“As he kep’ on havin’ more confidence in me, I kep’ on usin’ more an’ more, an’ a-usin’ oyster liquor for flavourin’ in most everything durin’ the R months. Once he found nearly a bushel of clam-shells out behind the house an’ wanted to know what they was an’ what they was doin’ there. I told him the fish man had give ’em to me for a border for my flower beds, which was true. I’d only paid for the clams—there wa’n’t nothin’ said about the shells—an’ the juice from them clams livened up his soup an’ vegetables for over a week. There wa’n’t no day that he didn’t have the vital elements of from one to four pounds of meat put in his food, an’ all the time, he was gettin’ happier an’ healthier an’ more peaceful to live with. When he died, he was as mild as a spring lamb with mint sauce on it.
“Now, my dear, some women would have told him what they was doin’, either after he got to likin’ the cookin’ or when he was on his death-bed an’ couldn’t help himself, but I never did. I own that it took self-control not to do it, but I’d learned my lesson from havin’ been married twicet before an’ never havin’ fit any to speak of. I had to take my pleasure from seein’ him eat a bowl of rice that had a whole chicken in it, exceptin’ only the bones and fibres of its mortal frame, an’ a-lappin’ up mebbe a pint of tomato soup that was founded on eight nice pork chops. I’m a-tellin’ you all this merely to show you my point. Every day, Henry was makin’ a blame fool of himself without knowin’ it. He’d prattle by the hour of slaughter-houses an’ human cemeteries an’ all the time he’d be honin’ for his next meal.
“He used to say as how it was dretful wicked to kill the dumb animals for food, an’ I allers said that there was nothin’ to hinder his buyin’ as many as he could afford to an’ savin’ their lives by pennin’ ’em up in the back yard, an’ a-feedin’ ’em the things they liked best to eat till they died of old age or sunthin’. I told him they was all vegetarians, the same as he was, an’ they could live together peaceful an’ happy. I even pointed out that it was his duty to do it, an’ that if all believers would do the same, the dread slaughter-houses would soon be a thing of the past, but I ain’t never seen no food crank yet that’s advanced that far in his humanity.
“I never told him a single word about it, nor even hinted it to him, nor told nobody else, though I often felt wicked to think I was keepin’ so much pleasure to myself, but my time is comin’.
“When I’m dead an’ have gone to heaven, the first thing I’m goin’ to do is to hunt up Henry. They say there ain’t no marriage nor givin’ in marriage up there, but I reckon there’s seven men there that’ll at least recognise their wife when they see her a-comin’ in. I’m goin’ to pick up my skirts an’ take off my glasses, so’s I’ll be all ready to skedaddle, for I expect to leave my rheumatiz behind me, my dear, when I go to heaven—leastways, no place will be heaven for me that’s got rheumatiz in it—an’ then I’m goin’ to say: ‘Henry, in all the four years you was livin’ with me, you was eatin’ meat, an’ you never knowed it. You’re nothin’ but a human cemetery.’ Oh, my dear, it’s worth while dyin’ when you know you’re goin’ to have pleasure like that at the other end!”
XII
Her Gift to the World
“I regret, my dear madam,” said Lawyer Bradford, twisting uneasily in his chair, “that I can offer you no encouragement whatsoever. The will is clear and explicit in every detail, and there are no grounds for a contest. I am, perhaps, trespassing upon the wishes of my client in giving you this information, but if you are remaining here with the hope of pecuniary profit, you are remaining here unnecessarily.”