Bitter-Sweet: A Poem Part 5

_Ruth_.

There, little boys and girls-- Off to the kitchen! Now there's fun for you.

Play blind-man's-buff until you break your heads; And then sit down beside the roaring fire, And with wild stories scare yourselves to death.

We'll all be out there, by and by. Meanwhile, I'll try the cellar; and if David, here, Will promise good behavior, he shall be My candle-bearer, basket-bearer, and-- But no! The pitcher I will bear myself.

I'll never trust a pitcher to a man Under this house, and--seventy years of age.

[_The children rush out of the room with a shout, which wakes the baby_.]

That noisy little youngster on the floor Slept through theology but wakes with mirth-- Precocious little creature! He must go Up to his chamber. Come, Grace, take him off-- Basket and all. Mary will lend a hand, And keep you company until he sleeps.

[GRACE _and_ MARY _remove the cradle to the chamber, and_ DAVID _and_ RUTH retire to the cellar_.]

_John_.

[_Rising and yawning_]

Isn't she the strangest girl you ever saw?

_Prudence_.

Queer, rather, I should say. Grace, now, is strange.

I think she treats her husband shamefully.

I can't imagine what possesses her, Thus to toss taunts at him with every word.

If in his doctrines there be truth enough, He'll be a saint.

_Patience_.

If he live long enough.

_John_.

Well, now I tell you, such wild men as he,-- Men who have crazy crotchets in their heads,-- Can't make a woman happy. Don't you see?

He isn't settled. He has wandered off From the old landmarks, and has lost himself I may judge wrongly; but if truth were told There'd be excuse for Grace, I warrant ye.

Grace is a right good girl, or was, before She married David.

_Patience_.

Everybody says He makes provision for his family, Like a good husband.

_Peter_.

We can hardly tell.

When men get loose in their theology The screws are started up in everything.

Of course, I don't apologize for Grace.

I think she might have done more prudently Than introduce her troubles here to-night, But, after all, we do not know the cause That stirs her fretfulness.

Well, let it go!

What does the evening's talk amount to? Who Is wiser for the wisdom of the hour?

The good old paths are good enough for me.

The fathers walked to heaven in them, and we, By following mekly where they trod, may reach The home they found. There will be mysteries; Let those who like, bother their heads with them.

If Ruth and David seek to fathom all, I wish them patience in their bootless quest.

For one, I'm glad the misty talk is done, And we, alone.

_Patience_.

And I.

_John_.

I, too.

_Prudence_.

And I.

FIRST EPISODE.

LOCALITY--_The cellar stair and the cellar_.

PRESENT--DAVID _and_ RUTH.

THE QUESTION ILl.u.s.tRATED BY NATURE.

_Ruth_.

Look where you step, or you'll stumble!

Care for your coat, or you'll crock it!

Down with your crown, man! Be humble!

Put your head into your pocket, Else something or other will knock it.

Don't hit that jar of cuc.u.mbers Standing an the broad-stair!

They have not waked from their slumbers Since they stood there.

_David_.

Yet they have lived in a constant jar!

What remarkable sleepers they are!

_Ruth_.

Turn to the left--shun the wall-- One step more--that is all!

Now we are safe on the ground, I will show you around.

Sixteen barrels of cider Ripening all in a row!

Open the vent-channels wider!

See the froth, drifted like snow.

Blown by the tempest below!

Those delectable juices Flowed through the sinuous sluices Of sweet springs under the orchard; Climbed into fountains that chained them; Dripped into cups that retained them, And swelled till they dropped, and we gained them.