Pacific Rural Press, Volume 65, Number 15, 11 April 1903 — After the Farm. [ARTICLE]

After the Farm.

That Mrs. Brown experienced a shock on coming out on the back porch and seeing her daughter Lavinia absorbed in conversation with a man, and that man " Parriot " Smith, is putting it mildly. Though a woman of remarkably strong nerve and even temper, an uncommonly "deep" and shrewd woman, as her neighbors could testify, she had to grasp the railing in front of her, so surprised was she at the sight. "Surely the world is coming to an end ! " she gasped. When Lavinia saw her mother, she took hasty leave of her admirer, and went toward the house, looking guilty and confused. It was a chilly evening in autumn, and the big, warm kitchen, with the supper table set out in the middle of the well-scrubbed floor, looked cheery and inviting, but failed to raise Lavinia's sinking heart, as her mother's gaze confronted her. As she crossed the threshold, she would have almost forgone the pleasure of having a gentleman ask if he might come to see her Sunday night if that pleasure was to result in a gaze like this. She knew she had a right to receive the attention of this admirer, but that knowledge was of singularly small avail to her. "Has that man buried his third?" her mother demanded, in an awful voice. " He has," answered Lavinia. M When did he bury her ? " "'Bout two months ago," came the dejected answer. " Oh, gracious Lord! Oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy ! " she exclaimed, in a terrible burst. " I never, I declare I never !" At this moment Lavinia wished she could sink through the floor to escape her mother's wrath. She knew tbat nothing she could say would do any good, so she said nothing, and tried to hold herself so as to be as little aggravating as possible. She was immeasurably surprised and unutterably relieved when her mother suddenly and unexpectedly dropped the subject and said quite cbeerfuly : "Well, supper is ready, Laviny. Come on, an' don't stand there argufying about nothing all the evening. If you ain't hungry, I am." Mrs. Brown was shrewd. What she said to herself was : "If I go again' that "Parriot" Smith she'll stick up for him all the more, so I'll hold my tongue." She could do it, too, being an exceptional woman. Poor Lavinia ! Two tears rolled down her weather-beaten cheeks at the kindly, though gruff words. She had been working in the harvest field all day, and was cold, hungry and tired. For years she had taken a man's place on the farm, and it was a man's old, faded coat and hat she now took off and hung on a nail behind the door, where long ago her father used to hang the same coat and hat. She proceeded to " wash " before sittting down to supper, just as any farm hand would do. Her mother, engaged in " dishing up" the wholesome food and pouring hot tea, had no time to notice her daughter's troubled countenance, as she tried to grasp the problem of this, her first love affair. Her mother's amiability continued through the meal, and even afterward. When the evening's work was done, and the two women sat down to read or sew, the "gentlemen" were not mentioned. Lavinia thought with a burning heart of Sunday night. What would her mother say and what would her feelings be on that occasion ? No matter. For once she would brave her mother's wrath and indulge in the luxury of " Sunday-night company." Simple Lavinia ! She did not know that her mother's shrewdness guessed as much, and was making her plans accordingly. In their anxiety to harvest the crops while the dry weather lasted, the two women apparently forgot the "Parriot" Smith incident. But when Saturday afternoon came

around Lavinia went into the village, as usual, to do her errands ; she purchased two instruments that her mind had dwelt a good deal on through the week. These were "crimping pins," and she had come to the conclusion that the time had arrived for the use of these important articles. But she could not help a guilty and uncomfortable feeling with these things in her posession, and as she entered the house she almost felt that her mother's eyes rested on those " crimping pins," though they were wrapped up in a paper at the bottom of her pocket, and her circular was over the pocket. She never could tell the exact length of her mother's penetration. When she went upstairs to her own little bare room that night she surveyed her face critically in the square of glass that hung against the wall above her home-made "dresser" and even tried to get a good idea of herself in profile. Then she brought the glass to bear on each feature separately, and, as a result of the examination, said, wearily : "I'm a fright, that's what I be." Then she did what she considered the bravest act of her life—she put her hair up in the "crimping pins," and, without pausing to consider the action, hurried to bed.

But as she lay between the homemade flannel sheets, sleep would not come. How would the crimps look and how would her mother like them ? If her mother would only go away and visit over Sunday, she could experiment with these crimps. But no—her mother never went away. She was always there to oversee everything. Oh ! was it, after all, such a crime to be so attractive that a gentleman desired her society ! Then common sense whispered to her that she was not attractive. With these and many other painful reflections she fell asleep. Next morning Mrs. Brown did not seem to " notice that her daughter's temples were bound in a red and green kerchief and treated that daughter with unusual kindness.

Her excessive amiability continued, though Lavinia certainly was dazed and did foolish things ; fed cream to a calf in place of skimmilk, and passed her saucer for coffee at breakfast. Her mother sweetly overlooked these little mistakes. She also maintained her composure when Lavinia came from her room after the late dinner had been cleared away, with her best black flannel gown on and a wavy fluff of steel gray hair over each temple. The two women sat down before the kitchen fire in their high-backed rockers. Mrs. Brown was industriously reading her large printed psalm book and Lavinia had the Bible open on her lap, but made no pretence of reading. Her mind dwelt on the great event that had come into her life. She no longer had any fear of her mother in connection with Mr. Smith's visit. Her mind dwelt on other matters now. She had done the barn chores fully two hours earlier than she had ever done them before, and now she sat thinking that the fire in the "settin*room" stove was all ready to " touch off," and tried to calculate the time it would take to get it " het up " after he came. That he would come she did not doubt, and when he came what would he say ? What would he say ? That question filled her poor dazed brain and hummed in her ears until she could not by any means put it from her. She knew that giving nim permission to come was as good as accepting him, and he knew it as well as she.

It is sad to relate that Lavioia never had "Sunday-night company/ and she had a hazy idea that this was a deplorable state of affairs. She was aroused from something very like sleep by the clock striking out the hour of seven. At the same time she heard the noise of wheels, and presently some one was saying, •• Whoa ! " very emphatically in the back yard. Her mother remarked sweetly : 111 guess we're goin' to have company, Lavinia. Run and light th' set-tin'-room fire, while I go to th'door." While she was thus employed she heard Mr. Smith's voice in the shed, and did not even wonder to hear her

mother warmly asking him in and hoping he felt himself tolerably well. Mr. Smith shook hands with the two women with a great show of robust cheerfulness, hoped they were well and thought as he was passing he'd drop in an' be sociable, as it must be pesky lonesome for two women livin' alone like that.

Mrs. Brown replied with many smiles that it was rather lonesome sometimes and that she was awful glad to have him come and, of course, he would stay the evening. Of course he would, and then he had to go out and stand his horse in the barn, and it was apt to get mighty uneasy hitched to the wagon. When he returned he unwound a long, stringy muffler from about his neck, and Lavinia hung it with his hat on a nail beside her own working hat and coat. Then he began to wrestle with his outer coat, and it was not until Lavinia came to his assistance that he was able to rid himself of the strange-looking garment, which was very narrow across the shoulders and at least 4 inches shorter than the under coat.

Though Lavinia was not fastidious, she would have wished to see her admirer's coats agree better with each other, but glancing at the voluminous and lengthy skirts of that "Sunday coat" hanging on the stooping form of Mr. Smith, she did not wonder that he could not easily get an overcoat to cover it.

By and by they went into the parlor, but presently Mrs. Brown remembered that she had to go and see a neighbor's sick child, and departed, smiling graciously on the odd pair. After she had gone, Lavinia tried her best to be entertaining, but found it an awful task. She wished her mother had stayed. She could think of nothing to say, and wondered what other women said on such occasions. It was fearfully new and difficult to her. However, Mr. Smith was not at a loss for something to say. He launched out into the subject of crops, butter, hogs, chicken and other kindred things, told the exact quantity of corn he gave his 'cow, his hogs and his horse, and discussed at great length the value of various kinds of grain as food for animals, and wound up with the assertion that "shorts done a critter more harm than good." After a decent interval he opened on the subject uppermost in his mind. He had given the matter much thought, he said, and had come to the conclusion it would be a very suitable match. She and her mother needed a man on her farm, and now that all his children were gone and doing for themselves he could come and take charge of the place and run it as it ought to be run. Then he went on to tell what alterations he would make, what crops he would plant, what particular cows he would keep, and what ones he would sell. So he talked on and on of all his plans, calculations, hopes and ambitions, as if he would never come to an end.

Aa he talked Lavinia, leaning back in her chair, watched him in a dreamy sort of a way. All her life she had a hazy kind of belief that a man would come some time, and now he had come. This was the long-looked-for man, but somehow she was not quite satisfied. She had a lurking resentment toward fate for affording her nothing better after her long wait. Mr. Smith had a grating disagreeable voice and his mouth was particularly dreadful when he smiled. She would marry him, of course, but why had he proposed to come to the bride's home instead of taking her to his ? She could not know that a mortgage was about to be foreclosed on the Smith homestead.

After what seemed to Lavinia an interminable time the clock struck nine, and Parriot Smith had about exhausted every subject of conversation of which he was master. For the last few minutes he sat almost nodding with open mouth and his head very high. It was his bedtime, yet he tried to sit a while longer, but his eyes closed and his mouth opened so often that he had to give it up and concluding that it was a "pesky unsatisfactory thing to make love to Lavinia Brown," got up, remarking something about his horse get-

tin' uneasy an' he believed as they both knew their own minds there want no use puttin' things off, an' so he would appoint the day an' make arrangements, as he wanted to get all settled comfortable before Thanksgiving, an' be sure an tell the old woman that he meant the square thing by them both. "It's all right, ain't it?" he concluded, looking down at Lavinia. "I guess 'tis," she answered, an odd expression to her patient eyes. "All right, then," he said briskly ; 11 take keer of yourself." He went into the kitcken and began to bustle into his " things " and soon he was driving out of the yard and away. Lavinia never moved from her chair. She was engaged. Over and over again she told herself she was engaged. But through it all she wondered if this event brought as little satisfaction to all women as it brought to her. She had a pitiable feeling that something was lacking in her case. She would not tell her mother to-night—she could not. It would be time enough in the morning. When she went up to her room she took down the little glass and looked at herself. She had become engaged since she had seen her reflection last, and now she looked on herself as almost another person. It was cold in the room and the wind whistled against the windows, but Lavinia was not cold. Her mind was in a state of confusion and she felt vaguely as if some awful calamity that she had no power to resist was about to befall her. Ordinarily she would be asleep five minutes after getting into bed, but now it seemed to her that she could never sleep again. She lay hour after hour listening to the wind and thinking, thinking, thinking. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning that Mrs. Brown became aware of her daughter standing over her wrapped in a comforter and wringing her hands and saying wildly— "Mother, mother, i can't, I can't do it! Mother, you tell him I can't, an' I won't, I won't, I won't !" Her mother put out her hand and patted her daughter's arm. "There, there, dear; don't you worry. Have you gone and engaged yourself to that man ? " " Yes, but I ain't going to stay engaged !" Lavinia cried, excitedly. " You tell him, mother ; won't you ? " " That's all right. I guess I have lived long enough in the world not to be afraid of Parriot Smith. I want a-go-in' to let him get ye anyway. He's after this farm, an' I'll tell him it was left to me an' I can will it to whom I please, an' Parriot Smith's wife shan't have it. Go to bed, deary. I guess we can get along by ourselves a while longer." It must be admitted that as Lavinia again ascended the stairs in the midst of her sensations of relief, there was a feeling of regret that her mother should think and say that her one admirer was " arter the farm." —Minneapolis Times.