The Puddleford Papers Part 25

"Now," said the Squire, "we'll try to turn an angle; if you can't turn a circle, maybe you can turn an angle; and we'll drive a stake to turn it by, and Mr. Turtle will again head the column."

The stake was driven at the point of the right angle, "where," said the captain, "you will all turn square around." The column moved forward solemnly, in a line like a scythe snath, and, reaching the corner, began to waver. Beagle at last fell headlong over the stake, and the whole company brought up in a pile around him; whereupon the Squire threw his sword on the ground, and declared, "he'd throw up his commission--and the country might go to gra.s.s for all him."

Turtle, who had brought about this confusion, "regretted the misfortune. It was all an accident--Beagle had fallen, and dis...o...b..berated the whole proceedings--accidents would occur on the field--and, in fact, he know'd a man shot down dead once in the ranks--he guess'd the movement had better be tried over; the stake, he thought, was a leetle too high."

The Squire said, "it was very discouragin'--the Hos-Guards down on the Susquehannas turned an angle the fust time tryin'--and on hosses, too. His fust wife, now dead and gone, know'd that, for she was thar--it was one of the simplest revolutions in all military tactics. He would like jist to know what a company would be good for, on a field-er battle, that couldn't turn an angle? He would jist like to know what they would do if they were following the enemy through a hilly country, if they couldn't turn an angle?--they'd all be butcher'd 'fore they could get round to the spot they'd started for. War was war--and the revolution ought to be did jist as if we were to-day fightin' for our liberties. He'd like to know what the Hos Guards would say if he should tell 'em that one of his sogers had fallen down turnin' an angle! He would throw up his commission afore he'd tell 'em any such thing."

Beagle said he "stumbled." "Stumbled!" roared the Squire. "You stumbled!--who ever heard of the Hos Guards stumblin'! Stumbled? by the great Bonyparte--that ain't swearin', Mr. Turtle--you'd be hung by the neck, sir, if you stumbled on the field-er battle--it's a hangin' offence, sir--a hangin' offence, sir. We are under martial law, sir, to-day, sir, and if it was war time, sir, I'd order you to be stretch'd, sir, in five minutes, sir, from that 'ere tree, sir--I'd show you war, sir--real war, sir! b.l.o.o.d.y war, sir!"

Turtle suggested that a lower stake had better be driven--or the outside angle of the fence would be still better, that _would_ stand--they could walk round a fence corner, he knew.

Aunt Sonora "hop'd for ma.s.sy-sakes they warn't a-goin' to come out of the field--they ought-er be fenced in--she thought it warn't safe!"

Mrs. Longbow, who had great confidence in her husband, said, "she needn't be alarm'd any, the capt'n would take care on 'em."

The Squire declared, "he wouldn't try any sich revolution over agin, but he thought they _could_ march in platoons;" and thereupon he cried, "Company, form in pla-_toons_!"

Turtle said, "he wasn't any war character, and he didn't know what a _platoon_ was, but he know'd Injun file."

"Well, Injun file, then," exclaimed the captain; and from Injun file, Longbow set them around into a hollow square, put the women in the centre, and he delivered to his troops the address of the day, with uncovered heads, and in the most affecting silence.

The address was a very patriotic production. The Squire drew heavily from the great revolutionary war to find inspiring materials to stimulate his forces. He told them, among other things, that his own grandfather was "wounded in the hip a-fightin' for his country, and that he draw'd a pension arterwards as long as he lived. He hop'd they'd all get ready for the great muster that was a-goin' to come off in a few weeks; for the gin'ral would be there, then, and a good deal was expected of the Puddleford company on that occasion." The Squire had forgotten the unfortunate blunders of the day, in his enthusiasm, or, at any rate, he did not allude to them, for he said, "he was proud of the soldier-like bearin'

of his men, and the great respect they all seem'd to have for their capt'n--that their arms were not 'zactly accordin' to la'."

"'Cording to the Lord," whispered Aunt Sonora, horrified, very audibly--"Hear that."

"'Cording to _la'_," repeated the Squire, who overheard her, "not 'zactly 'cordin' to la', but it is a constructive compliance with the statert, and will pa.s.s muster on the first turn-out;" and, thankin' them all for their attendance, he adjourned the company _siney die_.

CHAPTER XXI.

Mrs. Bird gets in a Rage.--Starve a Child.--Mrs. Bird blows off at Mrs. Beagle.--Takes Breath.--Blows off again.--Mrs.

Beagle gives a Piece of her Mind.--Aunt Sonora drops in.--She has no Faith in Second Wives.--All adjourn to the House of Mrs. Swipes.--General Fight of Tongues.--Mrs.

Swipes gives her Opinion.--A Dead Set by all upon Mrs.

Longbow.--Mrs. Longbow raps at the Door.--The Scene changes.--Final Wind-up.

Aunt Graves had not got warm in her seat as mistress of Squire Longbow's household, when she found half of the female portion of Puddleford upon her in full cry. The Swipeses, and the Beagles, and Birds, who were very jealous of the sudden elevation of the old spinster, gave her no peace night nor day. They had seen the time when she looked up to them, and now she was the wife of a Squire--had taken good old Mrs. Longbow's place, and "really," as they said, "tried to lord it over them."

Mrs. Bird went all the way in the rain, mud over shoe, to inform Mrs.

Beagle "that she warn't a-goin' to stand it any longer; _she_'d seen enough, and if other people were a-mind to blind their eyes, they might--she guessed she know'd what was what--she warn't brought into the world for nothin'--they might humbug her if they could--she only wished old Mrs. Longbow could jist rise from her grave--jist _once_--that's all she would ask--she'd make a scatterin' among the dry bones--jist to think--to think--"

"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Beagle, who stood waiting for the climax, with her mouth wide open, holding her dish-cloth in her hand.

"What?--what"--repeated Mrs. Bird, "you may well say what--that Longbow woman abuses little Elvira Julia Longbow like sixty--the _dar_ling creature--how my heart bleeds. That child," continued Mrs. Bird, putting down each word in a measured way by striking her fist on the table--"that child--that dear--Elvira Julia--the idol--you know of her mother--and what a mother she had, too, Mrs. Beagle--O, _what_ a mother! That child is starved! She don't get half enough to eat--I know it just as well as if the child had told me so with her own lips. She looks puny-like. She didn't hold up her head in church all sarvice time, last Sunday--how my heart ached for her--I couldn't think of nothin' else--and to think--to _think_, Mrs. Beagle, that that woman who warn't n.o.body, and who'd come onto the town if she hadn't fooled the old Squire, is now goin' to turn round and starve his children. One thing I _do_ know, I shall never knuckle to her--not while my name is Bird--I'll let her know who Mrs. Bird is. She'll find out that the Birds can hoe their own row--the Birds allers _have_ liv'd, and will live, I guess, and they never were beholdin' to the Longbows, nuther. Starve a child!--and if she thinks I ever mean to know her as anybody but old Poll Graves, she is most grandly mistaken. I'll jist tell her who old Graves, her father, was, and what he was, and how he used to drink, the old brute. She knows it all--but she thinks Mrs. Bird forgets such things--but Mrs. Bird don't forget such things--she has a long memory--and her mother warn't none _too_ good, nuther--I could touch her up a little on that. Starve a child! Lord-a-ma.s.sey, I s'pose she thinks she is the queen of Puddleford, now, and can do as she has a mind-ter. If she don't run agin a snag some day, then call Sally Bird a liar, that's all.

Pride must have its fall, Mrs. Beagle;" and here Mrs. Bird took the first long breath, after entering the house.

"How--you--do--talk!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Beagle, her eyes half started from her head. "I'd thought just as much, but dare not say so."

"Da.r.s.en't! da.r.s.en't!" popped Mrs. Bird, "Well, thank the Lord, _I_ dare; I'll pull down the whole Longbow nest around her ears; I'll complain to the town officers; I'll have her taken up, and then let her show her hand; to think that the child of that dear, good woman we lov'd so much, should be starved! And that ain't all: old Longbow is one of the most miserablest men livin'; he don't have a minute's peace day _nor_ night; he rolls and tumbles, and talks to himself--thinks, in his dreams, that his former wife is back agin, and he talks to her jest as if she was; he hain't had a full meal for a mouth. She is the _stin_giest of all mortals! She liv'd on nothin' afore she was married--why she counts the very coffee kernels she uses--she allers was afraid of goin' to the poor-house--pity she hadn't-er gone--but la-sa-me, you can't get one of the Longbows to say a word about it--they are as whist as mice--fairly caught--less said the better, you know--they are so everlastin' etarnal proud, the hull pack on 'em would die before they'd let anything out--but they can't deceive Mrs. Bird--murder will out--starve a child!" and here Mrs. Bird took another long breath.

Mrs. Beagle looked still wilder, if possible, than before. But she was a very cautious woman, as has been seen. There was a method in _her_ malice.

"She had thought for a long time," she said, "that affairs were all wrong-end-foremost at the Longbows. _She_ could see some things too. But she didn't want to say a word agin n.o.body. She had allers tried to be a _keer_ful woman--and she _was_ a keerful woman--and although she said it, who had not orter say it, she was a keerful woman. She tried to live in peace and Christian charity with everybody--and she would put up with enymost anything rather than to have hard feelings 'gin anybody. She had allers been a friend of Mrs. Longbow, and was really glad when she heard she had at last got married, for she _did_ think she would make a good wife--she had orter, for Squire Longbow had been the makin' on her, and had set her up in the world for _sum_thin'--but things warn't-er a-goin' right, that she know'd, and had know'd it for a long time; the old Squire looked as _cowed_-like as if he'd give all his old shoes to see his old wife back agin--he didn't look so chirck as he used to do--but then she didn't want-er say nothin' about it, for there was one thing she didn't do--she didn't talk about her neighbors--if there was any kind of people that she _did_ hate, it was the slanderers--she never slandered n.o.body--but she allers did know that Mrs. Longbow was tighter than bark to a tree--she used to jest keep soul and body together 'fore she married--a leetle _too_ tight to be honest--there wern't no slander in that--she hadn't said she _was_ dishonest, nor she warn't a-goin' to say it--she would skin a copper the closest of anybody she ever see'd; such people _can't be_ honest--they will cheat in the dark--not that she meant to say that Mrs. Longbow _would_ cheat--she slandered n.o.body--but the child _did_ look _half_-starved, and anybody could see it with one eye, and you can't learn old dogs new tricks--what's bred in the bone stays there--and the old Squire's darter, Livinny, looks like death, too--she's lost a _mother_, and it'll be a long time before that woman will fill _her_ place--this is between you and me, Mrs. Bird--'twarn't no longer than t'other day that Mrs. Swipes told me that old Longbow wanted to marry Mary Jane Arabella, but Mrs. Swipes said she jest put her foot down and said No! and he's been _cross_-grained at her ever since. Well--well--so it goes."

Aunt Sonora dropped in "to take a breath," as she said. Mrs. Bird and Mrs.

Beagle had to repeat to her the new developments in the Longbow family, with some new additions.

Aunt Sonora said she never did have any faith in second wives. "Depend upon't," said the old lady, "no good comes out on 'em. And the old maids were the _very_ worst on 'em all. They were the awfullest dead-settest people she ever know'd. They _will_ have their way. They allers rule the roost. She guessed that her old man knew when he was well off. He hated second marriages like pizen."

Finally, the women, after exhausting themselves, all agreed to adjourn to the house of Mrs. Swipes, to see what could be done to improve the domestic arrangements of the Longbow family. Mrs. Bird said at first she wouldn't move an inch, to see Mrs. Swipes or anybody else, for it wasn't no business of her'n, but then she know'd that, if it was _her_ child, and _she_ was dead, and Mrs. Longbow wasn't dead, Mrs. Longbow would do just as she did.

Mrs. Swipes was delighted to see such a crowd of her friends, but declared "she couldn't for the life of her tell what was up."

By the time the "ladies" had arrived at the house of Mrs. Swipes, they were very highly charged with electricity. They had lashed themselves into a very respectable sort of fury. Even Aunt Sonora, amiable as she was, muttered to herself, while crossing the road--"Starve a child!"

n.o.body ever told Mrs. Swipes any news--that was not possible--she had always heard of it, seen it, or expected it; the most astounding development was no more than she had "allers known would come about." There was no story so large that it was unexpected, or beyond her power to add a little to it--no black so black, that she couldn't make it a little blacker--no slander so public, but that she had heard a little more than her neighbors of it. A piece of scandal melted like sugar in her mouth, and it seemed to send a glow over her whole being while she digested it; it braced her up for a whole day, and carried her through the most fiery domestic trials--no story, therefore, ever lost strength or sting while in her keeping--it gathered weight and power like a s...o...b..ll--she paid it out with interest. Her husband, Zeb Swipes, she didn't like, for he did not care a pin about his neighbors, "'specially the women folks," as he said; and Mrs. Swipes declared she never could interest him in the wickedness of the place. Many a time she had talked him to sleep, flaring, and foaming, and fretting about Puddleford.

When Mrs. Bird, and Beagle, and Aunt Sonora entered Mrs. Swipes's room, the clap burst at once from the whole delegation.

"Don't you think!" exclaimed Mrs. Bird.

"Did you ever!" snapped Mrs. Beagle.

"Pretty doin's these!" chimed in Aunt Sonora.

"That _that_ thing!"--"that Longbow woman," continued Mrs. Bird.

"Starve!" added Mrs. Beagle.

"Yes, starve!" repeated Mrs. Bird.

"A child!" groaned Aunt Sonora.

"Yes, a child!" gasped Mrs. Bird.

"And to think!" said Mrs. Beagle.

"Yes, to think!" said Mrs. Bird.

"_Only_ to think!" repeated Aunt Sonora.

"That," continued Mrs. Beagle.

"Yes, _that_," said Aunt Sonora.

"What she was," said Mrs. Beagle.