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Chapter III

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When Mrs. Payne had been in our village less than a year and the interest of the village in the "do-less" sister of Miss Sarah had somewhat dwindled, it flamed up again. Mrs. Payne had a visitor, to our country eyes a splendid-looking, middle-aged gentleman. He put up at the little inn and called on Mrs. Payne and brought her such little trifles as a man might bestow upon a lady; sweets also he brought for Ellen, and a most elegant little needlecase with a gold thimble,--an incongruous gift, for since Ellen learned the use of the needle she had abhorred it; if she lived to-day she would have darned her stockings with a sail needle and dental floss. There went through the town, "He's courting the widow," for he came again and again, and in the mean time, according to the postmistress, there arrived letters and a package or two.

Concerning this episode Ellen writes:--

"I wish aunts were made of different stuff. When Aunt Sarah
comes down here looking like a gorgon, I know that she has come
to make my mother cry and I am very glad that I called her 'old
gorgon-face' right before her one time, though it is a rude way
to address one's female relatives and I apologized to her
afterwards, and now I think I will have to undo my apology
because I feel so glad and happy every time I think I called her
it. I couldn't help hearing because I was in the next room, and
anyway I didn't mind if I did hear it. She said to my mother: 'I
suppose you've made up your mind already what to do about Mr.
Dennett.' 'About Mr. Dennett?' said my mother, and she sounded
frightened,--she is much more frightened of my Aunt Sarah than I
am. 'Even you can't be such a ninny,' said my aunt, 'as to think
he comes here for nothing. A man of his age doesn't come from
Springfield for the purpose of an afternoon's conversation.' 'I
hadn't faced it that way,' said mamma. 'Pooh! Pooh!' said my
aunt. 'There's a limit to even your folly; I hope you have
planned to do the sensible thing and if you have not, you should
save him the humiliation of declaring himself, which he'll do
now very soon, no doubt.' 'He pretended business brought him
here,' said my mother. 'Business, indeed,' said Aunt Sarah, and
she made a noise like a snort, which if I made she would
consider very rude. I wish there was one day a year when
children could tell their aunts how rude they are at times, just
as their aunts tell them every day in the week. 'The business of
courting is what he is about, and with an atom of honesty you
must know it, and now I want to know what you are going to do.'
'It's rather hard; I'm going to call Ellen,' said my mother; and
I had to move rather rapidly not to be found too near the door,
which showed me that I was listening, which one ought never to
do. 'Ellen,' said my mother; and my aunt then said a word which
I am not allowed to say. 'Squizzelty Betsey,' said she, 'what
has Ellen to do with it?' 'I'm going to consult with Ellen'; and
then, when I was in the room, 'Ellen,' she said, 'your aunt
seems to think that Mr. Dennett wishes to become a new father to
you. How do you like this idea?' 'Would you have to keep house
for him,' I said, 'the way you did for dear papa?' 'More so,'
said my mamma. 'I don't think we should be happy then,' said I.
At this Aunt Sarah rocked back and forth and she groaned as
though her stomach hurt her. While my aunt was groaning, I could
see my mother turn her back and I knew by her actions that she
was putting her handkerchief to her mouth to keep from laughing,
and which I have often seen her do when my aunt was here. 'It
made us both very nervous,' I explained to her, 'getting meals
exactly on time and doing all the things that a man has a right
to have perfect in his own house, which is what papa used to
say, but we have not, since we've lived together, had to have
anything perfect at all; we never think of meal-times or any
other sad things.' 'Listen, Ellen,' said my aunt; 'you are
almost more sensible and grown-up than your mother; your mother
is still a young woman, a long life of loneliness confronts
her,--more than that, a cramped financial situation. You'll
always have to go without and without and without. It would be
from every point of view a dignified and suitable alliance and
one which your mother should be happy to make and which any
woman of her age and position and an atom of sense would do.'
Here my mother flung out her hand in the air as though she were
throwing away something and were glad to do it. I wish I could
see her do that again. 'I respect him and I like him, and his
liking for me touches me and flatters me, but oh! the running of
a big house; but oh! the pent-up city streets.' 'And I say so,
too,' I cried. Then she suddenly drew me to her and stood me at
arm's length from her, and she said to me, 'Ellen, promise me
when you grow up, and when your blood shall leap high, and
nothing happens in this little town, and when the world calls to
you, that you won't blame me.' And my aunt said, 'Don't worry,
Emily; plenty will always happen where Ellen is.' I hugged and
kissed her and promised hard. Now there will be no more
presents, and no more bon-bons, for mother is going to shock him
so he will not want to come again, which she thinks is a good
way to save his vanity, but Aunt Sarah said: 'Emily, you are
incorrigible.' But we are both, my mother and I, very sorry to
lose our good friend. 'Can't men be friends with you,' I asked,
'without wanting to marry you?' And my mother said, 'It seems
not, dear.' But when I grow up it is going to be different with
me."

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The Heart's CountryChapter III

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