Humorous stories; United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
It was all of half an hour before Mrs. Macy, the first completely to
rally from the shock at the station, arrived to call. When she climbed
the steps and rang the bell, Susan came to the door at once. She looked
peculiarly grim and smileless. It was plain to be seen at the present
moment that she was not pleased with the world in general.
"I thought I'd just come up for a little," began Mrs. Macy, smiling
enough for two all alone by herself. Mrs. Macy always tried to keep up
her own spirits in a laudable attempt, possibly, to heighten those of
others. "I thought maybe you'd be glad to see a face you knew."
This allusion to the Chinese lady was not intended as unkindly as it
might have been in better society, Mrs. Macy being wholly incapable of
anything so subtle.
"Sit down," said Susan, briefly, indicating a porch chair. "There's no
use taking you in; she's up-stairs unpacking, and she's already set
about doing his cooking. It's plain to be seen that Jathrop Lathrop
never come all this way from the Klondike to take any chances of being
poisoned by me as soon as he got here. No, sir, Jathrop Lathrop has
learned too many little tricks for that."
Susan's tone was extremely bitter. She had removed the famous striped
silk and applied her hairbrush to both sides of her head after dipping
it (the hairbrush, not her head) in water. It was easy to be seen that
the vanities of this life had suddenly become offensive in her nostrils.
"Do you suppose she's really his wife?" asked Mrs. Macy, seating herself
and looking eagerly in her friend's face.
"Oh, yes, she's his wife," said Susan.
"Oh, Susan," Mrs. Macy went on, her eyes becoming quite globular under
the severe stress of her curiosity, "do you suppose anybody married 'em,
or did he just buy her for beads?"
"I don't know," said Susan, rocking severely back and forth, "I don't
know a _tall_. You must ask some one wiser than me what a white man does
about a Chinese when he wants her to cook for him. You ought to have
seen her in my kitchen, Mrs. Macy; she walked straight to my rack of
pans and took down just whatever she fancied. I _never_ saw the beat!
No, nor nobody else. She's learned how to be cool from Jathrop and the
North Pole together, looks to me. I never see such ways as Jathrop has
picked up. He never said a word walking up--nothing but 'Ah' once. I
don't call 'Ah' once much of a conversation for the woman as rocked your
cradle and might have married you, too--if she'd wanted to. For I could
have married Jathrop Lathrop, Mrs. Macy; nobody but me will ever know
what passed between us, but I could have married him. I won't say what
prevented, but I can tell you it wasn't him. And he's lived to regret
it, too. Just like the minister regrets it. When the minister speaks of
the treasure that layeth up in heaven, he doesn't mean no chicken--he
means me."
Susan paused and shook her head angrily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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