ELIJAH DOXEY AND HIS LOCKED BOX "Well," suggested Mrs. Lathrop one pleasant Saturday morning, a few days later, when she and her friend met at the fence. Miss Clegg looked slightly fretted and more than slightly warm, for she had been giving her garden an uncommonly vigorous weeding on account of an uncommonly vigorous shower which had fallen the afternoon before. The weeding had been so strenuous that Miss Clegg was quite disposed to stop and rest, and as she joined her neighbor and read the keen interest that never failed to glow in the latter's eyes, her own expression softened slightly and she took up her end of the conversation with her customary capability at giving forth. "I don't know," she began, "an' Mr. Kimball don't know either. Elijah was tellin' me all about it last night. He is a trouble, Mrs. Lathrop, but I don't know but what it pays to have a man around when you can have them to talk to like I have him. Of course a new broom sweeps clean an' I've no intention of supposin' that Elijah will ever keep on coverin' his soap an' scrapin' his feet long, but so far so good, an' last night it was real pleasant to hear the rain an' him together tellin' how much trouble they're havin', owin' to Hiram's bein' too energetic wringin' the handle of the printin' press an' then to think as when he was all done talkin' it would be him an' not me as in common decency would have to go out in the wet to padlock the chickens. Seems, Mrs. Lathrop, as they're really havin' no end o' trouble over the new paper an' Elijah's real put out. He says Hiram had a idea as the more the speed the better the paper an' was just wringin' for dear "What do you—?" began Mrs. Lathrop. "Well, I can't say as I really know what to think of him just yet. I never see such a young man afore. He has some very curious ways, Mrs. Lathrop, ways as make me feel that I can't tell you positively "Do—" began Mrs. Lathrop. "Then too, he said yesterday," Miss Clegg continued, "as he wanted it distinctly understood as his things was never to be touched by no one an' I told him as he could freely an' frankly rely on me. Now that's goin' to make it a great deal more work to hunt for that key from now on. An' I don't like to have it made any harder work to find a thing, as I have n't found yet a tall." "Wh—" said Mrs. Lathrop. "Not me," said Miss Clegg; "I ain't got any give-up in me. I'll keep on until I find it if I have to board Elijah Doxey till he dies or till I drop dead in my huntin' tracks. But I can see that my feelin' towards him is n't goin' to be what it "Did you—" asked Mrs. Lathrop. "See Mrs. Macy?—yes, I see her in the square yesterday noon. She was just back from Meadville. She says the editor of the Meadville Mixture is awful bitter over our havin' a paper of our own, an' says he'll cross tinfoils with Elijah any day. I told Elijah what she said last night, but Elijah did n't mind. I hoped tellin' him'd take his appetite away, but he ate eleven biscuits just the same. That reminds me as he's comin' home to dinner to-day, an' I ought to be goin' in." "Goo—" said Mrs. Lathrop. —"But I'll come over after he goes an' tell you how the paper's comin' out," Susan added, as she turned from the fence; and as she was always true to her promises she did come over to Mrs. Lathrop's kitchen after dinner, wearing a clean apron and a new expression—an expression of mixed doubt and displeasure. Mrs. Lathrop hurried to give her a chair and make her welcome, and then took a chair herself and sat at attention. Susan began at once. "Well," she said, "it's a good thing as the Fishers are thinkin' some of sendin' John Bunyan to college, for he's surely a sight too smart for this town." Mrs. Lathrop opened her eyes in wide surprise, as it was certainly not about John Bunyan that she had expected to hear tales. "Elijah says as John Bunyan made them all feel pretty cheap down at the printin' press this mornin'," Miss Clegg went on: "seems the whole community was squeezin' into the back of Mr. Kimball's store to see what under the sun could be done to get the first paper out of the press, when all of a sudden John Bunyan spoke up an' asked why they did n't turn the handle backward an' empty the whole muss out that way. Well, every one see the sense of what he said right off, an' so they began, an' as soon as they began to turn the crank backward the paper began to come out backward, tore, of course, but as nice as pie. "Well, Elijah says he most thought his uncle was goin' to take his job as editor away and give it to John Bunyan right off, he was so pleased. But Mr. Kimball ain't the sort of uncle as Elijah so far supposes himself to of got, an' he only give John Bunyan fifty cents' worth of soda water tickets, an' they're to work to-night (if Lucy'll let Hiram), an' have the paper ready for church to-morrow. The Jilkins an' Sperrits was a little disapp'inted 'cause they was n't comin' in to church, countin' on stayin' home an' readin' the paper all day instead, but Elijah's goin' to put in a late column of late news an' give 'em their money's worth that way. Mr. Kimball had arranged to have one whole column of Ks to draw attention to his dried apples, an' he's goin' to give it up for the occasion an' let Elijah write a Extra about the cause of the delay, for that's really all the late news there is. Then, too, Elijah's goin' to have a joke about the paper's comin' in among us like a man goes into politics, "Ca—" suggested Mrs. Lathrop. "I don't see how I can," said Miss Clegg, dubiously. "I shall do my best, but, oh my, a young man as is a editor an' has red hair an' a flute is awful uncertain to count on. I almost wish I had n't took him." "Why—" asked Mrs. Lathrop. "I can't now," said Miss Clegg, "the arrangements of this world is dreadful hard on women. It's very easy to take a man into your house but once a woman has done it an' the man's settled, nobody but a undertaker can get him out in any way as is respectable accordin' to my order of thinkin'." "But you—" suggested Mrs. Lathrop, comfortingly. "I know, but even three months is a long time," said Miss Clegg, "an' he's begun to leave his soap uncovered already, an' oh my heavens alive, how am I ever goin' to stand that flute!" |