Hepsey Burke

“I said d-u-m, Mrs. Betty; I never say nothin’ worse than that—’cept when I lose my temper,” he added, safely, examining first the hone and then the edge of the scythe, as if intending to sharpen it.

Hepsey had gone into the house to inspect for herself the thoroughness of Mary McGuire’s operations; Betty thought the opportunity favorable for certain counsels.

“The trouble with you is you shouldn’t be living alone, like this, Jonathan. You have all the disadvantages of a house, and none of the pleasures of a home.”

“Yes,” he responded, yawning, “it’s true enough; but I ’aint a chicken no more, Mrs. Betty, and I’ve ’most forgot how to do a bit of courtin’. What with cleanin’ up, and puttin’ on your Sunday clothes, and goin’ to the barber’s, and gettin’ a good ready, it’s a considerable effort for an old man like me.”

“People don’t want to see your clothes; they want to see you. If you feel obliged to, you can send your Sunday clothes around some day and let her look at them once for all. Keeping young is largely a matter of looking after your digestion and getting plenty of sleep. Its all foolishness for you to talk about growing old. Why, you are in the prime of life.”

“Hm! Yes. And why don’t you tell me that I look real handsome, and that the girls are all crazy for me. You’re an awful jollier, Mrs. Betty, though I’ll admit that a little jollyin’ does me a powerful lot 142 of good now and then. I sometimes like to believe things I know to a certainty ’aint true, if they make me feel good.”

For a moment Betty kept silent, gazing into the kindly face, and then the instinct of match-making asserted itself too strongly to be resisted.

“There’s no sense in your being a lonesome widower. Why don’t you get married? I mean it.”

For a moment Jonathan was too astounded at the audacity of the serious suggestion to reply; but when he recovered his breath he exclaimed:

“Well, I swan to man! What will you ask me to be doin’ next?”

“Oh, I mean it, all right,” persisted Mrs. Betty. “Here you’ve got a nice home for a wife, and I tell you you need the happiness of a real home. You will live a whole lot longer if you have somebody to love and look after; and if you want to know what you will be asking me to do next, I will wager a box of candy it will be to come to your wedding.”

“Make it cigars, Mrs. Betty; I’m not much on candy. Maybe you’re up to tellin’ me who’ll have me. I haven’t noticed any females makin’ advances towards me in some time now. The only woman I see every day is Mary McGuire, and she’d make a pan-cake griddle have the blues if she looked at it.” 143

Mrs. Betty grasped her elbow with one hand, and putting the first finger of the other hand along the side of her little nose, whispered:

“What’s the matter with Mrs. Burke?”

Jonathan deliberately pulled a hair from his small remaining crop and cut it with the scythe, as if he had not heard Betty’s impertinent suggestion. But finally he replied:

“There’s nothin’ the matter with Mrs. Burke that I know of; but that’s no reason why she should be wantin’ to marry me.”

“She thinks a great deal of you; I know she does.”

“How do you know she does?”

“Well, I heard her say something very nice about you yesterday.”

“Hm! Did you? What was it?”

“She said that you were the most—the most economical man she ever met.”

“Sure she didn’t say I was tighter than the bark on a tree? I guess I ’aint buyin’ no weddin’ ring on the strength of that. Now, Mrs. Betty, you just try again. I guess you’re fooling me!”

“Oh no, really I’m not. I never was more serious in my life. I mean just what I say. I know Mrs. Burke really thinks a very great deal of you, and if you like her, you ought to propose to her. Every 144 moment a man remains single is an outrageous waste of time.”

Jonathan grinned as he retorted:

“Well, no man would waste any time if all the girls were like you. They’d all be comin’ early to avoid the rush. Is Mrs. Burke employin’ your services as a matrimonial agent? Maybe you won’t mind tellin’ me what you’re to get if the deal pulls off. Is there a rake-off anywheres?”

Betty laughed, and Jonathan was silent for a while, squinting at the scythe-edge, first from one angle, then from another, and tentatively raising the hone as if to start sharpening.

“Well, Mrs. Betty,” he said presently, “seein’ I can’t possibly marry you, I don’t mind tellin’ you that I think the next best thing would be to marry Hepsey Burke. She’s been a mighty good friend and neighbor ever since my wife died; but she wouldn’t look at the likes of me. ’Twouldn’t be the least use of proposin’ to her.”

“How do you know it wouldn’t? You are not afraid of proposing, are you?”

“No, of course not; but I can’t run over and propose, as I would ask her to lend me some clothes-line. That’d be too sudden; and courtin’ takes a lot of time and trouble. I guess I ’most forgot how by 145 this time; and then, to tell you the truth, I always was a bit shy. It took me near onto five years to work myself up to the sticking point when I proposed to my first wife.”

“Well, now that’s easy enough; Mrs. Burke usually sits on the side porch after supper with her knitting. Why don’t you drop over occasionally, and approach the matter gradually? It wouldn’t take long to work up to the point.”

“But how shall I begin? I guess you’ll have to give me lessons.”

“Oh, make her think you are very lonely. Pity is akin to love, you know.”

“But she knows well enough I’m mighty lonely at times. That won’t do.”

“Then make her think that you are a regular daredevil, and are going to the bad. Maybe she’ll marry you to save you.”

“Me, goin’ to the bad at my age, and the Junior Warden of the church, too. What are you thinkin’ of?”

“It is never too late to mend, you know. You might try being a little frisky, and see what happens.”

“Oh, I know what would happen all right. She’d be over here in two jerks of a lamb’s tail, and read the riot act, and scare me out of a year’s growth. 146 Hepsey’s not a little thing to be playin’ with.”

“Well, you just make a start. Anything to make a start, and the rest will come easy.”

“My, how the neighbors’d talk!”

“Talk is cheap; and besides, in a quiet place like this it’s a positive duty to afford your neighbors some diversion; you ought to be thankful. You’ll become a public benefactor. Now will you go ahead?”

“Mrs. Betty, worry’s bad for the nerves, and’s apt to produce insomny and neurastheny. But I’ll think it over—yes, I will—I’ll think it over.”

Whereupon he suddenly began to whet his scythe with such vim as positively startled Betty.

CHAPTER XIII

THE CIRCUS

The Maxwells were, in fact, effectively stirring up the ambitions of their flock, routing the older members out of a too easy-going acceptance of things-as-they-are, and giving to the younger ones vistas of a life imbued with more color and variety than had hitherto entered their consciousness. And yet it happened at Durford, on occasion, that this awakening of new talents and individuality produced unlocked for complications.

“Oh yes,” Hepsey remarked one day to Mrs. 148 Betty, when the subject of conversation had turned to Mrs. Burke’s son and heir, “Nickey means to be a good boy, but he’s as restless as a kitten on a hot Johnny-cake. He isn’t a bit vicious, but he do run his heels down at the corners, and he’s awful wearin’ on his pants-bottoms and keeps me patchin’ and mendin’ most of the time—‘contributing to the end in view,’ as Abraham Lincoln said. But, woman-like, I guess he finds the warmest spot in my heart when I’m doin’ some sort of repairin’ on him or his clothes. It would be easier if his intentions wasn’t so good, ’cause I could spank him with a clear conscience if he was vicious. But after all, Nickey seems to have a winnin’ way about him. He knows every farmer within three miles; he’ll stop any team he meets, climb into the wagon seat, take the reins, and enjoy himself to his heart’s content. All the men seem to like him and give in to him; more’s the pity! And he seems to just naturally lead the other kids in their games and mischief.”

“Oh well, I wouldn’t give a cent for a boy who didn’t get into mischief sometimes,” consoled Mrs. Betty.

At which valuation Nickey was then in process of putting himself and his young friends at a premium. For, about this time, in their efforts to amuse themselves, 149 Nickey and some of his friends constructed a circus ring back of the barn: After organizing a stock company and conducting several rehearsals, the rest of the boys in the neighborhood were invited to form an audience, and take seats which had been reserved for them without extra charge on an adjoining lumber pile. Besides the regular artists there were a number of specialists or “freaks,” who added much to the interest and excitement of the show.

For example, Sam Cooley, attired in one of Mrs. Burke’s discarded underskirts, filched from the ragbag, with some dried cornstalk gummed on his face, impersonated the famous Bearded Lady from Hoboken.

Billy Burns, wearing a very hot and stuffy pillow buttoned under his coat and thrust down into his trousers, represented the world-renowned Fat Man from Spoonville. His was rather a difficult role to fill gracefully, because the squashy pillow would persist in bulging out between his trousers and his coat in a most indecent manner; and it kept him busy most of the time tucking it in.