You bastard! yells Herbie.
Naughty, naughty! says George, giving him another cuff. What do you say to ladies? Speak up now, or I’ll have to take your pants down.
Herbie now assumed an angelic expression, raised his eyes heavenward, and with great deliberation, delivered himself thus:
Gentle creature of God, may the angels deliver you! There are nine of us in all, not counting the goat. My name is O’Connell, Ma’am. Terence O’Connell. We were going to Niagara Falls, but the weather…
The old cluck refused to hear any more. You’re a public disgrace, the three of you, she cried. Now stay here, all of you, while I look for the constable.
Yes, Ma’am, says George, touching his cap, we’ll stay right here, won’t we, Terence? With this he gives Herbie a sound slap in the face.
Ouch! yells Herbie.
Stop that, you fool! screams the spinster. And you! she says to me, why don’t you do something? Or are you crazy too?
That I am, says I, and so saying, I put my fingers to my nose and began bleating like a nanny goat.
Stay right here! I’ll be back in a minute! She ran towards the station master’s office.
Quick! says George, let’s get the hell out of here! The two of us grabbed the handle of the baby carriage and started running. Herbie stood there a moment, unfastening his bonnet; then he too took to his heels.
Good work, Herbie, said George, when we got safely out of sight. Let’s rehearse this tonight. Hen’ll give you a new spiel, won’t you Hen?
I don’t want to be the baby any more, said Herbie.
All right, said George amiably, we’ll let Hen ride in the carriage.
If I can squeeze in, you mean.
We’ll squeeze you in, if we have to use a sledgehammer.
But after dinner that night we got new ideas, better ones, we thought. We lay awake till midnight discussing plans and projects.
Just as we were dozing off, George Marshall suddenly sat up.
Are you awake, Hen? he says.
I groaned.
There’s something I forgot to ask you.
What’s that? I mumbled, fearing to wake myself up.
Una … Una Gifford! You haven’t said a word about her all this time. What’s the matter, aren’t you in love with her any more?
Jesus! I groaned, what a thing to ask me in the middle of the night.
I know, Hen, I’m sorry. I just want to know if you still love her.
You know the answer, I replied.
Good, I thought so. O.K., Hen, good-night!
Good-night! said Herbie.
Good-night! said I.
I tried to fall back to sleep but it was impossible. I lay there staring at the ceiling and thinking of Una Gifford. After a while I decided to get it out of my system.
Are you still awake, George? I called softly.
You want to know if I saw her lately, don’t you? he said.
He hadn’t closed his eyes, obviously.
Yeah, I would. Tell me anything. Any little crumb will do.
I wish I could, Hen, I know how you feel, but there just isn’t anything to tell.
Christ, don’t say that! Make up something!
All right, Hen, I’ll do that for you. Hold on a minute. Let me think…
Something simple, I said. I don’t want a fantastic story.
Listen, Hen, this is no lie: I know she loves you. I can’t explain how I know, but I do.
That’s good, I said. Tell me a little more.
The last time I saw her I tried to pump her about you. She pretended to be absolutely indifferent. But I could tell she was dying to hear about you…
What I’d like to know, I broke in, is this: has she taken up with someone else?
There is somebody, Hen, I can’t deny that. But it’s nothing to worry about. He’s just a fill-in.
What’s his name?
Carnahan or something like that. Forget about bun! What worries Una is the widow. That hurt her, you know.
She can’t know very much about that!
She knows more than you think. Where she gets it, I don’t know. Anyway, her pride’s hurt.
But I’m not going with the widow any more, you know that.
Tell it to her! says George.
I wish I could.
Hen, why don’t you make a clean breast of it She’s big enough to take it.
I can’t do it, George. I’ve thought and thought about it, but I can’t screw up the courage.
Maybe I can help you, said George.
I sat up with a bang. You think so? Really? Listen, George, I’d swear my life away to you if you could patch it up. I know she’d listen to you … When are you going back?
Not so fast, Hen. Remember, it’s an old sore. I’m not a wizard.
But you’ll try, you promise me that?
Of course, of course. Fratres Semper!
I thought hard and fast for a few moments, then I said: I’ll write her a letter tomorrow, saying I’m with you and that we’ll both be back soon. That might prepare the way.
Better not, said George promptly. Better spring a surprise on her. I know Una.
Maybe he was right. I didn’t know what to think. I felt elated and depressed at the same time. Besides, there was no prodding him into quick action.
Better go to sleep, said George. We’ve got lots of time to hatch up something.
I’d go back tomorrow, if I could get you to go with me.
You’re crazy, Hen. I’m still convalescing. She won’t get married in a hurry, if that’s what’s eating you up.
The very thought of her marrying someone else petrified me. Somehow I had never visualized that. I sank back on the pillow like a dying man. I actually groaned with anguish.
Hen…
Yes?
Before I go to sleep I want to tell you something … You’ve got to stop taking this so seriously. Sure, if we can patch it up, fine! I’d like nothing better than to see you get her. But you won’t if you let it get under your skin. She’s going to make you miserable just as long as she can. That’s her way of getting back at you. She’s going to say No because you expect her to say No. You’re off balance. You’re licked before you start … If you want a bit of advice, I’d say drop her for a while. Drop her cold. It’s a risk, certainly, but you’ve got to take it. As long as she’s got the upper hand you’re going to dance like a puppet. No woman can resist doing that. She’s not an angel, even if you like to think she is. She’s a swell-looking girl and she’s got a big heart. I’d marry her myself, if I thought I stood a chance … Listen, Hen, there’s plenty to pick from. For all you know, there may even be better ones than Una. Have you ever thought of that?
You’re talking drivel, I replied. I wouldn’t care if she were the worst bitch in creation … she’s the one I want—and no one else.
O.K., Hen, it’s your funeral. I’m going to sleep…
I lay awake a long while, revolving all manner of memories. They were delicious thoughts, filled with Una’s presence. I was certain George would patch it up for me. He liked to be coaxed, that was all. Through a slit in the window-shade I could see a brilliant blue star. Seemed like a good omen. I wondered, calf-like, is she were also lying awake mooning about me. I concentrated all my powers, hoping to wake her if she were asleep. Under my breath I softly called her name. It was such a beautiful name. It suited her perfectly.
Finally I began to doze. The words of an olden song came to my lips…
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus our Saviour did come for to die
For poor orn’ry people like you and like I
I wonder as I wander out under the sky.
Forget all about her? How easy to say that! I could never, never forget Una, not even if I lived to have nine wives and forty-six children. George was really a sap. He would never know what it was to he in love—he was too clear-headed. I made up my mind to find out all about that guy Carnahan as soon as I got back. Taking no chances. I wondered some more as I wandered out under the sky. Then blotto—like a sheet of lead falling.
The next day it rained. We cooped ourselves up in the barn the whole day, playing one game after another—euchre, whist, backgammon, checkers, dominoes, lotto, parchesi … We even played jacks. Towards evening George suggested that we try out the organ which was in the parlor. It was an ancient, wheezy contraption, just made for melancholy hymns. George and I took turns playing. We sang with full lungs, lustily, like Christian martyrs. Our favorite, which we jazzed up finally, was—Will There be any Stars in my Crown? Herbie could sing it to perfection, with tears in his eyes. His mother, never dreaming that we were clowning it, came in, took a seat in the corner, and murmured now and then: How beautiful!
Finally the old man appeared. He too joined in the singing. Said it made him feel good. Hoped we boys would continue to live and act like good Christians. At dinner he thanked God for having inspired us to sing His praises so beautifully. He thanked Him heartily for all the blessings He had showered on them throughout the years.
It was a smoked tenderloin of pork this time, with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes, red cabbage,
