Back to the Woods

  CHAPTER VI.

  JOHN HENRY^S TWO QUEENS.

  "Well!" said Clara J., after a painful pause, "why don't you go andwelcome your Aunt Eliza?"

  Aunt Lize would be the central figure in a hot old time if she wentwhere I wished her at that moment.

  Somebody had tied both my feet to the floor.

  I had visions of two excited females lambasting me with umbrellasand demanding their property back.

  Completely at a loss I sank into a chair, feeling as bright andchipper as a poached egg.

  I felt that I belonged just about as much as a knothole does in abarb-wire fence.

  In that few minutes Bunch was more than revenged.

  I was on the pickle boat for sure.

  Sailing! sailing! over the griddle, me!

  Scientists tell us that when a man is drowning every detail of hislifetime passes before him in the fraction of a second.

  Well, that moving picture gag was worked on me, without the aid ofa bathing suit.

  When I awoke, Clara J. was saying, "Possibly it would look betterif I went with you. Wait just a moment, till I get this apronoff--there! come along!"

  I arose, and with delightful unanimity the chair arose also,clinging like a passionate porusplaster to my pantaloons.

  "Mercy'" exclaimed Clara J., "that little villain, Tacks, has beenmaking molasses candy!"

  "It strikes me," I said, trying hard to be calm, "that after makingthe candy he decided to make a monkey of me. Darn the blame thing,it won't let go! I suppose I've got to be a perpetual furnituremover the rest of my life!"

  Just then Uncle Peter came bubbling into the kitchen, talking inshort explosions like a bottle of vichy, and I collaborated withthe chair in a hasty squatty-vous!

  "Two women on the piazza," he fizzed; "been talking to them an hourand all I could get out of them was 'yes' and 'no.' Not badlooking, but profoundly dumb."

  "Hush!" said Clara J., glancing uneasily at me and then back atUncle Peter, as she raised a warning finger to her lips.

  "Oh, they can't hear me," the old gentleman went on; "John, youbetter go out and see them. They have a card with your namewritten on it. I'm no lady's man, anyhow."

  "Do they look like queens?" Clara J. asked, uneasily.

  "Well, they aren't exactly Cleopatras, but not bad, not bad!" hegurgled.

  "Is one older than the other?" Clara J. cross-questioned.

  "Might be mother and daughter," Uncle Peter fancied.

  "It's surely Bunch's bunch," I groaned inwardly, wondering how I'dlook galloping across the country with a kitchen chair trailingalong behind.

  "Uncle Peter, it must be John Henry's Aunt Eliza and cousin Julia.He expects them, don't you, John?" Clara J. explained. "We shallbe ready to welcome them in just a little while;" here she glancedcautiously at the chair. "In the meantime you show them into thespare room and say that John will see them very soon."

  The old gentleman eyed me suspiciously and retired without a word.

  I'm afraid Uncle Peter found it hard to take.

  With the kind assistance of the carving knife Clara J. removed allof me from the chair, with the exception of a few feet of trousers,and I made a quick change of costume.

  A few minutes later I joined her in the parlor, where the scene wasset for my finish. I picked out a quiet spot near the piano to die.

  Uncle Peter was enjoying every minute of it.

  He hurried off to escort the visitors to the parlor and a momentlater Aunt Martha bustled in.

  "Are they here?" she asked breathlessly.

  "How did you know they were coming?" inquired Clara J. in surprisedtones.

  "How did I know!" exclaimed Auntie; "why I sent them!"

  Every hand was against me. The parachute had failed to work and Iwas dropping on the rocks.

  Faintly and far away I could hear the ambulance coming at a gallop.

  Sweet spirits of ammonia, but I was up against it!

  It was plainly evident to me that Aunt Martha knew the awfulrelatives of Bunch, and that the old lady was camping on my trial.Yes; there she stood, old Aunt Nemesis, glaring at me from behindher spectacles.

  I decided to die without going over near the piano.

  "Where are they?" I could hear Aunt Martha asking in the same toneof voice I was certain the Roman Emperor used when just about toframe up a finale for a few Christians from over the Tiber.

  "Uncle Peter has gone for them; we put them in the spare room,"answered Clara J.

  "What! _in the spare room_!" gasped Aunt Martha, collapsing in achair just as Uncle Peter appeared in the doorway, bowing lowbefore the visitors, who stalked clumsily into the parlor.

  For some reason or other Clara J. omitted the formality ofspringing forward and greeting my relatives effusively, so shesimply said, "You are very welcome, Aunt Eliza and cousin Julia!"

  "Great heavens! what does this mean?" shrieked Aunt Martha. "Itcannot be possible that these two women are relatives of yours,John! Why, I engaged them both in an intelligence office; one forthe kitchen, the other as parlor maid!"

  "Sure not," I chirped, in joy-freighted accents, as I grasped theglorious situation. "They aren't my relatives and never were. Themore I look at them the more convinced I am that there's no roomfor them to perch on my family tree. I disown them both. Back tothe woods with the Swede imposters!"

  I win by an eyelash.

  I was so happy I went over to the mantel and began to bite thebric-a-brac.

  Clara J. didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she compromised bygiggling at Uncle Peter, who sat on the piano stool whirlinghimself around rapidly and muttering, "any kind of exercise is goodexercise."

  Aunt Martha stared around the room from one to another inspeechless amazement, while the two innocent causes of all thetrouble stood motionless, with their noses tip-tilted to theceiling.

  Presently Aunt Martha broke the spell just as I was about to eat acut-glass vase in the gladness of my heart.

  "Go to the kitchen!" she said sharply to the newcomers, whereuponthey both turned in unison and looked the old lady all over.Finally they decided to discharge Aunt Martha, for the oldestmember of the troupe folded her arms decisively and said, "Sure, itain't in any lunatic asylum I'll be afther livin', bless th'Saints! If yez have a sinsible moment left in your head will yezgive us th' car fare back to th' city, and it'll be a blessed hourfor me whin I plants me feet on th' ferryboat, so it will!"

  Uncle Peter checked the fiery course of the piano stool and beganto make his double chin do a gurgle, whereupon the youngest of thetwo female impersonators handed him a glare that put out hischuckle and he started the piano stool again at the rate of 45revolutions per minute.

  "Th' ould buffalo over there showed us up to th' spare room,thinkin' to be funny," she who was fated never to be our cook, wenton, "and if I wasn't in a daffy house and him nothin' but a bugit's the weight of that chair he'd feel over his bald spot. Th'ould goosehead, to set us down on th' porch and talk to us for anhour about th' landshcape and th' atmusphere, and to ask me, arespectable lady, what kind of exercise I was partial to! It's aHiven's own blessin' I didn't hand him a poke in th' slats, so itis!"

  Uncle Peter, with palpably assumed indifference, slid off the pianostool and faded behind the furthermost window curtain, while I wentup to the belligerent visitor and said, "On your way, Gismonda; thereferee gives the fight to you; here's the gate receipts!"

  With this I handed her a ten-spot which she looked at suspiciouslyand said, "If ever I get that ould potato pounder over in New Yorkit's exercise I'll give him! Sure, I'll run him from th' Bat'hryto Harlem widout a shtop for meals, bad cess to him!"

  Having delivered this parting knock at Uncle Peter, the queen ofthe kitchen flounced out of the house, followed by the younger onewho had played only a thinking part in the strenuous scene.

  Aunt Martha still sat motionless in the chair, quite on the vergeof tears, when Clara J. went over to her and said, "Why didn't youtell me
you were going after servants, Auntie?"

  "I wanted to surprise you," the old lady replied, plaintively."They were to be my contribution to the household."

  "You handed us a surprise, all right; didn't she, Uncle Peter?" Ichirped in with a view to laughing off the whole affair, but justthen a series of startling shrieks caused us all to rush for thepiazza.

  At the gate we beheld a kicking, struggling mass of lingerie andbad dialect, which presently resolved itself into the forms of mytemporary relatives who were now busily engaged in macadamizing theroadway with their heads.

  Then Tacks came yelling on the scene: "I thought maybe they wasfemale burglars so I stretched a wire acrost the gate and they wasin such a hurry getting away that they never noticed it till it wastoo everlastingly late!"

  Before we could remonstrate with the Boy-Disaster he let anotherwhoop out of him and darted off in the direction of the barn.

  That whoop brought the two wire-tappers to their feet and afterthey both shook their fists eagerly in our direction they startedin frenzied haste for the depot.

  As they scurried frantically out of our neighborhood Uncle Petersmiled blandly and murmured, "For lecturers, female reformers andall those who lead a sedentary life there's nothing like exercise!"

  Putting my arm around Clara J.'s waist I whispered, "Didn't I tellyou it was one of Bunch's put-up jobs? He's jealous because I'm sohappy out here with you, that's all! As for the telegram, forgetit!"

  "All right, John," said Clara J., "but nevertheless that sametelegram gave you a busy day, didn't it?"

  "It surely did, but it was only because I hated to have youworried," I answered as she went in the house to console AuntMartha.

  I sat down in a chair expecting every moment to have the Prince ofLiars come up and congratulate me.

  Humming a tune quietly to himself Uncle Peter watched the flyingsquadron disappear in a bend of the road, then he sat down near meand said, "John, you're worried about something and I've a prettyfair idea what it is. This property is too big a load for you tocarry, eh?"

  From the depths of my heart I replied, "It certainly is!"

  "Well," said the old gentleman, "it surely has made a hit with me.I never struck a place I liked half as well as this. How would youlike to sell it to me, then you and Clara J. could live with us,eh? Come on, now, what d'ye say?"

  I sat there utterly unable to say anything.

  "What did it cost you; come on, now, John?" the old fellow urged.

  "Oh, about $14,000," I whispered, picking out the first figure Icould think of.

  "It's worth it and more, too," he said. "I'll give you $20,000 forit--say the word!"

  "Well, if you insist!" I replied, weakly; and the next minute hedanced off to write me a check.

  In the tar barrel every time I opened my mouth! Hard luck wascertainly putting the wrapping paper all over me.

  Well, the only thing to do now was to hustle up to town in themorning and inform Bunch that I had sold his property.

  I felt sure he'd be tickled to a stand-still--not!