Part 26 (1/2)
By this time Jake and his party were again beside us. ”I hope no one is hurt,” said the minister, as he took Jean's free arm to help her out of a drift. It seems that in some way I had become entangled in the other.
”A rather rough start on the sea of matrimony, Mrs. Lane, I am afraid,”
he added to Marjorie, who was shaking the snow out of her hair.
No one was hurt, as snow is very useful for falling into, but Jake had to give up his cutter. We piled into it, taking Mrs. Jake along, with me driving and Spoof and Jake and Reddy and the minister following on foot as a sort of bodyguard, albeit a most undisciplined one if we could judge by the recriminations that were hurled about the unfortunate Englishman's head. On various occasions, looking back, I could see a flourish of arms and blows exchanged and someone down in the snow, and roars of laughter rolled up after us through the wintry night.
At last the shack on Fourteen came into view, and, to our great surprise, a light shone from the window. When we came up close we saw a number of jumpers and bob-sleighs about, and the tracks of many feet in the snow.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The scene inside was an animated and amazing one. In the princ.i.p.al room a table had been built and now groaned beneath a load such as I had not thought the country-side could supply. It was covered with snowy linen, and an a.s.sortment of chinaware of several varieties of pattern threw back the yellow glint of two great oil lamps, one of which I recognized as having recently decorated a shelf in a corner of Spoof's shack on section Two. I had just time to catch a glimpse of a frosted wedding-cake in the centre of the table and a steaming turkey at one end when Jean brought me out of my trance.
”Isn't it wonderful, Frank--wonderful!--to think of it, and all of them so poor! Why, even, there's Mr. Sneezit!”
It was true. The whole community was present. They had swarmed to our premises in our absence, bringing the necessaries of the wedding dinner with them, and now they were lined up around the walls, guilty-faced but delighted. There was Brown, whom we had first found wrestling with the architecture of a sod stable; there was Mrs. Brown, dimpled and smiling, dreaming of far-off English Yule-log and mistletoe, and making her dreams come true on the wind-swept plains of Canada; there were the three little Browns, washed and on their good behavior. There was Andy Smith, the s.h.i.+p builder from Glasgow, now learning the drift of stone-boats and prairie schooners, and puffing on his short clay pipe the while. There was Ole Hansen and Olga, his wife, and tucked into the recesses of my room I discerned the outlines of fair-haired, tow-headed children--doubtless six in all. And there, sure enough, was our good friend Sneezit, and beside him Sneezit's wife, both trying to look very proper and at ease, and failing rather sadly, except when a broad Russian grin sent their more forbidding aspects scampering for cover.
Mrs. Sneezit's bright yellow shawl lent a dash of color to the company.
The Sneezit juniors had been left at home, where, snuggled in their warm dug-out, they doubtless speculated proudly and somewhat wonderingly upon their parents' _debut_ into English-speaking society. And there, too, across the table was the American, Burke, tall, lean and lantern-jawed, his weather-beaten cheeks still revealing a suggestion of the olive hues of a more southern lat.i.tude, his thin lips parted over well-set teeth in a smile of friendly amus.e.m.e.nt. Nearby was his busy wife, Lucy, short and active and with possibilities of plumpness to compensate her for the ravages of time. They were a wonderful company, typical foundation stones of a nation; foundation work the quality of which shall be tested through all the years to come.
I said the whole community was present, but I was wrong. Mrs. Alton and the little boy, Jerry, were not there. I mentioned their absence to Spoof when I had an opportunity.
”They must not have known about it,” was his explanation. But Spoof had evidently been at pains to make sure that all the others in the district should know. Why had he omitted Mrs. Alton? It was one more tangle in the puzzle of Spoof's peculiar att.i.tude toward the widow on Eighteen.
As you may believe, our little house, with its groaning table and all these husky neighbours, was very, very full; when Jean and Marjorie and Jack and I and the minister and Reddy and Jake and Bella Donna and Spoof were added we were packed like city people in a six-o'clock street car.
It was with difficulty we found elbow room to get out of our wraps, and then there were laughing and hand-shaking and congratulations all round.
”What happened the oxen?” Burke asked, when the general buzz permitted the question. ”They came a-roarin' round here like a range stampede a few minutes ago, trailin' a sleigh-tongue all unravelled like a Christmas tree. I put 'em in the barn.”
”You shouldn't have done that,” I protested. ”Their place is outside when company comes.”
”Couldn't make 'em believe it,” said Burke. ”They were set on goin' in, and most obstrep'rous about bein' unyoked. I turned Ole's bucks out for the sake o' peace.”
”Yaw, dat was right,” Ole a.s.sented. ”Ay tank by Yimminy when folks get married nothing's too good for n.o.body.” Ole's references were somewhat obscure but his good intentions could have been read a mile away.
”But what _did_ happen?” Burke persisted. ”We were just goin' to organize a search party.”
”It was all the fault of the bally bullocks,” Spoof explained. ”I told them to hard a-port and they slithered to starboard, and over we went.”
”Ah'm affeared the skipper should lose his papers,” said Andy Smith, dryly. ”He's no a safe mon on sich a sea.”
”That sea is nothing to the one our friends here have just s.h.i.+pped on,”
Spoof rejoined. ”As for losing my papers; that's a fact, I did. My cigarette papers. Who's got a helping?”
So the banter continued until Mrs. Burke reminded us that ”the turk” was cooling off and began seating us about the table,--as far as it went.
Someone had thoughtfully brought boards to build a table and seats, and as many as could sat down. The others were served standing.
When we were settled Mr. Locke arose and asked a blessing. I don't exactly remember his words, but I do remember the reverent hush that swept over our little throng, and the wonderful dynamic quality of the man which lifted us in an instant from the commonplace into the infinite. He gave thanks for the food before us; then asked a blessing upon the princ.i.p.als in the day's events. Might their lives be prosperous and fruitful; might they be useful and glad in all their days; might they enter the crimson glow of life's Indian Summer with the same high purpose and romantic love as crowned them in the yellow dawning at the thresholds of their career. And might the little community now gathered in neighbourly kindness about our table thrive and prosper and bring forth food for the sustenance of the world and souls for the Kingdom.
The serious words sobered us for a minute, but it was only a minute. The stimulus of turkey with cranberry sauce and scalloped potatoes and boiled turnips and creamed carrots would have stirred to gaiety hearts much heavier than ours, and it soon developed into a noisy and frolicsome meal. The turkey was an enormous bird; the attack of all our hungry party left the skeleton not entirely stripped. I remember that one of the little Hansens, venturing up like Oliver Twist with a demand for more, was soundly rapped on his yellow head by a drumstick in the heavy hand of Ole, but the children as a whole were well behaved, allowing for the example set them by their elders. Then we had plum pudding and sauce and apple pie and cheese, and nuts and candy for everybody. Jean and I mentally ricocheted between amazement at the generosity of the meal and speculation as to whence it had come. No one ever told us the secret, but we did learn that Spoof had a fat cheque from England just before Christmas, and that Mrs. Burke's cooking of turkey and apple pie was the talk of Humboldt county in Iowa, and that Mrs. Brown positively refused first place to anyone when it came to making plum pudding, and so we formed our own conclusions.