He walked faster. If he had wanted someone younger than Lottie, what was wrong with Rose, who would have been willing, and the affair would have offended no one. Rose, with her warm comfortable body and moist, loose lips. Rose should have gone into the city if she was going in for it and wanted to be a whore. Thinking of the young and easygoing Rose in this way made Joe forget temporarily about Ellen. He decided none of the MacIntyres had any ambition. That was the trouble with Rose. He was now walking slower. It was funny that Rose could be living next door to Hen Milburn, the constable.
He tried to keep on thinking of Rose, but couldn’t; she became Ellen no matter how he tried to direct his thoughts. And he was afraid of thinking too much about Ellen. Sometimes he was miserable and cursed himself, but other times, restless, he thought again of walking down to the beach. Just the same he was glad Ellen was going to church with Lottie. If Rose had been able to go to church and had been scared young, maybe she would have grown up respectable.
Someone was coming down the road. Joe saw Hodgins coming toward him.
“How do you do, Mr. Hodgins.”
“How do you do, Mr. Harding. Lovely weather we’re having.”
“Yeah, we’re having lovely weather.”
Hodgins smiled encouragingly at Joe. “I was pleased, really pleased to see you at the service the other night. How did you like it?”
“I liked it fine.”
Hodgins looked at Joe steadily and said, “Let’s be frank with each other, Mr. Harding.”
“Sure, Mr. Hodgins, I never thought we ain’t.”
“Well then, did it get inside you the other night? Did you feel something moving around inside that had to come out?”
“In a kind of way,” Joe said, embarrassed.
“Good, that’s all right. That something inside you gets bigger and you just have to let it out. That’s when you know it’s time to go forward and profess. See?”
“Well, ’taint quite that way with me yet.”
“You’ll be all right, Mr. Harding.”
For a moment Joe thought of talking to Hodgins about Ellen but grew resentful suddenly and decided it was none of Hodgins’ business. They parted amicably. Joe got home just in time for supper.
As soon as he came into the kitchen, Lottie said she wanted to go swimming after supper. Ellen and Doris were going down to the lake together. Joe wouldn’t promise to go swimming but was willing to go down to the beach afterward and meet Lottie, if she would go swimming with Doris and Ellen.
Lottie had some fine pancakes and maple syrup for supper. Joe liked the pancakes so much he said he might go swimming after all.
Lottie, in good spirits, was a little excited. Mr. Hodgins had called to talk over a plan for a baptism in a month or two and had asked her advice on the time and place. She had been so pleased. Sitting in the parlor, he had talked as he had never talked before, imagining himself preaching down by the water, taking his people one by one to be baptized in the lake. He had assured Lottie a report of such a baptism would spread across the country and a small host would be there to see the chosen ones accept the Lord, a Christian demonstration to be remembered for years in the country. He had asked Lottie confidentially how many she thought would be ready for baptism in a month or two. They had carefully considered the religious tendencies of all who at any time had been to service in the barn.
Lottie told Joe she felt sure Ellen would be ready and willing for the baptism, she would see to that. Hodgins had asked for eager young people. But she was a little disappointed that Hodgins had not stayed for supper.
Joe, pleased and happy, was sure everything would be all right between Ellen and him because he was sincere and would not be merely temporarily excited by a religious ceremony.
“How does it strike you, Ellen?” he asked.
“Oh, Aunt Lottie seems to think it would be a good thing,” she said, little interested.
Lottie had been talking to Ellen, arousing her lively imagination by a picture of a host on the beach awaiting the ritual of the baptism. Ellen had even promised half-heartedly to try and interest Doris Kremer. Mr. Hodgins wanted eager young people.
After supper, Lottie and Joe put long coats over their bathing suits and walked down to the lake. Joe, in good humor, laughed merrily and was sober when Lottie started talking about the baptism. He was always interested in anything that interested her, he explained, and was glad she had made up her mind to influence Ellen at a time when the girl was at an impressionable age. Joe knew the baptism would be the strong thought in her life of the next few months.
They were walking down to the river, Joe holding Lottie’s arm, walking her so briskly she said, “Joe, you got to stop, you got to stop pulling.”
“Step lively there, young lady,” Joe said affably, “you’d think you were an old married woman.”
“Stop, Joe, be sensible, don’t be so silly.”
“Come on, Lottie, get moving.”
The water was warm and they had a good swim. Everybody enjoyed it. Joe and Doris and Ellen and Lottie were all happy because the water was warm and Joe was feeling jolly. When Joe was in a jolly mood, everybody was in good humor. After swimming they sat on a log on the beach in the moonlight and Joe told a number of stories with unusual endings.
In bed, however, Joe found himself thinking of Rose MacIntyre. He did not care how much he thought about Rose, but wanted to avoid thinking of Ellen going to bed in the room down the hall.
4
By the middle of August, Hodgins had established himself securely in the village, and Lottie displayed to the neighbors a triumphant indulgence. Joe too had come to regard the old barn as something attached to his family, though he would not take part in the services. The Rev. John Adams and the Methodist Church had lost prestige: everybody now admitted Hodgins was more interesting, and many people who called themselves Methodists went to service in the barn, disgusting the Rev. John Adams. Only old incorrigible Methodists spoke bitterly of the Baptist intrusion. The baptism in the lake, the second Sunday in September, promised to be far too interesting to be disregarded.
Joe still refused to be baptized, but Hodgins told Lottie her example would be a strong influence, likely to affect him at the last moment. Though Joe admired Lottie’s skilful suggestions that had persuaded Ellen to look forward to the baptism in the lake, he was merely amused when the same influence was brought to bear on him. The thought of Ellen’s baptism gave Joe a feeling of security he had not enjoyed for some time. He said to himself Lottie would be completely satisfied with her success and he could live securely in his old way. It was better to have the thoughts of Lottie and Ellen definitely attached to some idea, a kind of rudder for them in everyday life.
“I’d just as soon see you and Ellen go to church,” he said to Lottie.
“You didn’t always say that, Joe,” she said.
“No, but it’s best, a woman and a girl should have something.”
Lottie was delighted to hear Joe talking like that; he was progressing, his thoughts trying to fit into the proper grooves, and she told Hodgins of the conversation. He was pleased and urged her to bring pressure in the small intimate matters between them, not obtrusively, never nagging, but with a kindness and a human understanding that would bring home to him the necessity of a spiritual compact between them. Lottie did try talking intimately to Joe, tried to come to an understanding, and was not discouraged when he laughed amiably.
Joe said that he did not want Ellen to get too excited about the baptism nor come too much under Hodgins’ influence, and though encouraging her interest, he was disappointed to see her giving up careless easy ways for the strict manner of a young lady of religious practice. It did not become Ellen, who was quick, light, restless, but it was the best thing that could happen to her. Joe often thought it was best she should not fool around with the young fellows in the village.
The summer continued hot and for the most part dry; a week’s rain would help the crops. The harvest
apples were ripening. Joe and Jerry Hammond were dickering with Ab Fraser to buy the apples in his orchard for a venture in the city. At this time Lottie quarreled with Lou Henry and they exchanged bad words. Lou called Lottie a lousy old hypocrite and Lottie said Lou was a filthy disgrace to the neighborhood. Georgie Henry was to blame. He had hidden behind a tree and yelled, “Old lady Harding, old lady Harding,” and thumbed his nose at her. Lottie indignantly insisted Joe call on Mr. Henry, but Joe said it was no use; if they were no good, they were no good, and that was all there was to it. Lottie had tried talking over the fence to Lou with unhappy results, and, being a nervous woman, had gone in the house and cried bitterly.
Next day Joe found out the Henrys were moving in the early fall. He was glad to tell Lottie, but was in a way sorry to see the Henrys go, having always been interested in Lou’s mother. He might come down the road one day and find every window sill in the Henry house holding a flowerpot, and then a month later the flowerpots would disappear and the old lady would take to bird cages, and canaries would sing on the porch in the backyard beside the hencoops. The old lady had never been able to irritate Joe, though she had leered at him from the window, looking for trouble. It was too bad they were going. They knew how to look after potatoes and had laughed at Hodgins.
August was nearly over and the Henrys were moving into the city. Lottie and Joe sat up one night, talking over the peculiar history of the family. Lottie did not bear a grudge; she simply did not like the Henrys. The night they were talking about the Henrys, Lottie contrasted the good-for-nothing George with Ellen, who was trying to increase her spiritual value to the community, and said it was entirely a matter of home training.
“Ellen’s more serious-minded now,” she said.
“I don’t know as that’s so good,” said Joe.
“It makes her a better girl.”
“Oh, I suppose it keeps her out of harm. That’s all I care.”
Ellen, helping Hodgins in little ways, forming a Ladies’ Auxiliary and singing in the church, now talked just like Mr. Hodgins. Joe thought it extraordinary she should be able to remember so many of Hodgins’ words and phrases.
Hodgins knew Joe did not want to go to church and there was no use arguing about it. Joe went for long walks with Ellen, since she no longer encouraged attention but tried to be friendly, reserved, and obedient. Too often she was almost servile to Lottie. Once, with quiet simplicity, she told Joe Lottie had been wronged and they should do all in their power to please her. Joe had agreed with her but had at the same time laughed easily, intimating the incident was old and was after all a silly incident, and since it had passed without trouble there was no use thinking or talking about it. Joe was glad he had been able to talk so clearly to Ellen, even though he hadn’t quite convinced her.
He had not been able to forget the incident as easily as he would have had Ellen believe. Ellen was young. Often he found himself thinking of young women. There were nights he tossed restlessly in his bed, thinking of Ellen sleeping in her room down the hall, and he tried to think of Rose MacIntyre, warm and comfortable and easygoing, young, good-natured and willing, but in the daytime he never talked to Rose or paid any attention to her.
He was sympathetic and good-natured to Lottie. He would rather have been decent with Lottie than with anyone else in the world and was willing to humor her whims. One night, going to bed, Lottie, coaxing, asked Joe to kneel down and pray with her. Joe said, “Aw no, Lottie, we’ll pray if you want when we get in bed.” But, insisting, she said not for years had he tried to please her in such a way. In their nightgowns, they were standing on the old carpet in the bedroom, the sheets rolled down on the big wooden bed, and Joe was trying to make a joke of it, but Lottie was sullenly disappointed and Joe said finally he would kneel down if she would turn out the light. He couldn’t explain why he wanted the light turned out. Lottie smiled understandingly and reached over to the little table at the head of the bed and blew out the light. Joe sometimes hated the understanding smile. She had never smiled like that until a few months ago. He knelt down awkwardly and put his elbows on the bed and Lottie knelt with her back straight, repeating the Lord’s Prayer out loud. Moonlight coming through the window shone on the soles of their bare feet. Lottie was praying and Joe was hating Hodgins but after a moment thought it didn’t matter and let thoughts slip easily through his head.
They got into bed, Lottie putting her arm around Joe’s back, and saying happily, “You did it for me, Joe, and I’m so glad.” And Joe wondered if she would tell Hodgins to come around and talk confidentially as he had done after Joe had advised Lottie to encourage Ellen to go to church because religion was a good thing for a girl.
After the night they had knelt down and prayed, Lottie humored Joe’s slightest whim, avoided arguing with him, gave in to him every time there was a difference of opinion. He did not like it. He had liked the arguments with Lottie, her terse comment on a story he read from the newspaper after supper while she went on with her housework, but she now listened carefully, apparently highly valued his remarks, and seemed to have advised Ellen to humor Uncle Joe. He was disappointed but could not talk to Lottie about it, so he went over to the hotel as much as possible and drank home brew with Ike Kremer, Jerry Hammond, and Reggie McGinn. Lottie had formerly been accustomed to seeing him really lit up once a week but now he felt obliged never to go home drunk.
At the hotel they talked about the baptism and Dan Higgins, the owner of the hotel, thought it very funny. Ike was going to be baptized but said a religious ceremony had nothing to do with wanting a little beer occasionally. Everybody in the village was talking about the baptism, which was to be in two weeks’ time, though it was not definitely known just who were to be baptized. In the arguments at the hotel, Joe steered a middle course between the views of Jerry Hammond and Ike Kremer, pointing out he could sympathize with Ike and yet understand Jerry. He was pleased he could really feel that way. Jerry joshingly explained Joe had to talk like that because of his wife. The arguments never got too personal because they all liked the beer better than the argument.
Sometimes Joe thought he could see a change in Ellen. She was more nervous than usual, too easily excited. At first he thought it the excitement of doing what she considered important religious work for Hodgins but decided that wouldn’t make her so impatient, so willing to quarrel without provocation. She was keeping to herself, though still earnestly interested in the baptism. She began to avoid Joe, but was eager for Lottie’s company and they walked together in the evening arm in arm, went to church together, and seemed very intimate.
Joe decided it was no use worrying about Ellen. It was all over and there was no use thinking about it. He wasn’t going to think about it no matter what happened. But nothing could happen because he never encouraged her.
Every night now at the supper table something was said about the baptism. So much talk about it irritated Joe and once he referred jokingly to it as the social event of the year. Such a frivolous attitude annoyed Lottie, but Joe had made his mind up to be independent, though willing to please and encourage her. He had assured himself a little cold water thrown on Lottie’s enthusiasm would prevent her becoming fanatical, and was determined to make it hard to talk long about religion by changing the subject as often as possible. So they still talked about the neighbors and the things happening during the day.
Near the end of August Lottie was excited for two days over three magazine salesmen working their way through college who had devoted three days to Eastmount and the rurals. One of the young men had stuck his foot in Lottie’s door, preventing her from closing it. Lottie had indignantly pushed him away and the fellow had pushed her back in the hall. Lottie had threatened to get the constable. The three young men had cleared out that night. It was something to talk about. Lottie was excited and eager to tell Joe when he came home. They talked about it for an hour. For two or three days she never mentioned the baptism but talked to the neighbors about the magazine salesme
n.
But the salesmen were soon forgotten and Lottie turned to interviewing neighbors, soliciting subscriptions for a building fund for a new church. Hodgins had asked a few of the prominent workers in his small congregation to see what could be done about it. Remembering the fuss Joe had made the time she had wished to make a small donation, she guardedly mentioned the subscription to him and was agreeably surprised when he said they would not lag behind the neighbors, if everybody was giving something. He said he would give one half of his profits from the joint venture with Jerry Hammond in the apple orchard.
Lottie was slightly disappointed. She didn’t approve of Joe and Jerry buying Ab Fraser’s apples because she did not think that Jerry was reliable, and she knew Joe would not work too hard. But Joe was not stingy. Everybody in Eastmount spoke of him as a generous-hearted man and she knew if he was in good humor he would not have her make a niggardly donation to the church.
5
Jerry Hammond’s head appeared between two branches and he brushed away the leaves with his hands, climbing up another rung on the ladder to yell at Joe, picking at another tree a few yards away. “Don’t you think it’s enough for the day, Joe?” Joe climbed down the ladder, lifting the basket hook from the rung. The basket was only half full of red astracans but Joe had nearly cleared the tree. He carried the basket over to Jerry, and together they walked over to the heaping pile of apples on the ground and dumped their baskets.
“They got to be sorted now,” Jerry said.
“Can you do it?”
“Sure I can do it but I don’t feel like it now. I’ve a mind to leave ’em till tomorrow morning. The ground will only hurt a few.”
“What’ll we do now, then? You’re the boss, Jerry.”
“Let’s take it easy. Let’s lay down awhile.”
“Got your pipe, Jerry?”
“It’s in my coat on the tree.” He went over to a tree and took his pipe from the coat pocket.
The Complete Stories of Morley Callaghan: Volume One Page 21
