XIV
Mrs. Dodd's Fifth Fate
_Morning lay fair upon the land, and yet the Lady Elaine was weary. Like adrooping lily she swayed in her saddle, sick at heart and cast down.Earnestly her company of gallant knights strove to cheer her, but in vain.Even the merry quips of the fool in motley, who still rode at her side,brought no smile to her beautiful face._
_Presently, he became silent, his heart deeply troubled because of her. Anhour passed so, and no word was spoken, then, timidly enough, he venturedanother jest._
_The Lady Elaine turned. "Say no more, fool," she commanded, "but get outthy writing tablet and compose me a poem. I would fain hear something sadand tender in place of this endless folly."_
_Le Jongleur bowed. "And the subject, Princess?"_
_Elaine laughed bitterly. "Myself," she cried. "Why not? Myself, Elaine,and this foolish quest of mine!"_
_Then, for a space, there was silence upon the road, since the fool, withhis writing tablet, had dropped back to the rear of the company, and thegallant knights, perceiving the mood of their mistress, spoke not._
_At noon, when the white sun trembled at the zenith, Le Jongleur urged hisdonkey forward, and presented to Elaine a glorious rose which he had foundblooming at the wayside._
_"The poem is finished, your highness," he breathed, doffing his cap, "but'tis all unworthy, so I bring thee this rose also, that something in myoffering may of a certainty be sweet."_
_He would have put the scroll into her hand, but she swerved her palfreyaside. "Read it," she said, impatiently; "I have no mind to try my witswith thy poor scrawls."_
_So, with his voice trembling, and overwhelmed with self-consciousness,the fool read as follows:_
The vineyards, purple with their bloom, Elaine, hast thou forgotten? The maidens in thy lonely room, Thy tapestry on silent loom-- But hush! Where is Elaine? Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
Thy castle in the valley lies, Elaine, hast thou forgotten? Where swift the homing swallow flies And in the sunset daylight dies-- But hush! Where is Elaine? Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
Night comes at last on dreamy wings, Elaine, hast thou forgotten? 'Mid gleaming clouds the pale moon swings, Thy taper light a faint star brings, But hush! Where is Elaine? Elaine, hast thou forgotten?
Harlan had never written any poetry before, but it had always seemed easy.Now, as he read the verses over again, he was tremendously satisfied withhis achievement. Unconsciously, he had modelled it upon an exquisitelittle bit by some one else, which had once been reprinted beneath a"story" of his own when he was on the paper. He read it aloud, to see howit sounded, and was more pleased than ever with the swing of the verse andthe music of the words. "It's pretty close to art," he said to himself,"if it isn't the real thing."
Just then the luncheon bell rang, and he went out to the midday"gab-fest," as he inwardly characterised it. The meal proceeded to dessertwithout any unusual disturbance, then the diminutive Ebeneezer threw theremnants of his cup of milk into his mother's face, and was carried off,howling, to be spanked. Like many other mothers, Mrs. Holmes resented herchildren's conduct when it incommoded her, but not otherwise, and thoughmilk baths are said to be fine for the complexion, she was not altogetherpleased with the manner of application.
Amid the vocal pyrotechnics from the Holmes apartments, Harlan escapedinto the library, but his poem was gone. He searched for it vainly, thensat down to write it over before he should forget it. This done, he wenton with Elaine and her adventures, and presently forgot all about the lostpage.
"Don't that do your heart good?" inquired Mrs. Dodd, of Dorothy, incliningher head toward Mrs. Holmes's door.
"Be it ever so humble," sang Dick, strolling out of the room, "there's noplace like Holmes's."
Mrs. Carr admitted that her ears were not yet so calloused but that thesound gave her distinct pleasure.
"If that there little limb of Satan had have throwed his milk in anybodyelse's face," went on Mrs. Dodd, "all she'd have said would have been:'Ebbie, don't spill your nice milk. That's naughty.'"
Her imitation of the fond mother's tone and manner was so wickedly exactthat Dorothy laughed heartily. The others had fled to a more quiet spot,except Willie and Rebecca, who were fighting for a place at the keyhole oftheir mother's door. Finally, Willie gained possession of the keyhole, andthe ingenious Rebecca, lying flat on her small stomach, peered under thedoor, and obtained a pleasing view of what was going on inside.
"Listen at that!" cried Mrs. Dodd, her countenance fairly beaming withinnocent pleasure. "I'm gettin' most as much good out of it as I wouldfrom goin' to the circus. Reckon it's a slipper, for it sounds just likelittle Jimmie Young's weepin' did the night I come home from my fifthhoneymoon.
"That's the only time," she went on, reminiscently, "as I was ever astep-ma to children what wasn't growed up. You'd think a woman as had beenmarried four times afore would have knowed better 'n to get her fool headinto a noose like that, but there seems to be only one way for folks tolearn things, an' that's by their own experience. If we could only useother folks' experience, this here world would be heaven in about threegenerations, but we're so constituted that we never believe fire 'll burntill we poke our own fingers into it to see. Other folks' scars don't gono ways at all toward convincin' us.
"You read lots of novels about the sorrers of step-children, but I ain'tnever come up with no epic as yet portrayin' the sufferin's of a step-ma.If I had a talent like your husband's got, I'll be blest if I wouldn't doit. What I went through with them children aged me ten years in less 'nthree.
"It was like this," she prattled on. "I'd never seen a one of 'em, theylivin' far away from their pa, as was necessary if their pa was to get anypeace an' happiness out 'n life, an' that lyin' creeter I married told methere was only three. My dear, there was eight, an' sixteen ordinary youngones couldn't have been no worse.
"Our courtin' was done mainly in the cemetery. I'd just laid my fourthaway in his proper place an' had the letterin' all cut nice on his side ofthe monumint, an' I was doin' the plantin' on the grave when I met myfate--my fifth fate, I'm speakin' of now. I allers aimed to do right by myhusbands when they was dead no less 'n when they was livin', an' I allersplanted each one's favourite flower on his last restin'-place, an' plantedit thick, so 's when the last trump sounded an' they all riz up, therewouldn't be no one of 'em that could accuse me of bein' partial.
"Some of the flowers was funny for a graveyard. One of 'em lovedsunflowers, an' when blossomin'-time come, you could see a spot of lightin my lot clear from the gate when you went in, an' on sunny days evenfrom quite a piece outside.
"Geraniums was on the next grave, red an' pink together, as William lovedto see 'em, an' most fittin' an' appropriate. He was a queer-lookin' man,William was, all bald except for a little fringe of red hair around hishead, an' his bald spot gettin' as pink as anythin' when he got mad. Inever could abide red an' pink together, so I did my best not to rile him;but la sakes, my dear, red-haired folks is that touchy that you never cantell what's goin' to rile 'em an' what ain't. Some innercent little remarkis as likely to set 'em off as anythin' else. All the time it's likecarryin' a light into a fireworks place. Drop it once an' the air 'll befull of sky-rockets, roman candles, pinwheels, an' set pieces till you'rethat dazed you don't know where you're livin'. Don't never take nored-haired one, my dear, if you're anyways set on peace. I never took butone, but that was enough to set me dead against the breed.
"Well, as I was a-sayin', James begun to woo me in the cemetery. Wheneveryou see a man in a cemetery, my dear, you can take it for granted thathe's a new-made widower. After the first week or two, he ain't got no timeto go to no grave, he's so busy lookin' out for the next one. When I seeJames a-waterin' an'
a-weedin' on the next lot to mine, therefore, Iknowed his sorrer was new, even though the band of crape on his hat wasrusty an' old.
"Bein' fellow-mourners, in a way, we struck up kind of a melancholyfriendship, an' finally got to borrerin' water from each other'ssprinklin' cans an' exchangin' flower seeds an' slips, an' even hullplants. That old deceiver told me it was his first wife that was a-lyin'there, an' showed me her name on the monumint. She was buried in her ownfolks' lot, an' I never knowed till it was too late that his own lot wasplum full of wives, an' this here was a annex, so to speak. I dunno how Icome to be so took in, but anyways, when James's grief had subsidedsomewhat, we decided to travel on the remainin' stretch through this valeof tears together.
"He told me he had a beautiful home in Taylorville, but was a-livin' wherehe was so 's to be near the cemetery an' where he could look after dearAnnie's grave. The sentiment made me think all the more of him, so 's Ididn't hesitate, an' was even willin' to be married with one of my oldrings, to save the expense of a new one. James allers was thrifty, an' theway he put it, it sounded quite reasonable, so 's that's how it comes, mydear, that in spite of havin' had seven husbands, I've only got sixweddin'-rings.
"I put each one on when its own proper anniversary comes around an' wearit till the next one, when I change again, though for one of the rings itmakes only one day, because the fourth and seventh times I was married sonear together. That sounds queer, my dear, but if you think it over,you'll see what I mean. It's fortunate, too, in a way, 'cause I found outby accident years afterward that my fourth weddin'-ring come out of apawn-shop, an' I never took much joy out of wearin' it. Bein' just alike,I wore another one mostly, even when Samuel was alive, but he nevernoticed. Besides, I reckon 't wouldn't make no difference, for a manthat'll go to a pawn-shop for a weddin'-ring ain't one to make a row abouthis wife's changin' it. When I spoke sharp to him about it, he snickered,an' said it was appropriate enough, though to this day I've never figuredout precisely just what the old serpent meant by it.
"Well, as I was sayin', my dear, the minister married us in good an'proper form, an' I must say that, though I've had all kinds of ceremonies,I take to the 'Piscopal one the most, in spite of havin' been brought upMethodis', an' hereafter I'll be married by it if the occasion shouldarise--an' we drove over to Taylorville.
"The roads was dretful, but bein' experienced in marriage, I could seethat it wasn't that that was makin' James drop the whip, an' pull back onthe lines when he wanted the horses to go faster, an' not hear things Iwas a-sayin' to him. Finally, I says, very distinct: 'James, dear, howmany children did you say you had?'
"'Eight,' says he, clearin' his throat proud and haughty like.
"'You're lyin',' says I, 'an' you know you're lyin'. You allers told meyou had three.'
"'I was speakin' of those by my first wife,' says he. 'My other wives allleft one apiece. Ain't I never told you about 'em? I thought I had,' hewent on, speakin' quick, 'but if I haven't, it 's because your beauty hasmade me forget all the pain an' sorrer of the past.'
"With that he clicked to the horses so sudden that I was near threw out ofthe rig, but it wasn't half so bad as the other jolt he'd just give me.For a long time I didn't say nothin', an' there's nothin' that makes a manso uneasy as a woman that don't say nothin', my dear, so you just writethat down in your little book, an' remember it. It'll come in handy longbefore you're through with your first marriage an' have begun on yoursecond. Havin' been through four, I was well skilled in keepin' my mouthshut, an' I never said a word till we drove into the yard of the mostdisconsolate-lookin' premises I ever seen since I was took to thepoorhouse on a visit.
"'James,' says I, cool but firm, 'is this your magnificent residence?'
"'It is,' says he, very soft, 'an' it is here that I welcome my bride.Have you ever seen anythin' like this view?'
"'No,' says I, 'I never have'; an' it was gospel truth I was speakin',too, for never before had I been to a place where the pigsty was infront.
"'It is a wonderful view,' says I, sarcastic like, 'but before I linger toadmire it more, I would love to look upon the scenery inside the house.'
"When we went in, I thought I was either dreamin' or had got to Bedlam.The seven youngest children was raisin' particular Cain, an' the oldest, apretty little girl of thirteen, was doin' her best to quiet 'em. There wassix others besides what had been accounted for, but I soon found that theybelonged to a neighbour, an' was just visitin' to relieve the monotony.
"The woman James had left takin' care of 'em had been gone two weeks an'more, with a month's wages still comin' to her, which James never feltcalled on to pay, on account of her havin' left without notice. James wasdretful thrifty. The youngest one was puttin' the cat into thewater-pitcher, an' as soon as I found out what his name was, I called himsharp by it an' told him to quit. He put his tongue out at me as sassy asyou please, an' says: 'I won't.'
"Well, my dear, I didn't wait to hear no more, but I opened my satchel an'took out one of my slippers an' give that child a lickin' that he'llremember when he's a grandparent. 'Hereafter,' says I, 'when I tell you todo anythin', you'll do it. I'll speak kind the first time an' firm thesecond, and the third time the whole thing will be illustrated so plainthat nobody can't misunderstand it. Your pa has took me into a confidencegame,' says I, speakin' to all the children, 'but I was never one to drawback from what I'd put my hand to, an' I aim to do right by you if you doright by me. You mind,' says I, 'an' you won't have no trouble; an' thesame thing,' says I to James, 'applies to you.'
"I felt sorry for all those poor little motherless things, with a liar fora pa, an' all the time I lived there, I tried to make up to 'em what Icould, but step-mas have their sorrers, my dear, that's what they do, an'I ain't never seen no piece about it in the paper yet, either.
"If you'll excuse me now, my dear, I'll go to my room. It's just come tomy mind now that this here is one of my anniversaries, an' I'll have tolook up the facts in my family Bible, an' change my ring."
At dinner-time the chastised and chastened twin appeared in freshlystarched raiment. His eyes were swollen and his face flushed, butotherwise his recent painful experience had remarkably improved him. Hesaid "please" and "thank you," and did not even resent it when Willieslyly dropped a small piece of watermelon down his neck.
"This afternoon," said Elaine, "Mr. Perkins composed a beautiful poem. Iknow it is beautiful, though I have not yet heard it. I do not wish to beselfish in my pleasure, so I will ask him to read it to us all."
The poet's face suddenly became the colour of his hair. He dropped hisnapkin, and swiftly whispered to Elaine, while he was picking it up, thatshe herself was the subject of the poem.
"How perfectly charming," said Elaine, clearly. "Did you hear, Mrs. Carr?Poor little, insignificant me has actually inspired a great poem. Oh, doread it, Mr. Perkins? We are all dying to hear it!"
Fairly cornered, the poet muttered that he had lost it--some othertime--wait until to-morrow--and so on.
"No need to wait," said Dick, with an ironical smile. "It was lost, butnow is found. I came upon it myself, blowing around unheeded under thelibrary window, quite like a common bit of paper."
Mr. Perkins was transfixed with amazement, for his cherished poem was atthat minute in his breast pocket. He clutched at it spasmodically, to besure it was still safe.
Very different emotions possessed Harlan, who choked on his food. Heinstinctively guessed the worst, and saw his home in lurid ruin about him,but was powerless to avert the catastrophe.
"Read it, Dick," said Mrs. Dodd, kindly. "We are all a-perishin' to hearit. I can't eat another bite until I do. I reckon it'll sound like avalentine," she concluded, with a malicious glance at Mr. Perkins.
"I have taken the liberty," chuckled Dick, "of changing a word or twooccasionally, to make better sense of it, and of leaving out some linesaltogether. Every one is privileged to vary an established form." Withoutfurther preliminary, he read the improved version.
"The little doggie sheds his coat, Elaine, have you forgotten? What is it goes around a button? I thought you knew that simple thing, But ideas in your head take wing. Elaine, have you forgotten? The answer is a goat.
"How much is three times humpty-steen? Elaine, have you forgotten? Why does a chicken cross the road? Who carries home a toper's load? You are so very stupid, dear! Elaine, have you forgotten?
"You think a mop of scarlet hair And pale green eyes----"
"That will do," said Miss St. Clair, crisply. "Mr. Perkins, may I ask as afavour that you will not speak to me again?" She marched out with her headhigh, and Mr. Perkins, wholly unstrung, buried his face in his napkin.
Harlan laughed--a loud, ringing laugh, such as Dorothy had not heard fromhim for months, and striding around the table, he grasped Dick's hand intremendous relief.
"Let me have it," he cried, eagerly. "Give me all of it!"
"Sure," said Dick, readily, passing over both sheets of paper.
Harlan went into the library with the composition, and presently, whenDick was walking around the house and saw bits of torn paper flutteringout of the open window, a light broke through his usual density.
"Whew!" he said to himself. "I'll be darned! I'll be everlastingly darned!Idiot!" he continued, savagely. "Oh, if I could only kick myself! PoorDorothy! I wonder if she knows!"