"Just then the snowbank heaved up. It wasn't no devil--that is,
not exactly. It was a lady. I'd a bet on it if I'd had time to
think. I might have known there was no place on top of this
footstool where E. G. W. Scraggs could rest his weary feet without
some female happenin' in the same spot at the same time. I should
have took William's advice, but it was now too late.
"We stood around kinder awk'ard, with her brushin' snow from
herself, till I says, 'Well, good-evenin', ma'am.'
"First off she says good-evenin', too, out of surprise. Then she
begun to talk altogether different. She described William and me
by sections, goin' into particulars, and nobuddy'd loaned us money
on her recommend. I was used to this at home, so I spoke up nice
and silent in our defense. There ain't quite so much noise when
only one is talkin.'
"Finally, when her breath give out, William says very humble,
'Would you mind informin' us, ma'am, how you come to be in these
parts just now?'
"She explained fully that, in answer to an advertisement in the
paper, she was slidin' over to Squaw Creek. The advertisement
called for a wife for a farmer, to be forty years old, or
thereabouts, able to cook, plow, do washing and light blacksmith's
work, and to have a capital of five hundred dollars to invest in
the concern.
"'An' now,' says she, beginning to weep, 'I'd camped in that mill,
an' I was only for steppin' out to git a bit of a stick to cook me
soopper, an' I was on me way back, when a-r-rur-BOOMP! it ses, an'
where's the five hoondred dollars that I left there, I dunno?
Agghh woosha-woosha the day, ye divils, ye! An' me hoopled t'rough
the air like a ol' hat--bad cess to yer ugly faces! The cuss o'
Crom'll lie heavy on ye for mistreatin' a poor, lone widdy woman!'
"'Well, ma'am,' says I, 'I wouldn't take the loss of the money to
heart. When the gentleman sees your face he won't care.' Usually,
you can kinder edge around the rough places with that game of talk.
But it didn't go here.
"'Aggh, g'wan, ye bald-headed ol' pepper-mint lozenger!' she
hollers. 'D'ye s'pose I niwer see a lookin'-glass? Where's the
man'll marry me widout me money? "Me face is me forchune, sor,"
sez she. "Tek it to the gravel bank an' have it cashed, then," sez
he. Where's the man that'll have me, face an' all, lackin' the
coin? Woora, woora, answer me that!'
"Well, as usual, it was up to me. There wasn't no escapin' it. A
man might just as well meet his fate smilin' as trailin' his lip on
the ground, for my experiences teaches, dear friends and brothers,
that Fate just naturally don't care a wooden-legged tinker's dam.
"'Madam,' says I, removin' my hat and bowin', 'the honorable name
of Scraggs is at your disposal.'
"'Eh?' says she. 'What's that you're sayin'?'
"'I repeat, plainly and sadly, ma'am, that one-fourteenth of my
heart and hands is at your disposal.'
"'Heh?' says she again. 'An' what's the one-foorteeneth mane?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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