Mrs. Tree Part 8

"What for? turnin' up his toes?" inquired the irrepressible Seth. "I dono as he did it to obleege us, did he?"

"I didn't mean that," said Abram, patiently. "But he was postmaster here twenty-five years, and seems's though we'd ought to take some notice of it."

"That's so!" said Salem Rock. "You're right, Abram. What we want is some resolutions of sympathy for the widder. That's what's usual in such cases."

"Humph!" said Seth Weaver.

The others looked thoughtful.

"How would you propose to word them resolutions, Brother Rock?" asked Enoch Peterson, cautiously. "I understand Mis' Nudd accepts her lot.

Isr'el warn't an easy man to live with, I'm told by them as was neighbor to him."

He glanced at Seth Weaver, who cleared his throat and gazed seaward. The others waited. Presently--

"If I was drawin' up them resolutions," Weaver said, slowly, "'pears to me I should say something like this:

"'Resolved, that Isr'el Nudd was a good postmaster, and done his work faithful; and resolved, that we tender his widder all the respeckful sympathy she requires.' And a peanut-sh.e.l.l to put it in!" he added, in a lower tone.

Salem Rock pulled out a ma.s.sive silver watch and looked at it.

"I got to go!" he said. "Let's boil this down! All present who want Homer Hollopeter for postmaster, say so; contrary-minded? It's a vote!

We'll send the pet.i.tion to Was.h.i.+n'ton. Next question is, who'll he have for an a.s.sistant?"

There was a movement of chairs, as with fresh interest in the new topic.

"I was intendin' to speak on that p'int!" piped up a little man at the end of the row, who had not spoken before.

"What do we need of an a.s.sistant? Homer Hollopeter could do the work with one hand, except Christmas and New Years. There ain't room enough in there to set a hen, anyway."

"Who wants to set hens in the post-office?" demanded Seth Weaver.

"There's cacklin' enough goes on there without that. I expect about the size of it is, you'd like more room to set by the stove, without no eggs to set on."

"I was only thinkin' of savin' the gov'ment!" said the little man, uneasily.

"I reckon gov'ment's big enough to take care of itself!" said Seth Weaver.

"There's allers been an a.s.sistant," said Salem Rock, briefly. "Question is, who to have?"

At this moment a window-blind was drawn up, and the meek head of Mr.

Homer Hollopeter appeared at the open window.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" he said, nervously. A great content shone in his mild brown eyes,--indeed, he must have heard every word that had been spoken,--but he shuffled his feet and twitched the blind uneasily after he had spoken.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Postmaster!" said Salem Rock, heartily.

"Congratulations, Home!" said Seth Weaver. The others nodded and grunted approvingly.

"There's nothing official yet, you understand," Salem Rock added, kindly; "but we've pa.s.sed a vote, and the rest is only a question of time."

"Only a question of time!" echoed Abram Cutter and John Peavey.

Mr. Homer drew himself up and settled his sky-blue necktie.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice faltering a little at first, but gaining strength as he went on, "I thank you for the honor you do me. I am deeply sensible of it, and of the responsibility of the position I am called upon to fill; to--occupy;--to--a--become a holder of."

"Have a lozenger, Home!" said Seth Weaver, encouragingly.

"I--am obliged to you, Seth; not any!" said Mr. Homer, slightly fl.u.s.tered. "I was about to say that my abilities, such as they are, shall be henceforth devoted to the service--to the--amelioration; to the--mental, moral, and physical well-being--of my country and my fellow citizens. Ahem! I suppose--I believe it is the custom--a--in short, am I at liberty to choose an a.s.sistant?"

"We were just talkin' about that," said Salem Rock.

"Yes, you choose your own a.s.sistant, of course; but--well, it's usual to choose someone that's agreeable to folks. I believe the village has generally had some say in the matter; not officially, you understand, just kind of complimentary. We nominate you, and you kind o' consult us about who you'll have in to help. That seems about square, don't it?

Doctor Stedman recommended you to Isr'el, I remember."

There was an a.s.senting hum.

Mr. Homer leaned out of the window, all his self-consciousness gone.

"Mr. Rock," he said, eagerly, "I wish most earnestly--I am greatly desirous of having William Jaquith as my a.s.sistant. I--he appears to me a most suitable person. I beg, gentlemen--I hope, boys, that you will agree with me. The only son of his mother, and she is a widow."

He paused, and looked anxiously at the elders.

They had all turned toward him when he appeared, some even going so far as to set their chairs on four legs, and hitching them forward so that they might command a view of their beneficiary.

But now, with one accord, they turned their faces seaward, and became to all appearance deeply interested in a pa.s.sing sail.

"The only son of his mother, and she is a widow!" Mr. Homer repeated, earnestly.

Salem Rock crossed and recrossed his legs uneasily.

"That's all very well, Homer," he said. "No man thinks more of Scripture than what I do, in its place; but this ain't its place. This ain't a question of widders, it's a question of the village. Will Jaquith is a crooked stick, and you know it."

"He has been, Brother Rock, he has been!" said Mr. Homer, eagerly. "I grant you the past; but William is a changed man, he is, indeed. He has suffered much, and a new spirit is born in him. His one wish is to be his mother's stay and support. If you were to see him, Brother Rock, and talk with him, I am sure you would feel as I do. Consider what the poet says: 'The quality of mercy is not strained!'"

"Mebbe it ain't, so fur!" said Seth Weaver; "question is, how strong its back is. If I was Mercy, I should consider w.i.l.l.y Jaquith quite a lug.

Old man b.u.t.ters used to say:

"'Rollin' stones you keep your eyes on!

Some on 'em's pie, and some on 'em's pison.'"

"--His appointment would be acceptable to the ladies of the village, I have reason to think," persisted Mr. Homer. "My venerable relative, Mrs.

Tree, expressed herself strongly--" (Mr. Homer blinked two or three times, as if recalling something of an agitating nature)--"I may say _very_ strongly, in favor of it; in fact, the suggestion came in the first place from her, though I had also had it in mind."

There was a change in the atmosphere; a certain rigidity of neck and set of chin gradually softened and disappeared. The elders shuffled their feet, and glanced one at another.

"It mightn't do no harm to give him a try," said Abram Cutter. "Homer's ben clerk himself fifteen year, and he knows what's wanted."

"That's so," said the elders.