CHAPTER IV.
HE DOES HIS DUTY AS A CITIZEN.
Babbletown began to be very lively as soon as the weather got cool,the fall after I came home. We had a singing-school once a week, adebating society that met every Wednesday evening, and then we hadsociables, and just before Christmas a fair. All the other young menhad a good time. Every day, when some of them dropped in the store fora chat and a handful of raisins, they would aggravate me by asking:
"_Aren't_ we having a jolly winter of it, John?"
_I_ never had a good time. _I_ never enjoyed myself like other folks.I spent enough money and made enough good resolutions, but somethingalways occurred to destroy my anticipated pleasure. I can't hear alyceum or debating society mentioned to this day, without feeling"cold-chills" run down my spine.
I took part in the exercises the evening ours was opened. I had beenrequested by the committee to furnish the poem for the occasion. As Iwas just from a first-class academy, where I had read the valedictory,it was taken for granted that I was the most likely one to "fill thebill."
I accepted the proposition. To be bashful is a far different thingfrom being modest. I wrote the poem. I sat up nights to do it. The waycandles were consumed caused father to wonder where his best box ofspermacetis had gone to. I knew I could do the poetry, and I firmlyresolved that I would read it through, from beginning to end, in aclear, well-modulated voice, that could be heard by all, including theminister and Belle Marigold. I would not blush, or stammer, or get afrog in my throat. I swore solemnly to myself that I would not. _Somefolks_ should see that my bashfulness was wearing off faster than thegold from an oroide watch. Oh, I would show 'em! Some things could bedone as well as others. I would no longer be the laughing-stock ofBabbletown. My past record should be wiped out! I would write my poem,and I would _read it_--read it calmly and impressively, so as to dofull justice to it.
I got the poem ready. I committed it to memory, so that if the lightswere dim, or I lost my place, I should not be at the mercy of themanuscript. The night came. I entered the hall with Belle on my arm,early, so as to secure her a front seat.
"Keep cool, John," were her whispered words, as I left her to take myplace on the platform.
"Oh, I shall be cool enough. I know every line by heart; have said itto myself one hundred and nineteen times without missing a word."
I'm not going to bore you with the poem here; but will give the firstfour lines as they were _written_ and as I _spoke_ them:
"Hail! Babbletown, fair village of the plain! Hail! friends and fellow-citizens. In vain I strive to sing the glories of this place, Whose history back to early times I trace."
The room was crowded, the president of the society made a few openingremarks, which closed by presenting Mr. Flutter, the poet of theoccasion. I was quite easy and at home until I arose and bowed as hespoke my name. Then something happened to my senses, I don't knowwhat; I only knew I lost every one of them for about two minutes. Iwas blind, deaf, dumb, tasteless, senseless, and feelingless. Then Icame to a little, rallied, and perceived that some of the boy werebeginning to pound the floor with their heels. I made a feint ofholding my roll of verses nearer the lamp at my right hand, summonedtraitor memory to return, and began:
"Hail!"
Was that my voice? I did not recognize it. It was more as if a mousein the gallery had squeaked. It would never do. I cleared anythroat--which was to have been free from frogs--and a strange, hoarsevoice, no more like mine than a crow is like a nightingale, came outwith a jerk, about six feet away, and remarked, as if surprised:
"Hail!"
With a desperate effort, I resolved that this night or never I was toachieve greatness. I cleared the way again and recommenced:
"Hail!"
A boy's voice at the back of the room was heard to insinuate thatperhaps it would be easier for me to let it snow or rain. That made meangry. I was as cool as ice all in a moment; I felt that I had themastery of the situation, and, making a sweeping gesture with my lefthand, I looked over my hearers' heads, and continued:
"Hail! Fabbletown, bare village of the plain--Babbletown, fair pillageof the vain--. Hail! friends and fellow-citizens--!"
It was evident that I had borrowed somebody else's voice--my ownmother wouldn't have recognized it--and a mighty poor show of a voice,too. It was like a race-horse that suddenly balks, and loses the race.I had put up heavy stakes on that voice, but I couldn't budge it. Notan inch faster would it go. In vain I whipped and spurred in silentdesperation--it balked at "fellow-citizens," and there it stuck. Theaudience, good-naturedly, waited five minutes. At the end of thattime, I sat down, amid general applause, conscious that I had madethe sensation of the evening.
Belle gave me the mitten that evening, and went home in Fred Hencoop'ssleigh.
We didn't speak, after that, until about a week before the fair. She,with some other girls, then came in the store to beg for "scraps" ofsilk, muslin, and so-forth, to dress dolls for the fair. They werevery sweet, for they knew they could make a fool of me. Father was notin, and I guess they timed their visit so that he wouldn't be. Theygot half a yard of pink silk, as much of blue, ditto of lilac andblack, a yard of every kind of narrow ribbon in the store, a remnantof book-muslin, three yards--in all, about six dollars' worth of"scraps," and then asked me if I wasn't going to give a box of raisinsand the coffee for the table. I said I would.
"And you'll come, Mr. Flutter, won't you? It'll be a failure unless_you_ are there. You must _promise_ to come. We won't go out of thisstore till you do. And, oh, don't forget to bring _your purse_ along.We expect all the young gentlemen to _come prepared_, you know."
There is no doubt that I went to the fair. It made my heart ache to doit--for I'd already been pretty extravagant, one way and another--butI put a ten-dollar bill in my wallet, resolved to spend every cent ofit rather than appear mean.
I don't know whether I appeared mean or not; I do know that I spentevery penny of that ten dollars, and considerable more besides. Ifthere was anything at that fair that no one else wanted, and that wasnot calculated to supply any known want of the human race, it waspalmed off on me. I became the unhappy possessor of five dresseddolls, a lady's "nubia," a baby-jumper, fourteen "tidies," a set ofparlor croquet with wickets that wouldn't stand on their legs, apatent churn warranted to make a pound of fresh butter in threeminutes out of a quart of chalk-and-water, a set of ladies' nightcaps,two child's aprons, a castle-in-the-air, a fairy-palace, a doll'splay-house, a toy-balloon, a box of marbles, a pair of spectacles, apair of pillow-shams, a young lady's work-basket, seven needle-books,a cradle-quilt, a good many bookmarks, a sofa-cushion, and an infant'srattle, warranted to cut one's eye teeth; besides which I had ticketsin a fruit cake, a locket, a dressing-bureau, a baby-carriage, alady's watch-chain, and an infant's wardrobe complete.
When I feebly remonstrated that I'd spent all the money I brought, Iwas smilingly assured by innumerable female Tootses that "it was of noconsequence"; but I found there _were_ consequences when I came tosettle afterward for half the things at the fair, because I was toobashful to say No, boldly.
Fred Hencoop auctioned off the remaining articles after eleveno'clock. Every time he put up something utterly unsalable, he wouldlook over at me, nod, and say: "Thank you, John; did you say fiftycents?" or "Did I hear you say a dollar? A dollar--dollar--going, goneto our friend and patron, John Flutter, Jr.," and some of the ladymanagers would "make a note of it," and I was too everlastinglyembarrassed to deny it.
"John," said father, about four o'clock in the afternoon the day afterthe fair--"John, did you buy all these things?"--the front part of thestore was piled and crammed with my unwilling purchases.
"Father, I don't know whether I did or not."
"How much is the bill?"
"$98.17."
"How are you going to pay it?"
"I've got the hundred dollars in bank grandmother gave me when shedied."
"Draw the money, pay your debts, and eith
er get married at once andmake these things useful, or we'll have a bonfire in the back yard."
"I guess we'd better have the bonfire, father. I don't care for anygirl but Belle, and she won't have me."
"Won't have you! I'm worth as much as Squire Marigold any day."
"I know it, father; but I took her down to supper last night, and Iwas so confused, with all the married ladies looking on, I made amess of it. I put two teaspoonfuls of sugar in her oyster stew,salted her coffee, and insisted on her taking pickles with herice-cream. She didn't mind that so much, but when I stuffed my saucerinto my pocket, and conducted her into the coal-cellar instead of thehall, she got out of patience. Father, I think I'd better go toArizona in the spring. I'm--"
"Go to grass! if you want to," was the unfeeling reply; "but don't youever go to another fair, unless I go along to take care of you."
But I think the bonfire made him feel better.
The Blunders of a Bashful Man Page 4