Almost like August.Injun summer at last, I cal'late.What you got your coat collar turned up for? Afraid of getting your neck sunburned?"Mr.Hammond grunted and hurried on.Captain Obed had chosen a poor topic if he desired a lengthy conversation.
Mrs.Pease lived at the farther end of the village and when Caleb reached there he was met by the lady's niece, Emma Snow.
"Aunt Melindy's real poorly," said Emma."She's been so for 'most three days.I'm stayin' here with her till she gets better.No, she ain't had time to do your mendin' yet.Anyhow it's so nice and warm you don't need the things, that's a comfort."It may have been a comfort to her, but it was not to Caleb.He growled a reply and turned on his heel.The churchgoers along the main road received scanty acknowledgment of their greetings.
"Ain't you comin' to meetin'?" asked Abbie Larkin.
"Naw," snarled Caleb, "I ain't."
"Why not? And it's such a lovely day, too.""Ugh!"
"Why ain't you comin' to meetin', Mr.Hammond?""'Cause I don't feel like it, that's why.""I want to know! Well, you DON'T seem to be in a pious frame of mind, that's a fact.Better come; you may not feel like church, but I should say you needed it, if ever anybody did."Caleb did not deign a reply.He stalked across the road and took the path to the shore.
As he came opposite the Parker cottage he saw Hannah Parker at the window.He nodded and his nod was returned.Hannah's experience was as gloomy as his own.She did not look happy and somehow the idea that she was not happy pleased him; Abbie Larkin had been altogether too happy; it grated on him.He was miserable and he wanted company of his own kind.He stopped, hesitated, and then turned in at the Parker gate.
Hannah opened the door.
"Good mornin', Caleb," she said."Come in, won't you? It looks sort of chilly outdoor."This WAS a kindred spirit.Mr.Hammond entered the Parker sitting-room.Hannah motioned toward a chair and he sat down.
"Mornin', Hannah," said Caleb."'Tis chilly.It'll be a mercy if we don't catch our deaths, dressed the way some of us be.How's things with you?"Miss Parker shook her head."Oh, I don't know, Caleb," she answered."They ain't all they might be, I'm afraid.""What's the matter? Ain't you feelin' up to the mark?""Oh, yes--yes; I'm feeling well enough in body.I ain't sick, if that's what you mean.I'm kind of blue and--and lonesome, that's all.I try to bear up under my burdens, but I get compressed in spirit sometimes, I can't help it.Ah, hum a day!"She sighed and Mr.Hammond sighed also.
"You ain't the only one," he said."I'm bluer'n a whetstone myself, this mornin'.""What's the trouble?"
"Trouble? Trouble enough! Somethin' happened this mornin' that riled me all up.It--" he paused, remembering that the cause of the "rilin'" was somewhat personal, not to say delicate."Well--well, never mind what it was," he added."'Twas mighty aggravatin', that's all I've got to say."Hannah sighed again."Ah, hum!" she observed."There's aggravations enough in this life.And they generally come on account of somebody else, too.There's times when I wish I didn't have any flesh and blood.""Hey? Good land! No flesh and blood! What do you want--bones?""Oh, I don't mean that.I wish I didn't have any--any relations of my own flesh and blood.""Humph! I don't know's you'd be any better off.I ain't got nobody and I ain't what you might call cheerful.I know what's the matter with you, though.That Kenelm's been frettin' you again, Isuppose."
He had guessed it.Kenelm that morning had suddenly announced that he was to have a day off.He was cal'latin' to borrow Mrs.Barnes'
horse and buggy and go for a ride.His sister promptly declared that would be lovely; she was just wishing for a ride.Whereupon Kenelm had hemmed and hawed and, at last, admitted that his company for the drive was already provided.
"Oh!" sneered Hannah."I see.You're goin' to take that precious inmate of yours along.And I've got to set here alone at home.
Well, I should think you'd be ASHAMED."
"What for? Ain't nothin' in takin' a lady you're keepin' company with out drivin', is there? I don't see no shame in that.""No, I presume likely YOU don't.You're way past shame, both of you.And when I think of all I've done for you.Slaved and cooked your meals--""Well, you're cookin' 'em yet, ain't you? I ain't asked you to stop.""I will stop, though.I will."
"All right, then; heave ahead and stop.I cal'late my wife'll be willin' to cook for me, if it's needful.""Your wife! She ain't your wife yet.And she shan't be.This ridiculous engaged business of yours is--is--""Well, if you don't like the engagin', why don't you stop it?""Why don't YOU stop it, you mean.You would if you had the feelin's of a man.""Humph! And let some everlastin' lawyer sue me out of my last cent for damages.All right, I'll stop it if you say so.There's plenty of room in the poorhouse, they tell me.How'd you like to give us this place and move to the poorhouse, Hannah?""But--but, O Kenelm, I can't think of your gettin' married! Ican't think of it!"
"Don't think of it.I ain't thinkin' of it no more'n I can help.
Why ain't you satisfied with things as they be? Everything's goin'
on all right enough now, ain't it? You and me are livin' together same as we have for ever so long.You're here and I--well, I--"He did not finish the sentence, but his sister read his thought.
She knew perfectly well that her brother was finding a measure of enjoyment in the situation, so far as his dealings with her were concerned.He was more independent than he had been since she took him in charge.But she realized, too, her own impotence.She could not drive him too hard or he might be driven into marrying Imogene.And THAT Hannah was determined should be deferred as long as possible.
