The Woman-Haters Part 25

"Yes, I do."

"Well, the 'Bascom' part wa'n't mine no more--not all mine. I'd given it to you."

"O--oh! oh, I see. And you ran away from your name as you ran away from your wife. I see. And . . . why, of course! you came down here to run away from all the women. Miss Ruth said this mornin' she was told--I don't know who by--that the lightkeeper was a woman-hater. Are you the woman-hater, Seth?"

Mr. Atkins looked at the floor. "Yes, I be," he answered, sullenly. "Do you wonder?"

"I don't wonder at your runnin' away; that I should have expected. But there," more briskly, "this ain't gettin' us anywhere. You're here--and I'm here. Now what's your idea of the best thing to be done, under the circ.u.mstances?"

Seth shifted his feet. "One of us better go somewheres else, if you ask me," he declared.

"Run away again, you mean? Well, I sha'n't run away. I'm Miss Ruth's housekeeper for the summer. I answered her advertis.e.m.e.nt in the Boston paper and we agreed as to wages and so on. I like her and she likes me.

Course if I'd known my husband was in the neighborhood, I shouldn't have come here; but I didn't know it. Now I'm here and I'll stay my time out.

What are you goin' to do?"

"I'm goin' to send in my resignation as keeper of these lights. That's what I'm goin' to do, and I'll do it to-morrow."

"Run away again?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why? WHY? Emeline Bascom, do you ask me that?"

"I do, yes. See here, Seth, we ain't children, nor sentimental young folks. We're sensible, or we'd ought to be. Land knows we're old enough.

I shall stay here and you ought to. n.o.body knows I was your wife or that you was my husband, and n.o.body needs to know it. We ain't even got the same names. We're strangers, far's folks know, and we can stay strangers."

"But--but to see each other every day and--"

"Why not? We've seen each other often enough so that the sight won't be so wonderful. And we'll keep our bein' married a secret. I sha'n't boast of it, for one."

"But--but to SEE each other--"

"Well, we needn't see each other much. Why, we needn't see each other any, unless I have to run over to borrer somethin', same as neighbors have to every once in a while. I can guess what's troublin' you; it's young Brown. You've told him you're a woman-hater, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have."

"Humph! Is he one, too?"

The lightkeeper's mouth was twisted with a violent emotion. He remembered his view of that afternoon's swimming lesson.

"He said he was," he snarled. "He pretends he is."

Mrs. Bascom smiled. "I want to know," she said. "Umph! I thought . . .

However, it's no matter. Perhaps he is. Anyhow he can pretend to be and you can pretend to believe him. That'll be the easiest way, I guess. Of course," she added, "I ain't tellin' you what to do with any idea that you'll do it because I say so. The time for that is all past and gone.

But it seems to me that, for once in my life, I'd be man enough to stick it out. I wouldn't run away again."

Seth did not answer. He scowled and stared at the circle of lantern light on the stone floor. Mrs. Bascom rose from her seat on the stairs.

"Well," she observed, "I must be gettin' back to the house if I want to get any sleep to-night. I doubt if I get much, for a body don't get over a shock, such as I've had, in a minute. But I'm goin' to get over it and I'm goin' to stay right here and do my work; I'm goin' to go through with what seems to be my duty, no matter how hard it is. I've done it afore, and I'll do it again. I've promised, and I keep my promises. Good night."

She started toward the door. Her husband sprang from the oil barrel.

"Hold on," he cried; "you wait a minute. I've got somethin' to say."

She shook her head. "I can't wait," she said; "I've got to go."

"No, you ain't, neither. You can stay a spell longer, if you want to."

"Perhaps, but I don't want to."

"Why not? What are you afraid of?"

"Afraid! I don't know as I'm afraid of anything--that is," with a contemptuous sniff, "nothin' I see around here."

"Then what are YOU runnin' away for?"

This was putting the matter in a new light. Mrs. Bascom regarded her husband with wrathful amazement, which slowly changed to an amused smile.

"Oh," she said, "if you think I'm runnin' away, why--"

"I don't see what else 'tis. If I ain't scart to have you here, I don't see why you should be scart to stay. Set down on them stairs again; I want to talk to you."

The lady hesitated an instant and then returned to her former seat. Seth went back to his barrel.

"Emeline," he said. "I'll stay here on my job."

She looked surprised, but she nodded.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said. "I'm glad you've got that much s.p.u.n.k."

"Yup; well, I have. I came down here to get clear of everybody, women most of all. Now the one woman that--that--"

"That you 'specially wanted to get clear of--"

"No! No! that ain't the truth, and you know it. She set out to get clear of me--and I let her have her way, same as I done in everything else."

"She didn't set out to get clear of you."

"She did."

"No, she didn't."

"I say she did."

Mrs. Bascom rose once more. "Seth Bascom," she declared, "if all you wanted me to stay here for is to be one of a pair of katydids, hollerin'

at each other, I'm goin'. I'm no bug; I'm a woman."