Part 46 (2/2)

Save at times when he had to deliver freight or express to the hotel, the village expressman had very little business to take him near Lem Parraday's bar nowadays. However, because of that secret between Janice and himself, Walky approached the Inn one evening with the avowed purpose of speaking to Joe Bodley.

Marm Parraday had returned home that very day--and she had returned a different woman from what she was when she went away. The Inn was already being conducted on a Winter basis, for most of the Summer boarders had flitted. There were few patrons now save those who hung around the bar.

Walky, entering by the front door instead of the side entrance, came upon Lem and his wife standing in the hall. Marm Parraday still had her bonnet on. She was grimly in earnest as she talked to Lem--so much in earnest, indeed, that she never noticed the expressman's greeting.

”That's what I've come home for, Lem Parraday--and ye might's well know it. I'm a-goin' ter do my duty--what I knowed I should have done in the fust place. You an' me have worked hard here, I reckon. But you ain't worked a mite harder nor me; and you ain't made the Inn what it is no more than I have.”

”Not so much, Marm--not so much,” admitted her husband evidently anxious to placate her, for Marm Parraday was her old forceful self again.

”I'd never oughter let rum sellin' be begun here; an' now I'm a-goin'

ter end it!”

”My mercy, Marm! 'Cordin' ter the way folks talk, it's goin' to be ended, anyway, when they vote on Town Meeting Day,” said Lem, nervously. ”I ain't dared renew my stock for fear the 'drys' might git it----”

”Lem Parraday--ye poor, miser'ble worm!” exclaimed his wife. ”Be you goin' ter wait till yer neighbors put ye out of a bad business, an'

then try ter take credit ter yerself that ye gin it up? Wal, _I_ ain't!” cried the wife, with energy.

”We're goin' aout o' business right now! I ain't in no prayin' mood terday--though I thank the good Lord he's shown me my duty an' has give me stren'th ter do it!”

On the wall, in a ”fire protection” frame, was coiled a length of hose, with a red painted pail and an axe. Marm turned to this and s.n.a.t.c.hed down the axe from its hooks.

”Why, Marm!” exploded Lem, trying to get in front of her.

”Stand out o' my way, Lem Parraday!” She commanded, with firm voice and unfaltering mien.

”Yeou air crazy!” shrieked the tavern keeper, dancing between her and the barroom door.

”Not as crazy as I was,” she returned grimly.

She thrust him aside as though he were a child and strode into the barroom. Her appearance offered quite as much excitement to the loafers on this occasion as it had the day of the tempest. Only they shrank from her with good reason now, as she flourished the axe.

”Git aout of here, the hull on ye!” ordered the stern woman. ”Ye have had the last drink in this place as long as Lem Parraday and me keeps it. Git aout!”

She started around behind the bar. Joe Bodley, smiling cheerfully, advanced to meet her.

”Now, Marm! You know this ain't no way to act,” he said soothingly.

”This ain't no place for ladies, anyway. Women's place is in the home.

This here----”

”Scat! ye little rat!” snapped Marm, and made a swing at him--or so he thought--that made Joe dance back in sudden fright.

”Hey! take her off, Lem Parraday! _The woman's mad!_”

”You bet I'm mad!” rejoined Marm Parraday, grimly, and _smas.h.!.+_ the axe went among the bottles on the shelf behind the bar. Every bottle containing anything to drink was a target for the swinging axe. Joe jumped the bar, yelling wildly. He was the first out of the barroom, but most of the customers were close at his heels.

”Marm! Yeou air ruinin' of us!” yelled Lem.

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