Part 22 (1/2)

”Come, Charley, get up and see the bride. Come, we are all married folks together.”

”Oh, Jeannette, we must not carry on so with Walter now.”

”Why not? Are we not all married? If we cannot carry on a little now, I don't know when we should.”

”Yes, but--”

”What?”

”Walter's father is dead.”

”Oh, dear! don't say that.”

”I must; it is true. And Walter must stay here to-night; how shall we fix it?”

”Oh, that is very easy. There are two matra.s.ses on the bedstead; we will lay one down here--the bolster will do for pillows--there are some nice clean sheets, and a spread. We will just take that side curtain and turn it round, and pin it to the window curtain, and then you see how easy it will be to have two beds and two bed-rooms. You and I will sleep on the floor, and Charles and Walter shall sleep on the bed.”

No; that would never do. Charles and Walter would both sleep on the floor, and their wives should sleep where they always had, together on the bed.

That the girls would not listen to. They were their guests, and they must sleep on the bedstead--that was the state bed--the bed of honor--Walter had never slept on the floor in his life. Then the men put in their argument, and thus the question stood, until it seemed likely that both beds would remain unoccupied. Finally, it was settled by ”compromise.” Charley whispered Jeannette, and Jeannette answered aloud, ”Why not? So we will. Husbands and wives should sleep together. Always together. What business has a man sleeping with anybody else?”--with another woman she thought.

So it was settled how they should sleep. Then there was another contention where, that seemed likely to be as interminable as the first.

Finally, Athalia settled it. She took Walter by the arm and said, ”Come,” leaving Jeannette and Charley with the light, ”because they were married longer and were more used to it.”

Walter was soon asleep. Athalia lay listening to a low conversation between Charles and Jeannette, in which she caught, now and then, a word. ”The West--new country--log cabin--little farm--cows, and pigs, and chickens--and a baby”--she thought that--and she thought how happy they will be, and how much better off than here in the city. So she was not at all surprised when Jeannette told her, in the morning, what they had concluded to do. In three days they did it.

When I was in their little cabin, and heard from the lips of Jeannette several things that I should not have known otherwise, I found that they had realized all their hopes, for they had not built them high. And when she found that I knew Athalia, how she did hang upon my arm, and insist that I should stay all night, and sleep in the little bed-room where the rose-bush I had so much admired, overhung the window, and tell her the story, how she got along, and what became of her, and all about it.

Shall I begin at the beginning, or in the middle, or at the end?

”Oh, at the beginning, to be sure. Where is she now? Is she alive?”

That is it; you are a true woman. You tell me to begin at the beginning, and then the very first question you ask is about the end. I see you are impatient, and so I will gratify you. I will begin at the beginning of the end, and finish in the middle. Athalia, poor girl, she is--

”Oh, don't say that--not dead!”

No, no; she is alive and very well, and almost as pretty as ever. She is a widow, and lives in New York, and keeps a boarding house, and is making a comfortable living.

”A widow! why, where is her husband?”

Why, where should he be? if she is a widow, he must be either dead or in California; it is about all the same in New York.

”What did he die of?”

The same disease that kills nine-tenths of his cla.s.s--rum!

”Oh, dear, and he such a fine young man. I would have married him myself, if it had not been for Charley. Well, I have one great blessing; if Charles is not so rich as Walter, he is as sober as a judge. Oh, I forgot to tell you that he is almost one; he is Justice of the Peace.

But do tell me, did Walter leave her rich? The Morgans were very wealthy.”

Ah, I see now; Athalia never told of their failure, and how all their wealth vanished like morning dew; that all those five dollar carpets, thousand dollar mirrors, and single chairs that cost more than all your neat furniture, were sold under the hammer to pay debts; and that Walter had not a cent in the world, and that he lived a long time upon the money which she earned, with,

”'Work, work, work.