Hepsey Burke Part 32

Everyone turned to the speaker in some surprise. He was a delicate, slender fellow, evidently in bad health. He trembled nervously, and Mrs. Burke hesitated for an instant, between fear of hurting his feelings and letting him give more than she knew he could possibly afford.

"I am afraid you ought not to give so much, Amos. Let me put you down for five," she said kindly. "We mustn't rob Peter to pay Paul."

"No, ma'am, put me down for twenty," he persisted; and then burst forth--"and I wish it was twenty thousand. I'd do anything for Mr.

Maxwell; I owe it to him, I tell you."

The speaker hesitated a moment and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, and then continued slowly, and with obvious effort:

"Maybe you'll think I am a fool to give myself away before a crowd like this, and I a member of the church; but the simple fact is that Mr. Maxwell saved my life once, when I was pretty near all in."

Again the speaker stopped, breathing heavily, and there was absolute silence in the room. Regaining his courage, he continued: "Yes, he saved me, body and soul, and I guess I'll tell the whole story. Most of you would have kicked me into the street or lodged me in jail; but he wasn't that kind, thank G.o.d!

"I was clerking in the Post Office a while back, and I left town one night, suddenly. I'd been drinking some, and when I left, my accounts were two hundred dollars short. The thing was kept quiet. Only two men knew about it. Mr. Maxwell was one. He got the other man to keep his mouth shut, handed over the amount, and chased after me and made me come back with him and stay at his house for a while. Then he gave me some work and helped me to make a new start. He didn't say a word of reproach, nor he didn't talk religion to me. He just acted as if he cared a whole lot for me, and wanted to put me on my feet again.

"I didn't know for a long time where Mr. Maxwell got the money for me but after a while I discovered that he'd given a chattel mortgage on his books and personal belongings. Do you suppose that there's anybody else in the world would have done that for me? It wasn't only his giving me the money; it was finding that somebody trusted me and cared for me, who had no business to trust me, and couldn't afford to trust me. That's what saved me and kept me straight.

"I haven't touched a drop since, and I never will. I've been paying my debt to him as quick as I can, and as far as money can pay it; but all the gold in the world wouldn't even me up with him. I don't know just why I've told all about it, but I guess it's because I felt you ought to know the kind of a man the rector is; and I'm glad he isn't here, or he'd never have let me give him away like this."

Amos sat down, while the astonished gathering stared at him, the defaulter, who in a moment of grat.i.tude had betrayed himself. The woman next to him edged a little farther away from him and watched him furtively, but he did not seem to care.

Under the stimulus of this confession, the feelings of the people quickly responded to the occasion, and a line soon formed, without further need of wit or eloquence on Hepsey's part, to have their subscriptions recorded. In half an hour, Mrs. Burke, whose face was glowing with pleasure--albeit she glanced anxiously from time to time towards old Mr. Bascom, in an endeavor to size up his mood and force his intentions--had written down the name of the last volunteer. She turned towards her audience:

"As I don't want to keep you waitin' here all night while I add up the subscriptions, I'll ask the chairman to do it for me and let you know the result. He's quicker at figurin' than I am, I guess," with which compliment, she smilingly handed the book to the Senior Warden. While the old man bent to his task, the room buzzed with low, excited conversation. Enough was already known of Bascom's hostility to the rector, to make the meeting decidedly curious as to his att.i.tude towards Hepsey's remarks and the mortgage; and they knew him well enough to be aware that he would not allow that item in her speech to go unanswered, in some way or other.

All eyes rested upon the gaunt figure of the chairman, as he rose to his feet to announce the total of the subscription list. He cleared his throat, and looked down at Hepsey Burke; and Jonathan, as he squinted anxiously at Hepsey by his side, noticed that she sat with her eyes tight-closed, oblivious of the chairman's glance. Jonathan looked hastily up at Bascom, and noticed him shift his position a little nervously, as he cleared his throat again.

"The amount subscribed on this list, is two hundred and thirty-seven dollars and thirty-five cents," he said. The loud applause was instantaneous, and Jonathan turned quickly to Hepsey, as he stamped his feet and clapped his hands.

"Thirty-seven thirty-five more than we owe him; Hepsey, you've done fine," he chortled.

But Hepsey's look was now riveted on the chairman, and except for a half-absent smile of pleasure, the keenest anxiety showed in her expression.

Bascom cleared his voice again, and then proceeded:

"Mrs. Burke informed you that the rector's salary was in arrears to the extent of about two hundred dollars. It is now for this meeting to pa.s.s a formal resolution for the application of the amount subscribed to the object in view."

Hepsey's lips narrowed; not a cent was down on the list to the name of the Senior Warden; the debt was being paid without a.s.sistance from him.

"I presume I may put it to the meeting that the amount, when collected, be paid over to the rector by a committee formed for that purpose?" proceeded the chairman.

This resolution being duly seconded and carried, Bascom continued:

"Before we adjourn I request the opportunity to make a few remarks, in reply to Mrs. Burke's observations concerning the ejection of the rector from the house which he occupied. She was good enough to spare my feelings by pointing out that from a business or legal point of view it was not I who was responsible for that act, but the parishioners, who, having purchased the rectory subject to a mortgage, had failed to meet the interest upon it. That is what Mrs. Burke said: what she did not say, and what none of you have said in public, though I reckon you've said it among yourselves, I will take upon myself to say for her and you."

He paused--and every eye was fixed upon him and every mouth agape in paralysed astonishment: and the said features of Hepsey Burke were no exception to the rule.

"When," continued Bascom evenly and urbanely, "the word went round that the interest on the mortgage had got behind, and the money must be collected for it, those concerned no doubt remarked easily: 'Oh, I guess that'll be all right. Bascom won't worry about that; he don't need it; anyway he can pay it to himself, for the parish, if he does.'"

There was an uncomfortable stirring of the audience at this shrewd thrust; but Hepsey could not contain herself, and laughed right out, clapping loudly.

"And yet I don't mind saying that if I had thought of suggesting to anyone of you such a method of collecting interest due to you, you might have kicked some," he commented dryly.

"At the next step, when I ultimately concluded to act upon my right to eject Mr. Maxwell from the rectory, I've no doubt that on all sides it was: 'Well, did you ever know the likes of that? Turning the rector out of house and home! Well he's a skinflint for fair!'"

He paused and watched the effect. This time his hearers sat absolutely motionless.

"And I agree with you," he added presently, in a quiet voice: "I _was_ a skinflint for fair!"

Almost Hepsey forgot herself so far as to clap thunderously: she caught her hands together just in time--recollecting that her demonstration would be taken too literally.

"But I would not have you misunderstand me: though it was for me to call myself a skinflint for that act, it was not for you to do so. You did so on wrong grounds. Those who in making money have been less successful than others, find it convenient to leave all such obligations upon the shoulders of the richer man, and to say 'it's up to him; he can afford it.' Is it any wonder that it makes the rich man sour on subscriptions and philanthropies? He has as much, or more, of inducement to apply his earnings and savings to his own ends and pleasures; why then, is it not up to all, in their own proportions to meet social needs? A good many years of such meanness among his neighbors makes even a rich man sour and mean, I guess. And that's what it made me--and though that isn't a justification of my act, it gave me as much right to call you skinflints as for you to call me: all except one of you, Hepsey Burke."

The meeting quivered with tense excitement. What did it all mean? If a chicken had sneezed the whole gathering would have been dissolved in hysterics, it was so keyed up with a sense of the impending disclosure of a deep mystery. As for Hepsey, she sat motionless, though Jonathan believed that he caught sight of a tear glistening in its descent.

"Hepsey Burke had a right to call me a skinflint, because she knew what none of you knew; but because it was private knowledge she wouldn't make use of it against me--not unless she couldn't have done what was right any other way. And now I'm going to tell you what she knew:

"The rectory was my wife's property, and she intended it as a gift to the parish, for the rectory of the church. I was preparing the deeds of transfer, when she died--suddenly, as some of you remember," his voice made heroic efforts to keep clear and steady, "owing to her death before the transfer, that house pa.s.sed to our daughter; and what I intended to do was to buy it of her and present it to the parish. I delayed, at first for good reasons. And I suppose as I got more and more lonesome and mixed less and less with people, I got sourer--and then I delayed from meanness. It would have been easy enough for me to buy it of my daughter, and she'd have been willing enough; but as I saw more and more put upon me, and less and less human recognition--I was 'a rich man,' and needed no personal sympathy or encouragement, it seemed--I held back. And I got so mean, I couldn't make friends with the rector, even."

He paused, and from the half smile on his face, and the hint of brightness that pa.s.sed over his expression, the audience caught relief.

"I guess a good shaking up is good for a man's liver: it cures a sour stomach--and as there are those that say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, perhaps it cures a sour heart. I got my shaking up all right, as you know; and perhaps that's been working a cure on me. Or perhaps it was the quiet ministrations of that little Mrs.

Betty of yours"--applause--"or the infusion of some of the rector's blood in my veins (he let himself be bled to keep me alive, after I'd lost what little blood I had, as you probably have never heard)"--shouts of applause--"or possibly what cured me was a little knitting-visit that Hepsey Burke paid me the other day, and during which she dropped some home-truths: I can't say.

"Before I decided what I would do about the rectory, I wanted to see what you would do, under Mrs. Burke's guidance, this evening. You've shouldered your share, as far as the rector's salary is concerned.

Well--I'll add what I consider my fair share to that, fifty dollars.

The arrears due on the mortgage interest is one hundred and twenty dollars. I shall hold you to your side of that bargain, to date. If you pay the rector the two hundred dollars due him on his salary, you will need to subscribe about another forty to make up the interest: that done, and paid to me, I will do my part, and present the rectory to the parish, in memory of my dear wife, as she desired."

He sat down.

Hepsey rose and called out in a clear voice:

"He's right; Mr. Bascom's dead right; it's up to us to be business first, and clear ourselves of the debt on a business bargain; then we can accept the gift without too much worryin'." And she sent a very friendly smile over to Bascom.

Again there was some cheering, in the midst of which Jonathan Jackson jumped to his feet beside Hepsey; and facing the room, with his arm through hers, he shouted:

"Hepsey Burke and me will make up the difference!"

Another cheer went up, and Hepsey's face flamed scarlet amid the craning of necks and chaffing laughter--half puzzled, half understanding.

Sylvester Bascom rose to his feet, and there was silence. With a.s.sumed seriousness he addressed Hepsey, still standing:

"Mrs. Burke, so that it may be quite in order, do you endorse Mr.

Jackson's authority to speak for you in this matter?"

Every eye was turned upon them; but Hepsey could find not a word, so flabergasted was she by this sudden move of Jonathan's. Jonathan himself colored furiously, but stuck to his guns, and Hepsey's arm:

"Well, to tell the truth," he replied in a jaunty voice, "Hepsey Burke and me's goin' to be married right now, so I guess we'll combine our resources, like."

This announcement gave the coup de grace to any further attempt at orderliness, and the room became a seething chorus of congratulatory greetings aimed at Hepsey and Jonathan, in the midst of which Sylvester Bascom slipped out unnoticed.