Hepsey Burke

“But—but,” wailed the repentant Virginia, “what can I say about the tent? Pa won’t go back on that—not if his life had been saved twice over.”

“Never you mind about that. You do your part of the business, and leave the rest to the other feller. You can bet your bottom dollar it won’t be the Maxwells that’ll raise the question of who turned ’em out of the rectory.”

“I’ll go right away, before I weaken. Oh,” she cried, as Hepsey put a strengthening arm about her, 266 “I’ve been wrong—I know I have. However shall I make it right again?”

When Virginia arrived at the tent and pulled the bell-cord, Mrs. Betty pushed apart the curtains and greeted her visitor with the utmost cordiality.

“Oh, Miss Bascom! I am so glad to see you. Come right in. Donald is out just now; but he will return presently, and I’m sure will be delighted to see an old friend. This way, please. Is your father improving satisfactorily?”

This greeting was so utterly different from what she had expected, that for the moment she was silent; but when they were seated she began:

“Mrs. Maxwell, I don’t know how to express my gratitude to you for all you have done for my father. I—I–”

“Then I wouldn’t try, Miss Bascom. Don’t give the matter a single thought. We were glad to do what we could for your father, and we made him as comfortable as we could.”

Virginia’s heart was quite atrophied, and so with choking voice she began:

“And I’m afraid that I have not been very civil to you—in fact, I am sure that I owe you an apology–”

“No, never mind. It’s all right now. Suppose you 267 take off your things and stay to supper with us. Then we can have a real good visit, and you will see how well we dwellers in tents can live!”

Virginia winced; but for some reason which she could not understand she found it quite impossible to decline the invitation.

“I’m sure you are very kind, Mrs. Maxwell; but I’m afraid I shall inconvenience you.”

“Oh no, not a bit. Now will you be a real good Samaritan and help me a little, as I have no maid? You might set the table if you don’t mind, and when Donald comes we shall be ready for him. This is really quite jolly,” she added, bustling about, showing Virginia where to find things.

“I am afraid,” Virginia began with something like a sob in her voice, “that you are heaping coals of fire on my head.”

“Oh no; not when coal is over seven dollars a ton. We couldn’t afford such extravagant hospitality as that. You might arrange those carnations in the vase if you will, while I attend to the cooking. You will find the china, and the silver, in that chest. I won’t apologize for the primitive character of our entertainment because you see when we came down here we stored most of our things in Mrs. Burke’s barn. It is awfully nice to have somebody with me; I am so 268 much alone; you came just in time to save me from the blues.”

When Mrs. Betty disappeared in the “kitchen,” and Virginia began the task assigned her, a very queer and not altogether pleasant sensation filled her heart. Was it remorse, or penitence, or self-reproach, or indigestion? She could not be absolutely sure about it, but concluded that perhaps it was a combination of all four. When Donald returned, and discovered Virginia trying to decide whether they would need two spoons or three at each plate, for an instant he was too astonished to speak; but quickly regaining his easy manner, he welcomed her no less cordially than Mrs. Betty had done, remarking:

“Well, this is a treat; and so you are going to have supper with us? That will be a great pleasure.”

Virginia almost collapsed in momentary embarrassment, and could think of nothing better than to ask:

“I am not sure what Mrs. Maxwell is going to have for supper, and I really don’t know whether to place two spoons or three. What would you advise, Mr. Maxwell?”

Maxwell scowled seriously, rubbed his chin and replied:

“Well, you know, I really can’t say; but perhaps it would be on the safe side to have three spoons in 269 case any emergency might arise, like a custard, or jelly and whipped cream, or something else which Betty likes to make as a surprise. Yes, on the whole, I think that three would be better than two.”

When Virginia had placed the spoons, and Maxwell had returned to assist her, she hesitated a moment and looked at him with tears in her eyes and began:

“Mr. Maxwell, there is something I must say to you, an acknowledgment and an apology I must make. I have been so horribly–”

“Now see here, Miss Virginia,” the rector replied, “you just forget it. We are awfully glad to have you here, and we are going to have a right jolly supper together. Betty’s muffins are simply fine, and her creamed chicken is a dream. Besides, I want to consult you concerning the new wardrobe I am going to have built in the vestry. You see there is the question of the drawers, and the shelves, and–”

“Never mind the drawers and the shelves,” Mrs. Betty remarked as she entered with the creamed chicken and the muffins. “You just sit down before these things get cold, and you can talk business afterwards.”

To her utter astonishment Virginia soon found herself eating heartily, utterly at her ease in the cordial, 270 friendly atmosphere of tent-life, and when Maxwell took her home later in the evening, she hadn’t apologized or wallowed in an agony of self-reproach. She had only demanded the recipe for the muffins, and had declared that she was coming again very soon if Mrs. Betty would only let her.

And last but not least—the rector’s polite attention in acting as her escort home failed to work upon her dramatic temperament with any more startling effect than to produce a feeling that he was a very good friend.

In fact, she wondered, as she conned over the events of the evening, whether she had realized before, all that the word Friendship signified.

CHAPTER XXII

HEPSEY’S DIPLOMACY

“I don’t rightly know what’s got into Virginia Bascom,” remarked Jonathan, as he sat on Hepsey’s side porch one evening, making polite conversation as his new habit was. “She’s buzzin’ round Mrs. Betty like a bee round a flower—thicker’n thieves they be, by gum.”

“Yes,” cogitated Hepsey, half to herself, and half in response, “the lamb’s lyin’ down all right, and it’s about time we’d got the lion curled up by her and purrin’ like a cat. But I don’t see the signs of it, and 272 I’ll have to take my knittin’ to-morrow and sit right down in his den and visit with him a little. If he won’t purr, I’ve got what’ll make him roar, good and proper, or I’ve missed my guess.”

“Now Hepsey, you go easy with my church-partner, the Senior Warden. When his wife lived, he was a decent sort of a feller, was Sylvester Bascom; and I reckon she got him comin’ her way more with molasses than with vinegar.”

And though Hepsey snorted contempt for the advice of a mere male, she found the thought top-side of her mind as she started out next morning to pay Bascom a momentous call. After all, Jonathan had but echoed her own consistent philosophy of life. But with her usual shrewdness she decided to go armed with both kinds of ammunition.

Mrs. Burke puffed somewhat loudly as she paused on the landing which led to the door of Bascom’s office. After wiping her forehead with her handkerchief she gave three loud knocks on the painted glass of the door, which shook some of the loose putty onto the floor. After knocking the third time some one called out “Come in,” and she opened the door, entered, and gazed calmly across the room. Bascom was seated at his desk talking to a farmer, and when he turned around and discovered 273 who his visitor was, he ejaculated irreverently:

“Good Lord deliver us!”

“Oh, do excuse me!” Mrs. Burke replied. “I didn’t know that you were sayin’ the Litany. I’ll just slip into the next room and wait till you get through.”

Whereupon she stepped into the next room, closed the door, and made herself comfortable in a large arm-chair. There was a long table in the middle of the room, and the walls were covered with shelves and yellow books of a most monotonous binding. The air was musty and close. She quietly opened one of the windows, and having resumed her seat, she pulled a wash-rag from her leather bag and began knitting calmly.

She waited for some time, occasionally glancing at the long table, which was covered with what appeared to be a hopeless confusion of letters, legal documents, and books opened and turned face downward. Occasionally she sniffed in disgust at the general untidiness of the place. Evidently the appearance of the table in front of her was getting on her nerves; and so she put her knitting away as she muttered to herself:

“I wonder Virginia don’t come up here once in a while and put things to rights. It’s simply awful!” Then she began sorting the papers and gathering 274 them into little uniform piles by themselves. She seemed to have no notion whatever of their possible relation to each other, but arranged them according to their size and color in nice little separate piles. When there was nothing else left for her to do she resumed her knitting and waited patiently for the departure of the farmer. The two men seemed to be having a rather warm dispute over the interpretation of some legal contract; and if Bascom was hot-tempered and emphatic in his language, bordering on the profane, the client was stubborn and dull-witted and hard to convince. Occasionally she overheard bits of the controversy which were not intended for her ears. Bascom insisted:

“But you’re not such a dum fool as to think that a contract legally made between two parties is not binding, are you? You admit that I have fulfilled my part, and now you must pay for the services rendered or else I shall bring suit against you.”

The reply to this was not audible, but the farmer did not seem to be quite convinced.

After what seemed to her an interminable interval the door banged, and she knew that Bascom was alone. She did not wait for any invitation, but rising quietly she went into the inner office and took the chair vacated by the farmer. Bascom made a pretense 275 of writing, in silence, with his back towards her, during which interval Hepsey waited patiently. Then, looking up with the expression of a deaf-mute, he asked colorlessly:

“Well, Mrs. Burke, what may I do for you?”

“You can do nothing for me—but you can and must do something for the Maxwells,” she replied firmly but quietly.

“Don’t you think it would be better to let Maxwell take care of his own affairs?”

“Yes, most certainly, if he were in a position to do so. But you know that the clergy are a long-sufferin’ lot, more’s the pity; they’ll endure almost anythin’ rather than complain. That’s why you and others take advantage of them.”

“Ah, but an earnest minister of the Gospel does not look for the loaves and fishes of his calling.”

“I shouldn’t think he would. I hate fish, myself; but Maxwell has a perfect right to look for the honest fulfillment of a contract made between you and him. Didn’t I hear you tell that farmer that he was a dum fool if he thought that a contract made between two parties is not legally binding, and that if you fulfilled your part he must pay for your services or you would sue him? Do you suppose that a contract with a carpenter or a plumber or a mason is 276 binding, while a contract with a clergyman is not? What is the matter with you, anyway?”