Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25. I ain't sharp in a business way, Hank was saying gloomily an hour later. Now when Perletta announced her stupendous news to me, I should have said, Let things go on according to the old footing, till I get Dad used to your transformation scene. Instead of that, I booby-like said that she could at once enter on her new state.
I declare, that I and my name ought to be changed to a great big you. I wish women didn't always want to hurry nature. Now there's that table set for dinner with a place for Perletta, and she's helping Tilda Jane with the Vittles out there, and keeping one eye on me to see when I'm going to tell Dad.
I might as well make the plunge. True'll be my second this morning, and the uncongenial element down below ain't half as uncongenial as Dad's cold soul will be. A pity I monkeyed with Andy, but I've got aboard him. That girl's eye is like a gymlet, and to be poor policy to offend, and hairless and parlor
border to be. Dad, he said aloud and approaching the old man, don't you want to take off your specks and put down your paper and talk to your son for a spell? No, I don't, said Grandpa Crossley, and burying his head more deeply in the Ciscassus Daily Times.
Would you take a short walk, sir, to admire the beauties of nature, asked Hank. The young corn down at the back of the meliquans is growing finely, and the noonday sun is shedding a lustrous glory on the farming land behind us. I'm in fiddlesticks, said Grandpa decidedly. Sir, said Hank sharply, come out back of the barn a spell.
I want to talk business to you. Grandpa stared at him over his glasses. Be you fooling yet? No, I ain't, said Hank Crossley. Come on, Father, I've got something to tell you.
The old man laid down his paper and took up his cane. The word business had excited his curiosity. Hank's unfortunate reference to Tilda Jane as a lady following him the night he came home had aroused a suspicion in poor old Grandpa's mind that Hank was contemplating matrimony. Nothing could allay this suspicion, and it was with sudden meekness and pathos that he
strove to read the enigmatic expression on Hank's face as he conducted him toward the group of lilacs at the back of the garden. Where are we going? He asked submissively. To the bench near the pig's bed, replied Hank.
They won't listen, and they'll keep listeners off. Look here, Father, he said, when Dillson Senior had seeded himself on the rustic bench facing Dodge and Grappler's Lair in the grass. Have you noticed anything funny about Perletta lately? Oh, Perletta, explained the old man in huge relief.
No, I guess not, he said indifferently. Only that she gats powerfully and leaves the work for Sissy. She's given me warning, said Hank solemnly. She's going to stop being our hired girl. Good riddance of bad rubbish, said Grandpa.
She ain't the only fish in the sea. Matilda Jane likes her, said Hank. She'll have to unlike her, said Grandpa calmly. Did you care to know why she's giving up her lucrative position? asked Hank.
Not particularly. Still, I'll not close my ears if you say it. She's coming to money, said Hank, with a gravity befitting the occasion. Money, hey? How much?
sneered Grandpa. Two dollars or three maybe? She's got nine hundred dollars a year, said Hank, in the gallant tone of a champion. Nine hundred dollars, repeated Grandpa quickly. Who says she has nine?
Ain't it nine cents? Hank lost patience. I say, sir, he exclaimed, you ain't fair. The girl's a lack wit, but still the Lord made her, and we're bound to give her some room on his footstool. Not shove her off.
Who's shoving? asked Grandpa unamiably. I ain't, but when a hootie-dootie tells me the moon is made of green cheese, I say, prove it, prove it, and I'll believe you. Bring me down a slice. Let me stick my teeth in it. I know cheese, but I ain't going to imagine it.
A bright thought struck Hank. Wait a bit, sir, he said. I'll be back in a minute, and he ran toward the barn. Her letter, he said, sticking his head in the little rough house where the cooking stove had been put up. Tilda Jane said you'd bought a fur coat for Father.
Is it so? Yes, it's so, she said slowly. Would you mind if I showed it to him for an instant? I'll not let him keep it. I just want to convince him that you've got money.
He's an agnostic this morning, don't know anything. I guess you can do anything you likes with it, she said agreeably. Make the old man keep it if you can. If you can, I expect I'll have to battle him to get him to take a present from me. Run, get it, like a good girl, said Hank.
Berlinda went with lumbering haste to her sleeping quarters and returned with a large cardboard box under her arm. And here's a writin', she said, extending a piece of paper to him. Old man Whiting gov'ed to me. Hank took box and paper and read aloud. This is to certify that Miss Berlinda Garrabee of Ciscassid, Maine,
has become the recipient of a yearly sum of nine hundred dollars, according to the will of her late uncle, Henry Garrabee of Toronto, Canada. Joseph Whiting, you never asked me for that, she said pointedly. No, replied Hank, I believed your word. But, Perletta, we must have patience with my father.
He's old and not very strong. I ain't hard on him, she said patiently. He understands him. If you didn't jump on him once and so often, we'd all lead the dog's life. Hank grinned and scuttled back in the direction of the lilacs.
Grandpa, still hard and unbelieving, sat leaning forward with hands crossed on the top of his cane, his old shrewd eyes bent on the sky, as if begging for some luminary to descend, to convince him of the truth of Hank's extraordinary statement about Perletta. Hank flung the box on the seat beside him, tore off the string,
and throwing aside tissue paper wrappings and scattering mothballs far and near, drew out a handsome black fur-lined coat with a deep collar and held it up before him. There's a slice of the moon, sir. Grandpa looked at the coat, at Hank, at Dodge and Grappler,
who had drawn near and were delightedly devouring the mothballs. Then he said, Well, it ain't green cheese. Sir, said Hank seriously, and he turned over the box cover. Look here, March and Sun, Furriers, Cisgasset. You know the standing of that firm.
You suppose they'd trust a girl like Perletta with that coat unless she had money to pay for it? It ain't worth nine hundred dollars, said Grandpa stubbornly. That girl has got her purse crammed with money, said Hank, and she goes to see Mr. Whiting on business.
You know, Joseph Whiting? Used to sit on the same bench with him at school, said Grandpa, only he made a fortune and I didn't. Had more brains, I suppose. I don't know.
Does he say Perletta has money? Hank impressively presented him with Mr. Whiting's assurance of Perletta's truthfulness. Grandpa stared at it long and earnestly. Then he said, It might be a forgery.
I don't know. I don't say it is. Still, it might be. Hank laughed irresistibly. You know it ain't, Father.
How could a girl like Perletta counterfeit a signature like that? And what would she want to do it for? Come now, be reasonable. I haven't talked to Mr. Whiting, but Perletta tells me he's been to Canada where her uncle lived that left her the money.
You'd better believe he looked into securities and all that. It's a sure thing if he's in it. How did that goose girl get a rich uncle? asked Grandpa contemptuously. Well, I don't suppose she made him.
I expect our creator ain't above giving her rich relatives. Same as he gives lots of other poor folks. It's a fine coat, said Grandpa, caressing the fur of the garment that Hank had thrown on the seat beside him. Must have cost a good bit over a hundred dollars.
She looked like a fool in it, though. It's for you, roared Hank. And may I be forgiven for saying it, but you don't deserve it. For me? said Grandpa mildly. Surely not.
She don't like me. Yes, she does, poor girl, said Hank wrathfully. She's ignorant and she's ugly, but she has human feelings. She's all alone in the world and she's pining for someone to hang onto. She wants to adopt Sissy.
I suppose if we'd let her have her, she'd take her and those pigs and set up housekeeping for herself. She ain't gonna have Sissy, remarked Grandpa in alarm. She gonna have the pigs? He poked them contemptuously with his stick.
If they ain't dead from eating them poison-smelling things. Oh, my soul, cried Hank, and going on his knees he wrestled with Dodge and Grappler to dislodge the mothballs already in their mouths. And seeing he could not do it, he rapidly picked up those remaining on the ground.
What's in them, Dad? Suppose they die. Won't I catch it? There's taurinum and camphor and crude carbolic acid, said Grandpa slightly, but I fear there ain't enough of the latter to carry them off.
We'll hope for the best, said Hank with a sigh. They're pretty tough. Now, Dad, to come back to business. Perletta wants to go on living with us, but as a boarder. We'll have to get another girl.
The question is, are you willing? If you're going to raise Cain about it, she'll have to get out. I have no objection to her staying, said Grandpa coolly, if she'll pay good board and keep herself quiet. She'll have to come to the table with us.
Not while I'm alive, said Grandpa, bringing his stick down firmly on the ground. When I'm dead, you can have all the idiot asylums and state prisons you like at the table. I won't care.
Borders don't usually pay high board and live in the kitchen, said Hank dryly. At least if they have, I ain't heard of the custom. The kitchen is good enough for her, said Grandpa shortly. Or the cookhouse, now that we've no kitchen.
Give her an inch and she'll take an L. In my old school books, there was a story of a rabbit that borrowed her neighbor's home. She got in and they never could get her out. Mr. Weismuth advised her to board with us, remarked Hank diplomatically.
Mr. Weismuth, said Grandpa haughtily, and what has the likes of Perletta to do with Mr. Weismuth? She went to him and he ain't too proud and mighty to advise a poor servant girl in want of a friend. Mr. Weismuth is his own master, said Grandpa tranquilly.
I ain't got no jurisdiction over him. But what will he say when he hears that you've refused the poor girl's request, asked Hank keenly. Won't his good opinion of you suffer? Grandpa showed his first signs of concern.
Grandpa showed his first signs of weakening. I ain't refused anything. Let her board and give good money to help with the housekeeping. I don't care. She can have a little table in the corner of the dining room if
she likes. It don't matter to me. She's got to sit right down with us, said Hank decidedly. Grandpa stared up at the sky and hummed a hard little tune. I see what it is, remarked Hank with pretended desperation.
I've got to get married. A woman at the head of this house would keep things straight. No one minds me and you're going to break up the family for if Perletta goes, Tilda Jane will fall ill of worry and maybe die. Grandpa's stubborn old mind was shaken to its foundations.
A daughter-in-law is a whip that I can always crack over his poor old head when he's too ugly, Hank muttered. Son, grandpa was saying in a shaky voice, married life is a dog's life. I'm getting quite fond of dogs, said Hank shrewdly.
There was only one woman worth marrying and I got her, Grandpa continued dejectedly. Now dad, said Hank firmly, you know you're saying what ain't so. Ciscassid is full of nice girls looking for husbands and there's more out in the country.
I know a girl out caracanque that's a good girl and a smart girl. I've only to hold out a finger and she'll come and she'll take good care of you too. Grandpa was so overcome and so frightened that he went all to pieces.
His old hands were trembling though he leaned hard on his cane to steady himself. Son, he said in a voice that was smooth and mellifluous, I guess Perletta might stay. I got a turn against her for running off with my pup and I was
not blind. I see there's a change in her. She ain't so ugly. Good for you dad and Hank gave him a resounding and affectionate slap on the back.
I thought you'd come around and dad, I want you to understand this. I'm not one to make you do anything against your own interests. You know I think a lot about you. I'm not one to make you do anything against your own interests. You know I think a lot of sissy and I'm beginning to tolerate
Perletta. But the both of them rolled together don't count with me as much as you do. You're my father, see. Give me your arm son, said Grandpa Blandly and we'll walk to the
barn together. I'll tell Perletta she can stay if she behaves herself. See those pigs are trying to keep Andy from going to their bed. Let him smell rounded if he wants to. To please his father, Hank made a great show of forcing Dodge and
Grappler to abandon the determined attitude they had taken, namely that Andy and he should not inspect their freshly made straw bed. The mischievous little dog scampered over the bed, bit and pulled at the straw. Then leaving the indignant pigs to rearrange it, he scuttled after
Grandpa and Hank. What about the coat, sir? Asked Hank glancing at the parcel he carried in his hand. Perletta said you could keep it now if you liked. Give it back to her, said Grandpa gently.
Cold weather hasn't come. When it does, we'll see. It's powerful, handsome. It wouldn't become me. Hank with some trepidation watched his father approaching the
cookhouse. Perletta stuck her red face out when she saw him coming and set her teeth for contempt, patronage, or whatever was to come. Perletta said Grandpa shortly. My son says you wish to board with us.
I'm agreeable to it. If you'll hold yourself ready to leave at any time. If it shouldn't be convenient to keep you. So far so good and Hank breathed easily while Perletta flushed with pleasure.
I'll not give much trouble, sir, she stammered. I'm pleased to bide. You seems like home folks here. All of ye's. You've got to be in early nights, said Grandpa strictly, and not to
gad too much. Oh, powers of contrariness, muttered Hank. Dad would empty all the boarding houses in the state in about ten minutes. And not have too much company, Grandpa was continuing.
And not be sassy and keep the pigs out of the house. Not be sassy and keep the pigs out of the way of strangers as much as possible. Yes, sir, said Perletta, but not quite as meekly as she had spoken before.
And if you have callers, keep them in the kitchen. What about the new girl? asked Perletta, brusquely. Where'll she take her callers? In the woodhouse, replied Grandpa promptly.
Her letter frowned and Hank, to effect a diversion, surreptitiously kicked over a pot of soup that had been set outside the cookhouse. Tilda Jane and Perletta both sprang to it in dismay, and Grandpa's lecture was cut short. Mumbling to himself, he went to sit down in his big chair and think
over this last domestic problem. When dinnertime came, he waved a hand grandly toward Perletta's place at the table. Hank was suffering from suppressed laughter, but sobered himself at a beseeching look from Tilda Jane.
Perletta, contrary to his expectations, scarcely opened her mouth during the meal except to eat. Grandpa kept a sharp eye on her, all ready to jump verbally, if she did anything out of the way. She neither put her knife in her mouth nor smacked her lips.
The girls got more sense than he thinks, Hank reflected, surveying his father from under his eyelids. She's watching sissy like a cat and is doing whatever she does. She'll talk in time, but just now she's too overcome by the grandeur of her situation to do anything but hold her tongue.
I wonder how she'll put in her time now, and I wonder what Mr. Weismuth had in mind when he said he had a plan about someone to teach her. A big thing like that could never go to school and sit in the infant class.
