GOSSIP
The sun shone down upon the dusty little "square," and the foliage of the big willow tree near Barnes' store looked as if frosted, such a thick coating of dust lay upon the leaves.
At the trough beneath the tree an old gray horse stood alternately taking a long draught of the clear water, and looking off across the square, as if lost in meditation.
A dragon-fly with steely wings lit upon the trough and, skilled little acrobat, balanced upon the extreme edge as if thus to take in the full beauty of old Dobbin's reflection.
Exhaling a long breath as he lifted his shaggy head, the old horse sent a shower of bright drops upon the dragon-fly who, considering the act to be a great breach of etiquette, took zigzag flight across the sunny square, and up the winding road toward the mill.
It looked as if Dobbin might drink the trough dry if he chose, for an animated conversation was in progress at Barnes' store, and his master was one of the leaders in every discussion, whether the topic chanced to be political, or simply a tale of village gossip.
A chubby urchin made little hills of dust, using a well worn slipper for a trowel, and Dobbin kicked and stamped impatiently, occasionally taking another drink, and still the discussion went on.
"Naow I argy, that a leetle deestrict school wus good 'nough fer me, an' look at me!
"Own my farm free an' clear, got a good lot er stock an' tools on the place, an' I'm wuth two thousand dollars in cash!"
The speaker was old Josiah Boyden, one of the "seelectmen," and a member of the school committee. His greatest pride lay in the fact that he was a self-made man, and truly he looked as if constructed upon a home made pattern.
The group of farmers, obedient to his command, turned and looked at the speaker, while from behind the stove which, hot weather or cold, held the place of honor in the centre of the store, a shrill voice ventured to question the pompous owner of so great a property.
"Be ye goin' ter say, Josiah, that every feller what's edicated at a deestrict school can git ter own sech a fort'n as yourn?"
"Huh! Wal, no, not exactly," was the admission, for while this good committee-man was fighting a suggestion which had been made relative to securing better quarters for the school which promised to be larger than on any previous year, he did not wish to diminish his own glory by inferring that any one, however bright, or ambitious, could possibly arrive at his eminence.
"I think, friends," said Parson Spooner in his soft, pleasant voice, "that our scholars should be given every comfort and advantage which our village can possibly afford to grant."
"That's it, that's it," assented Josiah Boyden, "but the thing is, she can't afford to offer nothin' extry beyond just what's set aside fer schools."
Again the squeaky voice from behind the stove made itself heard. "That's the time, Josiah, when the taown can't afford it that cap'talists, such as you say you be, oughter step right inter the gap an' help aout."
"I've got a arrant daown ter the mill," remarked the offended "seelectman," "an' I'm goin' right along ter 'tend to it, but I'll say in leavin', thet I won't waste my breath a talkin' to a person with a mind so narrer as ter s'pose fer a moment that private puss-strings hangs aout fer every person who feels like it ter pull. I'm public sperited, every one knows that, but I don't help support no institootion er larnin when I got the hull er my edication at a deestrict school," and in intense disgust he left the store followed by an irritating chuckle which, although it came from behind the rusty old stove, reached the ears of Boyden as he stamped down the rickety steps of the store and stalked majestically across the square and up the road.
He was sure of a sympathetic listener at the mill, for it was a well worn saying in the village that the miller "agreed with everyone."
The river which kept his mill running, wound its way through the next village, where another grist mill was humming, and Martin Meers was far too shrewd to permit himself to express a difference of opinion from that held by a good customer, who in his wrath might take his grist to the rival mill to be ground.
Pondering over the "narrer minds" of those with whom he had been conversing, Josiah Boyden tramped along the dusty road, becoming more incensed with every step, as he thought of the individual who had presumed to suggest that he might contribute toward the school fund, and still the gossip at the store progressed, unhindered by the departure of the "seelectman."
"My Reuben," remarked Mr. Jenks, "made more progress in his studies last season than he ever made before in two winters' work, and I feel that the teacher deserves a deal of thanks fer stirring up such an interest. I don't have the sort er feelin' that Boyden has. I stand ready and willin' ter put my hand in my pocket ter help aout expenses, ef some others will 'gree ter chip in."
"But there's a 'scuse fer Boyden," chuckled Nate Burnham, the old fellow behind the stove, as he relighted his pipe, and puffed a few times to determine if it intended to burn. "There's a sort er 'scuse fer Boyden," he repeated, "fer his children have growd up, so he ain't got no use fer schools, and fellers like him don't pay fer things they ain't a usin'."
"Wal, I think we ought ter have a village improvement sarsiety fer the benefit of us as is out'n school," remarked Joel Simpkins, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and tossing his head to shake back a refractory lock of hay-colored hair.
He was the "head clerk" at Barnes' store. To be sure he was, as a general thing, the only clerk, but Joel considered himself quite a personage, and never referred to himself as other than head clerk.
"Kinder had an idee that ye couldn't be improved, Joel," remarked a young farmer who had thus far taken no part in the conversation.
Joel looked sharply at the man, and vaguely wondered if possibly the remark was sarcastic, but the face into which he peered was so genuinely good natured that Joel was reassured, and he at once decided that only a very fine compliment was intended.
"I think we could fix up this 'ere square," said Joel, "ter begin with. Take that old horse trough. That could be fixed up 'n' painted, 'n' that willer tree; 'twouldn't hurt it ter give it a good preunin'. Growin' as it does daown in the ditch, or puddle beside this store, it flourishes, an' lops its limbs nigh onto across the square; an' the rickety fence beside it ought ter be straightened up 'fore some of the fellers that are perpetually leanin' 'gainst it pitch with it backward inter the ditch."
"Wal, Joel, while yer 'baout it," remarked Silas Barnes, "why don't yer suggest a brick block er two, an' pavin' stones in the square an' a few other things such as I told ye I seen in Boston. 'Tain't wuth while ter stop after ye git started ter make suggestions."
"Speakin' of the teacher," remarked Mr. Potts, "I'm one that speaks in favor of Miss Gilman every time, and Jotham seconds everything I say."
"Lemme tell ye what my Timotheus is a doin' these days. I set him ter hoeing fer me, and I tell ye ye'd like ter watch him a spell," said old Mr. Simpkins, his face beaming with pride in his youngest son.
"Fust he'd work the hoe with them long arms er his'n 'til the weeds an' dirt flew like Hail Columby, and ye'd think he'd got goin' an' couldn't halt, when all to onct he'd stop as ef somethin'd bit him, an' he'd drop the hoe and begin ter gesticerlate and spaout like a preacher.
"Pooty soon he'd make a grab fer the hoe, and agin the dirt would fly like all fury. Next thing ye knew, daown'd go the hoe agin, and up would go his arms, a sawin' the air like a windmill, an' there he'd be a spaoutin' an' a elocutin' fit ter kill. Who but Timotheus would ever think of combinin' hoein' an' elocutin'? I tell ye, he's the most possessed of 'rig'nal'ty of any pusson I ever seen."
"I wonder someone don't think he's a reg'lar loony, a carryin' on like that," muttered Joel, filled with jealousy and disgust.
Old Mr. Simpkins was deaf, and Joel's muttered remark passed unnoticed.
"He ain't one er them fellers that can't do but one thing to a time. T'other day I axed him ter bring two pail er water inter the barn, and away he went ter git 'em. Anybody'd think a pail er water in each hand oughter held him daown, but no sir, that feller came across the door-yard, both pails full, an' his head in the air, his maouth wide open, and the elocutin' a goin' on continoous."
"Ef I thought fer a moment that edication would make any er my children act like that, I vaow I'd keep 'em outer school fer one while," said a farmer who had recently arrived in the village, and roars of laughter followed this remark.
As he was deaf, old Mr. Simpkins failed to catch the meaning of the hilarity, so he construed it as it pleased him to, and when the laughter had subsided, said,
"I don't wonder ye laugh, ye didn't see him er doin' it, so ye don't know haow he looked, but I tell ye 'twas a grand sight ter see a young feller so eloquent that nothin' on airth could stop him."
"Must 'a been a 'stonishing sight," agreed Mr. Jenks, "but naow, friends, we've talked fer quite a spell on one thing or another, an we ain't much nigher ter settlin' the question of a bigger schoolroom than when we started.
"Naow instead er hagglin' 'baout it, I b'lieve we'd better have a committee meetin' called, and a reg'lar vote taken, an' I say right here and naow, that I shall vote fer better quarters fer the school an' I'll 'gree, as I said, ter put my hand right in my pocket an' give the thing a start.
"Nathan Lawton gave the use of his best room fer a schoolroom last year, an' 'twas kind an' generous fer him ter do it, but the village has been growin' just amazin', an' this year shows a bigger list of inhabitants, an' it 'pears as if most of the new comers had a family er children, so something's got ter be done 'baout that school buildin'."
"Good fer ye," squeaked old Nate Burnham, "an' I wish ye luck at the meetin'."
The village gossip was not monopolized by the frequenters of Barnes' store. Indeed it seemed as if the place had taken on new life and ambition, and if at any corner or turn of the road one chose to listen, he could often hear a few stray bits of conversation in regard to the interests which lay nearest to the hearts of the various newsmongers.
Of all the tale-bearers, and there were many, none were as harmless, and at the same time as busy as Mrs. Hodgkins.
Walking down a shady lane one might espy her endeavoring to hold a friendly confab with some busy farmer's wife who, while hanging out her washing, endeavored to hold a clothespin in her mouth, and at the same time answer Mrs. Hodgkins' frequent questions, such as,
"Naow did ye ever hear anything ter beat that?
"Ain't ye amazed at the idee?"
Mrs. Hodgkins would on such occasions, lean against the rail fence and bombard the busy woman alternately with bits of news, and pointed questions until, the last piece of linen in place upon the line, the empty basket would be a signal for adieus.
Then Sophrony Hodgkins would meander down the lane, and if fortune favored her, would find at the next farm-house its mistress possibly at the well or sunning her milk pans in a corner of the door-yard.
Immediately she would hail her with joy and proceed to repeat her own stock of news with the addition of a few particulars gleaned from the first friend.
"Sophrony Hodgkins' stories," remarked old Nate Burnham, "remind me of the snowballs we used ter roll and roll 'til from a leetle ball we finally by rollin' an' trav'lin' got one bigger'n all creation.
"She starts in with what she's heard. Then she adds on what somebody else has heard, and after that, what this one an' that one and t'other one has heard, 'til the size of the yarn must astonish her."
"I'll say one thing 'bout her, though," remarked Silas Barnes, "with all her talkin' an' tellin' she never tells anything that's detrimental to somebody's character. She's full er tellin' ordinary news, but when it comes ter news that would stir up strife, Sophrony's got nothin' ter say; so let her talk, I say, ef she enjoys it; she 'muses herself an' don't hurt no one else."
On the sunny morning when Barnes' store had been the scene of the gossip and discussion in regard to the new quarters for the school, Sophrony Hodgkins had made an early start on a "c'lection tour," as old Nate Burnham would have called it. She had met Janie Clifton at the Pour Corners, and had stopped for a chat with her, had waylaid Molly Wilson in the middle of the road, in order to inquire for her mother and baby sister, had stopped for a moment at Mrs. Jenks' door just to ask if she had heard the wonderful news about Dot Marvin's old uncle Jehiel, had paused to look over the wall at the new Jersey cow which old Mr. Simpkins had recently purchased, and to casually inquire if Timotheus was intending to again be a pupil at the deestrict school, bein's he'd growed so durin' the summer'n seemed more like a man than a boy, and had asked little Johnny Buffum what on airth his sister Hitty had her head tied up in hot weather for, when beet juice dropped in her ear would cure her earache in two minutes, and had been informed that,
"Hitty hadn't got no earache, 'twas a bee sting on her cheek;" all this and much more had filled Mrs. Hodgkins' mind so completely that she was amazed to find that eleven o'clock had arrived, and that she must turn about and hasten home if she wished to have dinner ready when the kitchen clock struck twelve.
"I'll git something on the table when Joel gits in from the field, though land knows what it'll be with only an hour ter git it in," she muttered between short, puffing breaths, for Mrs. Hodgkins was stout, and she had already taken a long walk.
The dinner was indeed an odd one, made up from what were termed by Mrs. Hodgkins "odds and ends," but Joel Hodgkins was a patient man, and his appetite was one which never needed tempting, so he partook of the viands which his wife offered him with an apparent relish, and was soon at work again in the field.
Then Mrs. Hodgkins donned a fresh apron preparatory to going out, remarking as she tied her sunbonnet strings with a twitch,
"I reely must go over to Almiry's, it's only a step er two, and what's the use of havin' a niece in the neighborhood ef not ter tell news ter, an' what's the use er hearin' news an' keepin' it ter yourself?
"I'll git home in time ter bake a batch er gingerbread fer tea," she continued, "Joel's paowerful fond er gingerbread an' it'll sort er pay him fer eatin' such a dinner with such endurin' patience."
Almira Meeks lay back in the big old fashioned rocker, too tired, she declared, to care "whether school kept or not."
Meek in name and in nature, there was not a day that she did not overwork, and when the forenoon's tasks were completed, she would lie back exhausted in the big old chair, only to be reprimanded if her husband chanced to come in, for "havin' so little energy." It was with delight that she welcomed Aunt Sophrony, saying:
"Do tell me all the news. I'm nearly always too tired to go out and hear any."
"Ye do look tuckered," remarked Mrs. Hodgkins, "but hearin' the things I've got ter tell will interest ye, an' make ye feel reel perky. Ye needn't feel ye've got ter talk, fer I kin talk 'nough fer two.
"When I started aout this morning, the fust pusson I see was Janie Clifton, an' what on airth do ye think she's been up to?"
Almira shook her head, to show her utter inability to guess what Janie's latest notion might be.
"Well, she got an idee that we was all behind the times up here, an' needed a leetle fixin' up, an' she wondered ef she could slip inter the chink an' fill the place she thought she see a gapin', an' take in a leetle money at the same time.
"She's 'mazing sot when she gits her mind on a thing, an' she talked it over ter hum and carried the day; and she's been daown ter Boston these past few months a learnin' dressmakin', when we all thought she was a visitin'.
"Naow she's set up fer herself, an' any of us that has an idee of lookin' spreuced up, and has a leetle cash ter go with the notion, can buy the goods fer a gaown at Barnes', an' go right up ter the room over his store and be measured by Janie fer a fashionable fit.
"Ef some of our husband's doesn't git fashionable fits when they hear the extravagance Janie's a teachin' we'll be lucky.
"I'll tell ye naow, Almiry, I'm goin' ter have a gaown cut by Janie come fall, ef it takes all the egg money ter pay fer it!"
"Why Aunt Sophrony!" was all the astonished Almira could ejaculate. Such splendid courage was quite beyond the meek little woman's comprehension.
"Miss Wilson's baby has cut another tooth, that makes five, an' she's a doin' well too," continued Mrs. Hodgkins, "but that ain't a flea bite to what I heerd next.
"Ye know the Marvin's old Uncle Jehiel, him that lived with them five year an' then went off, nobody knows where, without sayin' a word to 'em? Well, he's been heard from! A lawyer has writ ter Jack Marvin's father sayin' there's a will, an' sech a will I'll be baound wuz never heerd of before!
"He's left five hundred dollars ter come ter Jack when he's twenty-one, ef by that time he's given any sign of 'mountin' ter anything as a scholar, a farmer, a preacher or a storekeeper.
"Did ye ever hear anything like the choice?
"An' then he says, the old rascal, that ef by that time he hasn't made something of himself in one or t'other er them things, that the money can be given ter his cousin Dot, whatever she's done or hasn't done, bein's he's never expected anything of her, she bein' only a girl.
"That made me bile when I heerd it, fer the old critter ought ter think pretty well er girls and women. They say, as er boy he lived with his aunt who gave him a good edication; a cousin er his'n, a woman by the way, set him up in business, an' this money he's made his grand will fer was left him by his wife, so ye'd think he'd feel thankful and kind toward all women, but ye can't caount on folks."
"I'd a thought he'd a left the money ter be divided between Jack an' Dot, 'twould a sounded pleasanter," said Almira.
"Ef ye ever saw old Jehiel Marvin ye'd never expect anything very pleasant of him," responded Mrs. Hodgkins.
"But lemme tell ye the greatest!
"Timotheus Simpkins ain't goin' ter the deestrict school this year, fer the reason that his father says he's learned all there is ter learn, an' there ain't nothing left that the teacher can tell him, so he's goin' ter stay aout and help on the farm an' spend all his spare time on literatoor!
"That's what old Mr. Simpkins says, what on airth do ye s'pose he means?"
Aunt Sophrony waited for her niece to solve the mystery, but the problem was too great for her to grasp, and as Mrs. Hodgkins rose to go, Almira begged her to question Timotheus if she chanced to meet him, and find out just what he intended to do with his spare time, and to learn if possible in what way "literatoor" was to form a part of his daily life.