by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER XVII
NO LUCK WITH AUNTIE
Well, I expect I've gone and done it again. Queered myself with Auntie.Vee's, of course. You'd most think I'd know how to handle the old girlby this time, for we've been rubbin' elbows, as you might say, for quitea few years now. But somehow we seldom hit it off just right.
Not that I don't try. Say, one of the big ambitions of my young life hasbeen to do something that would please Auntie so much that no matterwhat breaks I made later on she'd be bound to remember it. Up to date,though, I haven't pulled anything of the kind. No. In fact, just thereverse.
I've often wished there was some bureau I could go to and get thecorrect dope on managin' an in-law aunt with a hair-trigger disposition.Like the Department of Agriculture. You know if it was boll-weevils, orcattle tick, or black rust, all I'd have to do would be to drop apostcard to Washington and in a month or so I'd have all kinds ofpamphlets, with colored plates and diagrams, tellin' me just what to do.But balky aunts on your wife's side seem to have been overlooked.
Somebody ought to write a book on the subject. You can get 'em that willtell you how to play bridge, or golf, or read palms, or raise chickens,or bring up babies. But nothin' on aunts who give you the cold eye andwork up suspicions. And it's more or less important, 'specially ifthey're will-makin' aunts, with something to make wills about.
Not that I'm any legacy hound. She can do what she wants with her money,for all of me. Course, there's Vee to be considered. I wouldn't want tothink, when the time comes, if it ever does, that her Auntie is with usno more, that it was on account of something I'd said or done that theSociety for the Suppression of Jazz Orchestras was handed an unexpectedbale of securities instead of the same being put where Vee could cash inon the coupons. Also there's Master Richard Hemmingway. I want to beable to look sonny in the face, years from now, without having toexplain that if I'd been a little more diplomatic towards his mother'sfemale relations he might he startin' for college on an income of hisown instead of havin' to depend on my financin' his football career.
Besides, our family is so small that it seems to me the least I can doto be on good terms with all of 'em. 'Specially I'd like to pleaseAuntie now and then just for the sake of--well, I don't go so far as tosay I could be fond of Auntie for herself alone, but you know what Imean. It's the proper thing.
At the same time, I wouldn't want to seem to be overdoin' the act. No.So when it's a question of whether Auntie should be allowed to settledown for the spring in an apartment hotel in town, or be urged to stopwith us until Bar Harbor opened for the season, I was all for themodest, retirin' stuff.
"She might think she had to come if she was asked," I suggests to Vee."And if she turned us down we'd have to look disappointed and that mightmake her feel bad."
"I hadn't considered that, Torchy," says Vee. "How thoughtful of you!"
"Oh, not at all," says I, wavin' my hand careless. "I simply want to dowhat is best for Auntie. Besides, you know how sort of uneasy she is inthe country, with so little going on. And later, if we can persuade herto make us a little visit, for over night maybe, why----" I shrugs myshoulders enthusiastic. Anyway, that's what I tried to register.
It went with Vee, all right. One of the last things she does is to getsuspicious of my moves. And that's a great help. So we agrees to letAuntie enjoy her four rooms and bath on East Sixty-umpt Street withouttryin' to drag her out on Long Island where she might be annoyed by therobins singin' too early in the mornin' or havin' the scent of lilacsdriftin' too heavy into the windows.
"Besides," I adds, just to clinch the case, "if she stays in town shewon't be bothered by Buddy barkin' around, and she won't have to worryabout how we're bringin' up 'Ikky boy. Yep. It's the best thing forher."
If Auntie had been in on the argument I expect she'd differed with me.She generally does. It's almost a habit with her. But not being presentmaybe she had a hunch herself that she'd like the city better. Anyway,that's where she camps down, only runnin' out once or twice forluncheon, while I'm at the office, and havin' nice little chatty visitswith Vee over the long distance.
Honest, I can enjoy an Auntie who does her droppin' in by 'phone. Ialmost got so fond of her that I was on the point of suggestin' to Veethat she tell Auntie to reverse the charges. No, I didn't quite go thatfar. I'd hate to have her think I was gettin' slushy or sentimental. Butit sure was comfortin', when I came home after a busy day at theCorrugated Trust, to reflect that Auntie was settled nice and cozy onthe ninth floor about twenty-five miles due west from us.
I should have knocked on wood, though. Uh-huh. Or kept my fingerscrossed, or something. For here the other night, as I strolls up fromthe station I spots an express truck movin' on ahead in the generaldirection of our house. I felt kind of a sinkin' sensation the minute Isaw that truck. I can't say why. Psychic, I expect. You know. Ouijastuff.
And sure enough, the blamed truck turns into our driveway. By the timeI arrives the man has just unloaded two wardrobe trunks and a hat box.And in the livin' room I finds Auntie.
"Eh?" says I, starin'. "Why, I--I thought you was----"
"How cordial!" says Auntie.
"Yes," says I, catchin' my breath quick. "Isn't it perfectly bully thatyou could come? We was afraid you'd be havin' such a good time in townthat we couldn't----"
"And so I was, until last night," says Auntie. "Verona, will tell youall about it, I've no doubt."
Oh yes, Vee does. She unloads it durin' a little stroll we took outtowards the garden. New York hadn't been behavin' well towards Auntie.Not at all well. Just got on one of its cantankerous streaks. First offthere was a waiters' strike on the roof-garden restaurant where most ofthe tenants took their dinners. It happened between soup and fish. Infact, the fish never got there at all. Nor the roast, nor the rest ofthe meal. And the head waiter and the house manager had arough-and-tumble scrap right in plain sight of everybody and someperfectly awful language was used. Also the striking waiters marched outin a body and shouted things at the manager as they went. So Auntie hadto put on her things and call a taxi and drive eight blocks before shecould finish her dinner.
Then about 9 o'clock, as she was settling down for a quiet evening inher rooms, New York pulled another playful little stunt on her. Nothingunusual. A leaky gas main and a poorly insulated electric light cablemade connection with the well-known results. For half a mile up and downthe avenue that Auntie's apartment faced on the manhole covers wereblown off. They go off with a roar and a bang, you know. One of 'emsailed neatly up within ten feet of Auntie's back hair, crashed throughthe window of the apartment just above her and landed on the floor soimpetuous that about a yard of plaster came rattlin' down on Auntie'shead. Some fell in her lap and some went down the back of her neck.
All of which was more or less disturbin' to an old girl who was tryin'to read Amy Lowell's poems and had had her nerves jarred only a coupleof hours before. However, she came out of it noble, with the aid of hersmellin' salts and the assurance of the manager that it wouldn't happenagain. Not that same evenin', anyway. He was almost positive itwouldn't. At least, it seldom did.
But being in on a strike, and a free-for-all fight, and a conduitexplosion hadn't prepared Auntie to hit the feathers early. So at 1:30A. M. she was still wide awake and wanderin' around in her nightie withthe shades up and the lights out. That's how she happened to bestretchin' her neck out of the window when this offensive broke looseon the roof of the buildin' across the way.
Auntie was just wondering why those two men were skylarking around onthe roof so late at night when two more popped out of skylights andbegan to bang away at them with revolvers. Then the first two started toshoot back, and the first thing Auntie knew there was a crash right overher head where a stray bullet had wandered through the upper pane. Uponwhich Auntie screamed and fainted. Of course, she had read about loftrobbers, but she hadn't seen 'em in action. And she didn't want to see'em at such close range any more. Not her. She'd had enough, thank you.So when she cam
e to from her faintin' spell she begun packin' hertrunks. After breakfast she'd called Vee on the 'phone, sketched outsome of her troubles, and been invited to come straight to Harbor Hills.
"It was the only thing to be done," says Vee.
"Well, maybe," says I. "Course, she might have tried another apartmenthotel. They don't all have strikes and explosions and burglar huntsgoin' on. Not every night. She might have taken a chance or one or twomore."
"But with her nerves all upset like that," protests Vee, "I don't seewhy she should, when here we are with----"
"Yes, I expect there was no dodgin' it," I agrees.
At dinner Auntie is still sort of jumpy but she says it's a greatsatisfaction to know that she is out here in the calm, peaceful country."It's dull, of course," she goes on, "but at the same time it is all sorestful and soothing. One knows that nothing whatever is going tohappen."
"Ye-e-es," says I, draggy. "And yet, you can't always tell."
"Can't always tell what?" demands Auntie.
"About things not happenin' out here," says I.
"But, Torchy," says Vee, "what could possibly happen here; that is, likethose things in town?"
I shrugs my shoulders and shakes my head.
"How absurd!" says Vee.
Auntie gives me one of them cold storage looks of hers. "I have usuallynoticed," says she, "that things do not happen of themselves. Usuallysome one is responsible for their happening."
What she meant by that I couldn't quite make out. Oh yes, takin' alittle rap at me, no doubt. But just how or what for I passed up. Imight have forgotten it altogether if she hadn't reminded me now andthen by favorin' me with a suspicious glare, the kind one of Mr.Palmer's agents might give to a party in a checked suit steppin' off thetrain from Montreal with something bulgin' on the hip.
So it was kind of unfortunate that when Vee suddenly remembers theAiredale pup and asks where he is that I should say just what I did."Buddy?" says I. "Oh, he's all right. I shut him up myself."
It was a fact. I had. And I'd meant well by it. For that's one of thethings we have to look out for when Auntie's visitin' us, to keep Buddyaway from her. Not that there's anything vicious about Buddy. Not atall. But being only a year old and full of pep and affection, and not atall discriminatin', he's apt to be a bit boisterous in welcomin'visitors; and while some folks don't mind havin' fifty pounds of dogbounce at 'em sudden, or bein' clawed, or havin' their faces licked by amoist pink tongue, Auntie ain't one of that kind. She gets petrified andsqueals for help and insists that the brute is trying to eat her up.
So as soon as I'd come home and had my usual rough-house session withBuddy, I leads him upstairs and carefully parks him in the south bedroomover the kitchen wing. Being thoughtful and considerate, I call that.Not to Buddy maybe, who's used to spendin' the dinner hour with his nosejust inside the dinin' room door; but to Auntie, anyway.
Which is why I'm so surprised, along about 9 o'clock when Auntie hasmade an early start for a good night's rest, to hear these loud hostilewoofs comin' from him and then these blood curdlin' screams.
"For the love of Mike!" I gasps. "Where did you put Auntie?"
"Why, in the south bedroom this time," says Vee.
"Hal-lup!" says I. "That's where I put Buddy."
It was a race then up the stairs, with me tryin' to protest on the jumpthat I didn't know Vee had decided to shift Auntie from the reg'larguest room to this one.
"Surely you didn't," admits Vee. "But I thought the south room would beso much sunnier and more cheerful. I--I'll explain to Auntie."
"It can't be done," says I. "Stop it, Buddy! All right, boy. It'sperfectly all right."
Buddy don't believe it, though, until I've opened the door and switchedon the light. Young as he is he's right up on the watch-dog act and whenstrangers come prowlin' around in the dark that's his cue for goin' intoaction. He has cornered Auntie scientific and while turnin' in a generalalarm he has improved the time by tearin' mouthfuls out of her dress. Atthat, too, it's lucky he hadn't begun to take mouthfuls out of Auntie.
As for the old girl, she's so scared she can't talk and so mad she canhardly see. She stands there limp in a tattered skirt with some of hergray store hair that has slipped its moorin's restin' jaunty over oneear and her eyes blazin' hostile.
"Oh, Auntie!" begins Vee. "It was all my----"
"Not a word, Verona," snaps Auntie. "I know perfectly well who isresponsible for this--this outrage." With that she glares at me.
Course, we both tells her just how the mistake was made, over and over,but it don't register.
"Humph!" says she at last. "If I didn't remember a warning I had atdinner perhaps I might think as you do, Verona. But I trust that nothingelse has been--er--arranged for my benefit."
"That's generous, anyway," says I, indulgin' in a sarcastic smile.
It's an hour before Auntie's nerves are soothed down enough for her tomake another stab at enjoyin' a peaceful night. Even then she demands toknow what that throbbin' noise is that she hears.
"Oh, that?" says I. "Only the cistern pump fillin' up the rain watertank in the attic. That'll quit soon. Automatic shut-off, you know."
"Verona," she goes on, ignorin' me, "you are certain it is quite allright, are you?"
"Oh, yes," says Vee. "It's one we had put in only last week. Runs byelectricity, or some thing. Anyway, the plumber explained to Torchy justhow it works. He knows all about it, don't you, Torchy?"
"Uh-huh," says I, careless.
I did, too. The plumber had sketched out the workin's of the thingelaborate to me, but I didn't see the need of spendin' the rest of thenight passin' an examination in the subject. Besides, a few of thedetails I was a little vague about.
"Very well, then," says Auntie. And she consents to make one more stabat retirin'.
I couldn't help sighin' relieved when we heard her door shut. "Now ifthe roosters don't start crowin'," says I, "or a tornado don't hit us,or an earthquake break loose, all will be well. But if any of themthings do happen, I'll be blamed."
"Nonsense," says Vee. "Auntie is going to have a nice, quiet, restfulnight and in the morning she will be herself again."
"Here's hoping," says I.
And if it's good evidence I'd like to submit the fact that within' fiveminutes after I'd rolled into my humble little white iron cot out on thesleepin' porch I was dead to the world. Could I have done that if I'dhad on my mind a fiendish plot against the peace and safety of the onlyreal aunt we have in the fam'ly? I ask you.
Seemed like I'd been asleep for hours and hours, and I believe I wasdreamin' that I was being serenaded by a drum corps and that the bassdrummer was mistakin' me for the drum and thumpin' me on the ribs, whenI woke up and found Vee proddin' me from the next cot.
"Torchy!" she's sayin'. "Is that rain?"
"Eh?" says I. "No, that's the drum corps."
"What?" says she. "Don't be silly. It sounds like rain."
"Rain nothing," says I, rubbin' my eyes open. "Why, the moon's shiningand--but, it does sound like water drippin'."
"Drippin!" says Vee. "It's just pouring down somewhere. But where,Torchy?"
"Give it up," says I. "That is, unless it could be that blessedtank----"
"That's it!" says Vee. "The tank! But--but just where is it?"
"Why," says I, "it's in the attic over--over--Oh, goodnight!" I groans.
"Well?" demands Vee. "Over what?"
"Over the south bedroom," says I. "Quick! Rescue expedition No. 2.Auntie again!"
It was Auntie. Although she was clear at the other end of the house fromus we heard her moanin' and takin' on even before we got the hall dooropen. And, of course, we made another mad dash. Once more I pushes theswitch button and reveals Auntie in a new plight. Some situation, I'llsay, too. Uh-huh!
You see, there's an unfinished space over the kitchen well and theplumber had located this hundred-gallon tank in the middle of it. As itso happens the tank is right over the bed. Well, naturally when the f
oolautomatic shut-off fails to work and the overflow pipe is taxed beyondits capacity, the surplus water has to go somewhere. It leaks throughthe floorin', trickles down between the laths and through the plaster,and some of it finds its way along the beams and under the eaves untilit splashes down on the roof of the pantry extension. That's what we'dheard. But the rest had poured straight down on Auntie.
Being in a strange room and so confused to wake up and find herselftreated to a shower bath that she hadn't ordered, Auntie couldn't locatethe light button. All she could remember was that in unpackin' she'dstood an umbrella near the head of the bed. So with great presence ofmind she's reached out and grabbed that, unfurled it, and is sittin'there damp and wailin' in a nice little pool of water that's risin'every minute. She's just as cosy as a settin' hen caught in a flood andis wearin' about the same contented expression, I judge.
"Why, Auntie, how absurd!" says Vee.
It wasn't just the right thing to say. Natural enough, I'll admit, buthardly the remark to spill at that precise moment. I could see theexplosion coming, so after one more look I smothers a chuckle on my ownaccount and beats it towards the cellar where that blamed pump is stillchuggin' away merry and industrious. By turnin' off all the switches andhandles in sight I manages to induce the fool thing to quit. Then Isneaks back upstairs, puts on a bathrobe and knocks timid on the door ofthe reg'lar guest room from which I hears sounds of earnest voices.
"Can I help any?" says I.
"No, no!" calls out Vee. "You--you'd best go away, Torchy."
She's generally right, Vee is. I went. I took a casual look at theflooded kitchen with an inch or more of water on the linoleum, andconcluded to leave that problem to the help when they showed up in themornin'. And I don't know how long Vee spent in tryin' to convinceAuntie that I hadn't personally climbed into the attic, bugged the pump,and bored holes through the ceilin'. As I couldn't go on the stand in myown defense I did the next best thing. I finished out my sleep.
In the mornin' I got the verdict. "Auntie's going back to town," saysVee. "She thinks, after all, that it will be more restful there."
"It will be for me, anyway," says I.
I don't know how Vee and Master Richard still stand with Auntie. Theymay be in the will yet, or they may not. As for Buddy and me, I'll betwe're out. Absolutely. But we can grin, even at that.
