At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern Part 32

I'd order every single one of them out of the house to-morrow!"

"To-night!" cried Dorothy, fired with high resolve. "I'll do it this very night! Poor old Uncle Ebeneezer! Our sufferings have been nothing, compared to his."

"Are you going to tell Mr. Carr?" asked Elaine, wonderingly.

"Tell him nothing," rejoined Dorothy, with spirit. "He's got some old fogy notions about your house being a sacred spot where everybody in creation can impose on you if they want to, just because it is your house. I suppose he got it by being related to poor old uncle."

"Do I have to go, too?" queried Elaine, rubbing her soft cheek against Dorothy's.

"Not much," answered Mrs. Carr, with a sisterly embrace. "You'll stay, and d.i.c.k 'll stay, and that old tombstone in the kitchen will stay, and so will Claudius Tiberius, but the rest--MOVE!"

Consequently, Elaine looked forward to the dinner-hour with mixed antic.i.p.ations. Mr. Perkins, Uncle Israel, Mrs. Dodd, and Mrs. Holmes each found a note under their plates when they sat down. Uncle Israel's face relaxed into an expression of childlike joy when he found the envelope addressed to him. "Valentine, I reckon," he said, "or mebbe it's sunthin'

from Santa Claus."

"Queer acting for Santa Claus," snorted Mrs. Holmes, who had swiftly torn open her note. "Here we are, all ordered away from what's been our home for years, by some upstart relations who never saw poor, dear uncle. Are you going to keep boarders?" she asked, insolently, turning to Dorothy.

"No longer," returned that young woman, imperturbably. "I have done it just as long as I intend to."

Harlan was gazing curiously at Dorothy, but she avoided his eyes, and continued to eat as though nothing had happened. d.i.c.k, guessing rightly, choked, and had to be excused. Elaine's cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled, the flush deepening when Mrs. Dodd inquired where _her_ valentine was. Mr. Perkins was openly dejected, and Mrs. Dodd, receiving no answer to her question, compressed her thin lips into a forced silence.

But Uncle Israel was moved to protesting speech. "'T is queer doin's for Santa Claus," he mumbled, pouring out a double dose of his nerve tonic.

"'T ain't such a thing as he'd do, even if he was drunk. Turnin' a poor old man outdoor, what ain't got no place to go exceptin' to Betsey's, an'

n.o.body can't live with Betsey. She's all the time mad at herself on account of bein' obliged to live with such a woman as she be. Summers I've allers stayed here an' never made no trouble. I've cooked my own food an'

brought most of it, an' provided all my own medicines, an' even took my bed with me, goin' an' comin'. Ebeneezer's beds is all terrible drafty--I took two colds to once sleepin' in one of 'em--an' at my time of life 't ain't proper to change beds. Sleepin' in a drafty bed would undo all the good of bein' near the sanitarium. Most likely I'll have a fever or sunthin' now an' die."

"Shut up, Israel," said Mrs. Dodd, abruptly. "You ain't goin' to die. It wouldn't surprise me none if you had to be shot on the Day of Judgment before you could be resurrected. Folks past ninety-five that's pickled in patent medicine from the inside out, ain't goin' to die of no fever."

"Ninety-six, Belinda," said the old man, proudly. "I'll be ninety-six next week, an' I'm as young as I ever was."

"Then," rejoined Mrs. Dodd, tartly, "what you want to look out for is measles an' chicken-pox, to say nothin' of croup."

"Come, Gladys Gwendolen and Algernon Paul," interrupted Mrs. Holmes, in a high key; "we must go and pack now, to go away from dear uncle's. Dear uncle is dead, you know, and can't help his dear ones being ordered out of his house by upstarts."

"What's a upstart, ma?" inquired Willie.

"People who turn their dead uncle's relations out of his house in order to take boarders," returned Mrs. Holmes, clearly.

"Mis' Carr," said Mrs. Dodd, sliding up into d.i.c.k's vacant place, "have I understood that you want me to go away to-morrow?"

"Everybody is going away to-morrow," returned Dorothy, coldly.

"After all I've done for you?" persisted Mrs. Dodd.

"What have you done for me?" parried Dorothy, with a pleading look at Elaine.

"Kep' the others away," returned Mrs. Dodd, significantly.

"Uncle Ebeneezer does not want any of you here," said Dorothy, after a painful silence. The impression made by the diary was so vividly present with her that she felt as though she were delivering an actual message.

Much to her surprise, Mrs. Dodd paled and left the room hastily. Uncle Israel tottered after her, leaving his predigested food untouched on his plate and his imitation coffee steaming malodorously in his cup. Mr.

Perkins bowed his head upon his hands for a moment; then, with a sigh, lightly dropped out of the open window. The name of Uncle Ebeneezer seemed to be one to conjure with.

"Dorothy," said Harlan, "might an obedient husband modestly inquire what you have done?"

"Elaine and I found Uncle Ebeneezer's diary to-day," explained Dorothy, "and the poor old soul was nagged all his life by relatives. So, in grat.i.tude for what he's done for us, I've turned 'em out. I know he'd like to have me do it."

Harlan left his place and came to Dorothy, where, bending over her chair, he kissed her tenderly. "Good girl," he said, patting her shoulder. "Why in thunder didn't you do it months ago?"

"Isn't that just like a man?" asked Dorothy, gazing after his retreating figure.

"I don't know," answered Elaine, with a pretty blush, "but I guess it is."

XIX

Various Departures

"Algernon Paul," called Mrs. Holmes, shrilly, "let the kitty alone!"

Every one else on the premises heard the command, but "Algernon Paul,"

perhaps because he was not yet fully accustomed to his new name, continued forcing Claudius Tiberius to walk about on his fore feet, the rest of him being held uncomfortably in the air by the guiding influence.

"Algernon!" The voice was so close this time that the cat was freed by his persecutor's violent start. Seeing that it was only his mother, Algernon Paul attempted to recover his treasure again, and was badly scratched by that selfsame treasure. Whereupon Mrs. Holmes soundly cuffed Claudius Tiberius "for scratching dear little Ebbie, I mean Algernon Paul," and received a bite or two on her own account.

"Come, Ebbie, dear," she continued, "we are going now. We have been driven away from dear uncle's. Where is sister?"

"Sister" was discovered in the forbidden Paradise of the chicken-coop, and dragged out, howling. Willie, not desiring to leave "dear uncle's," was forcibly retrieved by d.i.c.k from the roof of the barn.

Mr. Harold Vernon Perkins had silently disappeared in the night, but no one feared foul play. "He'll be waitin' at the train, I reckon," said Mrs.

Dodd, "an' most likely composin' a poem on 'Departure' or else breathin'

into a tube to see if he's mad."

She had taken her dismissal very calmly after the first shock. "A woman what's been married seven times, same as I be," she explained to Dorothy, "gets used to bein' moved around from place to place. My sixth husband had the movin' habit terrible. No sooner would we get settled nice an'

comfortable in a place, an' I got enough acquainted to borrow sugar an'

tea an' mola.s.ses from my new neighbours, than Thomas would decide to move, an' more 'n likely, it'd be to some new town where there was a great openin' in some new business that he'd never tried his hand at yet.

"My dear, I've been the wife of a undertaker, a livery-stable keeper, a patent medicine man, a grocer, a butcher, a farmer, an' a justice of the peace, all in one an' the same marriage. Seems 's if there wa'n't no business Thomas couldn't feel to turn his hand to, an' he knowed how they all ought to be run. If anybody was makin' a failure of anythin', Thomas knowed just why it was failin' an' I must say he ought to know, too, for I never see no more steady failer than Thomas.

"They say a rollin' stone never gets no moss on it, but it gets worn terrible smooth, an' by the time I 'd moved to eight or ten different towns an' got as many as 'leven houses all fixed up, the corners was all broke off 'n me as well as off 'n the furniture. My third husband left me well provided with furniture, but when I went to my seventh altar, I didn't have nothin' left but a soap box an' half a red blanket, on account of havin' moved around so much.

"I got so's I'd never unpack all the things in any one place, but keep 'em in their dry-goods boxes an' barrels nice an' handy to go on again. When the movin' fit come on Thomas, I was always in such light marchin' order that I could go on a day's notice, an' that's the way we usually went. I told him once it'd be easier an' cheaper to fit up a prairie schooner such as they used to cross the plains in, an' then when we wanted to move, all we'd have to do would be to put a dipper of water on the fire an' tell the mules to get ap, but it riled him so terrible that I never said nothin'

about it again, though all through my sixth marriage, it seemed a dretful likely notion.

"A woman with much marryin' experience soon learns not to rile a husband when 't ain't necessary. Sometimes I think the poor creeters has enough to contend with outside without bein' obliged to fight at home, though it does beat all, my dear, what a terrible exertion 't is for most men to earn a livin'. None of my husbands was ever obliged to fight at home an' I take great comfort thinkin' how peaceful they all was when they was livin'

with me, an' how peaceful they all be now, though I think it's more 'n likely that Thomas is a-sufferin' because he can't move no more at present."