The Puddleford Papers Part 26

"Only--jest--to--think," screamed Mrs. Bird.

"n.o.body," continued Mrs. Beagle.

"n.o.body at _all_!" snapped Mrs. Bird.

"But"--said Mrs. Beagle.

"But what?" inquired Mrs. Bird.

"_But--old--Poll--Graves!_" screamed the whole three together.

"Hadn't the second gown to her back," added Mrs. Bird.

"Foller'd sowing, too, for a livin'," hinted Mrs. Beagle.

"And glad enough to get it, too," sputtered Mrs. Bird.

"Couldn't-er worn Squire Longbow's old shoes, then," said Mrs. Beagle.

"And now she puts on more ker-ink-tums than the governor's darter," spit out Mrs. Bird.

"Starve a child!" exclaimed another.

"Yes, starve a child!" chimed in all the rest, in a most furious tone of malicious spite that almost raised the roof. When the storm had spent itself on the head of Mrs. Swipes, who stood it with philosophy, for she liked it, all hands "set in" to tell her of the barbarous cruelty of Mrs.

Longbow.

Mrs. Swipes replied, "that nothin' more could have been expected on her--old Longbow might-er known she'd-er taken the very hide off on him, and off all on 'em--if _he_ didn't know what Poll Graves was, then it was _his_ fault; if he hadn't liv'd long-er enough in this community to find _her_ out, then the old fool ought-er suffer--good 'nough for him. He tried to get our Mary Jane Arabella, 'fore he went arter _her_--but I let him know that _I_ was the mother of that gal. He found that Mrs. Swipes had a word to say, and it took _me_ to send the old codger adrift--it jest did.

It's 'nough to make one's blood run cold to see the highty-tighty airs that woman puts on. Last Sunday she had on all of old Mrs. dead and gone Longbow's finery-finery--that _bun_nit, the very same that she bought at Whistle and Sharp's store--price, twenty shillings and sixpence--bought it not mor'n two weeks afore she died. That drab of her'n, you know; the dear good woman never worn it mor'n onct or twict, 'tended Deacon Pettibone's funeral with it, I remember--that very same _bun_nit, and she had it on; and she had on, at the same time, old Mrs. Longbow's gown, and shawl too; and she did _come_--_a_--sailing right inter church, jest as if she was lord of the manor! I thought old Mrs. Longbow had rose from her grave, and I shed tears on the spot. It made my blood run cold. Thinks I to myself, old critter, if Mrs. Longbow should jest come back agin, she'd make _you_ scatter, she would--she'd tear them clothes off on you--she'd let you know where your place was; she'd learn _you_ to dress up inter _her_ clothes.

You'd rue the day you ever tried that game with her. Starve a child? Why, of course she will; anybody that don't care nothin' 'bout dead folkses clothes don't care nothin' 'bout folkses children."

At this point, the whole pack made another dead set at Mrs. Longbow, with the exception of Aunt Sonora, who sat rocking violently, and taking snuff.

It is impossible to repeat the jargon that made up the hurly-burly that followed. All the troop were firing together, all kinds of shot, and epithets, and sentences were violently broken up into fragments by each other, and hurled in a ma.s.s at Mrs. Longbow's head with the hottest vengeance.

It might have looked something like the following: "n.o.body!" "Who cares!"

"I'll let her!" "Just to think!" "Starve!" "Yes, starve!" "A child!" "That new bonnit!" "Twenty shillings!" "Sowed for a livin'!" "And sixpence!"

"Yes, and sixpence!" "Right in church!" "Hardly cold in!" "The poor child!"

"And gown, too!" "Her grave!" "Hardly cold in her grave!" "Marry!" "Was as poor!" "Marry my Mary!" "As poor as Job's!" "Marry my Mary Jane Arabella!"

"Was as poor as Job's turkey!" "I can see!" "I only wish!" "I can see how it!" "I only wish old Mrs. Longbow could!" "Goes!" "Rise from her!"

"Starve!" "Grave!" "I'll complain!" "I wonder!" "To the town!" "If she thinks!" "Starve!" "I'll knuckle!" "A child!" "To her!" "Poll!" "No!"

"Old!" "Not as long as my--" "Poll!" "Name is--" "Graves!" "Bird!"

There was a rap at the door, and the uproar ceased, and the vixens were magnetized as instantaneously and as completely as if they had all been stricken with palsy, and their tongues fastened to the roofs of their mouths.

Mrs. Swipes put on a smile, and courtesied to the door, opened it, and there stood Mrs. Longbow!

"Good after_noon_, Mrs. Longbow. Well, I do declare!" exclaimed Mrs.

Swipes, putting on one of her blandest faces, "you have raaly got out at last. It warn't no longer than this very morning that Swipes and I were wondering what had become of you. Swipes said he know'd you must be sick, but I told Swipes you had so many cares--we women folks _have_ so many cares, Mrs. Longbow. And who do you think is here?--Mrs. Bird, and Mrs.

Beagle, and Aunt Sonora--and we were jest a-talkin' 'bout you--and we all wonder'd how you did manage to get along so well in your family;" and after Mrs. Swipes had chatted and bowed Mrs. Longbow through the hall, Mrs.

Longbow was introduced to the nest of hornets which had just been buzzing so unconsciously about her ears.

"Why--Mrs. Longbow!" cracked Mrs. Bird's voice at the same time, jumping from her chair with a convulsive jerk, and grasping her hand, and imprinting a kiss upon her. "You have--done it--now--you have come out at last. Goin' to call at our house, I s'pose. Let me see--it's one, two--yes--three weeks since you've show'd your face, Mrs. Longbow--lookin'

as bright as a spring mornin', I see."

"All-er that," said Mrs. Beagle.

"But then you have had so much to do," continued Mrs. Bird; "the Squire's house had got inter an awful muss while he was a wid'wer. Lavinny didn't--know--how--to--do--but the people say that it shines like a pink now--and how you _have_ spruc'd up the children--I didn't hardly know Elvira Julia last Sunday. I thought her mother had come back agin."

"She looked _so_ happy!" exclaimed Mrs. Beagle.

"And the old Squire begins to hold up _his_ head agin, like _some_body,"

added Aunt Sonora.

"Nothin' like a _woman_ in a house," chimed in Mrs. Swipes.

"Nothin' like it," said Aunt Sonora.

"Everything goes to loose ends where there ain't no woman," said Mrs. Bird.

"Jest look at old Fluett's house," said Aunt Sonora; "'tis chaos come agin--woman gone--everything spilt from garret to cellar."

"And jest so at Dobbins," added Mrs. Bird.

"I do raaly b'lieve," said Mrs. Beagle, "that if Longbow had put off gettin' him a woman six months longer, he'd a brok't down."

"Jest what the old man himself said," added Mrs. Bird.

"And--then--to--think," drawled out Mrs. Swipes, "that he should have been so fort'nit."

"Might-er tried a hundred times," said Mrs. Bird.

"And got bit," said Mrs. Swipes.

"Yes, and got bit," repeated Mrs. Bird. "There was a kind-er Providence in it. There _cer_tainly was."

"Jest what Parson Bigelow said," added Aunt Sonora; "he said he could see the hand-er Providence inter it, jest as plain as he wanted to."

"Strange world," said Mrs. Beagle.

"Full-er sorrow," said Mrs. Bird.

"Never know when it's comin'," added Aunt Sonora.

"The only way's to be ready for't, and do our duty," said Mrs. Swipes.

Thus the conversation ran on. Mrs. Longbow supposed herself looked upon as a martyr by the crowd of "friends" among whom she had unconsciously fallen, and felt almost crushed by the weight of sympathy which they had so gratuitously thrust upon her; and finishing her call, returned to her domestic labors with a lighter heart, and a satisfied conscience, while those she left behind her, on her departure, took the advantage of her absence to completely finish up the remainder of the woman's reputation.