Sevenoaks: A Story of TodayHolland, J. G. (Josiah Gilbert)
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Sevenoaks: A Story of Today
Holland, J. G. (Josiah Gilbert)
Didactic fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction
But the wedding morning had arrived. Jim had had an uneasy night, with
imperfect sleep and preposterous dreams. He had been pursuing game.
Sometimes it was a bear that attracted his chase, sometimes it was a
deer, sometimes it was a moose, but all the time it was Miss
Butterworth, flying and looking back, with robes and ribbons vanishing
among the distant trees, until he shot and killed her, and then he woke
in a great convulsion of despair, to hear the singing of the early
birds, and to the realization of the fact that his days of bachelor life
were counted.
Mr. Benedict, with his restored boy in his arms, occupied the room next
to his, a door opening between them. Both were awake, and were busy with
their whispered confidences, when they became aware that Jim was roused
and on his feet. In a huge bundle on the table lay Jim's wedding
garments, which he eyed from time to time as he busied himself at his
bath.
"Won't ye be a purty bird with them feathers on! This makin' crows into
bobolinks'll do for oncet, but, my! won't them things spin when I git
into the woods agin?"
Benedict and Harry knew Jim's habit, and the measure of excitement that
was upon him, and lay still, expecting to be amused by his soliloquies.
Soon they heard him say:
"Oh, lay down, lay down, lay _down_, ye misable old mop!"
It was an expression of impatience and disgust.
"What's the matter, Jim?" Mr. Benedict called.
"Here's my har," responded Jim, "actin' as if it was a piece o' woods or
a hay-lot, an' there ain't no lodgin' it with nothin' short of a
harricane. I've a good mind to git it shingled and san'-papered."
Then, shifting his address to the object of his care and anxiety, he
went on:
"Oh, stick up, stick up, if you want to! Don't lay down on my 'count.
P'rhaps ye want to see what's goin' on. P'rhaps ye're goin' to stand up
with me. P'rhaps ye want to skeer somebody's hosses. If I didn't look no
better nor you, I sh'd want to lay low; an', if I'd 'a slep as poor as
ye did last night, I'd lop down in the fust bed o' bear's grease I could
find. _Hain't_ ye got no manners?"
This was too much for Harry, who, in his happy mood burst into the
merriest laughter.
This furnished Jim with just the apology he wanted for a frolic, and
rushing into the adjoining bedroom, he pulled Harry from his bed, seated
him on the top of his head, and marched with him struggling and laughing
about the room. After he had performed sundry acrobatic feats with him,
he carried him back to his bed. Then he returned to his room, and
entered seriously upon the task of arraying himself in his wedding
attire. To get on his collar and neck-tie properly, he was obliged to
call for Mr. Benedict's assistance.
Jim was already getting red in the face.
"What on arth folks want to tie theirselves up in this way for in hot
weather, is more nor I know," he said. "How do ye s'pose them Mormons
live, as is doin' this thing every three days?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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