THE MANEUVERING OF MRS. SYBERT
“Why, mother, where are you a-goin’, all dressed up so?”
Mr. Sybert stood in the bedroom door and stared at his wife’s ample back. There was a look of surprise in his blue eyes. Mrs. Sybert stooped before the bureau, and opened the middle drawer, taking hold of both handles and watching it carefully as she drew it toward her. Sometimes it came out crookedly; and every one knows that a drawer that opens crookedly, will, in time, strain and rub the best bureau ever made. From a red pasteboard box that had the picture of a pretty actress on the cover, Mrs. Sybert took a linen handkerchief that had been ironed until it shone like satin. After smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of it, she put it into her pocket, set her bonnet a little further over her forehead, pushing a stray lock sternly where it belonged, adjusted her bonnet-strings, which were so wide and so stiff that they pressed her ears away from her head, giving her a bristling appearance, and buttoned her gloves with a hair-pin; then, having gained time and decided upon a reply, she said, cheerfully, “What’s that, father?”
“Well, it took you a right smart spell to answer, didn’t it? I say, where are you a-goin’, all dressed up so?”
Mrs. Sybert took her black silk bag with round spots brocaded upon it, and put its ribbons leisurely over her arm. “I’m a-goin’ to see Mis’ Nesley,” she said.
Her husband’s face reddened. “What’s that you say, mother? You’re a-goin’ to dowhat? I reckon I’m a-goin’ a little deef.”
“I’m a-goin’ to see Mis’ Nesley.” Mrs. Sybert spoke calmly. No one would have suspected that she was reproaching herself for not getting out of the house ten minutes sooner. “He never’d ’a’ heard a thing about it,” she was thinking; but she looked straight into his eyes. Her eyelids did not quiver.
The red in Mr. Sybert’s face deepened. He stood in the door, so she could not pass. Indeed, she did not try. Mrs. Sybert had not studied signs for nothing during the thirty years she had been a wife. “I reckon you’re a-foolin’, mother,” he said. “Just up to some o’ your devilment!”
“No, I ain’t up to no devilment, father,” she said, still calmly. “You’d best let me by, now, so’s I can go; it’s half after two.”
“D’ you mean to say that you’re a-ne’rnest? A-talkin’ about goin’ to see thathussyof a Mis’ Nesley?”
“Yes, I’m a-ne’rnest,” said Mrs. Sybert, firmly. “She ain’t a hussy, as I know of. What you got agin ’er, I’d like to know?”
“Iain’t got anything agin ’er. Now, what’s the sense o’ you’re a-pretendin’ you don’t know the talk about ’er, mother?” Mr. Sybert’s tone had changed slightly. He did not like the poise of his wife’s body; it bespoke determination—a fight to the finish if necessary. “You know she’s be’n the town talk fer five years. Your own tawngue hez run on about ’er like’s if ’t was split in the middle an’ loose at both en’s. There wa’n’t a woman in town that spoke to ’er”——
“There was men, though, that did,” said Mrs. Sybert, calmly. “I rec’lect bein’ in at Mis’ Carney’s one day, an’ seein’ you meet ’er opposite an’ take off your hat to ’er—bowin’ an’ scrapin’ right scrumptious like.”
Mr. Sybert changed his position uneasily, and cleared his throat. “Well, that’s diff’rent,” he said. “I ust to know ’er before ’er husband died”——
“Well, I ust to know ’er, then, too,” said Mrs. Sybert, quietly.
“Well, you hed to stop speakin’ to ’er after she got to actin’ up so, but it wa’n’t so easy fer me to stop biddin’ ’er the time o’ day.”
“Why not?” said Mrs. Sybert, stolidly.
“Why not!” repeated her husband, loudly; hewas losing his temper. “What’s the sense o’ your actin’ the fool so, mother? Why, if I’d ’a’ set myself up as bein’ too virtjus to speak to ’er ev’ry man in town ’u’d ’a’ be’n blagg’ardin’ me about bein’ so mighty good!”
“Whysh’u’dn’tyou be so mighty good, father? You expect me to be, I notice.”
Mr. Sybert choked two or three times. His face was growing purplish.
“Oh,damn!” he burst out. Then he looked frightened. “Now, see here, mother! You’re aggravatin’ me awful. You know as well as me that men ain’t expected to be as good all their lives as women”——
“Why ain’t they expected to?” Mrs. Sybert’s tone and look were stern.
“I don’t know why they ain’t, mother, but I know theyain’texpected to—an’ I know they ain’t asgood, ’ither.” This last was a fine bit of diplomacy. But it was wasted.
“They ain’t as good, aigh? Well, the reason they ain’t as good is just because they ain’t expected to be! That’s just the reason. You can’t get around that, can you, father?”
Evidently he could not.
“An’ now,” continued Mrs. Sybert, “that she’s up an’ married Mr. Nesley an’ wants to live a right life, I’m a-goin’ to see her.”
“How d’you know she wants to live a right life?”
“I don’t know it, father. I justreckonshe does. When you wanted I sh’u’d marry you, my father shook his head, an’ says—‘Lucindy, I do’ know what to say. John’s be’n a mighty fast young fello’ to give a good girl to fer the askin’,’ but I says—‘Well, father, I reckon he wants to start in an’ live a right life now.’ An’ so I reckon that about Mis’ Nesley.”
“God A’mighty, mother!” exclaimed Mr. Sybert, violently. “That’s diff’rent. Them things ain’t counted the same in men. Most all men nowadays sow their wild oats an’ then settle down, an’ ain’t none the worse for it. It just helps ’em to appreciate good women, an’ to make good husbands.”
“Well, I reckon Mis’ Nesley knows how to appreciate a good man by this time,” said Mrs. Sybert, with unintentional irony. “I reckon she’s got all her wild oats sowed, an’ is ready to settle down an’ make a good wife. So I’m goin’ to see ’er. Let me by, father. I’ve fooled a ha’f an hour away now, when I’d ort to ’a’ be’n on the road there.”
“Now, see here, mother. You ain’t goin’ a step. The whole town’s excited over a nice man like Mr. Nesley a-throwin’ hisself away on a no-account woman like her, an’ you sha’n’t be seen a-goin’ there an’ upholdin’ her.”
Mrs. Sybert looked long and steadily into herhusband’s eyes. It was her policy to fight until she began to lose ground, and then to quietly turn her forces to maneuvering. “I reckon,” she was now reflecting; “it’s about time to begin maneuv’rin’.”
“Well, father,” she said, mildly; “I’ve made up my mind to go an’ see Mis’ Nesley an’ encourage her same’s I w’u’d any man that wanted to live better. An’ I’m a-goin’.”
“Youain’ta-goin’!” thundered Mr. Sybert. “I forbid you to budge a step! You sha’n’t disgrace yourself, Mrs. Sybert, if you do want to, while you’re my wife!”
Mrs. Sybert untied her bonnet strings, and laid her bag on the foot of the bed. “All right, father,” she said, “I won’t go till you tell me I can. I always hev tried to do just as you wanted I sh’u’d.”
She went into another room to take off her best dress. Mr. Sybert stood staring after her, speechless. He had the dazed look of a cat that falls from a great height and alights, uninjured, upon its feet. The maneuvering had commenced.
Mr. Sybert spent the afternoon at the postoffice grocery store. It was a pleasant place to sit. There was always a cheerful fire in the rusty box-stove in the back room, and there were barrels and odds and ends of chairs scattered around, whereon men who had an hour to squander might sit andtalk over the latest scandal. Men, as it is well known, are above the petty gossip as to servants and best gowns which women enjoy; but, without scruple or conscience, they will talk away a woman’s character, even when they see her struggling to live down a misfortune or sin and begin a new life. There are many characters talked away in the back rooms of grocery stores.
It was six o’clock when he went home. As he went along the narrow plank walk, he thought of the good supper that would be awaiting him, and his heart softened to “mother.”
“I reckon I was too set,” he reflected. “There ain’t many women as good an’ faithful as mother. I don’t see what got it into her head to go to see that Mis’ Nesley—an’ to talk up so to me. She never done that afore.”
The door was locked. In surprise he fumbled about in the dark for the seventh flower-pot in the third row, where mother always hid the key. Yes, it was there. But his knees shook a little as he entered the house. He could not remember that he had ever found her absent at supper time since the children were married. Some of the neighbors must be sick. In that case she would have left a note; and he lighted the kitchen candle, and searched for it. It was pinned to a cushion on the bureau in the bedroom. The house was cold, but he did not wait to kindle a fire.He sat down by the bureau, and with fingers somewhat clumsier than usual, adjusted his spectacles over his high, thin nose. Then, leaning close to the candle, he read the letter, the composition of which must have given “mother” some anxious hours. It was written with painful precision.
“Dear Father: You will find the coald meat in the safe out on the back porch in the stun crock covered up with a pie pan. The apple butter is in the big peory jar down in the seller with a plate and napkeen tied over it. Put them back on when you get some out so the ants wont get into. There’s a punkin pie on the bottom shelf of the pantree to the right side of the door as you go in, and some coffy in the mill all ground. I’m offul sorry I hadent time to fix supper. I hev gone to Johns and Marias to stay tell you come after me and I don’t want that you shud come tell you change your mind bout Mis Nesley, if it takes till dumesday to change it. I aint never gone against you in anythin before, but I haf to this time. Im goin to stay at Johns and Marias tell you come of yourself and get me. You dont haf to say nothin before John and Maria except just well mother Ive come after you. Then I’ll know you meen I can go and see Mis Nesley.“Well father I reckon youll be surprised but Ive been thinkin bout that poor woman and us not givin her a chanse after what Christ said bout castin the first stun. He didnt make no difrence between mens and womens sins and I dont perpose to. There aint a woman alive thats worse than haff the men are when they conclud to settle down and live right and if you give men a chanse youve got to give women a chanse too. They both gotsoles an I reckon thats what Gods thinkin bout. I married you and give you a chanse and I reckon youd best do as much fer Mis Nesley.“If you dont come fer me Ill live at Johns and Marias and I want that you shud keep all the things but the hit and miss rag carpet. I dont think I cud get along without that. Marias are all wove in stripes and look so comon. And my cloze and one fether bed and pillow. Well thats all.“Mother.”“I laid out your clean undercloze on the foot of the bed and your sox with them.”
“Dear Father: You will find the coald meat in the safe out on the back porch in the stun crock covered up with a pie pan. The apple butter is in the big peory jar down in the seller with a plate and napkeen tied over it. Put them back on when you get some out so the ants wont get into. There’s a punkin pie on the bottom shelf of the pantree to the right side of the door as you go in, and some coffy in the mill all ground. I’m offul sorry I hadent time to fix supper. I hev gone to Johns and Marias to stay tell you come after me and I don’t want that you shud come tell you change your mind bout Mis Nesley, if it takes till dumesday to change it. I aint never gone against you in anythin before, but I haf to this time. Im goin to stay at Johns and Marias tell you come of yourself and get me. You dont haf to say nothin before John and Maria except just well mother Ive come after you. Then I’ll know you meen I can go and see Mis Nesley.
“Well father I reckon youll be surprised but Ive been thinkin bout that poor woman and us not givin her a chanse after what Christ said bout castin the first stun. He didnt make no difrence between mens and womens sins and I dont perpose to. There aint a woman alive thats worse than haff the men are when they conclud to settle down and live right and if you give men a chanse youve got to give women a chanse too. They both gotsoles an I reckon thats what Gods thinkin bout. I married you and give you a chanse and I reckon youd best do as much fer Mis Nesley.
“If you dont come fer me Ill live at Johns and Marias and I want that you shud keep all the things but the hit and miss rag carpet. I dont think I cud get along without that. Marias are all wove in stripes and look so comon. And my cloze and one fether bed and pillow. Well thats all.
“Mother.”
“I laid out your clean undercloze on the foot of the bed and your sox with them.”
One fine afternoon the following week Mrs. Sybert, looking through the geraniums in Maria’s kitchen window, saw her husband drive up to the gate. She did not look surprised.
“Here’s father come to get me, Maria,” she said, lifting her voice.
Maria came out of the pantry with flour on her hands and arms and stood waiting. Mr. Sybert came in, stamping, and holding his head high and stiffly. He had a lofty and condescending air.
“Well, mother,” he said, “I’ve come after you.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Sybert, “set down till I get on my things. I’ve had a right nice vis’t, but I’m glad to get home. Did you find the apple butter?”
On the road home Mrs. Sybert talked cheerfully about John and Maria and their domestic affairs. Mr. Sybert listened silently. He held his bodyerect, looking neither to the right nor to the left. He did not speak until they approached Mr. Nesley’s gate. Then he said, with firmness and dignity:
“Mother, I’ve b’en thinkin’ that you’d best go an’ see Mis’ Nesley, after all. I changed my mind down at the postoffice groc’ry store that same afternoon an’ went home, meanin’ to tell you I wanted you sh’u’d go an’ see ’er—but you was gone to John’s an’ Maria’s. I reckon you’d best stop right now an’ have it over.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Sybert.
She descended meekly over the front wheel. There was not the slightest air of triumph about her until she got inside the gate. Then a smile went slowly across her face. But her husband did not see it. He was looking out of the corners of his eyes at the house across the road. Mrs. Deacon, the druggist’s wife, and all her children had their faces flattened against the window.
Mr. Sybert’s determination kept his head high, but not his spirit.
“God A’mighty!” he groaned. “The whole town’ll know it to-morrow. I’d rather die than face that groc’ry store—after the way I’ve went on about people upholdin’ of her!”