* * * * *
* * * * *
"Gloriana's dun days must soon come to an end," said Ajax to me upon the eve of the wedding.
"Why shouldn't she marry Uncle Jake? The old chap wants her. He informed me this afternoon that a double team travelled farther than a single horse. And he hangs about the kitchen door all the time, and divides Gloriana's favours with the pig."
"Tell him to propose."
"I'll have to do it for him," replied my brother. "Uncle Jake has not the gift of tongues."
We accompanied Gloriana to San Lorenzo; as we feared to trust our friend--for so we had come to regard her--with the mule, a mischievous beast, spoiled by prosperity. Ajax drove a skittish pair of colts. Gloriana and I occupied the back seat of our big spring wagon.
"My brother is not Uncle Jake," said Ajax, as soon as the colts had settled down to business, "but he'll tell you all the pretty things the old man says about you."
"Uncle Jake is puffectly rediclous," replied Gloriana gaily. "His love is cupboard love."
"He has mired down at last."
"Nonsense! Mr. Ajax."
"He is set on matrimony. You are the one woman in the world for him. Take him, Gloriana; and then we'll all live together for ever and ever."
"Mr. Ajax, you'd sooner joke than eat."
"I'm not joking now. Uncle Jake is an honest man, with money laid by. He would make you comfortable for life, and such a marriage might pave the way to--to a better understanding with Doctor Standish."
Her face flushed at these last words, and fire flooded her eyes. Looking at her, I realised that long ago this worn woman must have been a beautiful girl.
"No," she answered steadily. "I wouldn't say Yes to the Angel Gabriel. Uncle Jake and I would make a baulky team. He's obstinate as my old mule, an' so am I. An' there's another thing: I'm most petered out, an' need a rest. Mattermony ain't rest."
My brother had tact enough to change the subject.
Descending the San Lorenzo grade, a sharp incline, Gloriana called our attention to a view panoramic and matchless beneath the glamour of sunset. Below us lay the mission town, its crude buildings aglow with rosy light; to the left was the cañon, a frowning wilderness of manzanita, cactus and chaparral; to the right towered the triune peak of the Bishop, purple against an amber sky; in the distance were the shimmering waters of the Pacific. Upon the face of the landscape brooded infinite peace, and the soft shadows of evening.
"In Californy," said our passenger, "the glorious works o' the Lord air revealed. There's the Bishop: he looks fine to-night. Ye kin see the peak, but the sea fog's crawlin' in, an' shets off the main body o' the mountain. That's wher the fogs air always thickest. An' that's wher I lost my way, Mr. Ajax. Yes, sir, my feet stumbled on the dark mountain, as the prophet says, but I clumb the stony places, an' now, on the top, its clear."
"Gloriana," said Ajax, after a pause, "will you allow my brother, who is a grave and learned signor, to plead your cause with Doctor Standish? I know what lies nearest your heart."
In this impudent fashion he laid a grievous burden on me; for I have no stomach for other folk's pastry, yet the hope that glistened upon Gloriana's face whetted a strange appetite.
"I'll speak to him--if you wish it," said I.
"No," she returned, her eyes giving the lie to her lips. "It wouldn't be right."
But a woman's brain is a sorry advocate against her heart. Ajax, as I expected, put her scruples to rout. It was agreed that I should carry, as credentials, Gloriana's present--the parcel she hugged to her bosom, weighty with love and linen; that the interview should take place after dinner; that the recognition of Gloriana as Miriam's blood-relation should be not demanded but suggested with all deference due to a doctor of divinity. The Standishes boarded at the Hotel Buena Vista, where we always stayed; Gloriana was set down at a modest two- bit house, some three-quarters of a mile distant.
As the hour of meeting the Doctor approached, my courage oozed from every pore, distilling a malignant dew of mistrust that not even the optimism of Ajax could evaporate. As we sat at meat I noted with apprehension the stern features of Standish, who occupied an adjoining table. He ate sparingly, as became an old man, and drank no wine. His granddaughter, a charming girl, with eyes that reminded me of Gloriana, chattered gaily to him, but he replied in monosyllables. Doubtless he was thinking of the parting on the morrow.
Half-an-hour later he received me in his room, and asked courteously in what way he could serve me.
I laid my credentials upon the table. They were flanked, I remarked, by a Bible, and a well-worn book of prayer.
"This," I began lamely, "is a present from our housekeeper, Gloriana, to your granddaughter. She asked me to deliver it into your hands."
"I thank you, sir," he replied stiffly. "You say this--er--woman is your housekeeper?"
"Our housekeeper--and our friend."
"Indeed. Well, sir, I am obliged to you. Good-night."
"A present," said I, "demands an acknowledgment."
"An acknowledgment? You look at me very strangely, young man."
Upon this I spoke; explaining, in halting sentences, my mission. He listened attentively, a frown upon his somewhat narrow forehead.
"How dare you interfere in such matters!" he asked, in a voice that quavered with suppressed rage. "What right have you to come between me and a woman, an ignorant, immoral creature, whose very presence is contamination?"
"Ignorant, illiterate--yes; but a braver, truer, more loving spirit never breathed. I count it a privilege to know her. Surely she has suffered enough for a sister's sin!"
"My life has been poisoned," he muttered. "I was robbed at once of my son and of my profession, for I dared not preach what I could not practise--forgiveness. Leave me, sir."
"I beg your pardon," said I bitterly. "If you turn a deaf ear to this" (I touched his Bible), "and these" (I tore open the parcel, and spread Gloriana's handiwork upon the table), "how can I expect you to listen to me?"
"You are in possession of all the facts, sir. Don't presume to judge me. Go--and take these things with you. It has been the object of my life to keep my granddaughter and this woman apart. I allowed her to work for the child, but the clothes she has been sending I have given to--others. Already, despite my efforts, she suspects that there is some unhappy mystery about her birth."
* * * * *
* * * * *
Ajax met me on the threshold of our cheerless hotel parlour, and listened confounded to my story. As we sat smoking and talking the bell-boy ushered in Gloriana. When she caught sight of her precious parcel she gasped with satisfaction.
"I'm most choked," she panted, "in trying ter get here in time. I reckon I run most o' the way. Ever since ye set me down I've bin tryin' studyin' an' worryin'. I don't want ye," she turned an anxious face to mine, "ter speak ter Doctor Standish to-night, fer it might onsettle Miriam. Good land o' Peter, how short my breath is! Ye see ther couldn't be room in the child's heart jest now fer me an' theProfessor. An' when that ther idee took aholt it seemed as if I couldn't rest till I saw ye. I'm mighty glad I was in time."
The words fell from her lips in sobs and gasps.
"It's all right," said Ajax. "Sit down, Gloriana. You deserve a scolding."
As he spoke she sank upon the couch, and tugged convulsively at the white linen band around her throat.
"She is ill," whispered Ajax. "Run for assistance--quick!"
I chanced to meet the bell-boy, and dispatched him in search of a physician. Unable to discriminate between doctors of medicine and divinity, the youth summoned in hot haste Doctor Standish. His granddaughter, learning that a woman was in sore distress, accompanied him. They entered the room together. The Doctor motioned the girl back, but she hastened forward, and, looking with infinite compassion into the poor twisted face, took Gloriana's hands in hers. Some one administered brandy and spirits of ammonia.
"How did this happen?" said the Doctor aside to me.
I spared him nothing in the recital, and his stern features softened as I emphasised Gloriana's anxiety to save Miriam from worry. As I finished, the faithful creature opened her eyes, which rested naturally upon the face of Miriam.
"Why--it's my little girl," she said faintly. Doctor Standish bent forward.
"If she mistakes you for one of her own kin, don't undeceive her. Play the part."
Miriam nodded, and kissed the frail hands that fluttered round her head.
"Gimme my parcel," she said presently, in a stronger voice. "Mercy sakes! I'm awful weak; but I'd like ter show my little girl the things I made for her."
The parcel was brought and untied. Gloriana touched the garments tenderly.
"Nothin'," she murmured, "kin come closer to ye than these pretty things, excep' the love I stitched into 'em. When you wear 'em you'll think o' me, Miss Standish."
At the sound of her name the girl started, and looked askance at her grandfather, who turned his head aside.
"Who is this woman!" she asked in a low voice.
The answer came from Gloriana, slowly and distinctly.
"I'm--nothin'--to--ye; but ye've bin the world an' all ter me. Well--I said I'd never go ter my little girl, because I wasn't fit, but I always thought that the Lord in His mercy would bring her ter me. Ye wore the clothes I sent, an' mebbee ye wondered who made 'em. 'Twas the happiness o' my life sewing on 'em, an' ter think you was wearin' them. I've worked awful hard, but I kin take it easy--now. I feel reel sleepy, too. Good-night, my pretty, good-night!"
We were quite unprepared for what happened, believing that our poor friend was merely over-wrought and weary. But as the words "good- night" fell softly upon our ears Gloriana sighed peacefully--and died.
"Who is this woman?" said Miriam for the second time, thinking that Gloriana had fallen asleep.
The Doctor was not so deceived. He pressed forward, and laid his trembling fingers upon the wrist of the dead, and then bent his head till it rested upon the breast of her he had counted a scandalous sinner. When he confronted us the tears were rolling down his face.
"May God forgive me!" he cried, falling upon his knees. "This woman, Miriam, was your mother."
VBUMBLEPUPPY
V
BUMBLEPUPPY
Bumblepuppy is a synonym of whist played in defiance of certain time- honoured conventions and principles. Ajax said with reason that Johnnie Kapus, the nephew of our neighbour, old man Kapus, played the game of life in such a sorry, blundering fashion that he marvelled why his uncle gave him house-room. Ajax christened Johnnie--Bumble-puppy.
Once we hired Johnnie to work for us at the rate of half-a-dollar a day. A heavy rain-storm had just taken place, and my brother insisted that Johnnie was the right man to fill up the "wash-outs" in and about the corrals. He was strong, big, docile as a cow, and he lived within a few hundred yards of the ranch-house.
Johnnie was provided with a spade and a wheelbarrow, and led to a gaping hole beneath the barn. I explained that the rain had washed away the soil and made the hole, which must be filled up before more rain should fall.
"Wheer shall I git the dirt from?" Johnnie demanded.
"From the most convenient place," said I. Ajax and I returned to the barn an hour later. The hole was filled; but another hole, from which Johnnie had taken the dirt, as large as the first, seriously threatened the under-pinning of the building.
Ajax swore. Johnnie looked at me, as he drawled out:
"The boss told me to git the dirt wheer 'twas mos' handy."
Ajax grinned.
"I see. It was the boss' fault, not yours. Now then, Johnnie, the work must be done all over again."
"If you say so, boys, I'll do it."
As we moved away Ajax pointed out the propriety of giving explicit directions. At dinner time we came back to the barn. Johnnie had taken the earth out of the first hole and put it back again into the second!
"You star-spangled fool!" said Ajax.
"You tole me," replied Johnnie, "that the work mus' be did all over agen--an' I done it."
"Directions," I remarked, "may be made too explicit."
After this incident, we always spoke of Johnnie as Bumblepuppy.
Some six months later Alethea-Belle told us that Johnnie Kapus was doing "chores" for the widow Janssen; milking her cow, taking care of the garden, and drawing water. Upon inquiry, however, we learned that the cow was drying up, the well had caved in, and the garden produced no weeds, it is true, and no vegetables!
"Why doesn't the widow sack him?" Ajax asked.
"Mis' Janssen is kinder sorry for Johnnie," replied the schoolmistress; then she added irrelevantly, "There's no denyin' that Johnnie Kapus has the loveliest curly hair."
About a fortnight after this, when the July sun was at its zenith and the starch out of everything animate and inanimate, old man Kapus came up to the ranch-house. Johnnie, he said, disappeared during the previous night.
"And he's bin kidnapped, too," the uncle added.
"Kidnapped?"
"Yes, boys--hauled out o' winder! A man weighin' close onter two hundred pounds 'd naterally prefer to walk out o' the door, but the widder hauled Johnnie out o' winder."
"The widow?"
"Mis' Janssen. There was buggy tracks at the foot o' the melon patch, and the widder's missin'. She's put it up to marry my Johnnie. I suspicioned something, but I counted on Johnnie. I sez to myself: 'Others might be tempted by a plump, well-lookin' widder, but not Johnnie.' Ye see, boys, Johnnie ain't quite the same as you an' me."
"Not quite," said Ajax.
"Mebbee ye've wondered why I sot sech store by Johnnie. Wal--I'll tell ye. Johnnie's paw an' me was brothers an' pardners afore the war. An' after Bull Run John sez to me: 'Abram,' he sez, 'we mustn't let Ole Glory trail in the dust.' That's what he sez. 'John,' I answers, 'what kin we do to prevent it?' 'Enlist,' sez he. An' we done it. But afore we go within smellin' distance o' the rebs, yes, boys, afore we saw 'em, a bullet comes slam-bang into John's head."
The old man paused, overcome. We turned our eyes from his wrinkled, troubled face, as Ajax entreated him to say no more.
"He died in defence of his flag," I muttered.
"Ah!" exclaimed Johnnie's uncle, "I thought you'd say that. No, boys, John didn't die. A Kapus takes a heap o' killin.' John up an lived-- an'married! He married my girl, too, Susie Bunker. Susie felt awful sorry for him, for that there rebel bullet had kinder made scrambled eggs with pore John's brains. I let Susie marry John, because I knew that he needed a good woman's keer. And then Johnnie was born: a whoppin' baby, but with a leetle something missin' in his purty head. Then John died, and soon enough Susie got peaked-face an' lost her relish fer food. She tuk a notion that John needed her t'otherside. Just afore she sent in her checks, she give me Johnnie, an' she ast my pardon for marryin' John instead o' me. I tole her she done right. An' I promised to look after Johnnie. Up to date, boys, I hev. But now that darned widder woman has onexpectedly kidnapped him. What kin I do?"
"The widow will look after both of you," I suggested.
"What! Share my Johnnie with her? Not much. She stole that there boy from me by force. By Jing! I'll take him from her without liftin' a finger. Ye see, Johnnie is mighty apt to disappint the widder. Sometimes--more often than not--Johnnieis--disappintin'! I allus jedge the pore boy by contrairies. Most o' men when they marry air apt to forgit them as raised 'em, but Johnnie'll pine fer me. I know it. Bless his heart, he can't git along nohow without me."
Listening to this simple talk, watching the old man's rough, honest face, my own heart grew chill with apprehension. The widow had a small income and many charms. It was certain that Johnnie's curly hair, bright blue eyes, and stalwart figure had captivated her fancy. Pity had bloomed into love. The pair must have driven--as fast as the widow's steed could travel--into San Lorenzo. By this time, high noon, the licence, doubtless, had been issued and the marriage solemnised by parson or justice of the peace. Once married, no man--not even old man Kapus--would be justified in tearing Bumblepuppy from the fond arms of his bride.
We asked Johnnie's uncle to dine with us. He thanked us warmly.
"Boys, you surmise that I'm feelin' lonesome. And I am. But I won't be lonesome long. The widder can't let that cow o' hers go without two milkin's, an' her pigs an' chickens must be fed. She'll be back in the village 'bout four or five; an' to-night, to-night, boys, my Johnnie 'll be home to supper."
Ajax discreetly descanted upon the widow's fine complexion, but old man Kapus lent him but an indifferent ear.
"She's fat an' slick," he admitted, "but Johnnie's fat an' slick, too. An' who made him so? Why--his uncle Abram. D'ye think now that I've fed him up and got him into sech fine shape that he'll leave me? No, sir. You might act that-a-way, but not my Johnnie."
After dinner, we accompanied Uncle Abram as far as the creek which flows between the village and our domain. Here stand some fine cottonwood trees and half-a-dozen lordly white-oaks. The spot is famous as a picnicking ground, and in the heat of summer is as cool a place as may be found in the county. And here, paddling in the brook like an urchin, we found Bumblepuppy. His eyes sparkled as they fell upon the face of his uncle.
"Ye've got back, Johnnie," said the old man.
"Yas. 'Twas hotter'n a red-hot stove on the road."
"Ye druv in with the widder woman?"
"Yas. I druv in with her; but I walked back. Guess I run the most o' the way, too."
"An' Mis' Janssen--wheer is she?"
"I dunno', uncle Abram."
"Is she still a widder woman, Johnnie?"
"She was when I left her," said Bumblepuppy.
He had ascended the bank. Sitting down, he began to put on his socks. I noted the admirable symmetry of calf and ankle; I thought of the lungs and muscles which had sustained the superb body during a twenty- six mile run between blazing earth and sky.
"What in thunder did ye go to town fer?" asked the old man. "Speak up, Johnnie. Give us the cold facts."
Then Bumblepuppy made the speech of his life.
"Uncle Abram, you tole me to obey Mis' Janssen, an' do what she said."
"That's so, Johnnie."
"Yesday, she tole me to fix up an' be ready to go to San Lorenzy with her. She said we'd travel by night 'cause o' the heat. An' she said I was not to 'sturb you. She said she'd come to the winder an' tap. Then I'd crawl out without 'sturbin' you. Wal--she come around about two, jest as the roosters was a'crowin 'fer the second time. I slipped out o' winder in my stockined feet. I hope I didn't 'sturb ye?"
"Ye didn't. Go on."
"In town Mis' Janssen said she'd fixed it up to marry me. She said I needed a lovin' wife, and that me an' she'd have a Fourth o' July time together. I said nothing, 'cause you'd tole me never to interrup' a lady when she was a-talkin'. She kep' on a-talkin' till we got to the Court House, where Mis' Janssen bought a licence. Then we hunted a minister. Bimeby, he ast me if I was willin' to take Sairy Anne Janssen to be my wife----"
"An' ye said NO, my own Johnnie?"
"That's what I done, Uncle Abram. And then she sez, kinder wheedlin': 'But you will marry yer Sairy Anne, Johnnie, won't ye?' And then, gittin' scared, I kinder forgot my manners, fer I said: 'No--I'm d---- d if I will!' An' I disremember what she said nex', but I found myself in the road, a-runnin' like a mad steer. Jee! that road was hotter'n a red-hot stove!"
During the recital of this adventure Bumblepuppy's face had deepened in tint till it glowed like an iron disc in the heart of a fire. As he finished speaking, he knelt down and dipped his head into the cool, bubbling creek. Lifting up his ruddy face, a ray of sunshine, filtering through the tremulous leaves of the cottonwoods, fell full upon his chestnut curls, and each drop of water on his hair became of a sudden a gem of prismatic colour and most brilliant lustre.
"Phew-w-w!" said Bumblepuppy. "I hope Mis' Janssen ain't feelin' as warm as I am."
VIJASPERSON'S BEST GIRL
VI
JASPERSON'S BEST GIRL
Jasperson came to the ranch at the time of the March branding, and it was well understood between the contracting parties--Ajax and I of the first part, and Jasper Jasperson of the second part, all of San Lorenzo County, in the State of California--that the said Jasperson came to us as a favour, and, so to speak, under protest. For he had never worked out before, and was possessed of money in bank and some four hundred acres of good arable land which, he carefully explained to us, he was unwilling to farm himself. Indeed, his appearance bespoke the man of independent means, for he wore a diamond collar- stud--his tie was always pulled carefully down so as not to interfere with this splendid gem--and two diamond rings. In Jasperson's hot youth he had come into violent contact with a circular saw, and the saw, as he admitted, had the best of the encounter--two fingers of his left hand being left in the pit. A man of character and originality, he insisted upon wearing the rings upon his maimed hand, both upon the index finger; and once, when Ajax suggested respectfully that the diamonds would shine to better advantage upon the right hand, he retorted reasonably enough that the mutilated member "kind of needed settin' off." He seized the opportunity to ask Ajax why we wore no jewellery, and upon my brother replying that we considered diamonds out of place upon a cattle ranch, he roundly asserted that in his opinion a "gen'leman couldn't be too dressy."
During the first month he bought in San Lorenzo a resplendent black suit, and an amazing dress shirt with an ivy pattern, worked in white silk, meandering down and up the bosom. To oblige Ajax he tried on these garments in our presence, and spoke hopefully of the future, which he said was sure to bring to his wardrobe another shirt and possibly a silk hat. We took keen interest in these important matters, and assured Jasperson that it would afford us the purest pleasure to see once more a silk hat. Then Ajax indiscreetly asked if he was about to commit matrimony.
"Boys," he replied, blushing, "I'd ought to be engaged, but I ain't. Don't give me away, but I ain't got no best girl--not a one. Surprisin', yes, sir, considerin' how I'm fixed--mostsurprisin'."
He took off his beautiful coat, and wrapped it carefully in tissue paper. We were sitting on the verandah after supper, and were well into our second pipes. The moonlight illumined the valley, but Jasperson's small delicate face was in shadow. From the creek hard by came the croaking of many frogs, from the cow pasture the shrilling of the crickets. A cool breeze from the Pacific was stirring the leaves of the willows and cottonwoods, and the wheat, now two feet high, murmured praise and thanksgiving for the late rains. When nature is eloquent, why should a mortal refrain from speech?
"Boys," continued Jasperson; "I'm a-goin' to tell ye something; because--well, because I feel like it. I've never had no best girl!" "Jasperson," said Ajax, "I can't believe that. What! you, a young and- ---"
"I ain't young," interrupted the man of independent means. "I'm nigh on to thirty-six. Don't flim-flam me, boys. I ain't young, and I ain't beautiful, but fixed up I am--dressy, an' that should count."
"It does count," said my brother, emphatically. "I've seen you, Jasperson, on Sundays, when I couldn't take my eyes off you. The girls must be crazy."
"The girls, gen'lemen, air all right; the trouble ain't with them. It's with me. Don't laugh: it ain't no laughin' matter. Boys--I'm bashful. That's what ails Jasper Jasperson. The girls," he cried scornfully; "you bet they know a soft snap when they see it, and I am a soft snap, an' don't you forget it!
"I left my own land," he continued dreamily, in a soft, melancholy voice, "because there ain't a lady within fifteen miles o' my barn, and here there's a village, and----"
"Her name, please," said Ajax, with authority; "you must tell us her name."
"Wal," he bent forward, and his face came out of the shadows; we could see that his pale blue eyes, red-rimmed and short-sighted, were suffused with tender light, and his pendulous lower lip was a-quiver with emotion; even the hair of his head--tow-coloured and wornà la Pompadour--seemed to bristle with excitement, "Wal," he whispered "it's--it's Miss Birdie Dutton!"
In the silence that followed I could see Ajax pulling his moustache. Miss Birdie Dutton! Why, in the name of the Sphinx, should Jasperson have selected out of a dozen young ladies far more eligible Miss Birdie Dutton? She was our postmistress, a tall, dark, not uncomely virgin of some thirty summers. But, alas! one of her eyes was fashioned out of glass; her nose was masculine and masterful; and her chin most positive. Jasperson's chin was equally conspicuous-- negatively. Miss Birdie, be it added, was a frequent contributor to the columns of theSan Lorenzo Banner, and Grand Secretary of a local temperance organisation. She boarded with the Swiggarts; and Mr. Swiggart, better known as Old Smarty, told me in confidence that "she wouldn't stand no foolishness"; and he added, reflectively, that she was something of a "bull-dozer." I knew that Old Smarty had sold his boarder an aged and foundered bronco for fifty dollars, and that within twenty-four hours the animal had been returned to him and the money refunded to Miss Birdie. Many persons had suffered grievously at the hands of Mr. Swiggart, but none, saving Miss Dutton, could boast of beating him in a horse-deal.
Presently I expressed surprise that Jasperson had the honour of Miss Dutton's unofficial acquaintance.
"I was interdooced last fall," said our friend, "at a candy-pullin' up to Mis' Swiggart's. Not that Miss Birdie was a-pullin' candy. No, sir; she ain't built that a way, but she was settin' there kind of scornful, but smilin' An' later she an' me sung some hymns together. Mebbe, gen'lemen, ye've heard Miss Birdie sing?"
I shook my head regretfully, but Ajax spoke enthusiastically of the lady's powers as a vocalist. He had previously described her voice to me as "a full choke, warranted to kill stone-dead at sixty yards."
"It is a lovely voice," sighed Jasperson, "strong, an' full, an' rich. Why, there ain't an organ in the county can down her high B!" Then, warmed by my brother's sympathy, he fumbled in his pocket, and found a sheet of note-paper. Upon this he had written a quatrain that he proposed to read to usau clair de la lune. The lines were addressed: "To My Own Blackbird."
"She's a pernounced brunette," explained the poet; "and her name is Birdie. I thought some of entitlin' the pome: 'To a Mocking Bird'; but I surmised that would sound too pussonal. She has mocked me, an' others, more'n once."
He sighed, still smarting at the memory of a gibe; then he recited the following in an effective monotone:--
"Oh! scorn not the humble worm, proud bird,As you sing i' the top o' the tree;Though doomed to squirm i' the ground, unheard.He'll make a square meal for thee."
"It ain't Shakespeare," murmured the bard, "but the idee is O.K."
My brother commended the lines as lacking neither rhyme nor reason, but he questioned the propriety of alluding to a lady's appetite, and protested strongly against the use of that abject word--worm. He told Jasperson that in comparing himself to a reptile he was slapping the cheeks of his progenitors.
"But I do feel like a worm when Miss Birdie's around," objected the man of acres. "It may be ondignified, but that there eye of hers does make me wiggle."
"It's a thousand pities," said I softly, "that Miss Dutton has only one eye."
Jasperson wouldn't agree with me. He replied, with ardour, that he would never have dared to raise his two blue orbs to Miss Dutton's brilliant black one, unless he had been conscious that his mistress, like himself, had suffered mutilation.
"I'm two fingers short," he concluded, "an' she's lackin' an eye. That, gen'lemen, makes it a stand-off. Say, shall I send her this yere pome?"
"Most certainly not," said Ajax.
"Then for the Lord's sake, post me."
I touched Ajax with my foot, and coughed discreetly; for I knew my brother's weakness. He is a spendthrift in the matter of giving advice. If Jasperson had appealed to me, the elder and more experienced, I should have begged politely, but emphatically, to be excused from interference. I hold that a man and a maid must settle their love affairs without help from a third party. Ajax, unhappily, thinks otherwise.
"Miss Dutton," he began, tentatively, "is aware, Jasperson, of your-- er--passion for her?"
"She ain't no sech a thing," said the lover.
"Yet her eye," continued Ajax, "is keen--keen and penetrating."
"It's a peach," cried the enthusiastic poet. "There ain't another like it in the land, but it can't see in the dark; an', boys, I've not shown my hand--yet!"
"You've made no advances directly or indirectly?"
"Not a one. By golly! I--I dassn't. I jest didn't know how. I ain't up to the tricks. You air, of course; but I'm not."
My brother somewhat confusedly hastened to assure Jasperson that his knowledge of the sex was quite elementary, and gleaned for the most part from a profound study of light literature.
The poet grinned derisively. "You ain't no tenderfoot," he said. "I reckon that what you don't know about the girls ain't worth picklin'."
"Well, if you mean business," said Ajax didactically, "if nothing we can say or do will divert your mind from courtship and matrimony--if, my dear Jasperson, you are prepared to exchange the pleasant places, the sunny slopes, and breezy freedom of bachelor life for the thorny path that leads to the altar, and thence to--er--the cradle, if, in short, you are determined to own a best girl, why, then the first and obvious thing to do is to let her know discreetly that you're in love with her."
"As how?" said Jasperson, breathlessly. "I told ye that when she was around I felt like a worm."
"You spoke of wiggling," replied my brother; "and I suppose that heretofore you have wiggledfromand nottothe bird. Next time, wiggle up, my boy--as close as possible."
"You're dead right," murmured the disciple; "but look at here: when I call on Miss Birdie, she sez, 'Mister Jasperson,' or, mebbe, 'Mister Jasper, please be seated, an' let me take your hat.' Naterally, boys, I take the chair she p'ints out, an' then, dog-gone it! she takesanother."
"Do you expect this young lady to sit down in your lap, sir? Maids, Jasperson, must not be lightly put to confusion. They must be stalked, and when at bay wooed with tender words and languishing glances. Now listen to me. Next Sunday, when you call upon Miss Dutton, take the chair she offers, but as soon as a suitable opportunity presents itself, ask to see the album. Thus you will cleverly betray a warm interest in her by showing a lively interest in her people. And to look over an album two persons must----"
"You bet they must," interrupted the poet. "They must nestle up. That's right! What kind of a chump am I not to have thought of that before? Yes, boys, she's got an album, a beaut', too: crimson plush an' nickel. And, of course, the pictures of her folks is inside. By gum! I'll give the homeliest of 'em sech a send-off as----"
"You will not," said Ajax. "Remember, Jasperson, that a burning black eye indicates jealousy, which you must beware of arousing. Don't praise too wantonly the beauty of Miss Dutton's sisters and cousins; but if the father is well-looking, pay your mistress the compliment of saying that the children of true lovers always take after the father. In turning the leaves of the album you might touch her hand, quite accidentally. No less an authority than Mr. Pickwick commends a respectful pressure."
"I'll do it," exclaimed Jasperson, "I'll do it, sure!"
"Has she a pretty hand?" I asked.
"Has she a pretty hand!" echoed the lover, in disdainful tones, "She has the hand of a queen! The Empress of Roosia ain't got a whiter nor a finer hand! Miss Birdie ain't done no harder work than smackin' a kid that needs it."
"I've heard," said I, "that she can smack--hard."
"An' I'd be a liar if I denied it," replied Jasperson. "Wal, gen'lemen, I'm obligated to ye. Next Sabbath I'll wade right in."
Upon the following Sunday our hero rose betimes, tubbed himself, shaved himself, perfumed his small person with bergamot, and then arrayed it in the ivy-bosomed shirt and the $75 suit of broadcloth. His toilet occupied just two hours and seventeen minutes. Ajax decorated the lapel of his coat with a handsome rosebud, and then the impatient swain tied round his neck a new white silk handkerchief, mounted his horse, and betook himself at a gallop to the village church. Ajax remarked with regret that the pace was too hot at the start, and feared that our colt would finish badly. As we walked back to the verandah, I told my brother that he had assumed a big responsibility; for I was convinced that Miss Dutton, albeit possessed of many admirable qualities, was not the woman to make little Jasperson either happy or comfortable. She, doubtless, being a wise bird, would greedily snap up this nice worm who had waxed fat in the richest soil. But how would the worm fare when swallowed up and absorbed?
At five that afternoon the amorous poet rode slowly up to the corral. As he sat limply upon his sorrel horse, smiling dismally at Ajax, we could see that the curl was out of his moustache, and out of the brim of his sombrero; upon his delicate face was inscribed failure.
"Boys," said he, throwing one leg over the horn of the saddle; "I didn't get there. I--I mired down!"
Later, he gave us some interesting details. It transpired that he had met his sweetheart, after Sabbath-school, and had sat beside her during the regular service; after church he had accepted a warm invitation from Mrs. Swiggart to join the family circle at dinner. At table he had been privileged to supply Miss Birdie with many dainties: pickled cucumbers, cup-custards, and root beer. He told us frankly that he had marked nothing amiss with the young lady's appetite, but that for his part he had made a sorry meal.
"My swaller," he said plaintively, "was in kinks before the boolyon was served."
"You say," murmured Ajax, "that Miss Dutton's appetite was good?"
It was just grand," replied the unhappy bard. "I never seen a lady eat cup-custards with sech relish."
"We may infer, then," observed my brother, "that Miss Birdie is still in happy ignorance of your condition; otherwise pity for you would surely have tempered that craving for cup-custards."
"I dun'no', boys, about that. Me an' Miss Birdie sung out o' the same hynm book, and--and I sort o' showed down. I reckon she knows what ails Jasper Jasperson."
Ajax unwisely congratulated the lovelorn one upon this piece of news. He said that the Rubicon was now passed, and retreat impossible. We noted the absence of the rosebud, and Jasperson blushingly confessed that he had presented the flower to his best girl after dinner, an act of homage--so we presumed--in recognition of the lady's contempt of danger in mixing pickled cucumbers with cup-custards.
"After that," said Jasperson, "I thought of the album, an' 'twas then my feet begun to get cold. But I up and as't to see it, as bold as a coyote in a hen-roost. Then she sez, kind of soft an' smilin': 'Why, Mister Jasper, what d'you want to see my album for? you don't know my folks.'"
"A glorious opportunity," said Ajax. "What did you reply, my buck?"
"Dog-gone it! I'd ought to have sailed right in, but I sot there, shiverin', an' said:' Oh! because ...' jest like a school-girl. And I could see that the answer made her squirm. She must ha' thought I was the awflest fool. But to save me that's all I could stammer out--'Oh, because ...'"
"Well," said Ajax, encouragingly, "the best of us may be confounded in love and war."
"You do put heart into a man," murmured the little fellow. "Wal, sir, we sot down an' looked through the album. And on the first page was Miss Birdie's father, the mortician and arterialist."
"The what?" we exclaimed.
"Undertaker andem-bammer. He's an expert, too. Why, Miss Birdie was a-tellin' me--"
I ventured to interrupt him. "I don't think, Jasperson, I should like an undertaker for a father-in-law. Have you considered that point?"
"I have, gen'lemen. It might come in mighty handy. Wal, he was the homeliest critter I ever seen. I dassn't ring in that little song an' dance you give me. And on the nex' page was Mis' Dutton." He sighed softly and looked upward.
"The mother," said Ajax briskly. "Now, I dare swear that she's a good- looking woman. Nature attends to such matters. Beauty often marries the b---- the homely man."
"Mis' Dutton," said Jasperson solemnly, "is now a-singing in the heavenly choir, an' bein' dead I can't say nothing; but, gen'lemen, ye'll understand me when I tell ye that Miss Birdie never got her fine looks from her maw. Not on your life!"
"Doubtless," said Ajax sympathetically, "there was something in the faces of Miss Dutton's parents that outweighed the absence of mere beauty: intelligence, intellect, character."
"The old man's forehead is kind o' lumpy," admitted Jasperson, "but I didn't use that. I sot there, as I say, a-shiverin', an' never opened my face. She then showed me her cousins: daisies they were and no mistake; but I minded what you said, an' when Miss Birdie as't me if they wasn't beauties, I sez no--not even good-lookin'; an', by golly! she got mad, an' when I tetched her hand, obedient to orders, she pulled it away as if a tarantula had stung it. After that I made tracks for the barn. I tell ye, gen'lemen, I'm not put up right for love-makin'."
Ajax puffed at his pipe, deep in thought. I could see that he was affected by the miscarriage of his counsels. Presently he removed the briar from his lips, and said abruptly: "Jasperson, you assert that you showed down in church. What d'you mean by that? Tell me exactly what passed."
The man we believed to be a laggard in love answered confusedly that he and Miss Dutton had been singing that famous hymn, "We shall meet in the sweet By-and-by." The congregation were standing, but resumed their seats at the end of the hymn. Under cover of much scraping of feet and rustling of starched petticoats, Jasperson had assured his mistress that the sweet By-and-by was doubtless a very pleasant place, but that he hoped to meet her often in the immediate future. He told us that Miss Birdie had very properly taken no notice whatsoever of this communication; whereupon he had repeated it, lending emphasis to what was merely a whisper by a sly pressure of the elbow. This, too, the lady had neither approved nor resented.
Upon this Ajax assured our friend that he need not despair, and he said that the vexed question of the fair's appetite had been set at rest: a happy certainty was the sauce that had whetted her hunger. Jasperson listened with sparkling eyes.
"Say," said he; "if you'll help me out, I'll write a letter to Miss Birdie this very night."
I frowned and expostulated in vain. Within two minutes, pens, ink and paper were produced, and both Jasperson and my brother were hard at work. Between them the following composition was produced. Jasperson furnished the manner, Ajax the matter.
"To Miss Birdie Dutton.
"Dear Friend,--Since leaving you this afternoon,more abrupt than a gentleman could wish, I have taken up my pen to set forth that which is in my heart, but which cannot leave my trembling lips. Dear friend, there is too muchat steakfor me to be calm in your presence. When I sat by your side, and gazed with you at the noble faces of your parents, reading there, dear friend, the names of those great qualities which have been inherited by you,with queenly beauty thrown in, then it was that a sudden sinking inside robbed your lover of his powers of speech. And how could I see the loveliness of your cousins when my eyes were dwelling with rapture upon the stately form of her I trust to call my own? Be mine, dear friend, for I love you and hope to marry you, to part neither here nor in the sweet By-and-by.
"Yours respectfully,
"Jasper Jasperson.
"P.S.--Important. The ranch is four hundred and three acres,paid for. And there's money somewhere to build a nice residence, and to furnish it according to Hoyle. We'd keep a hired girl.
"P.P.S.--And a pianner. J.J.(A true lover)."
This billet-doux was sealed and despatched, and in due time brought an acceptance. The engagement was formally ratified at a banquet given by the Swiggarts, and the health of the high contracting parties was enthusiastically drunk in pink lemonade. The marriage was arranged to take place during the summer vacation, and Pacific Grove was selected as the best spot in California for the honeymoon.
Thus smoothly for a season ran the course of true love. But three weeks later, when the landscape was wearing its imperial livery of lupin and eschscholtizia, when the fields at night were white with moonflowers, when a glorious harvest was assured, and all beasts and birds and insects were garrulous of love and love's delight--upon May- day, in short--was disclosed a terrible rift within poor Jasperson's lute.
He had escorted his sweetheart to the annual picnic, and returning late at night found Ajax and me enjoying a modest nightcap before turning in. We asked him to join us, but he refused with some asperity, and upon cross-examination confessed that he had promised Miss Button to take the pledge at the next meeting of the lodge. Now, we knew that Jasperson was the pink of sobriety, but one who appreciated an occasional glass of beer, or even a mild cocktail; and we had heard him more than once denounce the doctrines of the Prohibitionists; so we were quite convinced that meek submission to the dictates of the Grand Secretary of Corona Lodge was both unnecessary and inexpedient. And we said so.
"Birdie knows I don't drink," stammered our hired man, "but she thinks I'd ought to take the pledge as an example."
"An example," echoed Ajax. "To whom? Tous?"
"She said an example, gen'lemen, jest--an example."
"But she meant us," said Ajax sternly. "Our names were mentioned. Don't you deny it, Jasperson."
"They was," he admitted reluctantly. "She as't me, careless-like, if you didn't drink wine with your meals, and I said yes. I'd ought to have said no."
"What!" cried my brother, smiting the table till the decanter and glasses reeled. "You think that you ought to have lied on our account. Jasperson--I'm ashamed of you; I tremble for your future as the slave of Miss Dutton."
"Wal--I didn't lie," said Jasperson defiantly; "I up and told her the truth: that you had beer for supper, and claret wine, or mebbe sherry wine, or mebbe both for dinner, and that you took a toddy when you felt like it, an' that there was champagne down cellar, an' foreign liquors in queer bottles, an' Scotch whisky, an'--everything. She as't questions and I answered them--like an idiot! Gen'lemen, the shame you feel for me is discounted by the shame I feel for myself. I'd ought to have told Birdie that your affairs didn't concern her; I'd ought to have said that you was honnerable gen'lemen whom I'm proud to call my intimate friends; I'd ought to have said a thousand things, but I sot there, and said-nothin'!"
He was standing as he spoke, emphasising his periods with semaphoric motions of his right arm. When he had finished he sank quite overcome upon the big divan, and covered his flushed face with a pair of small hands. He was profoundly moved, and Ajax appeared less solidly complacent than usual. I reflected, not without satisfaction, that I had done what I could to keep Jasperson and the Grand Secretary apart.
"This is very serious," said Ajax, after a significant pause. "I--I feel, Jasperson, that this engagement was brought about by--me."
"It's a fact," assented our hired man. "And that's what makes me feel so mean right now. Boys, I love that woman so that I dassn't go agin her."
Ajax rose in his might and confronted the trembling figure upon the divan. My brother's nickname was given to him at school in virtue of his great size and strength. Standing now above Jasperson, his proportions seemed even larger than usual. The little dandy in his smug black garments with his diamond stud gleaming in the ivy-bosomed shirt (his rings had been given to Miss Birdie), with his features wilting like the wild pansies in the lapel of his coat, dwindled to an amorphous streak beneath the keen glance of my burly brother.
"Do you really love her?" said Ajax, in his deepest bass. "Or do youfearher, Jasperson? Answer honestly."
The small man writhed. "I dun'no'," he faltered at last. "By golly! I dun'no'."
"Then I do know," replied my brother incisively: "you've betrayed yourself, Jasperson. You're playing the worm. D'you hear? Theworm! I once advised you to wiggle up to the bird, now I tell you solemnly to wiggle away, before it's too late. I've been a fool, and so have you. For the past three weeks I've had my eye on you, and I suspected that you'd fallen a victim to an ambitious and unscrupulous woman. You've lost weight, man; and you've no flesh to spare. Marry Miss Dutton, and you'll be a scarecrow within a year, and require the services of the mortician within two! I got you into this infernal scrape, and, by Heaven I I'll get you out of it."
"But what will the neighbours say?" stammered Jasperson, sitting upright. At my brother's words his pendulous nether lip had stiffened, and now his pale blue eyes were quickening with hope and vitality. He arranged his white satin tie, that had slipped to one side, and smoothed nervously the nap of the broadcloth pants, while Ajax clad in rough grey flannels took a turn up and down our sitting-room.
My brother and I had lived together for many years, years of fat kine and years of lean, but I couldn't recall a single instance when he had considered the opinion of Mrs. Grundy. In coming to California, to a rough life on a cattle ranch, we had virtually snapped our fingers beneath the dame's nose. I mention this because it sheds light upon what follows.
"The neighbours, Jasperson," replied Ajax, "will say some deuced unpleasant things. But I think I can promise you the sympathy of the men, and your ranch is fifteen miles from a petticoat."
"I dassn't break it off, gen'lemen, not by word of mouth; but--but we might write."
"And lay yourself open to a breach of promise case and heavy damages. No--I've a better plan than that. We'll make Miss Dutton release you. She shall do the writing this time."
"Boys," said Jasperson solemnly, "she'll never do it--never! Her mind is sot on merridge. I see it all now. She hypnotised me, by golly! I swear she did! That eye of hers is a corker."
"What night are you to be initiated?" asked Ajax, with seeming irrelevance.
"Next Toosday," replied the neophyte nervously.
"You have never, I believe, been on a spree?"
"Never, gen'lemen--never."
"They tell me," said Ajax softly, "that our village whisky, the sheep- herders' delight, will turn a pet lamb into a roaring lion."
"It's pizon," said Jasperson,--"jest pizon."
"You, Jasperson, need a violent stimulant. On Tuesday afternoon, my boy, you and I will go on a mild spree. I don't like sprees any more than you do, but I see no other way of cutting this knot. Now, mark me, not a word to Miss Dutton. It's late, so--good-night."
Between May-day and the following Tuesday but little transpired worth recording. Miss Dutton sent the convert a bulky package of tracts, with certain scathing passages marked--obviously for our benefit--in red ink; and we learned from Alethea-Belle that the initiation of Jasper Jasperson was to be made an occasion of much rejoicing, and that an immense attendance was expected at Corona Lodge. The storekeeper asked Ajax outright if there were truth in the rumour that we were to be decorated with the blue ribbon, and my brother hinted mysteriously that even stranger things than that might happen. Jasperson complained of insomnia, but he said several times that he would never forget what Ajax was doing on his behalf, and I don't think he ever will. For my part I maintained a strict neutrality. Ethically considered, I was sensible that my brother's actions were open to severe criticism; at the same time, I was certain that mild measures would not have prevailed.
The Grand Secretary, while I was in the post-office, invited me quite informally to participate in the opening exercises, and to assist at the banquet, the benediction, so to speak, of the secret rites. She said that other prominent gentlemen would receive invitations, and that she was certain the "work" would please and edify. She expressed much chagrin when I tendered my regret, and amazed me by affirming that Ajax had cordially consented to be present. This I considered an outrageous breach of good manners upon his part: if he kept his promise, a number of most worthy and respectable persons would consider themselves insulted; so I advised Miss Birdie not to count upon him.
"I like your big brother," she said, in her hard, metallic tones; "he is such a man: he has made quite a conquest of me; for mercy's sake don't tell him so."
I pledged myself to profound secrecy, but walking home the remembrance of an uncanny gleam in her bold black eye put to flight my misgivings. I decided that Ajax was justified in using "pizon."
Upon Tuesday afternoon I deemed it expedient to remain at the ranch- house. About five, Jasperson, arrayed in his best, accompanied Ajax to the village. The lodge was to open its doors at 7.30; and at ten my brother returned alone, breathless and red in the face, the bearer of extraordinary tidings. I shall let him tell the story in his own words.
"The whole village," said he, "has been painted by Jasperson a lovely pigeon-blood red!" Then he sat down and laughed in the most uncontrollable and exasperating manner.
"By Jupiter!" he gasped; "I knew that whisky was wonderful stuff, but I never believed it could turn a worm into a Malay running amok." Then he laughed again till the tears rolled down his cheeks.
Between the gusts and gurgles of laughter a few more details leaked out. I present them connectedly. The kind reader will understand that allowance must be made for my brother. He is a seasoned vessel, but no man can drink our village nectar with impunity.
"Of course," he began, "I knew that, this being his last day, the boys would ask Jasperson to celebrate. So, mindful, of your precious reputation--I don't care a hang about my own--I kept in the background. Upon inquiry you'll find that it is generally conceded that I did my best to prevent what has happened. And Jasperson was foxey, too. He hung back, said he was going to join the lodge, and wouldn't indulge in anything stronger than Napa Soda. He had three rounds of that. Then he was persuaded by Jake Williams to try a glass of beer, and after that a bumper of strong, fruity port--the pure juice of the Californian grape. That warmed him up! At a quarter to six he took his first drink of whisky, and then the evil spirits of all the devils who manufacture it seemed to possess him. In less than half-an-hour he was the centre of a howling crowd, and none howled louder than he. He set up the drinks again and again. I tried to drag him away, and failed miserably. I'll be hanged if he didn't get hold of a six-shooter, and threatened to fill me with lead if I interfered. He told the boys he was going to join the lodge. That was the dominant note. He was going to join the lodge. He had come to town on purpose. How they cheered him! Then that scoundrel Jake Williams was inspired by Satan to ask him if he was provided with an initiation robe. And he actually persuaded Jasperson to remove his beautiful black clothes and to array himself in a Sonora blanket. Then they striped his poor white face with black and red paint, till he looked like an Apache. Honestly, I did my level best to quash the proceedings: I might as well have tried to bale out the Pacific with a pitchfork. At a quarter-past seven the Swiggarts drove into Paradise, and I wish you could have seen the Grand Secretary's face. She had no idea, naturally, that her Jasper was the artist so busily engaged in decorating the village. But she knew there was an awful row on, and I fancy she rather gloried in her own saintliness. Presently the lodge filled up, and I could see Miss Birdie standing on the porch looking anxiously around for the candidate. Finally I felt so sorry for the girl, that I made up my mind to give her a hint, so that she could slip quietly away. She greeted me warmly, and said that she supposed Mr. Jasperson was around 'somewheres,' and I said that he was. Then she spoke about the riot, and asked if I had seen a number of brutal cowboys abusing a poor Indian. She told me that her brothers and sisters inside the lodge were very distressed about it. And as she talked the yells grew louder, and I was convinced that the candidate was about to present himself. So I tried to explain the facts. But, confound it! she was so obtuse--for I couldn't blurt the truth right out--that, before she caught on, the procession arrived. The catechumen was seated upon an empty beer-barrel, placed upon a sort of float dragged by the boys. They had with them a big drum, that terrible bassoon of Uncle Jake's, and a cornet; the noise was something terrific. Well, Miss Birdie's a good plucked one! She stood on the steps and rebuked them. That voice of hers silenced the band. Before she was through talking you might have heard a pin drop. She rated them for a quarter of an hour, and all the good people in the lodge came out to listen and applaud. I was jammed up against her, and couldn't stir. At the end she invited them to come into the lodge to see a good man--I quote her verbatim--an upright citizen, a credit to his country and an ornament to society, take the pledge. When she stopped, Jasperson began, in that soft, silky voice of his. He thanked her, and said he was glad to know that he was held in such high esteem; that he cordially hoped the boys would come in, as he was paying for the banquet, and that after supper they might expect a real sociable time!
"That's all, but it was enough for the Grand Secretary. She gave a ghastly scream, and keeled over, right into my arms."
"And where," said I, "is Jasperson?"
"Jasperson," replied Ajax soberly, "is being removed in a spring-wagon to his own ranch. To-morrow he will be a very sick man, but I think I've got him out of his scrape."