“You did,” said Hulda.
At this the little man became angry and tried to pull her away from her countryman. In the meantime, the crowd having closed in about the angry trio, shouted, “Go to it, ‘Mickey,’ ” when several policemen interfered.
“ ‘Mickey’ kidnapped her, all right,” said one of his friends, laughing.
“Who’d ever thought it?” said another.
“He’ll have to go to jail for it, poor devil,” smilingly spoke a third.
Meanwhile, the “architect” was busy showing his marriage certificate to a policeman, who, upon examining it, ordered Hulda to go home with her husband, at the same time telling the brother-in-law to go about his business or he would arrest him. Then the Vickingstadt seized the arm of the sulky Hulda and, amid cheers of the crowd, walked off the dock in triumph.
* * *
One Sunday morning about three months after her arrival Hulda ordered her servant to prepare sauerkraut for dinner. “Mickey” Vickins ordered corned beef and cabbage, and threw the sauerkraut out with his own hands. After Hulda had given the order she went for a walk, and came back with an appetite for the good old German dish, to find the Irish substitute awaiting her. She flew into a rage at once, and, unknown to the Vickingstadt, sent for her brother-in-law. When he arrived she poured the whole terrible tale of woe into his willing ear. After the “architect” had finished his nice boiled dinner he tiptoed to his wife’s bedroom and found it deserted. “The Lord be praised,” he said to himself, “where did the colleen go to?”
A small window opened from Hulda’s room on to the back veranda, and he was just in time to witness the condolences of the brother-in-law, along with certain other little tendernesses which made him feel sick at heart. As this is not a novel, I must refrain from summing up his feelings, and shall confine myself to facts. I happened to look through my window just as he tiptoed from his front door, after having looked at his wife conversing with her brother-in-law. He looked as if he wished me to speak, and I bade him a “good morning.”
“I am your neighbor beyant, ma’am,” said he, coming close to the window and speaking in a whisper. “I want for you to come with me an’ see a sight that’ll freeze the blood in your veins, if you’re an honest woman, which I think ye are.”