Only page of title Fairly Easy
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no doubt he _is_ alive, and quite so, being, when last heard from, the
very alert and effective Train Dispatcher at Butler, Indiana,-he will
not have forgotten a certain night in early June (the 8th) of 1870,
in "Old Number 'Leven" of the Dunbar House, Greenfield, when he and I
sat the long night through, getting ready a famous issue of our old
school-paper, "The Criterion. " And he will remember, too, the queer
old man who occupied, but that one night, the room just opposite our
own, Number 13. For reasons wholly aside from any superstitious dread
connected with the numerals, 13 was not a desirable room; its locality
was alien to all accommodations, and its comforts, like its furnishings,
were extremely meagre. In fact, it was the room usually assigned to the
tramp-printer, who, in those days, was an institution; or again, it was
the local habitation of the oft-recurring transient customer who was too
incapacitated to select a room himself when he retired-or rather, when he
was personally retired by "the hostler," as the gentlemanly night-clerk
of that era was habitually designated.
respectively served as "printer's devil" in the two rival newspaper
offices of the town, it was natural for us to find a ready interest
in anything pertaining to the newspaper business; and so it was,
perhaps, that we had been selected, by our own approval and that of our
fellow-students of The Graded Schools, to fill the rather exalted office
of editing "The Criterion. " Certain it is that the rather abrupt rise
from the lowly duties of the "roller" to the editorial management of a
paper of our own (even if issued in handwriting) we accepted as a natural
right; and, vested in our new power of office, we were largely "shaping
the whisper of the throne" about our way.
intonation. A low, mild, rather apologetic voice, gently assuring the
hostler that "everything was very snug and comfortable indeed-so far as
the _compartment_ was concerned-but would not the _attendant_ kindly
supply a better light, together with pen-and-ink-and just a sheet or two
of paper,-if he would be so very good as to find a pardon for so very
troublesome a guest."
luck: -He's a _genius_, 'y God! and an Englishman, and knows Dickens
_personally_-used to write races with him, and's got a manuscript of his
in his ‘portmanteau,' as he calls an old oil-cloth knapsack with one lung
clean gone. Excuse this extra light. -Old man's lamp's like a sore eye,
and he's going to touch up the Dickens sketch for _us_! _Hear? _-_For
us_-for ‘The Criterion. ' Says he can't sleep-he's in distress-has
a presentiment-some dear friend is dying-or dead now-and he must
write-_write_!"
sketch, especially curious for the reason that the following morning's
cablegram announced that the great novelist, Charles Dickens, had been
stricken suddenly and seriously the night previous. On the day of this
announcement-even as "The Criterion" was being read to perfunctorily
interested visitors of The Greenfield Graded Schools-came the further
announcement of Mr. Dickens's death. The old printer's manuscript, here
reproduced, is, as originally, captioned-
play-bills says; but it's what I calls a' ‘interior,' which for meller
comfort and cheerful surroundin's ain't to be ekalled by no other
‘flat' on the boundless, never-endin' stage of this existence! " And
as the exuberant Mr. Twiggs rendered this observation, he felt called
upon to smile and bow most graciously to an invisible audience, whose
wild approval he in turn interpreted by an enthusiastic clapping of his
hands and the cry of "Ongcore! " in a dozen different keys-this strange
acclamation being made the more grotesque by a great green parrot perched
upon the mantel, which, in a voice less musical than penetrating, chimed
in with "Hooray for Twiggs and Tudens! " a very great number of times.
broken only by the puffing of his pipe, and the occasional articulation
of a thought, as it loitered through his mind. "Tude's a queer girl! -a
werry queer girl! " repeated Mr. Twiggs, pausing again, with a long whiff
at his pipe, and marking the graceful swoop the smoke made as it dipped
and disappeared up the wide, black-throated chimney; and then, as though
dropping into confidence with the great fat kettle on the coals, that
steamed and bubbled with some inner paroxysm, he added, "And queer and
nothink short, is the lines for Tude, eh?
whose careful intonation might have suggested a more than ordinary depth
of wisdom and sagacity,-"s'posin' a pore chap like me, as ain't no
property only this-'ere ‘little crooked house,' as Tude calls it, and
some o' the properties I 'andles at the Drury-as I was a-sayin',-s'posin'
now a' old rough chap like me was jest to tell her all about herself, and
who she is and all, and not no kith or kin o' mine, let alone a daughter,
as _she_ thinks-What do you reckon now 'ud be the upshot, eh? " And as Mr.
Twiggs propounded this mysterious query he jabbed the poker prankishly
in the short-ribs of the grate, at which the pot, as though humoring a
joke it failed to comprehend wholly, set up a chuckling of such asthmatic
violence that its smothered cachinnations tilted its copper lid till Mr.
Twiggs was obliged to dash a cup of water in its face.
tenderer pertecter than a father, so to speak, wouldn't be out o' keepin'
with the nat'ral order o' things, seein' as how she's sorto' startin'
for herself-like now. And it's a question in my mind, if it ain't my
bounden duty as her father-or ruther, who has been a father to her all
her life-to kindo' tell her jest how things is, and all-and how _I_ am,
and everythink,-and how I feel as though I ort'o stand by her, as I allus
have, and allus _have_ had her welfare in view, and kindo' feel as how I
allus-ort'o kindo'-ort'o kindo"-and here Mr. Twiggs's voice fell into
silence so abruptly that the drowsy parrot started from its trance-like
quiet and cried "Ortokindo! Ortokindo! " with such a strength of seeming
mockery that it was brushed violently to the floor by the angry hand of
Mr. Twiggs and went backing awkwardly beneath the table.
night! Now, I ain't no actur myself,-I've been on, of course, a thousand
times as ‘fillin',' ‘sogers' and ‘peasants' and the like, where I never
had no lines, on'y in the ‘choruses'; but if I don't know nothin' but
‘All hail! -All hail! ' I've had the experience of bein' under the baleful
hinfluence of the hoppery-glass, and I'm free to say it air a ticklish
position and no mistake. But _Tude_! w'y, bless you, she warn't the
first bit flustered, was she? 'Peared-like she jest felt perfectly at
home-like-like her mother afore her! And I'm dashed if I didn't feel the
cold chills a-creepin' and a-crawlin' when she was a-singin' ‘Down by the
river there grows a green willer and a-weepin' all night with the bank
for her piller'; and when she come to the part about wantin' to be buried
there 'while the winds was a-blowin' close by the stream where her tears
was a-flowin', and over her corpse to keep the green willers growin','
I'm d-d if I didn't blubber right out! " And as the highly sympathetic Mr.
Twiggs delivered this acknowledgment, he stroked the inner corners of his
eyes, and rubbed his thumb and finger on his trousers.
settling into a look not at all in keeping with his shiny complexion-"it
were a tryin' thing, and it _air_ a tryin' thing to see them lovely arms
o' hern a-twinin' so lovin'-like around that-'ere Stanley's neck and
a-kissin' of him-as she's obleeged to do, of course-as the ‘properties'
of the play demands; but I'm blowed if she wouldn't do it quite so
nat'ral-like I'd feel easier. Blow me! " he broke off savagely, starting
up and flinging his pipe in the ashes, "I'm about a-comin' to the
conclusion I ain't got no more courage'n a blasted school-boy! Here I am
old enough to be her father-mighty nigh it-and yet I'm actually afeard to
speak up and tell her jest how things is, and all, and how I feel like
I-like I-ort'o-ort'o-"
position to the under-round of a chair. -"_Ortokindo! Ortokindo! Tude's
come home! -Tude's come home! _" And as though in happy proof of this
latter assertion, the gentle Mr. Twiggs found his chubby neck encircled
by a pair of rosy arms, and felt upon his cheek the sudden pressure of
a pair of lips that thrilled his old heart to the core. And then the
noisy bird dropped from its perch and marched pompously from its place of
concealment, trailing its rusty wings and shrieking, "Tude's come home! "
at the top of its brazen voice.
lamely at the feathered oracle; "I'll ‘Tude's-come-home' ye! W'y, a
feller can't hear his _ears_ for your infernal squawkin'! " And then,
turning toward the serious eyes that peered rebukingly into his own, his
voice fell gentle as a woman's: "Well, there, Tudens, I beg parding;
I do indeed. Don't look at me thataway. I know I'm a great, rough,
good-for-"But a warm, swift kiss cut short the utterance; and as the girl
drew back, still holding the bright old face between her tender palms, he
said simply, "You're a queer girl, Tudens; a queer girl."
starting back with a theatrical flourish and falling into a fantastic
attitude. -"‘Troth, I am sorry for it; me poor father's heart is bursting
with gratichude, and he would fain ease it by pouring out his thanks to
his benefactor."
the graceful figure of the girl. "You're a-growin' more wonderful' clever
in your ‘presence' every day, Tude. You don't think o' nothink else but
your actin', do ye, now? " And, as Mr. Twiggs concluded his observations,
a something very like a sigh came faltering from his lips.
dancing gayly around his chair. -"Why, you old melancholy Dane, you!
are you actually _sighing_? " Then, dropping into a tragic air of deep
contrition, she continued: "‘But, believe me, I would not question you,
but to console you, Wilford. I would scorn to pry into any one's grief,
much more yours, Wilford, to satisfy a busy curiosity."
exclamation in his handkerchief. "You ain't been ondutiful, nor nothink
else. You're jest all and everythink that heart could wish. It's all
my own fault, Tudens; it's all my fault. You see, I git to thinkin'
sometimes like I was a-goin' to _lose_ you; and now that you are a-comin'
on in years, and gittin' such a fine start, and all, and position and
everythink. -Yes-sir! _position_, 'cause everybody likes you, Tudens. You
know that; and I'm that proud of you and all, and that selfish, that
it's onpossible I could ever, ever give you up; -never, never, _ever_ give
you up! " And Mr. Twiggs again stifled his voice in his handkerchief and
blew his nose with prolonged violence.
silence following, it may have been the gathering darkness of the room,
or the plaintive sighing of the rising wind without, that caused the girl
to shudder as she stooped to kiss the kind old face bent forward in the
shadows, and turned with feigned gayety to the simple task of arranging
supper. But when, a few minutes later, she announced that Twiggs and
Tudens's tea was waiting, the two smilingly sat down, Mr. Twiggs
remarking that if he only knew a blessing, he'd ask it upon that occasion
most certainly.
like to know if the Queen herself could cook 'em to a nicer turn, or
serve 'em up more tantaliz'in'er to the palate. And this-'ere soup,-or
whatever it is, is rich as gravy; and these boughten rolls ain't a bad
thing either, split in two and toasted as you do 'em, air they, Tude? "
And as Mr. Twiggs glanced inquiringly at his companion, he found her
staring vacantly at her plate. "I was jest a-sayin', Tudens-" he went on,
pretending to blow his tea and glancing cautiously across his saucer.
wasn't a-sayin' of it, I was _a-thinkin'_ it. "-And then, running along
hurriedly, "And I've been a-thinkin' it for days and days-ever sence
you left the ‘balley' and went in ‘chambermaids,' and last in leadin'
rôles. Maybe _you_ ain't noticed it, but I've had my eyes on you from the
‘flies' and the ‘wings'; and jest betwixt us, Tudens, and not for me as
ort to know better, and does know better, to go a-flatterin', at my time
o'-or to go a-flatterin' anybody, as I said, after you're a-gittin' to
be a young woman-and what's more, a werry _'andsome_ young woman!"
a-goin' on to say, I've been a-watchin' of you, and a-layin' off a long
time jest to tell you summat that will make your eyes open wider 'an
that! What I mean," said Mr. Twiggs, coughing vehemently and pushing his
chair back from the table-"what I mean is, you'll soon be old enough to
be a-settin' up for yourself-like, and a-marry'-W'y, Tudens, what _ails_
you? " The girl had risen to her feet, and, with a face dead white and
lips all tremulous, stood clinging to her chair for support. "What ails
you, Tudens? " repeated Mr. Twiggs, rising to his feet and gazing on her
with a curious expression of alarm and tenderness.
laugh,-"only it just flashed on me all at once that I'd clean forgotten
poor ‘Dick's' supper. " And as she turned abruptly to the parrot, cooing
and clucking to him playfully,-up, up from some hitherto undreamed-of
depth within the yearning heart of Mr. Twiggs mutely welled the old
utterance, "Tude's a queer girl!"
gayly; and then, without waiting for an answer, went on cooing to the
parrot,-"Hey, old dicky-bird! do _you_ think Tudens is a handsome young
woman? and do _you_ think Tudens is old enough to marry, eh? " This query
delivered, she broke into a fit of merriment which so wrought upon the
susceptibilities of the bird that he was heard repeatedly to declare and
affirm, in most positive and unequivocal terms, that Tude had actually
come home.
large eyes lovingly upon him and speaking very tenderly. "I know it-oh, I
know it; and many, many times when I have thought of it, and then again
of your old kindly faith; all the warm wealth of your love; and our old
home here, and all the happiness it ever held for me and you alike-oh, I
have tried hard-indeed, indeed I have-to put all other thought away and
live for you alone! But, Pop'm! dear old Pop'm-"And even as the great
strong breast made shelter for her own, the woman's heart within her
flowed away in mists of gracious tears.
feller as works for his livin', and knows how to 'usband his earnin's
thrifty-like, and allus 'as a hextry crown or two laid up against a rainy
day-and a good perwider, of course," said Mr. Twiggs, with a comfortable
glance around the room. -"Ll blow me if I didn't see a face there
a-peerin' in the winder!"
eagerly, fervidly, albeit the face he looked on then will haunt him to
the hour of his death. -Yet haply, some day, when the Master takes the
selfsame hand within his own and whispers, "Tude's come home," the old
smile will return.
End of title
