Mister Dingledine - Robert F. Clifton (first ebook reader .txt) 📗

priest.

“Not feeling too well this morning Father.”

“What a shame. If you would like, I could stop around to see her, maybe give her comfort.”

“No, that isn’t necessary, but thank you for thinking of her.”

“I’ll remember her in my prayers.”

“Thank you, Father.”

After stepping onto the sidewalk Herbert made his way to where Alberta and her mother stood talking to members of the congregation. He waited until they were finished talking and when they turned he removed his hat and said,” Good morning Mrs. Collins and to you Miss Collins. Isn’t it a fine Sunday morning ?”

“Oh, good morning Mister Dingledine. Yes, it is. It is indeed,” said Mrs. Collins.

And a good morning to you Miss Collins. I trust you enjoyed Father Holmes sermon this day,” said Herbert.

“Yes of course. The sermon serves well in the attempt to prohibit sin in all of us. don’t you think?’, she asked.

“Yes, yes, unfortunately, it doesn’t always save us from sin or sinful thoughts,” Herbert replied. As he did he caught the hint of a twinkle in Alberta’s eyes.

“I hope that you both have a pleasant day,” he continued. He replaced and then tipped his hat and walked away.

Arriving home Herbert entered the living room and seeing Ethel who was still on the sofa said, “Today is Sunday. I’ll be making chicken and rice. I suppose you want green beans.”

“No, today I think I’d like to have beets. Beets sliced thin with lots of butter and just a sprinkle of black pepper.”

“That means I have to go outside and dig them. You always want green beans.”

“Not today Herbert. You inquired and I decided on beets. Now, if it’s too much to ask, just let me know. Maybe you’d like to see me go without as usual.”

“I can’t think of a thing that you go without Ethel, except maybe fresh air and exercise.”

“There you go again with the sarcasm. Are you going to get the beets or not?”

“I’m going. It gives me time away from you and your complaining.”

Once outside Herbert went to the shed unlocked the door and removed a shovel. He then went to the garden row where the beet tops grew high and healthy. As he began to dig he heard a voice. “Working your garden on the sabbath Herbert? that’s not like you.”

Herbert turned to the sound of the male voice. Seeing John Kramer he said, “Hello John. You’re correct. I shouldn’t be doing this but the wife insists that she has fresh beets for supper. I insisted that she eat green beans, but that only started another argument.”

“Well, you know the saying, Women, you can’t live with them and you can’t live without them,” said Kramer.

“I for one would like to live without them and the sooner the better,” Herbert replied.

After carrying a bunch of beets into the kitchen Herbert washed off the bits of soil that clung to the eatable root. He then cut off the beet greens and let them soak. As he worked his mind wandered. He thought back to when he had first met Ethel. “It was on the fourth of July, 1892. He had traveled to the Schuylkill River to watch the boat races as rowing was one of the

favorite sports of the people at that time. As he stood watching the individual shell races he detected a slight aroma of vanilla. Young women at that time would put a touch of it behind their ears using it as a fragrance. He turned his head and saw a tall, young woman who stood under a parasol using it to protect herself from the sun.

She was blond, blue-eyed and although not fat by any means was slightly, plump. “Do you have a favorite in the races Miss?’, he had asked.

The young woman had turned and after looking at the small, built man said, “No, I don’t. I come here for the sun and the fresh air.”

“I see, well it is indeed a fine day and not too warm for this time of year. July is usually a hot month here in the city,” he replied.

“I agree. Still, it is warm enough to create a thirst, said the woman.

“May I be so bold to invite you to join me at the refreshment stand and area. Perhaps a cold lemonade or sarsaparilla would quench your thirst,” said Herbert.

“I’m not in the habit of joining men that I’ve not been introduced to for lemonade or any other such meetings.”

“Then, please accept my apology. I shall not bother you any further.”

“Wait, if you are a gentleman and I suspect that you are, introduce yourself,” said the woman.

“Certainly. My name is Herbert Dingledine. I am a teacher of biology at a local high school. I attend church every Sunday. I’m single and like you, very thirsty.”

He remembered that she laughed. “I’m sorry, is there something funny?”, he had asked.

“Just your name. Dingledine. I’ve never heard the name Dingledine before,” she had said.

“It’s of German origin or so I’ve been told,” He had replied.

“I still think it sounds funny.”

“Now that you know my name and consider it humorous may I ask your name?”

“Ethel, Ethel Thompson. At the moment single and thinking of becoming a midwife.”

“A noble profession for a young lady I would presume,” he had said.

“I agree Mister Dingledine, now instead of conversing under this hot sun, may I agree to your invitation to a cool lemonade under the canopy?’

“It would be my pleasure, Miss Thompson,” he had said.

“Why did I speak to her? Why didn’t I just mind my own business, ignore her and walk away? No, after that first meeting I pursued her. I took her to band concerts in the park, ice cream socials, dinners. Then I wanted her, desired her, had to have her and the only way to have her was to marry her. So we were married. We took the train to Atlantic City and had a weekend honeymoon. The wedding night was a disaster. I spent the night looking out of the hotel window as my new bride cried and called me a brute. The only good thing was bathing in the ocean. He had rented a bathing suit at a bath house and spent the day jumping in the ocean waves and laying on the sand. Ethel stayed in the hotel room still upset by the requests of a husband.

He bought them a house. It was a row house on Fourth Street. It was small with one bedroom, but it had a large, backyard. He saw the yard as a place to escape from the trap he had made for himself in a bad, marriage. And, so as the years passed Ethel became more of a hypochondriac, more demanding and more attention seeking. All these things at first created resentment towards her until now hated for her had manifested itself in him. He wished her dead.”

After placing the sliced beets in a pot he added water from the sink and placed the pot on the back burner of the stove. He took a long look at the mason jar filled with green beans, beans that he had intended to serve to Ethel. He picked it up and carried it to the pantry. There he put it back on the shelf with the others.

When he walked back into the kitchen he turned to the ice box and check the size of the block of ice. Seeing that it was just about used up he called to Ethel. “Was the ice man here this week?”, he asked.

“Probably. Someone knocked on the door, but I was too sick to get up and answer it. Besides, he’ll be here sometime next week.”

“In the meantime, the food in the ice box might go bad.”

“You could always go down the street and buy a block at Foster’s. He has ice.”

“I know that Ethel. I have Mr. Metzer deliver ice just so I don’t have to go, buy ice and carry it home. Answer the door. You know when Metzer comes to deliver.”

“Now, it’s my fault. Me, always me that causes problems. Me, never you. You must hate me.”

“ You don’t know just how much I do,” he thought.

“Since you mentioned food, what are we having for dinner?”, she asked.

“I told you chicken and rice.”

“Are you cooking it in the oven or on top of the stove?”

“On top of the stove.”

“I prefer that you cook it in the oven.”

“Doing that dries it out.”

“Not if you know what you’re doing.”

“Well since you know more than me get up off of the couch and come here and cook.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always infer that my illness is just a figment of my imagination. Someday I hope you have and experience the pain I have each and every day.”

“You have no idea just how much pain you give me and have given to me day after day, month after month, year after year. You miserable bitch of a woman!”, he thought.

Herbert selected a large pot with a lid placed the previously cooked chicken in the pot, added a raw, peeled onion, salt, and black pepper and placed it on top of the stove.

“I hear you, Herbert. I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re cooking the chicken on top of the stove. Sure. Do it your way. Always thinking of yourself. Not what I would like.”

Ignoring Ethel’s complaining Herbert went again to the pantry and removed a jar of wax beans. These he would have with his supper.

“Herbert! I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Then go. Who’s stopping you?”

“I need help. I’m unsteady on my feet.”

“Alright, I’m coming.”

“Don’t sound so pathetic. All I’m asking for is for you to help me to the bathroom.

“Here, lean on me,” said Herbert.

Once Ethel was in the bathroom and the door was closed Herbert went back to the kitchen and began peeling potatoes. Once again he was interrupted when Ethel called, “Herbert? The toilet is stopped up again.”

“You use too much toilet paper. I’ve told you about that before,” said Herbert in anger.

“Oh. Now it’s my fault. Not the fault of the toilet or the old plumbing system of this house. I cause the toilet to malfunction. The last time it overflowed when I flushed it. Me  I’m to blame.”

“Go sit on the couch and get out of my way,” he said.

“Gladly. At least there I get some comfort and relief.”

“That’s more than I get,” he thought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

Alberta

 

By the time that Herbert got to the faculty lunch room he found Alberta already seated at a table. “I’m sorry for being late. I had a student who needed information on metamorphoses,” said Herbert.

“ Please don’t fret Herbert. I just got here myself. Now, sit down,” Alberta replied.

Herbert took a seat at the table then opened the brown, paper bag containing his sandwich. “And, how are you today Alberta,” he asked.

“Fine, and you?”

“The same. Always the same.”

“You sound very melancholy. Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing that you should be concerned about. How is your mother?”

“Also fine. Herbert, I need an answer to whether or not you are going to escort me to the concert.”

“ You know how I feel about protecting your reputation.”

“Please, we’ve been through with that bit of conversation for some time.””

“Very well. Your persistence overwhelms me. What time shall I call on you the night of the event?”

“Don’t come to the house. I shall take the trolly and meet you in front of the Academy Of Music.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want.”

“I do. Now that that’s settled. I brought you a piece of cake that I baked. I hope you like chocolate.”

“I do, actually.”

*************

Alberta Collins, young, attractive and intelligent had been raised by just her mother after the death of Alberta’s father. As a result, she grew up under the system of rules of the Edwardian theory of proper ways of a young lady. First, was chastity which necessitated being properly being chaperoned when in the presence of young men. Second, was the need for manners. Third, was learning the ways of operating a household when