TIMOTHEUS AND HIS NEIGHBORS
"Whao! Whao! I tell ye. Be ye deef, or be ye jest contrary?
"I b'lieve them critters 'd like ter see me wait 'til June fer plaoughin'."
The ill-matched pair came to a standstill, and so listless was their bearing, that one would say that having decided to halt, nothing would induce them to again draw the plough.
"There, ye can rest naow, fer a spell, 'til ye git yer wind, an' then I'll set ye at it agin."
One of the horses snorted derisively, but Jabez Brimblecom cared little for that. He drew from his hip pocket a large envelope, and opening the letter which it contained, adjusted his spectacles and laboriously read it for the third time.
"Wal, all I got ter say 'baout it is, that it's pooty full er big words, an' flourishes, but biled daown, it 'maounts ter jist this; Sabriny's sot her mind on makin' us an' everlastin' long visit. I shan't hev ter stand much on't, however; I'll be aout doors most of the time, when I have ter, an' I vum I'll be aout all the rest of the time because I choose ter.
"Sabriny's a team, an' so's Mis' Brimblecom. They never did pull together. Not but that they pull 'nough, only it's allus the opposite ways. I don't stay in doors much arter she arrives! No, Siree!
"G'lang there! G'lang I say!
"Well, fust ye won't stop, an' then ye won't budge! I vaow I never see a pair er critters like ye, 'cept my wife an' cousin Sabriny!"
When at last the pair concluded to move, they started forward with a most surprising lurch, and Jabez Brimblecom found his hands full in guiding the plough, and the two horses who, having decided to bestir themselves, tramped diligently back and forth, leaving the long rows of furrowed earth as evidence of their willingness to work when their ambition was aroused.
Again they stopped to rest and again Mr. Brimblecom fumbled in his pocket for the envelope, but he did not take it out.
"Why didn't she write the letter 'stead er gittin' that husband er hern ter write fer her? I'd 'nough rather she'd told Mis' Brimblecom she wuz comin', 'stead er leavin' me ter tell her. She'll be mad's a hornet, an' I vaow I won't blame her.
"G'lang there! Wal, I'll be switched if she isn't comin' daown ter the bars naow. Wonder what's up?"
"Jabez! Jabez! Ja—bez!"
"All right, I'll be there," was the answer, but in an aside he remarked apparently to the horses,
"'F I git my courage up, I'll tell her 'baout Sabriny naow and be done with it;" but his bravery was not put to the test. Before he could reach the bars where his wife stood waiting, she cried out vehemently, "Jabez Brimblecom, what do ye think? Mis' Hodgkins used ter know yer cousin Sabriny when they both wuz girls, an' she says she's jest got a letter a sayin' that Sabriny's comin' here ter make er long visit. She's goin' ter spend two weeks with Mis' Hodgkins, an' all the rest er the summer with us. Jabez, I'd rather heerd of er cyclone a hittin' us, fer ye well know that there'll be no peace 'til she packs an' starts fer home."
"I know it, I know it," Jabez answered, with feeling.
"I got er letter in my pocket, an' I been hatin' ter show it to ye, but mebbe ye might as well read it and make what ye can out'n it."
Mrs. Brimblecom wiped her glasses and commenced to read the letter.
"Naow what's the use'n his talkin' baout the 'wonderful mountain air,' an' the 'sparklin' springs,' an' er sayin' that they'll do such a sight fer Sabriny?
"We know what the air is, an' fer that matter, so does she; she's allus lived here. An' as ter the springs; she never so much as looked at 'em when she was here before, but she spent a lot er time tellin' me how she couldn't sleep on my corded beds. She said she had ter sleep on springs an' I was baout tired a hearin' tell of our short comin's; an' I told her if springs was necessary to her well-bein', she'd no doubt be best off ter hum where she'd been braggin' she had plenty of 'em."
"I didn't blame ye fer gittin' riled," said Jabez, "but I s'pose we'll hev ter welcome her, even if we're driven ter speed her departur;" and they both laughed good-naturedly, and mentally decided to make the best of the self-invited guest.
"Wal, she ain't here yit," said Mrs. Brimblecom, "and the fust two weeks she spends with Mis' Hodgkins, an' p'raps by the time she arrives here, I'll be cooled daown 'nough ter be kind er perlite, though I shan't say, 'I'm glad ter see ye Sabriny,' fer that'd be a lie."
"I shall say, 'I hope I see ye well, Sabriny,' fer massy knows I wouldn't want her ter be sick fer ye ter wait on," remarked Jabez, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Wal," he continued, "I must git this piece er plaoughin' done. I can't set daown an' luxooriate an' wait 'til we see Sabriny acomin'."
With a loud "G'lang there," he aroused his placid horses, and across the fields they sped, and Mrs. Brimblecom, with the letter in her hand, hastened back to the house where, after placing the large envelope under the cushion of her rocking chair, she busied herself with household tasks.
Later, when she felt that she had earned a few leisure moments, she drew the letter from its hiding-place and sat down to study it.
"'F I hadn't hid ye under the cushion, like as not when I wanted ter read ye, ye'd be lost," she remarked.
A few moments she read in silence, then her disgust moved her to speak.
"Sabriny feels better in a 'higher altitude,'—well, why doesn't she git one, whatever 'tis, an' git inter it an' stay there, 'stead a pesterin' me with her visits." Mrs. Brimblecom perused a few more lines, when again she spoke.
"She seems ter 'have little energy,'—wal, I don't want ter be mean, but I can't help a hopin' that she won't gain any. Sabriny without energy would be er sight that'd cheer me. Her tremenjous vim nearly wore me aout last season. Ef she'd jest manage ter leave her energy ter hum, I do'no's I'd mind her comin'."
While good Mrs. Brimblecom was studying the letter, Mrs. Hodgkins had sallied forth to tell the great news, that the visitor was expected, and as she passed the village store, old Mr. Simpkins, in the doorway, was taking leave of Silas Barnes.
"Yes, sir, he's a great feller, he is. There ain't another as 'riginal as he is on the globe, I bet ye. He's done a lot er bright things time an' time 'n again, but this time beats the other times all holler."
"What's he done naow?" asked Barnes.
"Hey?" remarked Mr. Simpkins, with his hand at his ear.
"I say, what's he done naow?" roared Barnes.
"Oh, I ain't tellin' yit. Even his brother Joel don't know, an' won't know this week, but next week the taown will be 'baout wild with the news er what Timotheus has done. Ye'll be 'bliged ter wait 'til then," said Mr. Simpkins.
"I guess I'll be able to stand it," remarked Silas Barnes in an undertone.
"Hey? Did ye say ye'd understand it? Wal, I ain't sure whether ye will er not. It's most too much fer me," Mr. Simpkins replied, as he made his way cautiously down the rickety steps.
"Fer goodness sakes, what's Timotheus been a doin' naow, I wonder," muttered Mrs. Hodgkins. "I shan't ask, an' be told ter wait, as Silas Barnes was.
"I'd like ter know one thing," she continued, "an' that is whether the boy is 'specially bright as his father thinks, or whether he's a little lackin' as I think, an' I do'no who's ter decide."
Up the road she trudged, and as she turned the corner, a most surprising sight caused her to stop and ejaculate. "Land er the livin'! What ails him naow?"
Timotheus Simpkins, unaware that he was observed, was executing a most fantastic jig in the middle of the road.
"I've did it naow, I bet ye 'n even Joel 'll have ter admit I'm a sight bigger'n anybody 'n taown. Good-bye ter farmin' and hooray fer literatoor, I say."
"Wal, be ye losin' yer senses, er clean gone crazy?" asked Mrs. Hodgkins in disgust.
Timotheus paused in his wild pirouette, and gave Mrs. Hodgkins a withering glance.
"It ain't wuth while ter explain Mis' Hodgkins, bein's I don't feel ye'd be able ter' understand the magnitood er what I've done."
"Dew tell!" remarked Mrs. Hodgkins with fine contempt, "I hope the taown is still big 'nough ter hold ye, Mr. Simpkins."
Her irony was wasted, however.
"I'm glad ye reelize the time's come ter 'dress me as 'Mr.,'" remarked Timotheus, and Mrs. Hodgkins vouchsafed no answer, but hurried along the road, "afeared ter speak," as she afterward said, "lest I'd say a deal more'n I orter."
In the long drawing-room Randy and Helen Dayton were chatting merrily with Jotham and Professor Marden when Aunt Marcia joined them, expressing pleasure in being at home to share the call.
In two weeks the private school would close, when Randy would say "good-bye" to her city home and the two dear friends who had entertained her, to the schoolmates of whom she had become so fond, and then she would be speeding over the rails every mile of which would take her nearer home, the dear country home. As Jotham was to leave the city at the same time, he asked the pleasure of accompanying Randy upon the journey, and his offer was gladly accepted.
"And have you heard the latest news from home, Randy?" asked Jotham. Without awaiting a reply he continued,
"Timotheus Simpkins has 'blossomed aout,' as his father expresses it and a specimen of his 'literatoor' is printed in the county paper. Father sent me a marked copy, and if you like I will read the article."
"I should indeed like to hear it," said Aunt Marcia; "from what Randy says of him I think Timotheus must be an unique character."
"He is truly an odd specimen," said Helen, "I cannot imagine what he would write."
"Read it, do read it," said Randy, and Jotham read the following:
"THORT.
"Thort is the gratest thing that has ever been thort of. I don't know of eny thing bigger than thort that I have thort of, less twas riginalty, an reely thats thort. When I'm busy thinkin' thorts I aint apt ter have my mind on eny thing else mostly. Most of the books what I have read I think was writ without enough thort. Take the almanic; if Id writ the almanic whare they say, 'bout this time expect rain,' Id a said, bout this time expect weather. Id a put some thort on the matter and Id a knowd that yed natraly have weather er some kind, cause theres allus weather round about these parts, but most folks havent no power ter have thort, an thats why theres so few folks that is great. I mean ter spend my time in thort an' casionally do a little ploughing. I thort so continooal that I had ter leave school in order ter git time ter think in, so havin learnt all there was ter learn, I left school ter the fellers as thort so little that they didn't need much time fer it an now I shall put on paper such thort as most folks can tackle, but some er my thort is so thortful that most any body couldn't understand it, an so no more until Ive thort again.
"Yours thortfully
TIMOTHEUS SIMPKINS."
"Poor Timotheus," said Helen Dayton.
"And why 'poor Timotheus'?" asked Professor Marden. "With his stock of egotism, I think the fellow must be happier than the average man. I know of no one who considers himself the only thinker in the universe, except this young Simpkins. He must, indeed, be supremely happy."
"And the joke is," said Jotham, "that he received a small sum for the article, and a personal letter from the editor. The money, (I believe it was the immense sum of two dollars,) pleased Timotheus, but the letter puzzled him extremely. He considered the article to be a serious, as well as a lofty effort, whereas the editor evidently supposed it to be humorous, and believed the unique spelling to be a part of the fun. Timotheus told my father that 'the money showed that his "literatoor" was wuth something but that the editor man must be dull ter think that it was anything but a tremenjous hefty comp'sition.
"Old Mr. Simpkins considers Timotheus a prodigy, and seems to feel contempt for his elder son, Joel, who as he expressed it, 'ain't intellectooal like Timotheus,' and Joel usually retaliates by saying, 'It's lucky one son er the Simpkins family has got jest plain common sense.'
"The paper is not published in our town," continued Jotham, "it is a county paper, and its editor and publisher lives in a distant village, so that, unacquainted with the Simpkins family, he supposed Timotheus to be a would-be humorist, little dreaming that he was offending a genius, by seeing fun where fun was not intended."
"Timotheus, however, had the joy of feeling that his literary work had a market value," said Professor Marden, with a laugh.
Randy and Helen were much amused, but although Aunt Marcia's eyes twinkled, she said,
"Poor boy! I wonder when and how he will outgrow his egotism? There surely is no chance for him to learn until he is made to realize how little he knows, and who would care to attempt the task of opening his eyes?"
"There are a plenty of persons in our town," said Jotham, "who have repeatedly tried to enlighten him, but they have been obliged to relinquish the effort. It is useless to tell him that talented people think it necessary to obtain a fine education. He only insists that he is a genius, and that there is nothing left for him to learn."
"We must not worry for Timotheus," said Helen, "he is as happy as one could wish; rather we should remember the old adage, 'Where ignorance is bliss, etc.'" and the little company agreed that perhaps after all, Timotheus Simpkins should be congratulated rather than commiserated.
When the callers arose to depart, Jotham said,
"Then on two weeks from to-day, Randy, I may call for you, and together we will travel toward home?"
"Yes, oh yes," Randy answered, an odd little note in her voice, "and how hard it will be to say good-bye to these two dear friends, how delightful to know that late in the afternoon I shall greet the dear ones whose faces I so long to see. How I wish you both were going back with me, then I should not say good-bye at all."
"And since we cannot accompany you," said Aunt Marcia, laying her hand gently upon Randy's arm, "we count ourselves fortunate that we are going to our summer home soon after you leave us. You have been a ray of sunlight in our home, Randy, and we could not easily or quickly become used to your absence."
"Oh, is it unkind to be glad that you will miss me?" asked Randy looking quickly from Aunt Marcia to Helen. "I am puzzled, for I know that I would do anything to make you happy; then why, when I love you so truly, am I glad to have you grieved when I go?"
She glanced at Professor Marden who, while apparently answering her questioning, looked fixedly at Helen Dayton as he said, "That is not an unkind thought, Miss Randy; if we can be assured that when absent we are missed, we are then doubly sure that our presence is welcome."
"No one should have so faint a heart as to for a moment doubt that he is welcome," said Aunt Marcia, receiving in return a grateful smile from Professor Marden, who bowed low over Miss Dayton's hand, and then with Jotham walked briskly down the avenue.
"Professor Marden is a most charming young man," said Aunt Marcia, as she stood at the window watching his receding figure. "He is very like his father, who was once my most valued friend."
Helen turned quickly to look at her aunt, expecting that she was about to tell more of the elder Marden, but she had left the window and stood by a large jar of roses, rearranging the blossoms with infinite care, and when she again spoke it was not of the Mardens, father or son, but of their engagements and the weather for the morrow.