The Funny Side of Physic Part 18

"The large white house just across the bridge."

"Thank you." And we drove up to the front yard.

"Ne-ne-now, Ad, you go up and knock, and call for Miss Kingsbury; ye-ye-you know I st-stutter when I get ex-ex-cited," said George, hitching Simon to the horse-post.

"What shall I say to her? and how shall I know Miss Kingsbury from any other lady?"

"O, ask for her. I'll compose myself, and follow ri-right up. You'll know her from the description I have given you. Black eyes and hair, full form--O, there is n.o.body else like her. Come, go up and call for her."

"Well, I'll go; and if I get stuck, come quickly to my rescue," I said, turning to the house. "Is _Miss_ Kingsbury at home?" I asked of the young lady who answered my knock. "This person is surely not Miss Jenny," I said to myself; "cross-eyed, blue at that, and light, almost red hair." She smiled, took a second look at me, and said,--

"Who?"

"Miss Jenny Kingsbury," I repeated.

"Well--yes--I guess she is. Will you walk in?"

"No, thank you. Will you please call her out?" And so saying, I beckoned to George.

The girl closed the door, and I called to George "to make haste and change places with me." He came up just as the door reopened, and a beautiful dark-eyed woman appeared, whom he greeted as Miss Kingsbury.

"I'll see to the horse," I said; and having taken a hurried glance at the young lady, I withdrew. For a full half hour I walked up and down beneath the maples in front of the house, watched the steamer Pen.o.bscot, as she came up the river, and from thence turned my attention to a schooner that was endeavoring to enter the cove, not far from the house. A light breeze had sprung up from the westward, and the channel being narrow, there seemed much difficulty in gaining the harbor.

Finally George came to the door and beckoned me. I went in, and received an introduction to Mrs. Kingsbury and to Jenny.

"O, but she is beautiful," I whispered to George.

He was flushed and excited, consequently stammered some, and I was compelled to keep up a conversation, but I did not feel easy. Something was wrong. I detected more than one sly wink between aunt and niece, and when the cross-eyed miss came into the room, I could not tell whom she was glancing at, as her eyes "looked forty ways for Sunday," but she leered perceptibly towards first one, then the other of the ladies. I hinted to George that we must not delay longer. Still he tarried. Mrs. Kingsbury seemed interested in the movements of the schooner in the mouth of the cove. Miss Jenny was interested in George. I was interested in getting away from them all. Finally the schooner was moored to the wharf, and, standing at the window, I noticed a sailor, with a bundle on a stick over his shoulder, approaching the house. A whisper pa.s.sed between aunt and niece, and the latter asked George to accompany her into an adjoining room.

It was now past noon. A pleasant, savory smell came up from the kitchen, but no one asked me to put up the horse, and stay to dinner.

The man with the bundle came familiarly into the yard. Soon George returned alone to the room, and seizing his hat, he stammered, "C-c-come, Ad," and rushed from the house.

Mrs. Kingsbury attended me to the door, and wished me a pleasant ride to Bangor. George jumped into the buggy, seized the reins, and giving a cut upon the horse, bawled, "Go on, Simon."

"Hold on. First let me unhitch him," I cried, seizing the spirited beast by the bridle. I unfastened the halter, and jumped into the carriage; and away flew Simon, snorting and irritated under the unnecessary cuts he had received from the whip. At the first corner George took the back road towards B.

"Not that way! Hold on, and turn about," I exclaimed, catching at the reins. "Now stop and tell me all about it. Did you propose to Jenny? Has she accepted, and are you beside yourself with ecstatic joy? Come, tell me."

"Ho! Simon." And laying down the reins, George drew out his wallet, and taking therefrom a bit of silk goods, he turned upon my astonished gaze a woe-begone look, and said,--

"Ad, she's mum-mum-married--"

"Married!"

"Yes, married; and there's a piece of her wedding gown. The fellow you saw come in while there, with the bundle on a stick,--the land-lubberish-looking fellow,--was her husband. O my G.o.d! Did you ever?"

And so relieving his mind, he caught the reins and whip, and away darted Simon at a fearful rate of speed.

At Bangor I said to George,--

"Well, there probably is no love lost on either side. She sold out at the first bid, and you never had the least hold on her affections."

"Ah, I have had her confidence in too many moonlight walks to believe that," was his reply.

"And it was all moons.h.i.+ne,--that's evident," I said.

"No, no; I wish it was. I never shall love again," said George, with a deep sigh, and a sorry-looking cast of countenance.

"No, I suppose not," was my non-consoling reply.

"Still, do you believe I never loved that darling girl?" he asked, almost in a rage. "If that man--that _fellow_--should die with the autumn leaves, I would at once marry Jenny, who loves me still," he exclaimed, pacing the room like an enraged lion.

"He won't die, however. He looks healthy and robust, and will outlive you and your affection for his wife," I replied, with a derisive laugh.

It rained the next afternoon, as we returned home by a shorter route than _via_ O. and B. George talked a great deal of Jenny on the way back, and said he never should get over this fearful disappointment.

"Only think of the lovely Jenny Kingsbury marrying that fellow with the bundle and the stick! O, I shall be sick over it; I know I shall."

"Especially if you take a bad cold riding in this storm," I added, by way of consolation. "However, you can take some of your mother's good thoroughwort--"

"Confound the thoroughwort," he interrupted.

"Did you know that George is sick?" asked his little brother of me the following day.

"No. Is he much sick?" I inquired, in alarm.

"O, yes; he's awful sick--or was last night; and mother fooled him on a dose of fresh thererwort tea, which only made him sicker," replied the little chap, turning up his nose in disgust.

"Is he better now?" I inquired.

"O, yes; ever so much _now_. I don't know what ma called the disease he's got; but howsomever she said thererwort was good for it, and I guess it is, 'cause he's better."

I was called away, and did not see my friend George till a week after our return from the little trip to B. He never mentioned Jenny afterwards, nor said a word about the thoroughwort tea. He took to horses after that, and eventually married a poor, unpretending girl, quite unlike the dark-eyed, beautiful, and wealthy Miss Jenny Kingsbury.

Mrs. Brown still recommends her favorite panacea for all ails, physical or moral; but whenever she mentions it in George's presence, he exclaims, with a look of disgust,--

"O, confound the thoroughwort!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

VI.

QUACKS.