International Short Stories: American Part 46

Bertha was not proof against this gallant self-sacrifice. In the surprise of the storm--the roar of which, mingled with that of the Fall, made a continuous awful peal--the companionship of any human being was a relief, and she felt grateful for Professor Hurlbut's arrival. Chiropodist though he was, he must not suffer for her sake.

"Here!" said she, lifting the umbrella, "it will shelter us both.

Quick! I insist upon it:" seeing that he hesitated.

There was really no time for parley, for every drop pierced him to the skin, and the next moment found him planted before her, interposing a double shield. His tender anxiety for her sake quite softened Bertha.

How ungrateful she had been!

"This is the second time I am obliged to you to-day, Sir," said she.

"I am sorry that I have unintentionally given you trouble."

"Oh, Miss Morris," cried the delighted Bartlett, "don't mention it!

It's nothing; I am quite amphibious, you know."

"You might be now in a place of shelter but for me," she answered, penitently.

"I'd rather be here than any where else!" he exclaimed, in a burst of candor which quite overleaped the barrier of self-possession and came down on the other side. "If you would allow me to be your friend, Miss Morris--if you would permit me to--to speak with you now and then; if--if--" Here he paused, not knowing precisely what more to say, yet feeling that he had already said enough to make his meaning clear.

Bertha was cruelly embarra.s.sed, but only for a moment. Professor Hurlbut had at least been frank and honest in his avowal--she felt his sincerity through and through--and he deserved equal honesty at her hands.

"I am your debtor," said she, in an uncertain voice; "and you have a right to expect grat.i.tude, at least, from me. I can not, therefore, refuse your acquaintance, though, as you know, your--your occupation would be considered objectionable by many persons."

"My occupation!"

"Your profession, then. I must candidly confess that I have a prejudice--a foolish one, perhaps, against it."

"My profession!" cried the astonished Bartlett; "why, I have none!"

"Well--it _is_ scarcely to be called a 'profession,' but it is always liable to the charge of charlatanism: pardon me the word. And it may be ridiculed in so many ways. I wish, for your sake--for I believe you to be capable of better things--that you would adopt some other business."

Mr. Bartlett's amazement was now beyond all bounds, "Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, "Miss Morris, what do you mean?"

Starting up from the bench as he uttered these words he jostled Bertha's book from her hand. The leaves parted in falling, and a large card, escaping from between them, fluttered down upon the floor. He picked it up and restored it to her, with the book.

"There!" she answered, giving the card back again, "there is what I mean! Must I give you your own card in order to acquaint you with your own business?"

Mr. Bartlett looked at it for a second in blank amazement; then, like a flash of lightning, the whole course of the misunderstanding flashed across his mind. He burst--I am ashamed to say--into a tremendous paroxysm of mingled tears and laughter: were he not so strong and masculine a man, I should say, "hysterics." In vain he struggled to find words. At every attempt a fresh convulsion of laughter seized him, and tears, mingled with rain, flowed down his cheeks.

Bertha began to be alarmed at this strange and unexpected convulsion.

"Professor Hurlbut!" said she, "what is the matter?"

"Professor Hurlbut!" he repeated, in a faint, scarcely audible scream; then, striving to suppress his uncontrollable fit of delight and comical surprise, he sank upon the bench at her feet, shaking from head to foot with the effort.

"A-a-ah!" he at last panted forth, as if heaving an atlas-load from his heart, and stood erect before her. With his face still flushed and eyes sparkling he was as handsome an embodiment of youth and life as one could wish to see. In two words he explained to her the mistake, on learning which Bertha blushed deeply, saying: "How could I ever have supposed it!" And then, reflecting upon the inferences which could be drawn from such an expression, became suddenly shy and silent.

Of course she accepted Mr. Bartlett's escort to the hotel when the rain was over, and he was presented to the agonised mother, who hailed him as a deliverer of her daughter from untold dangers, and privately remarked, afterward, to the latter: "Upon my word, a very nice young man, my dear!" d.i.c.k's commendation was no less emphatic though differently expressed: "A good fellow! well made in the shoulders and flanks: fine action, but wants a little training!"

By this time, ladies, you have probably guessed the conclusion. My story would neither be agreeable nor true (I am relating facts) if they were not married, and did not have two children, and live happy ever after. Married they were, in the course of time, and happy they also are, for I visit them now and then.

One thing I had nearly forgotten. When Mrs. Bartlett chooses to tease her husband in that playful way so delightful to married lovers, she invariably calls him "Professor Hurlbut," while he retorts with "Miss Lawrence, of South Carolina." Moreover, in Mrs. B.'s confidential little boudoir, over her work-stand, hangs a neatly-framed card, whereon you may read:

PROFESSOR HURLBUT, Chiropodist To her Majesty Queen Victoria, and the n.o.bility of Great Britain.

"MR. DOOLEY ON CORPORAL PUNISHMENT"

By F. P. DUNNE

Copyright 1907 by H. H. McClure & Co.

"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I see that some school-teachers down East have been pet.i.tioning to be allowed to slug th' young."

"How's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"Well," said Mr. Dooley "they say they can't do anything with these tender little growths onless they use a club. They want the boord iv iddycation to restore what's called corporal punishment--that is th'

fun iv lickin' some wan that can't fight back. Says wan iv thim: 'Th'

little wans undher our care are far fr'm bein' th' small angels that they look. As a matther iv fact they are rebellyous monsthers that must be suppressed be vigorous an',' says he, 'stern measures. Is it right,' says he, 'that us school masthers shud daily risk our lives at th' hands iv these feerocious an' tigerish inimies iv human s'ciety without havin' a chance to pound thim? Yisterdah a goolden haired imp iv perdition placed a tack in me chair. To-day I found a dead rat in the desk. At times they write opprobyous epithets about me on th'

blackboard; at other times crood but pinted carrycachures. Nawthin'

will conthrol thim. They hurl the murdherous spitball. They pull th'

braid iv th' little girl. They fire baseb.a.l.l.s through th' windows.

Sometimes lumps iv chewin' gum are found undher their desks where they have stuck thim f'r further use. They shuffle their feet whin I'm narvous. They look around thim when they think I'm not lookin'. They pa.s.s notes grossly insultin' each other. Moral suasion does no good.

I have thried writin' to their parents askin' thim to cripple their offspring, an' th' parents have come over an' offered to fight me.

I've thried keepin' thim afther school, makin' thim write compositions an' shakin' th' milk teeth out iv thim, but to no avail. Me opinyon is that th' av'rage small boy is a threecherous, dangerous crather like th' Apachy Indyan' an' that th' on'y thing to do with him is to slam him with a wagon spoke,' says he.

"An th' boord iv iddycation is discussin' th' pet.i.tion. It can't quite make up its mind whether Solomon wasn't right. Solomon said, accordin'

to Hogan, spile th' rod an' save th' child. He must've had a large famly if he was annywhere near Tiddy Rosenfelt's law iv av'rages. I don't see how he cud've spared time f'r writin' from correctin' his fam'ly. He must've set up nights. Annyhow, th' boord iv iddycation is discussin' whether he was right or not. I don't know mys'lf. All I know is that if I was a life insurance canva.s.ser or a coal dealer or something else that made me illegible to be a mimber iv a boord iv iddycation, an' an able-bodied man six feet tall come to me f'r permission to whale a boy three feet tall, I'd say: 'I don't know whether ye are compitint. Punishing people requires special thrainin'.

It ain't iv'rybody that's suited f'r th' job. Ye might bungle it.

Just take off ye'er coat an' vest an' step into th' next room an' be examined.' An' in th' next room th' ambitious iddycator wud find James J. Jeffreys or some other akely efficient expert ready f'r him an' if he come back alive he'd have a certy-ficate ent.i.tlin' him to whack anny little boy he met--except mine.

"Sure there'd be very few people to say they believed in corporal punishment if corporal punishment was gin'ral. I wudden't give anny wan th' right to lick a child that wanted to lick a child. No wan shud be licked till he's too old to take a licking. If it's right to larrup an infant iv eight, why ain't it right to larrup wan iv eighteen?

Supposin' Prisidint Hadley iv Yale see that th' left tackle or th' half back iv th' football team wasn't behavin' right. He'd been caught blowin' a pea shooter at th' pro-fissor iv iliminthry chemisthry, or pullin' th' dure bell iv th' pro-fissor iv dogmatic theosophy. He don't know any different. He's not supposed to ralize th' distinction between right an' wrong yet. Does Prisidint Hadley grab th' child be th' ear an' conduct him to a corner iv th' schoolroom an wallup him?

Ye bet he does not. Prisidint Hadley may be a bold man in raisin'

money or thranslatin' Homer, but he knows th' diff'rence between courage and sheer recklessness. If he thried to convince this young idea how to shoot in this careless way ye'd read in the pa-apers that th' fire department was thryin' to rescue Prisidint Hadley fr'm th'

roof iv th' buildin' but he declined to come down.

"But what wud ye do with a child that refused to obey ye?" demanded Mr.

Hennessy.

"Not bein' ayther a parent or an iddycator I nivir had such a child,"

said Mr. Dooley. "I don't know what I'd do if I was. Th' on'y thing I wudden't do wud be to hit him if he cudden't hit back, an' thin I'd think twice about it. Th' older I grow th' more things there are I know I don't know annything about. An' wan iv thim is childher. I can't figure thim out at all.

"What d'ye know about thim little wans that ye have so carefully reared be lavin' thim in th' mornin' befure they got up an' losin' ye'er temper with at night whin ye come home fr'm wurruk? They don't know ye an' ye don't know thim. Ye'll niver know till 'tis too late. I've often wondhered what a little boy thinks about us that call oursilves grown up because we can't grow anny more. We wake him up in th'

mornin' whin he wants to sleep. We make him wash his face whin he knows it don't need washin' thin as much as it will later an' we sind him back to comb his hair in a way he don't approve iv at all. We fire him off to school just about th' time iv day whin anny wan ought to be out iv dures. He trudges off to a brick buildin' an' a tired teacher tells him a lot iv things he hasn't anny inthrest in at all, like how manny times sivin goes into a hundhred an' nine an' who was King iv England in thirteen twinty-two an' where is Kazabazoo on the map. He has to set there most iv th' pleasant part iv th' day with sixty other kids an' ivry time be thries to do annything that seems right to him like jabbin' a frind with a pin or carvin' his name on the desk, th'

sthrange lady or gintleman that acts as his keeper swoops down on him an' makes him feel like a criminal. To'rds evenin' if he's been good an' repressed all his nacharal instincts he's allowed to go home an'

chop some wood. Whin he's done that an' has just managed to get a few iv his frinds together an' they're beginnin' to get up interest in th'

spoort iv throwin' bricks down into a Chinese laundhry his little sister comes out an' tells him he's wanted at home. He instinctively pulls her hair an' goes in to study his lessons so that he'll be able to-morrow to answer some ridiklous questions that are goin' to be asked him. Afther a while ye come home an' greet him with ye'er usual glare an' ye have supper together. Ye do most iv th' talkin', which ain't much. If he thries to cut in with somethin' that intelligent people ought to talk about ye stop him with a frown. Afther supper he's allowed to study some more, an' whin he's finished just as th' night begins to look good he's fired off to bed an' th' light is taken away fr'm him an' he sees ghosts an' hobgoberlins in th' dark an' th' next he knows he's hauled out iv bed an' made to wash his face again.