Family life -- Fiction; Farm life -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction
"Well, now, Uncle Jonathan, you've got nothing to say against me for I
didn't marry on the sly, although I've gone on the principle that my
business wasn't everybody's business. When I saw your wife about my
washing and mending I didn't know I was going to be lucky so soon. You
know you can't marry a woman in this country till she's willing. But
tell your wife she shan't lose anything, and the next time I go to town
I'll leave that settin' of eggs she wanted. Now, Jonathan, honor
bright, do you feel able to walk home if I give you fifty cents extra?"
"Why, sartinly! S'pose I'd take yer away on sich a 'casion? My wife
wouldn't let me in if she knowed it."
"Well, you and your wife are good neighbors, and that's more'n I can
say for most people in these parts. Here's the money. Mrs. Holcroft
isn't strong or well enough to talk any tonight. You got yourself a
good supper, didn't you?"
"Yes, yes! Helped myself bount'fully. Good night, and good luck ter
yer. I can't help thinkin' it was kind o' suddint though, and then
she's sich a sickly lookin' critter. Hope yer haven't been taken in,
but then, as you say, the marryin' business, like other kinds o'
business, is a man's own business."
"I hope everyone will take your sensible view, Uncle Jonathan. Good
night."
Chapter XXI.
At Home
Alida was not so cold, weary, and almost faint but that she looked
around the old kitchen with the strongest interest. This interest was
as unlike Mrs. Mumpson's curiosity as she was unlike the widow. It is
true the thought of self was prominent, yet hers were not selfish
thoughts. There are some blessed natures in the world that in doing
the best for themselves do the best that is possible for others.
The genial warmth of the fire was grateful to her chilled and enfeebled
frame; the homely kitchen, with its dresser of china ware, its tin
closet and pantry, the doors of which old Jonathan had left open,
manlike, after helping himself "bount'fully," all suggested more
comfort to this pallid bride, sitting there alone, than wealth of
ornament in elegant apartments has brought to many others. She saw her
chief domain, not in its coarse and common aspect, but as her vantage
ground, from which she could minister to the comforts of the one who
had rescued her. Few brides would care to enter the kitchen first, but
she was pleased; she who had scarcely hoped to smile again looked
smilingly around on the quaint, homelike room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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