Family life -- Fiction; Farm life -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction
"By jocks!" he ejaculated sympathetically, "but you have hard lines,
Jim. What in thunder would I do with two such widdy women to look after
my house!"
Chapter IX.
Mrs. Mumpson Accepts Her Mission
As Holcroft drove through the town, Mrs. Wiggins, who, as matters were
explained to her, had expressed her views chiefly by affirmative nods,
now began to use her tongue with much fluency.
"Hi 'ave a friend 'herhabouts," she said, "an' she's been a-keepin'
some of my things. Hi'll be 'olden to ye, master, hif ye'll jes stop a
bit hat the door whiles hi gets 'em. Hif ye'll hadvance me a dollar or
so on me wages hit'll be a long time hafore I trouble ye hagain."
The farmer had received too broad a hint not to know that Mrs. Wiggins
was intent on renewing her acquaintance with her worst enemy. He
briefly replied, therefore, "It's too late to stop now. I'll be coming
down soon again and will get your things."
In vain Mrs. Wiggins expostulated, for he drove steadily on. With a
sort of grim humor, he thought of the meeting of the two "widdy women,"
as Tom had characterized them, and of Mrs. Mumpson's dismay at finding
in the "cheap girl" a dame of sixty, weighing not far from two hundred.
"If it wasn't such awfully serious business for me," he thought, "it
would be better'n going to a theater to see the two go on. If I
haven't got three 'peculiar females' on my hands now, I'd like to hear
of the man that has."
When Mrs. Wiggins found that she could not gain her point, she subsided
into utter silence. It soon became evident in the cloudy light of the
moon that she was going to sleep, for she so nodded and swayed about
that the farmer feared she would tumble out of the wagon. She occupied
a seat just back of his and filled it, too. The idea of stepping over,
sitting beside her, and holding her in, was inexpressibly repugnant to
him. So he began talking to her, and finally shouting at her, to keep
her awake.
His efforts were useless. He glanced with rueful dismay over his
shoulder as he thought, "If she falls out, I don't see how on earth
I'll ever get her back again."
Fortunately the seat slipped back a little, and she soon slid down into
a sort of mountainous heap on the bottom of the wagon, as unmindful of
the rain as if it were a lullaby. Now that his mind was at rest about
her falling out, and knowing that he had a heavy load, Holcroft let the
horses take their own time along the miry highway.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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