CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH AN OLD FRIEND APPEARS AND THE BRIDAL TRIP TAKES AFRESH START.
"Gone?" cried Euphemia, who, with myself, had been listening mostintently to Pomona's story.
"Yes," continued Pomona, "she was gone. I give one jump out of bedand felt the gases, but they was all right. But she was gone, an' herclothes was gone. I dressed, as pale as death, I do expect, an' hurriedto Jone's room, an' he an' me an' the big man was all ready in no timeto go an' look for her. General Tom Thumb didn't seem very anxious, butwe made him hurry up an' come along with us. We couldn't afford to leavehim nowheres. The clerk down-stairs--a different one from the chap whowas there the night before--said that a middle-aged, elderly lady camedown about an hour before an' asked him to tell her the way to theUnited States Bank, an' when he told her he didn't know of any suchbank, she jus' stared at him, an' wanted to know what he was put therefor. So he didn't have no more to say to her, an' she went out, an' hedidn't take no notice which way she went. We had the same opinion abouthim that Mrs. Jackson had, but we didn't stop to tell him so. We huntedup an' down the streets for an hour or more; we asked every policeman wemet if he'd seen her; we went to a police station; we did everything wecould think of, but no Mrs. Jackson turned up. Then we was so tired an'hungry that we went into some place or other an' got our breakfast. Whenwe started out ag'in, we kep' on up one street an' down another, an'askin' everybody who looked as if they had two grains of sense,--whichmost of 'em didn't look as if they had mor'n one, an' that was in useto get 'em to where they was goin.' At last, a little ways down a smallstreet, we seed a crowd, an' the minute we see it Jone an' me bothsaid in our inside hearts: 'There she is!' An' sure enough, when we gotthere, who should we see, with a ring of street-loafers an' boys aroundher, but Mrs. Andrew Jackson, with her little straw hat an' her greencarpet-slippers, a-dancin' some kind of a skippin' fandango, an'a-holdin' out her skirts with the tips of her fingers. I was jus' agoin'to rush in an' grab her when a man walks quick into the ring and touchesher on the shoulder. The minute I seed him I knowed him. It was our oldboarder!"
"It was?" exclaimed Euphemia.
"Yes it was truly him, an' I didn't want him to see me there in suchcompany, an' he most likely knowin' I was on my bridal-trip, an' so Imade a dive at my bonnet to see if I had a vail on; an' findin' one, Ihauled it down.
"'Madam,' says the boarder, very respectful, to Mrs. Jackson, 'wheredo you live? Can't I take you home?' 'No, sir,' says she, 'at least notnow. If you have a carriage, you may come for me after a while. I amwaiting for the Bank of the United States to open, an' until which timeI must support myself on the light fantastic toe,' an' then she tukup her skirts, an' begun to dance ag'in. But she didn't make mor'n twoskips before I rushed in, an' takin' her by the arm hauled her out o'the ring. An' then up comes the big man with his face as red as fire.'Look' here!' says he to her, as if he was ready to eat her up. 'Did youdraw every cent of that money?' 'Not yet, not yet,' says she. 'You did,you purse-proud cantalope,' says he. 'You know very well you did, an'now I'd like to know where my ox-money is to come from.' But Jone an'me didn't intend to wait for no sich talk as this, an' he tuk the manby the arm, and I tuk the old woman, an' we jus' walked 'em off. Theboarder he told the loafers to get out an' go home, an' none of 'emfollered us, for they know'd if they did he'd a batted 'em over thehead. But he comes up alongside o' me, as I was a' walkin' behind withMrs. Jackson, an' says he: 'How d'ye do, Pomona?' I must say I felt asif I could slip in between two flagstones, but as I couldn't get away, Isaid I was pretty well. 'I heared you was on your bridal trip,' says heag'in; 'is this it?' It was jus' like him to know that, an' as there wasno help for it, I said it was. 'Is that your husband?' says he, pointin'to Jone. 'Yes,' says I. 'It was very good in him to come along,' sayshe. 'Is these two your groomsman and bridesmaid?' 'No sir,' says I.'They're crazy.' 'No wonder,' says he. 'It's enough to drive 'em so, tosee you two,' an' then he went ahead an' shook hands with Jone, an' toldhim he'd know'd me a long time; but he didn't say nuthin' about havin'histed me out of a winder, for which I was obliged to him. An' then hecome back to me an' says he, 'Good-mornin', I must go to the office. Ihope you'll have a good time for the rest of your trip. If you happento run short o' lunertics, jus' let me know, and I'll furnish you withanother pair.' 'All right,' says I; 'but you mustn't bring your littlegirl along.'
"He kinder laughed at this, as we walked away, an' then he turnedaround an' come back, and says he, 'Have you been to any the-ay-ters, oranything, since you've been in town?' 'No,' says I, 'not one.' 'Well,'says he, 'you ought to go. Which do you like best, the the-ay-ter, thecir-cus, or wild-beasts?' I did really like the the-ay-ter best, havin'thought of bein' a play-actor, as you know, but I considered I'd betterlet that kind o' thing slide jus' now, as bein' a little too romantic,right after the 'sylum, an' so I says, 'I've been once to a circus, an'once to a wild-beast garden, an' I like 'em both. I hardly know which Ilike best--the roarin' beasts, a-prancin' about in their cages, with thesmell of blood an' hay, an' the towerin' elephants; or the horses, an'the music, an' the gauzy figgers at the circus, an' the splendid knightsin armor an' flashin' pennants, all on fiery steeds, a-plungin' ag'inthe sides of the ring, with their flags a-flyin' in the grand entry,'says I, real excited with what I remembered about these shows.
"'Well,' says he, 'I don't wonder at your feelin's. An' now, here's twotickets for to-night, which you an' your husband can have, if youlike, for I can't go. They're to a meetin' of the Hudson CountyEnter-mo-logical Society, over to Hoboken, at eight o'clock.'
"'Over to Hoboken!' says I; 'that's a long way.'
"'Oh no, it isn't,' says he. 'An' it wont cost you a cent, but theferry. They couldn't have them shows in the city, for, if the creatureswas to get loose, there's no knowin' what might happen. So take 'em, an'have as much fun as you can for the rest of your trip. Good-bye!' An'off he went.
"Well, we kep' straight on to the doctor's, an' glad we was when we gotthere, an' mad he was when we lef' Mrs. Jackson an' the General on hishands, for we wouldn't have no more to do with 'em, an' he couldn't helpundertaking' to see that they got back to the asylum. I thought at firsthe wouldn't lift a finger to get us our trunk; but he cooled down aftera bit, an' said he hoped we'd try some different kind of institution forthe rest of our trip, which we said we thought we would.
"That afternoon we gawked around, a-lookin' at all the outside shows,for Jone said he'd have to be pretty careful of his money now, an' hewas glad when I told him I had two free tickets in my pocket for a showin the evenin.'
"As we was a-walkin' down to the ferry, after supper, says he:
"'Suppose you let me have a look at them tickets.'
"So I hands 'em to him. He reads one of 'em, and then he reads theother, which he needn't 'a' done, for they was both alike, an' then heturns to me, an' says he:
"'What kind of a man is your boarder-as-was?'
"It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to say jus' what he was, but Igive Jone the idea, in a general sort of way, that he was pretty lively.
"'So I should think,' says he. 'He's been tryin' a trick on us, andsendin' us to the wrong place. It's rather late in the season for a showof the kind, but the place we ought to go to is a potato-field.'
"'What on earth are you talkin' about?' says I, dumbfoundered.
"'Well,' says he, 'it's a trick he's been playin'. He thought a bridaltrip like ours ought to have some sort of a outlandish wind-up, an' sohe sent us to this place, which is a meetin' of chaps who are agoin'to talk about insec's,--principally potato-bugs, I expec'--an' anythingstupider than that, I s'pose your boarder-as-was couldn't think of,without havin' a good deal o' time to consider.'
"'It's jus' like him,' says I. 'Let's turn round and go back,' which wedid, prompt.
"We gave the tickets to a little boy who was sellin' papers, but I don'tbelieve he went.
"'Now then,' says Jone, after he'd been thinkin' awhile, 'there'll be nomore foolin' on this trip. I've blocked out the whole
of the rest of it,an' we'll wind up a sight better than that boarder-as-was has any ideaof. To-morrow we'll go to father's an' if the old gentleman has got anymoney on the crops, which I expec' he has, by this time, I'll take upa part o' my share, an' we'll have a trip to Washington, an' see thePresident, an' Congress, an' the White House, an' the lamp alwaysa-burnin' before the Supreme Court, an'--'
"'Don't say no more, says I, 'it's splendid!'
"So, early the nex' day, we goes off jus' as fast as trains would takeus to his father's, an' we hadn't been there mor'n ten minutes, beforeJone found out he had been summoned on a jury.
"'When must you go?' says I, when he come, lookin' a kind o' pale, totell me this.
"'Right off,' says he. 'The court meets this mornin'. If I don't hurryup, I'll have some of 'em after me. But I wouldn't cry about it. I don'tbelieve the case'll last more'n a day.'
"The old man harnessed up an' took Jone to the court-house, an' I wenttoo, for I might as well keep up the idea of a bridal-trip as not. Iwent up into the gallery, and Jone, he was set among the other men inthe jury-box.
"The case was about a man named Brown, who married the half-sister of aman named Adams, who afterward married Brown's mother, and sold Browna house he had got from Brown's grandfather, in trade for half agrist-mill, which the other half of was owned by Adams's half-sister'sfirst husband, who left all his property to a soup society, in trust,till his son should come of age, which he never did, but left a willwhich give his half of the mill to Brown, and the suit was between Brownand Adams and Brown again, and Adams's half-sister, who was divorcedfrom Brown, and a man named Ramsey, who had put up a new over-shot wheelto the grist-mill."
"Oh my!" exclaimed Euphemia. "How could you remember all that?"
"I heard it so often, I couldn't help remembering it," replied Pomona.And she went on with her narrative.
"That case wasn't a easy one to understand, as you may see foryourselves, and it didn't get finished that day. They argyed over it afull week. When there wasn't no more witnesses to carve up, one lawyermade a speech, an' he set that crooked case so straight, that youcould see through it from the over-shot wheel clean back to Brown'sgrandfather. Then another feller made a speech, and he set the wholething up another way. It was jus' as clear, to look through, but it wasanother case altogether, no more like the other one than a apple-pie islike a mug o' cider. An' then they both took it up, an' they swung itaround between them, till it was all twisted an' knotted an' wound up,an' tangled, worse than a skein o' yarn in a nest o' kittens, an' thenthey give it to the jury.
"Well, when them jurymen went out, there wasn't none of 'em, as Jonetole me afterward, as knew whether is was Brown or Adams as was dead,or whether the mill was to grind soup, or to be run by soup-power. Ofcourse they couldn't agree; three of 'em wanted to give a verdict forthe boy that died, two of 'em was for Brown's grandfather, an' the restwas scattered, some goin' in for damages to the witnesses, who ought toget somethin' for havin' their char-ac-ters ruined. Jone he jus' heldback, ready to jine the other eleven as soon as they'd agree. But theycouldn't do it, an' they was locked up three days and four nights. You'dbetter believe I got pretty wild about it, but I come to court every dayan' waited an' waited, bringin' somethin' to eat in a baskit.
"One day, at dinner-time, I seed the judge astandin' at the court-roomdoor, a-wipin' his forrid with a handkerchief, an' I went up to him an'said, 'Do you think, sir, they'll get through this thing soon?'
"'I can't say, indeed,' said he. 'Are you interested in the case?'
"'I should think I was,' said I, an' then I told him about Jone's bein'a juryman, an' how we was on our bridal-trip.
"'You've got my sympathy, madam,' says he, 'but it's a difficult case todecide, an' I don't wonder it takes a good while.'
"'Nor I nuther,' says I, 'an' my opinion about these things is, that ifyou'd jus' have them lawyers shut up in another room, an' make 'em dotheir talkin' to theirselves, the jury could keep their minds clear, andsettle the cases in no time.'
"'There's some sense in that, madam,' says he, an' then he went intocourt ag'in.
"Jone never had no chance to jine in with the other fellers, for theycouldn't agree, an' they were all discharged, at last. So the wholething went for nuthin.
"When Jone come out, he looked like he'd been drawn through a pump-log,an' he says to me, tired-like,
"'Has there been a frost?'
"'Yes,' says I, 'two of 'em.'
"'All right, then,' says he. 'I've had enough of bridal-trips, withtheir dry falls, their lunatic asylums, and their jury-boxes. Let'sgo home and settle down. We needn't be afraid, now that there's been afrost.'"
"Oh, why will you live in such a dreadful place?" cried Euphemia. "Youought to go somewhere where you needn't be afraid of chills."
"That's jus' what I thought, ma'am," returned Pomona. "But Jone an' megot a disease-map of this country an' we looked all over it careful, an'wherever there wasn't chills there was somethin' that seemed a good dealwuss to us. An' says Jone, 'If I'm to have anything the matter with me,give me somethin' I'm used to. It don't do for a man o' my time o' lifeto go changin' his diseases.'"
"So home we went. An' there we is now. An' as this is the end of thebridal-trip story, I'll go an' take a look at the cow an' the chickensan' the horse, if you don't mind."
Which we didn't,--and we gladly went with her over the estate.
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