He Fell In Love With His Wife - Edward Payson Roe (the speed reading book .txt) 📗

knowing little of the good in the world and as much of the evil as she

could understand.

 

She now displayed, however, more sense than her mother. The habit of close

scrutiny had made it clear that Holcroft would not long endure genteel airs

and inefficiency, and that something must be done to keep this shelter. She

did her best to get supper, with the aid given from the rocking chair, and at

last broke out sharply, “You must get up and help me. He’ll turn us out of

doors if we don’t have supper ready when he comes in.”

 

Spurred by fear of such a dire possibility, Mrs. Mumpson was bustling around

when Holcroft entered. “We’ll soon be ready,” she gushed, “we’ll soon place

our evening repast upon the table.”

 

“Very well,” was the brief reply, as he passed up the stairs with the small

hair trunk on his shoulder.

 

Chapter IV. Domestic Bliss

 

Holcroft had been given a foretaste of the phase of torment which he was

destined to endure in his domestic relations, and was planning to secure a

refuge into which he could not be pursued. He had made himself a little more

presentable for supper, instinctively aware that nothing would escape the

lynx-eyed widow, and was taking some measurements from the floor to a

stovepipe hole leading into the chimney flue, when he became aware that

someone was in the doorway. Turning, he saw Jane with her small catlike eyes

fixed intently upon him. Instantly he had the feeling that he was being

watched and would be watched.

 

“Supper’s ready,” said the girl, disappearing.

 

Mrs. Mumpson smiled upon him—if certain contortions of her thin, sharp face

could be termed a smile—from that side of the table at which his wife had sat

so many years, and he saw that the low rocking chair, which he had preserved

jealously from his former “help,” had been brought from the parlor and

established in the old familiar place. Mrs. Mumpson folded her hands and

assumed a look of deep solemnity; Jane, as instructed, also lowered her head,

and they waited for him to say “grace.” He was in far too bitter a mood for

any such pious farce, and stolidly began to help them to the ham and eggs,

which viands had been as nearly spoiled as was possible in their preparation.

The widow raised her head with a profound sigh which set Holcroft’s teeth on

edge, but he proceeded silently with his supper. The biscuits were heavy

enough to burden the lightest conscience; and the coffee, simply grounds

swimming around in lukewarm water. He took a sip, then put down his cup and

said, quietly, “Guess I’ll take a glass of milk tonight. Mrs. Mumpson, if you

don’t know how to make coffee, I can soon show you.”

 

“Why! Isn’t it right? How strange! Perhaps it would be well for you to show

me just exactly how you like it, for it will afford me much pleasure to make

it to your taste. Men’s tastes differ so! I’ve heard that no two men’s

tastes were alike; and, after all, everything is a matter of taste. Now

Cousin Abiram doesn’t believe in coffee at all. He thinks it is unwholesome.

Have YOU ever thought that it might be unwholesome?”

 

“I’m used to it, and would like it good when I have it at all.”

 

“Why, of course, of course! You must have it exactly to your taste. Jane, my

dear, we must put our minds on coffee and learn precisely how Mr. Holcroft

likes it, and when the hired girl comes we must carefully superintend her when

she makes it. By the way, I suppose you will employ my assistant tomorrow,

Mr. Holcroft.”

 

“I can’t get a girl short of town,” was the reply, “and there is so much cream

in the dairy that ought to be churned at once that I’ll wait till next Monday

and take down the butter.”

 

Mrs. Mumpson put on a grave, injured air, and said, “Well,” so disapprovingly

that it was virtually saying that it was not well at all. Then, suddenly

remembering that this was not good policy, she was soon all smiles and chatter

again. “How cozy this is!” she cried, “and how soon one acquires the home

feeling! Why, anyone looking in at the window would think that we were an old

established family, and yet this is but our first meal together. But it won’t

be the last, Mr. Holcroft. I cannot make it known to you how your loneliness,

which Cousin Lemuel has so feelingly described to me, has affected my

feelings. Cousin Nancy said but this very day that you have had desperate

times with all kinds of dreadful creatures. But all that’s past. Jane and me

will give a look of stability and respecterbility to every comer.”

 

“Well, really, Mrs. Mumpson, I don’t know who’s to come.”

 

“Oh, you’ll see!” she replied, wrinkling her thin, blue lips into what was

meant for a smile, and nodding her head at him encouragingly. “You won’t be so

isolated no more. Now that I’m here, with my offspring, your neighbors will

feel that they can show you their sympathy. The most respecterble people in

town will call, and your life will grow brighter and brighter; clouds will

roll away, and—”

 

“I hope the neighbors will not be so ill-mannered as to come without being

invited,” remarked Mr. Holcroft grimly. “It’s too late in the day for them to

begin now.”

 

“My being here with Jane will make all the difference in the world,” resumed

Mrs. Mumpson, with as saccharine an expression as she could assume. “They will

come out of pure kindness and friendly interest, with the wish to encourage—”

 

“Mrs. Mumpson,” said Holcroft, half desperately, “if anyone comes it’ll be out

of pure curiosity, and I don’t want such company. Selling enough butter,

eggs, and produce to pay expenses will encourage me more than all the people

of Oakville, if they should come in a body. What’s the use of talking in this

way? I’ve done without the neighbors so far, and I’m sure they’ve been very

careful to do without me. I shall have nothing to do with them except in the

way of business, and as I said to you down at Lemuel Weeks’s, business must be

the first consideration with us all,” and he rose from the table.

 

“Oh, certainly, certainly!” the widow hastened to say, “but then business is

like a cloud, and the meetings and greetings of friends is a sort of silver

lining, you know. What would the world be without friends—the society of

those who take an abiding interest? Believe me, Mr. Holcroft,” she continued,

bringing her long, skinny finger impressively down on the table, “you have

lived alone so long that you are unable to see the crying needs of your own

constitution. As a Christian man, you require human sympathy and—”

 

Poor Holcroft knew little of centrifugal force; but at that moment he was a

living embodiment of it, feeling that if he did not escape he would fly into a

thousand atoms. Saying nervously, “I’ve a few chores to do,” he seized his

hat, and hastening out, wandered disconsolately around the barn. “I’m never

going to be able to stand her,” he groaned. “I know now why my poor wife shook

her head whenever this woman was mentioned. The clack of her tongue would

drive any man living crazy, and the gimlet eyes of that girl Jane would bore

holes through a saint’s patience. Well, well! I’ll put a stove up in my

room, then plowing and planting time will soon be here, and I guess I can

stand it at mealtimes for three months, for unless she stops her foolishness

she shan’t stay any longer.”

 

Jane had not spoken during the meal, but kept her eyes on Holcroft, except

when he looked toward her, and then she instantly averted her gaze. When she

was alone with her mother, she said abruptly, “We aint a-goin’ to stay here

long, nuther.”

 

“Why not?” was the sharp, responsive query.

 

“‘Cause the same look’s comin’ into his face that was in Cousin Lemuel’s and

Cousin Abiram’s and all the rest of ‘em. ‘Fi’s you I’d keep still now.

‘Pears to me they all want you to keep still and you won’t.”

 

“Jane,” said Mrs. Mumpson in severe tones, “you’re an ignorant child. Don’t

presume to instruct ME! Besides, this case is entirely different. Mr.

Holcroft must be made to understand from the start that I’m not a common

woman—that I’m his equal, and in most respects his superior. If he aint made

to feel this, it’ll never enter his head—but law! There’s things which you

can’t and oughtn’t to understand.”

 

“But I do,” said the girl shortly, “and he won’t marry you, nor keep you, if

you talk him to death.”

 

“Jane!” gasped Mrs. Mumpson, as she sank into the chair and rocked violently.

 

The night air was keen and soon drove Holcroft into the house. As he passed

the kitchen window, he saw that Mrs. Mumpson was in his wife’s rocking chair

and that Jane was clearing up the table.

 

He kindled a fire on the parlor hearth, hoping, but scarcely expecting, that

he would be left alone.

 

Nor was he very long, for the widow soon opened the door and entered, carrying

the chair. “Oh, you are here,” she said sweetly. “I heard the fire crackling,

and I do so love open wood fires. They’re company in themselves, and they

make those who bask in the flickering blaze inclined to be sociable. To think

of how many long, lonely evenings you have sat here when you had persons in

your employ with whom you could have no affinity whatever! I don’t see how

you stood it. Under such circumstances life must cloud up into a dreary

burden.” It never occurred to Mrs. Mumpson that her figures of speech were

often mixed. She merely felt that the sentimental phase of conversation must

be very flowery. But during the first evening she had resolved on prudence.

“Mr. Holcroft shall have time,” she thought, “for the hope to steal into his

heart that his housekeeper may become something more to him than

housekeeper—that there is a nearer and loftier relation.”

 

Meanwhile she was consumed with curiosity to know something about the

“persons” previously employed and his experiences with them. With a

momentary, and, as she felt, a proper pause before descending to ordinary

topics, she resumed, “My dear Mr. Holcroft, no doubt it will be a relief to

your overfraught mind to pour into a symperthetic ear the story of your

troubles with those—er—those peculiar females that—er—that—”

 

“Mrs. Mumpson, it would be a much greater relief to my mind to forget all

about ‘em,” he replied briefly.

 

“INDEED!” exclaimed the widow. “Was they as bad as that? Who’d ‘a’ thought

it! Well, well, well; what people there is in the world! And you couldn’t

abide ‘em, then?”

 

“No, I couldn’t.”

 

“Well now; what hussies they must have been! And to think you were here all

alone, with no better company! It makes my heart bleed. They DO say that

Bridget Malony is equal to anything, and I’ve no doubt but that she took

things and did things.”

 

“Well, she’s taken herself off, and that’s enough.” Then he groaned inwardly,

“Good Lord! I could stand her and all her tribe bettern’n this one.”

 

“Yes, Mr. Holcroft,” pursued Mrs. Mumpson, sinking her voice to a loud,

confidential whisper, “and I don’t believe you’ve any idea how much she took

with her. I fear you’ve been robbed in all these vicissitudes. Men never

know what’s in a house. They