Читать книгу Fighting Stars - H. A. Cody - Страница 9

Table of Contents

This declaration on his wife's part was the severest shock that Henry had received for years. He was fully aware that what she said she meant, and that she was determined to leave him if he did not mend his ways. He knew now that her apparent concern about his health had been merely a ruse. It made him mad to think how he had been fooled, and he vowed to get even with Doctor Benson for aiding her in the scheme. But Sarah's new plan was different, and he did not dare to treat it lightly. What in the world would he do if she should leave him? The very idea sent cold chills through his body. He had depended upon her so long to keep things together, to cook his meals, look after the house, and also to help around the place, that he could not bear the thought of her going away. And she had given him just one week to make up his mind. He thought over it until late that night, and the next morning instead of going over to the store he worked at his potatoes. The hours dragged slowly by, and it seemed a long time before his wife called him to dinner. As he entered the house, Mrs. Winters handed him a slip of paper.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Your school-tax. Jed Peters left it this morning. It's higher than it was last year, and I do not know where we are going to get the money to pay it."

"Ten dollars!" Henry exclaimed, as his eyes rested upon the ominous figures. "Ten dollars fer the up-keep of that school, an' we haven't a child to send, an' never did. It's outrageous, an' I won't pay it."

"The place will have to, then, Henry," his wife reminded. "That bill's got to be paid, or they will sell the farm for the amount."

"Let 'em try to sell it!" Henry savagely roared. "I'd jist like 'em to try it."

"Oh, it's no use making a fuss about it, Henry. That won't do one bit of good, and you know it. We shall have to sell one of our cows unless something else turns up to save us."

Henry was too angry for more words. He thrust the offending paper into his pocket, and ate his dinner in silence. When he was through, he informed his wife that he was going out to the pasture to finish the work on the fence.

"There are only a few more rods to be mended," he explained, "so I might as well git that done now."

Henry's real object was to get away from the potato patch. He could not loaf very well there. But out of sight of the house he could rest whenever he felt like it, and that was quite often. It was necessary for him to keep up the pretense of working, even though he did not accomplish much. And out there he could nurse his wrath over that school-tax. The line fence which Henry was repairing separated his farm from the Karsalls'. The latter was cleared and well cultivated, while his was nothing but pasture. Lemuel had always been very patient with his careless neighbor, and had more than his share of the fence in good condition. This Henry knew, and at times he felt ashamed of himself for his neglect and the trouble he had given the Karsalls. But on this hot afternoon his mind dwelt entirely upon that school-bill. He would not pay it, so he declared aloud, and uttered some most uncomplimentary words about those who were responsible for the burden. He swung his ax with unusual energy, at the same time declaring that he would see who was running the district.

"They're a hull bunch of idiots," he growled. "It's a downright imposition, an' I won't stand it, by jingo! I'll show 'em a thing or two."

"What's the matter, Henry?" a cheery voice asked. "You seem to be in a fighting-mood to-day."

Henry dropped his ax to the ground, and turned quickly around.

"Oh, it's you, Lem, is it? Well, ye needn't scare a feller out of his wits by comin' up so sly an' quiet like a cat after a mouse."

"Why, I made quite a noise, Henry," was the smiling reply. "I tried to acquaint you of my presence, but you outdid me by the racket you were making. From your words I judge that you are getting ready to run for a councillor at the next election."

"H'm, that wouldn't jar me one bit, Lem. It's this that's stirred me up," and he handed forth the tax-bill which he had jerked from his pocket. "That thing says I'm taxed ten dollars fer the school in this deestrict. Jist think of that!"

"That shouldn't worry you, Henry. A public-spirited man such as you are should be only too pleased to pay. It helps along the good of the cause. Education is a most worthy thing."

"But look at what it costs, young man. Ten dollars. Gee whitaker! An' I recollect when I didn't have to pay a quarter of that. Ah, them was the good old days. Why, we could git a teacher then fer almost nuthin'. We paid her sixty dollars a term, an' sometimes less. Now we have to fork out sixty dollars a month. That's what riles me."

"But surely any reasonable man can't object to that, Henry. A teacher must have a living wage. 'The laborer is worthy of his hire,' so the Bible says."

"Oh, the Bible doesn't say anything about women. It only means men. No, the Lord never intended women to have so much money; it makes 'em too independent."

"In what way?"

"Well, ye see, when we paid a school marm jist sixty dollars a term, she was quite willin' to look at the young fellers in this deestrict. She was more'n ready to grab the fust chap who'd ask her to marry him. There was Nancy Hoppins, Judy Perkins, an' Martha Sloan, fer instance, an' others I could mention, who taught school here. Why, they was more'n glad to git married. It was their only hope an' salvation in them good old days. But now, land sakes! the school marm earns more'n the young fellers 'emselves, an' it makes 'em mighty independent. No, 'taint right. The Lord never meant young women to be so independent an' sot up."

"You are unreasonable, Henry," Lemuel remonstrated. "I don't agree with you."

"No one axed ye, young man. I'm a hold-backer, that's what I am, an' that's what this deestrict needs more'n anything else. I'm goin' to hold back ag'inst them new-fangled notions that are comin' in."

"But surely you don't object to that new school house. The old one was a ramshackle affair, and the roof leaked like a sieve."

"I object when a thing like this is given me," and Henry tapped the tax-bill with his forefinger. "Wouldn't ten dollars make any man object?"

"But that old building wasn't fit for a school house, Henry. It was a disgrace to this community."

"H'm, it was good enough fer me when I was a kid. I got my edication there, an' who says I ain't got larnin'?"

"But it wasn't safe for the teachers and scholars to sit in such a building."

"It made 'em tough, though. People are gittin' too tender now."

"It killed one teacher, didn't it? She caught a severe cold there, which resulted in her death."

"Oh, she didn't know how to look after the fire. She couldn't build a decent one to save her soul."

"What! did the teachers then have to light the fires?"

"Yes, most of the time. We hired a young feller fer a few cents to do the work, but he was ginerally late, so the teacher had to do it herself."

"And the people were willing for her to do it, Henry?"

"Oh, they didn't mind. It kept down expenses."

"Sixty dollars a term!" Lemuel softly remarked. "What generosity!"

"Yes, all that. An' it was real edication we got, too, an' none of yer new-fangled notions."

"What new-fangled notions, Henry?"

"Oh, lots of 'em; manners, fer instance. What has a school to do with manners, I'd like to know?"

"Very useful, I should say."

"H'm, ye think so, do ye? Look here, we had one school marm who was much sot on teachin' manners. An' what came of it? Ax Joe Steffins, an' he'll give ye an earful, a'right. He'll tell ye how his kids undertook to larn him manners. They said he shouldn't eat with his knife, shouldn't drink out of his sasser, he shouldn't say 'them merlasses,' 'I seen,' 'have went,' an' sich stuff. Joe had a heart to heart talk with that teacher, that's what he had. Now, what right has any young snip of a gal to come here an' upset old established customs? What's a knife fer, anyway, if ye can't eat with it? An' what's the use of a sasser if ye can't drink out of it when yer tea's bilin' hot? An' isn't it right to say 'them merlasses'? What yould ye put before the word, anyway, if ye don't put 'them'? Doesn't the word end with an 's,' like measles? We say 'them measles,' so why shouldn't we say 'them merlasses'? It sounds a'right to me, an' Joe says the same thing. He should know, fer he's got a dictionary in his house. He bought it at an auction once. Yes, any man with sich a book as that should know what's what."

Henry sighed and gazed thoughtfully at his tax-bill, while Lemuel gazed thoughtfully at Henry.

"Ten dollars!" he murmured. "Ten dollars fer sich things as manners! What's the world comin' to, anyway? But that isn't all, young man."

"No? Something worse?"

"Ye kin jedge fer yerself when I tell ye. Why, the school marm we've got now is teachin' hijinne."

"What in the world is that, Henry?"

"Why, don't ye know what hijinne is? It's a new-fangled word fer, oh, ye know, fer keepin' yer teeth clean, yer face an' hands washed, an' sich like."

"Health, is that it, Henry?"

"Well, I s'pose 'tis, but they call it 'hijinne' now."

"Why should you object to that?"

"But what has it to do with edication, I'd like to know? I never used a tooth-brush in me life, an' Joe Spiffins said he never heard of sich a thing till his kids began to talk about it. But what d'ye s'pose they've found out now?"

"I couldn't guess, Henry."

"Ho, ho, I bet ye couldn't. It's tonsils, that what it is, something way down the throat which must be cut out. A doctor visited the school last spring, looked down the throats of all the kids, an' found that more'n half of 'em have tonsils. Whoever heard of sich things before? If the Lord gave us tonsils, who has any right to cut 'em out? But that's what comes from them new-fangled notions. Me an' Sarah never had tonsils. Oh, no, things ain't what they used to be by a long chalk. Sixty dollars a month! New school house, manners, tooth-brushes, tonsils, big tax-bills, an' women runnin' things. Look here, young man, us men in this deestrict must raise up in our might an' rath an' make the women know an' keep their places. There must be no more sich nonsense. Men were made to rule an' to be lords of creation. I'm goin' to start right in the fust time I meet that teacher, an' tell her in mighty plain language what I think about her new-fangled notions.

"You won't have long to wait, Henry, for here she is now," Lemuel announced.

A startled expression came into Henry's eyes as he turned them in the direction of the teacher, who was coming toward them, accompanied by several children. His hands clutched hard upon his ax-handle, and he was about to beat a hasty retreat when Lemuel stopped him.

"You've got to face her, Henry," he laughingly declared, "so you might as well get through with it now."

"But I'm not ready, Lem," Henry gasped. "This is so sudden that me underpinnin's are clean knocked out. I must go."

"Don't be a coward, man. Miss Rivers won't hurt you. I'm sure she'll answer any of your questions about education, such as manners, health, and tonsils."

There was no time for further conversation, for the teacher was but a short distance away. Henry thrust the tax-bill into his pocket, stood on the defensive, and waited somewhat anxiously for the attack. It came in a most unexpected manner from Miss Rivers.

"Please stand just as you are, Mr. Winters," she ordered. "I want to get your picture. Your attitude is perfect."

Henry gasped and the perspiration poured down his forehead as he saw her seat herself upon a little knoll, place an open notebook upon her knee and start to work. He was too much dumbfounded to say a word, but simply stared at the young woman before him.

"You had better keep your face straight, Henry," Lemuel suggested, greatly amused. "Look a little more pleasant, please, but don't move."

Henry was never in such a fix in his whole life. He wanted to swear and throw his ax at that confounded self-possessed creature before him. He did neither, however, but stood like a statue among the bushes. Gradually his anger cooled, and a feeling of admiration stole into his heart. Her graceful position, the beauty of her animated face, and an indefinable charm that surrounded her, greatly impressed him. And the thought that she wished to have his picture had an additional effect. He could understand her sketching the trees, hills and flowers, but to want to sketch an old rough bronzed and battered farmer was beyond his comprehension. Nevertheless, it flattered his vanity, and he wondered what Sarah would say if she knew about it. Would she be jealous? He wished she would, for then she might not be so anxious to go away and leave him alone. This new idea came as an illuminating ray of light in a night of darkness. He had been vainly groping for some plan whereby he might cause his wife to change her mind about leaving him. Steady work, he knew, would solve the problem, but he needed something less strenuous and more exciting. And now he had it. This young audacious and beautiful teacher might prove his salvation. He was delighted, and so taken up was he with his plan that he hardly noticed that Miss Rivers had finished her sketch and was coming toward him.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Winters," she was saying. "I was anxious to get a picture of you among the trees, and when it is completed I shall show it to you."

"Yer very welcome, Miss," Henry replied. "It's too bad, though, ye couldn't find a better subject. Now, here's Lem, fer instance, he's young an' good-lookin', an' would make a much finer picter."

"Oh, I can get one of him any day," and Miss Rivers cast a quick glance at the young man as she spoke. "But you are harder to catch."

"Not if ye use the right kind of bait, Miss. An old critter sich as me kin be caught any time by a purty smilin' face an' charmin' ways. An' you've got plenty of sich bait, a' right."

"What about your school-tax, Henry?" Lemuel mischievously asked. "You have evidently forgotten all about that."

"I have, Lem, an' I don't want ye to mention it ag'in. I'll take care of that."

"She came; he saw; she conquered," Lemuel quietly remarked.

"What's that yer sayin', young man?"

"Oh, nothing of importance. I was just misquoting an old saying for my own pleasure. It's a habit of mine."

"Queer pleasure, I should say. But, then, you allus did odd things, so I s'pose yer hardly responsible."

"I hope you men are not going to quarrel," Miss Rivers intervened. "It would be a pity to spoil our pleasant time here."

"Oh, no, me an' Lem never quarrel," Henry assured. "We understand each other, a'right. But, there, I must git on with me work an' finish this fence. Time's mighty valuable these days with so much to do."

"I am sorry, then, that I interfered with your work, Mr. Winters," the teacher apologized. "I was about to ask you a favor, but as you are so busy I hardly like to."

"What is it, Miss? I'm never too busy to listen to any reasonable request."

"I was going to ask you to go to the Falls with us. I have never been there, so would like to go to-morrow and take the children with me. Where are they, anyway?" she asked, while an expression of fear came into her eyes. "I have forgotten all about them."

"They're jist over in that strawberry patch, Miss, so they're a'right. But what d'ye want me to go along with ye t'morrow fer? Won't Lem do? He'll go, of course."

"I suppose so, but I want to make a sketch of you sitting below the Falls fishing. It should make a splendid picture. And perhaps Mrs. Winters might like to come, too. We are going to have a regular picnic."

"I don't think Sarah could stand the trip, Miss," Henry explained. "She's troubled with corns an' finds it hard to walk. Ye'd better take Ada along, Lem. She kin stand the tramp, a'right."

"She wouldn't care to go," Lemuel quietly replied. "It would be no use to ask her."

Henry's eyes twinkled with amusement, for he was well aware that Ada would know nothing about the proposed picnic. He saw how matters stood, so decided to help all he could.

"I'll go with ye, Miss," he declared. "Where'll we meet? At yer house, Lem?"

"No, no. This is a good place. How will ten o'clock in the morning do?"

"It'll suit me a'right, I guess."

"And it won't take too much of your valuable time, Mr. Winters?" Miss Rivers asked.

"Not at all. It'll be time well spent in sich pleasant company."

"Oh, thank you so much. But I must go now and look after those children. Good-bye until to-morrow."

As she walked across the field, Lemuel took his place by her side. Henry stood and watched them for a few minutes.

"It's gittin' mighty serious, by the look of things," he mused. "It's the fust time I've ever known Lem to take a shine to any woman. My! he'll have a hard row to hoe when Ada hears of it. Poor feller! I pity him, so must help him all I kin. An' in helpin' him I may be able to block Sarah in her notion of goin' away. Things are beginnin' to git real excitin'. Mebbe the stars are goin' to fight fer me after all."