Volume II Part 8 (1/2)
”Perhaps so,” a.s.sented Mrs. Davids, dubiously. ”But she is troubled a sight with the head complaint; I suppose you know she is. That is against her.”
”Yes,” a.s.sented Miss Tame. ”The Muchmores all have weak heads. And, too, the Widow Keens, she's had a fall lately. She was up in a chair cleaning her top b.u.t.tery shelf, and somehow one of the chair-leg's give way,--it was loose or something, I expect,--and down she went her whole heft.
She keeps about, but she goes with two staves.”
”I want to know if that is so,” said Captain Ben, his honest soul warming with sudden sympathy. ”The widder has seen a sight of trouble.”
”Yes, she has lived through a good deal, that woman has. I couldn't live through so much, 'pears to me; but we don't know what we can live through,” rejoined Miss Tame.
Captain Ben did not reply, but his ready feet began to move to and fro restlessly; for his heart, more ready yet, had already gone out toward the unfortunate widow.
”It is so bad for a woman to be alone,” said he to himself, shambling along the s.h.i.+ngly beach a moment after. ”n.o.body to mend her chairs or split up her kindlings, or do a ch.o.r.e for her; and she lame into the bargain. It is _too_ bad.”
”He has steered straight for the Widow Keens's, as sure as A is apple-dumpling,” remarked Miss Persis, peering after him from the window.
”Well, I must admit I wouldn't have thought of Captain Ben's being en-a-mored after such a sickly piece of business. But men never know what they want. Won't you just hand me that gum-cam-phyer bottle, now you are up? It is on that chest of drawers behind you.”
”No more they don't,” returned Miss Tame, with a plaintive cadence, taking a sniff from the camphor-bottle on the way. ”However, I don't begrutch him to her,--I don't know as I do. It will make her a good hum, though, if she concludes to make arrangements.”
Meantime, Captain Ben Lundy's head was wellnigh to Mrs. Keens's door, for it was situated only around the first sand-hill. She lived in a little bit of a house that looked as though it had been knocked together for a crockery-crate, in the first place, with two windows and a rude door thrown in as afterthoughts. In the rear of this house was another tiny building, something like a grown-up hen-coop; and this was where Mrs. Keens carried on the business bequeathed to her by her deceased husband, along with five small children, and one not so small. But, worse than that, one who was ”not altogether there,” as the English say.
She was about this business now, dressed in a primitive sort of bloomer, with a wash-tub and clothes-ringer before her, and an army of bathing-suits of every kind and color flapping wildly in the fresh sea air at one side.
From a little farther on, mingling with the sound of the beating surf, came the merry voices of bathers,--boarders at the great hotels on the hill.
”Here you be! Hard at it!” said Captain Ben, puffing around the corner like a portable west-wind. I've understood you've had a hurt. Is that so?”
”Oh, no! Nothing to mention,” returned Mrs. Keens, turning about a face bright and cheerful as the full moon; and throwing, as by accident, a red bathing-suit over the two broomsticks that leaned against her tub.
Unlike Mrs. Davids, Mrs. Keens neither pitied herself nor would allow anybody else to do so.
”Sho!” remarked Captain Ben, feeling defrauded. He had counted on sacrificing himself to his sympathies, but he didn't give up yet. ”You must see some pretty tough times 'pears to me with such a parcel of little ones, and only yourself to look to,” said he, proceeding awkwardly enough to hang the pile of wrung-out clothes upon an empty line.
”I don't complain,” returned the widow, bravely. ”My children are not _teusome_; and Jack, why you would be surprised to see how many things Jack can do, for all he isn't quite right.”
As she spoke thus with affectionate pride, Jack came up wheeling a roughly made cart filled with wet bathing clothes from the beach. He looked up at sound of his mother's voice with something of the dumb tenderness of an intelligent dog. ”Jack helps, Jack good boy,” said he, nodding with a happy smile.
”Yes, Jack helps. We don't complain,” repeated the mother.
”It would come handy, though, to have a man around to see to things and kind o' provide, wouldn't it, though?” persisted Captain Ben.
”Some might think so,” replied Mrs. Keens, stopping her wringer to reflect a little. ”But I haven't any wish to change my situation,” she added, decidedly, going on again with her work.
”Sure on 't?” persisted the Captain.
”Certain,” replied the widow.
Captain Ben sighed. ”I thought ma'be you was having a hard row to hoe, and I thought like enough--”
_What_ he never said, excepting by a beseeching glance at the cheerful widow, for just then an interruption came from some people after bathing-suits.
So Captain Ben moved off with a dismal countenance. But before he had gone far it suddenly brightened. ”It might not be for the best,” quoth he to himself, ”Like enough not. I was very careful not to commit myself, and I am very glad I didn't.” He smiled as he reflected on his judicious wariness. ”But, however,” he continued, ”I might as well finish up this business now. There is Rachel Doolittle. Who knows but she'd make a likely wife? Lyddy sot a good deal by her. She never had a quilting or a sewing bee but what nothing would do but she must give Rachel Doolittle an invite. Yes; I wonder I never decided on her before.