“Not on your life,” was the man’s response; but the agent heard only one word distinctly, and got that wrong. He understood:
“Talk to my wife,” and, being on the lookout for any encouragement, he proceeded to do this in his best style.
“Why, madam, think for a moment what it will mean to have this beautiful book on your center table. When your husband here comes in from his work it will entertain him and give him a kindly regard for his family. And, madam, consider your children. When they come to the age of maturity with such parents—” But that was as far as he could go, for the woman dropped her work, screamed and ran from the room, leaving the book agent completely mystified over what he had said to start such a scene. The man glanced at him for a moment, and then snorted with satisfaction. He rose and started after the woman, only halting in the doorway to say:
“It’s a good idea, all right. You wait here until I come back.”
Moments like these test the temper of the deaf man’s steel. He had evidently stirred up a violent tumult, but he has no idea what it is about and when or where it will boil over. The troubled agent sat by the window and looked out at a savage bulldog which had come from behind the house and was now waiting in the path with something like a sneer on his brutal face, expressing:
“Here I am, on duty. Come and get yours! I need a new toothbrush, and your coat is just what I have been looking for.”
And then back came the man, smiling like a May morning.
“Here, let me have the book. I’ll take two copies. Never had anything do me so much good. Why, sir, I’ve been courting that fine woman for ten years, and neither one of us could ever get up to the point, leap year or any other. Then you come along and make that break about calling her my wife. That did the business, sure—pushed us right into the river. I just chased right after her and caught her in the kitchen. ‘Ain’t it the truth?’ says I. ‘And if it ain’t, let’s make it so.’ And all she said was: ‘Oh, William, I’m so happy—go right in and tell him to stay to dinner.’ Say, give me that pencil. I’ll sign up for three copies while I’m at it.”
Looking through the window, the agent saw that the bulldog was listening, and he must in some way have understood, for he shook himself and walked mournfully back to the barn.
If lifelong practice will bring perfection in the art of communicating with the deaf, my daughter ought to be an expert. Her experience shows something of the magnitude of the job. This young woman and her mother attended a reception at the Old Ladies’ Home. There was to be a very fine musical program, and the elder lady, as one of the managers, appointed her daughter a scout to see that all the old ladies came in to hear the music. This energetic scout found one sweet-faced inmate waiting patiently in her room, even after the entertainment had started.