, coming with reluctance down to the rock-bed of thediscussion.
"Thinks he does, and it serves him right--serves him right for startingout to run a widow-ranch in the first place; it's like making acollection of old shoes. He let Henry Carruthers persuade him tomortgage everything and buy land on the river for the car-shops of thenew railroad, which just fooled the town out of a hundred thousanddollars, and is going by on the other side of the river with the shopsup at Bolivar. If James didn't get all the lawing in Alton County theywould all starve to death--which would be hard on the constitution ofold lady Hargrove, and her two hundred-weight."
"Oh, has Cousin James really lost all of his fortune?" I asked, and Iwas surprised at the amount of sympathetic dismay that rose in me at theinformation.
"Everything but what he carries around under that old gray hat ofhis--not so bad a fortune, at that!--hey?"
I feel I am going to love Uncle Peter for the way he disdainfullyadmires Cousin James.
"And--and all of his--his guests are really dependent on him?" I askedagain, as the stupendous fa
ct filtered into my mind.
"All the flock, all the flock," answered Uncle Peter, with what seemed,under the circumstances, a heartless chuckle. "They each one have littledabs of property, about as big as a handful of chicken feed, and as theyhave each one given it all to James to manage, they expect an income inreturn--and get it--all they ask for. A lot of useless old livestock--all but Sallie, and she's worse--worse, hey?"
I agreed with his question--but I didn't say so.
"Glad your money is safe in Public Town Bonds and City Securities,Evelina. If James could, he might lose it, and you'd have to move over.It would then be nip and tuck between you and Sallie which gotJames--nip and tuck--hey?"
"Oh, Uncle Peter!" I exclaimed with positive horror that was flavoredwith a large dash of indignation.
"Well, yes, a race between a widow and a girl for a man is about likeone between a young duck and a spring chicken, across a mill-pond--girland chicken lose--hey? But let Sallie have him, since you don't needhim. I've got to go home and listen to Augusta talk about my business,that she knows nothing in the world about, or I won't be ready for townmeeting this afternoon. Women are all fools,--hey?"
"Will you come again, Uncle Peter?" I asked eagerly. I had set out tooffer Uncle Peter a cup of niecely affection, and I had got a good,stiff bracer to arouse me in return.
"I will, whenever I can escape Augusta," he answered, and there was sucha kindly crackle in his voice that I felt that he had wanted and neededwhat I had offered him. "I'll drop in often and analyze the annals ofthe town with you. Glad to have you home, child, good young blood tostir me up--hey?"
And as I sat and watched the Mayor go saunteringly down the street, withhis crustiness carried like a child on his shoulder, which it delightedhim to have knocked off, so that he could philosophize in the restoringof it to its position, suddenly a realization of the relation ofGlendale to the world in general was forced upon me--and I quailed.
Glendale is like a dozen other small towns in the Harpeth Valley; theyare all drowsy princesses who have just waked up enough to be wonderingwhat did it. The tentative kiss has not yet disclosed the presence ofthe Prince of Revolution, and they are likely to doze for anothercentury or two. I think I had better go back into the wide world and letthem sleep on. One live member is likely to irritate the repose of thewhole body.
Their faint stirrings of progress are pathetic.
They have an electric plant, but, as I have noted before, the lightstherefrom show a strong trace of their pine-knot heredity, and go out onall important occasions, whether of festivity or tragedy. Kerosene lampshave to be kept filled and cleaned if a baby or a revival or a lawnfestival is expected.
They have a lovely, wide concrete pavement in front of six of the storesaround the public square, but no two stretches of the improvement joineach other, and it makes a shopping progression around the town somewhatdangerous, on account of the sudden change of grade of the sidewalk,about every sixty feet. Aunt Augusta wanted Uncle Peter to introduce abill in the City Council forcing all of the property owners on theSquare to put down the pavement in front of their houses, at smallpayments per annum, the town assuming the contract at six per cent.Uncle Peter refused, because he said that he felt a smooth walk aroundthe Square would call out what he called "a dimity parade" everyafternoon.
They have a water system that is supplied by so much mud from the riverthat it often happens that the town has to go unwashed for a week, whilethe pipes are cleaned out. There is a wonderful spring that could beused, with a pump to supply the town, Aunt Augusta says.
The City Council tied up the town for a hundred thousand dollars'subscription to the new railroad, and failed to tie the shops down inthe contract. They are to be built in Bolivar. A great many of the richmen have lost a lot of money thereby, Cousin James the most of all, andeverybody is sitting up in bed blinking.
There are still worse things happening in the emotional realm ofGlendale.
Lee Greenfield has been in the state of going to ask Caroline Lellyettto marry him for fifteen years, and has never done it. Caroline has beenbeautiful all her life, but she is getting so thin and faded at thirtythat she is a tragedy. Lee goes to see her twice a week, and on Sundayafternoon takes her out in his new and rakish runabout, that is asmodern as his behavior is obsolete. Caroline knows no better, and standsit with sublime patience and lack of character. That is a situation Iwon't be able to keep my hands off of much longer.
Ned Hall's wife has seven children with the oldest one not twelve, andshe looks fifty. Ned goes to all the dances at the Glendale Hoteldining-room and looks thirty. He dresses beautifully and Nell and allthe girls like to dance with him. Just ordinary torture wouldn't do forhim.
Polk Hayes wouldn't be allowed to run loose in London society.
Sallie Carruthers is a great big husky woman, with three children thatshe is responsible for having had. She and her family must consume tonsof green groceries every month and a perfectly innocent man pays forthem.
Mrs. Dodd, the carpenter-and-contractor's wife is a Boston woman whocame down here--Before I could write all about that Boston girl so thatJane could understand perfectly the situation Polk came around from theside street and seated himself on the railing of the porch so near thearm of my chair that I couldn't rock without inconveniencing him.
I am glad he found me in the mood I was in and I am glad to record thestrong-minded--it came near being the strong-armed--contest in which weindulged.
"Me for a woman that has a lot of spirit--she is so much sweeter whentamed, Evelina," was one of the gentle remarks with which heprecipitated the riot. "I think it has been spunkily fascinating of youto come and live by yourself in this old barn. It keeps me awake nightsjust to think of you over here--alone. How long is the torture to goon?"
Jane, I tried, but if I had frankly and courageously shown Polk Hayeswhat was in my heart for him at that moment, I couldn't have answeredfor the results.
From the time I was eighteen until I was twenty the same sort of assaultand battery had been handed out to me from him. He had beaten me withhis love. He didn't want me--he doesn't want any woman except so long ashe is uncertain that he can get her. Just because I had been firm withhim when even a child and denied him, he has been merciless. And nowthat I am a woman and armed for the combat, it will be to the death.
Shall I double and take refuge in a labyrinth of subterfuge or turn andfight? So I temporized to-day.
"It is lonely--but not quite 'torture' to me, with the family so close,across the street," I answered him, and I went on whipping the lace on apiece of fluff I am making, to discipline myself because I loathe aneedle so. "Please don't you worry over me, dear." I raised my eyes tohis and I tried the common citizenship look. It must have carried alittle way for he flushed, the first time I ever saw him do it, and hishand with the cigarette in it shook.
"Evelina, are you real or a--farce?" he asked, after a few minutes ofpeace.
"I'm trying to be real, Polk," I answered, and this time I raised myeyes with perfect frankness. "If you could define a real woman, Polk,in what terms would you express her?" I asked him straight out from theshoulder.
"Hell fire and a hallelujah chorus, if she's beautiful," he answered mepromptly.
I laughed. I thought it was best under the circumstances.
"I'll tell you, Evelina," he continued, stealthily. "A man just can'tgeneralize the creatures. Apparently they are craving nothing so much asemotional excitement and when you offer it to them they want to go tohousekeeping with it. Love is a business with them and not an art."
"Would you like to try a genuine friendship with one. Polk?" I asked,and again struck from the shoulder--with my eyes.
"Help! Not if you mean yourself, beautiful," he answered promptly andwith fervor. "I wouldn't trust myself with you one minute off-guard likethat."
"You could safely."
"But I won't!"
"Will you try?"
"No!"
"Will you go ov
er and sit in that chair while I tell you somethingcalmly, quietly, and seriously? It'll give you a new sensation and maybeit will be good for you." I looked him straight in the face and thebattle of our eyes was something terrific. I had made up my mind to haveit out with him then and there. There was nothing else to do. I would befrank and courageous and true to my vow--and accept the consequences.
He slid along the railing of the porch and down into the chair in almosta daze of bewilderment.
"Polk," I began, concealing a gulp of terror, "I love you more than Ican possibly--"
"Say, Polk, I let the Pup git hung by her apron to thewheel of your car."]
"Say, Polk, I let the Pup git hung by her apron to the wheel of your carout in the road and her head is dangersome kinder upside down. Itmight run away. Can you come and git her loose for me?"
Henrietta's calmness under dire circumstances was a lesson to both Polkand me, for with two gasps that sounded as one we both raced across theporch, down the path and out to the road where Folk's Hupp runaboutstood by the worn old stone post that had tethered the horses of thewooers of many generations of the maids of my house.
But, prompt as our response to Henrietta's demand for rescue had been,Cousin James was there before us. He stood in the middle of the dustyroad with the tousled mite in his arms, soothing her frightened sobsagainst his cheek with the dearest tenderness and patting Sallie on theback with the same comforting.
"Oh, Henrietta, how could you nearly kill your little sister like this?"Sallie sobbed. "Please say something positive to her, James!"
"Henrietta," began Cousin James with a suspicion of embarrassment atPolk's and my presence at the domestic scene. Polk choked a chuckle andI could have murdered him.
"Wait a minute," said Henrietta, in her most commanding voice. "Sallie,didn't you ask me to take that Pup from Aunt Dilsie, 'cause of thephthisic, and keep her quiet while the Kit got a nap, and didn't I askyou if it would be all right if I got her back whole and clean?"
"Yes, Henrietta, but you--"
"Ain't she whole all over and clean?"
"Yes, but--"
"Couldn't nobody do any better than that with one of them twins. I won'ttry. If I have to 'muse her it has to be in my own way." And with herhead in the air the Bunch marched up the walk to the house.
At this Polk shouted and the rest of us laughed.
"Polk, please don't encourage Henrietta in the way she treats me and herlittle sisters," Sallie begged between her laughs and her half-swallowedsobs. "I need my friends' help with my children, not to have them makeit hard for me. Henrietta is devoted to you and you could influence herso for the best. Please try to help me make a real woman out of her andnot some sort of a terrible--terrible suffragette."
Sallie is the most perfectly lovely woman I almost ever saw. She hasgreat violet eyes with black lashes that beg you for a piece of yourheart, and her mouth is as sweet as a blush rose with cheeks that almostmatch it in rosiness. She and the babies always remind me of a clusterrose and roses, flower and buds, and I don't see why every man that seesher is not mad about her. They all used to be before she married, and Isuppose they will be again as soon as the crepe gets entirely worn offher clothes. As she stood with the bubbly baby in her arms and lookedup at Polk I couldn't see how he could take it calmly.
"Sallie," he answered seriously, with a glint in his eyes over at me,"if you'll give me a few days longer, I will then have found out byexperience what a real woman is and I'll begin on Henrietta for youaccordingly."
"Don't be too hard on the kiddie," Cousin James answered him with thecrinkle in the corner of his eyes that might have been called shrewd ineyes less beautifully calm. "Let's trust a lot to Henrietta's powers ofobservation of her mother and--her neighbors." He smiled suddenly, withhis whole face, over both Sallie and me, and went on down the street ina way that made me sure he was forgetting all about all of us before hereached the corner of the street.
"Isn't that old mossback a treat for the sight of gods and men?" askedPolk with a laugh as we all stood watching the old gray coat-tailsflapping in the warm breeze that was rollicking across the valley.
"I don't know what I would do without him," said Sadie softly, withtears suddenly misting the violets in her eyes as she turned away fromus with the baby in her arms and went slowly up the front walk ofWidegables.
"Please come stay with me a little while, Evelina," she pleaded backover her shoulder. "I feel faint."
I hesitated, for, as we were on my side of the Road, Polk was still myguest.
"Go on with Sallie, sweetie," he answered my hesitating. "I don't wantthe snapped-off fraction of a declaration like you were about to offerme. I can bide my time--and get my own." With which he turned and gotinto his car as I went across the street.
Jane, I feel encouraged. I have done well to-day to get half way throughmy declaration of independence--though he doesn't think that is what itis going to be--to Polk. If I can just tell him how much I love him,before he makes love to me we can get on such a sensible footing witheach other. I'll command the situation then.
But suppose I do get Polk calmed down to a nice friendship after oldPlato's recipe, what if I want to marry him?
Do I want to marry a friend?
Yes, I do!
No--no!
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