CHAPTER VII--THE FORCE AND THE OBJECT
Well, it took all of fifteen minutes for me to drive the idea out ofthat critter's head that his relative had gone loony. I was hoppin'around on my sound foot tryin' to dress, while I explained things. I hadenough clothes on to be presentable in white folks' society, when therecome a whoop up the back stairs.
"Good morn-in'!" whoops Aunt Lucindy. "Breakfast is ready! Shall I fetchit up?"
"My soul!" squeals Cousin Lemuel, and bolts for his own room. I buttonedmy collar by main strength and answered the hail.
"All hands on deck!" I sung out. "Fetch her along."
There was a mighty stompin' on the stairs, and then through the doormarches as big a woman as ever I see in my born days. 'Twa'n't only thatshe was fleshy,--she must have weighed all of two hundred andthirty,--but she was big, big as a small mountain, seemed so, and wasdressed in some sort of curtain-calico gown that made her look biggeryet. She was luggin' a tray heaped up with vittles enough for a smallship's company.
"Good mornin'," says she, in a voice as big as the rest of her, and ascheery as the fust sunshine on a foggy day. She was smilin' all over,but there was a square look to her chin--the upper one, for she had noless than two and a half--that made me think she could be the otherthing if occasion called for. "Good mornin'," says she. "Is thisLemuel?"
"It ain't," says I. "Cousin Lemuel is in disability just at present. Myname's Snow."
"Oh, yes!" she hollers--every time she spoke she hollered--"Oh, yes!Cap'n Zebulon Snow, of course. I'm Mrs. Hammond. Here's your breakfast."
"Mine!" says I, lookin' at the heap of rations. "You mean mine andCousin Lemuel's."
"Oh, no, I don't," says she, still smilin', and puttin' the tray down onthe table, in the way she did everything, with a bang; "I mean yours,Cap'n Snow. Lemuel's is all ready, though, and I'll fetch it right up. Iknow what men's appetites are; I've had experience."
Afore I could think of an answer to this she swept out of the door likea toy typhoon, the breeze from her skirts settin' papers and light stuffflyin', and was stompin' down the stairs, singin' "Sweet By and By" atthe top of her lungs. I looked at the tray and scratched my head. Myappetite ain't a hummin'-bird's, by a considerable sight, but thatbreakfast would have lasted me all day. As for Lemuel, about all he didwith food was find fault with it. And just then in he comes.
"What's that?" says he, pointin' to the tray.
"That?" says I. "That's my breakfast. Yours is just like it and it'll beright up."
He fidgeted with his specs and bent over to look. His nose was anythingbut a pug, but I give you my word you could almost see it turn up.
"Fried potatoes!" he says; "and fried fish! and fried eggs! andgriddle-cakes! Why--why it's _all_ fried! Horrible!"
"Ain't there enough?" I asks, sarcastic. "If not, I presume likelythere's more in the kitchen."
"Enough!" he fairly screamed it. "I never take anything but a slice ofvery dry toast and a cup of tea in the mornin'. It's a principle ofmine. And I never eat anything fried! I--I--"
"All right," says I, "you tell her so. Here she is." And afore he couldget out of the door she sailed through it, luggin' another tray loadedlike the fust one. She slammed it down and turned to the invalid, whowas tryin' to hide his blanket dressin'-sack behind a chair.
"Here is Lemuel!" she hollers. "It _is_ Lemuel, isn't it? I'm _so_ gladto see you! I'm Lucindy, Lot's auntie. In a way we're related, so wemust shake hands."
She reached over and took his little thin hand in her big one and gaveit a squeeze that made him curl up like a fishin' worm.
"There!" says she, "now we're all acquainted and sociable. Ain't thatnice! You two set right down and eat. I'll trot up again in a fewminutes to see how you're gettin' on. Sure you've got all you want? Allright, then." Out she went, singin' away, and Cousin Lemuel flopped downin a chair.
"Good heavens!" he gasps, working the fingers Aunt Lucindy had shook, tomake sure they was all there. "Good heavens!" says he.
"Yes," says I, "I agree with you."
"She calls me by my Christian name!" he says, pantin', "and I never sawher before in my life! And it--it didn't seem to occur to her that I wasnot fully dressed. What shall I do?"
"Well," says I, "if you asked me I should say you better make believeeat somethin'. What _I_ can't eat I'm goin' to heave out of the backwindow. I'd ruther satisfy that woman than explain to her, enoughsight."
But he wouldn't eat, seemed to be in a sort of daze, as you might say,and went flappin' back to his own room. I tackled the breakfast.
It would take a week to tell you all that happened that forenoon. Mytime's limited, so I'll only tell a little of it. When Aunt Lucindy comeupstairs again and see his tray, not a thing on it touched, she wantedto know why. I done my best to explain, tellin' her Cousin Lemuel wasafflicted in the nerves, and about his tea and toast, and his diff'rentkinds of medicines, and his doctors, and so on, but she wouldn't listento more'n half of it.
"The poor thing!" she says, "Lot told me some about him. He's in error,ain't he. Horatio, my husband that was, was in error, too, but he diedof it. That was afore I got enlightened. And you're in error with yourfoot, Cap'n Snow, so Lot says. Well, it's a mercy I'm here. The firstthing I'll do for you is to give you a cheerful thought. 'All's right inthe world.' You keep thinkin' that this forenoon and I'll give youanother after dinner. I must get a thought for poor Lemuel, but he needsa stronger one. I'll have one ready for him pretty soon. Now I must domy dishes."
Soon's she cleared out this time I locked my door. An hour or so laterthere was a snappish kind of knock on it.
"Cap'n Snow! I say, Cap'n Snow," whispers Lemuel, pretty average testy,"where is my tea and toast? Did you tell that woman about my tea andtoast? I'm hungry."
"I told her," says I. "If you ain't got it, you better tell heryourself."
"But I don't want to see the creature," he says.
"Neither do I; that is, I ain't partic'lar about it. And I couldn't hopdown-stairs if I was. You'll have to do your own tellin'. I'm goin' toread a spell."
My readin' didn't amount to much. He went grumblin' back to his room,but I judge his longin' for tea and toast got the better of his dreadfor the "creature," 'cause pretty soon I heard him go down-stairs. AuntLucindy's singin' and dish-clatterin' stopped, and I heard consider'blepow-wow goin' on. Cousin Lemuel's voice kept gettin' higher andshriller, but Aunt Lucindy's was just the same even cheerfulness all thetime. Then the ex-insect man comes up the stairs again. I was curious,so I unlocked the door.
"How was the toast?" I asked. His usual pale face was bright red and hewas a heap more energetic than I'd ever seen him.
"She--she--that woman's crazy!" he sputters. "She's insane; I told herso. I--"
"Hold on!" I interrupted. "Did you get the toast?"
"I did not. She refused to give it to me. Actually refused! She--she hadthat dreadful fried breakfast on the back of the stove and told me tosit right down and eat it--like a good fellow. A good fellow--to me!--asif I was a dog! A dog, by Jove! I explained--in spite of my justresentment I endeavored to reason with her. I told her the doctor hadforbidden my eatin' a heavy breakfast. I said that my nerves wereshattered and so on. And what do you suppose she said to me? She had thebrazen effrontery to tell me that I had no nerves. Nerves were 'errors,'whatever that means. All I had to do was to think that--that those friedoutrages were all right and they would be. And when I--you'll admit Ihad a good reason--when I lost my temper and expressed my opinion of hershe began to sing. And she kept on singin'. _Such_ singin'! Goodheavens! Horrible!"
"Then you ain't had any breakfast?"
"I have not. But I will have it! I will! You mark my words, I--"
He stopped. "The Sweet By and By" had swung into the lower entry and wasmovin' up the stairs. I expected to see Cousin Lemuel beat for snugharbor, but no sir-ee! he stayed right where he was, settin' up in hischair as straight as a ramrod. Aunt Lucindy's treatment might not beworkin' exactly as she
intended, the patient's nerves might not be anybetter, but his _nerve_ was improvin' fast.
In she swept, smilin' like clockwork, as smooth and as serene as a flatcalm in Ostable cove. She paid no attention to the way the little manglared at her, but turned to me and says: "Well, Cap'n," she says, "haveyou cherished the thought I gave you?"
"Um-hm," says I, "I've put it on ice. I cal'late 'twill keep overSunday."
"I've thought up one for you, Lemuel, you poor thing," she says, turnin'to the insect chaser. "It is--"
"Woman," broke in Cousin Lemuel, "I'll trouble you not to call me a poorthing. Where is my tea and toast?"
She smiled at him, condescendin' but pitiful, same as a cow might smileat a kitten that tried to scratch it--if a cow could smile.
"Your breakfast is on the stove, all nice and warm," she says. "Youdon't really want tea and toast; you only think so. Cap'n Snow will tellyou how nice those fried potatoes are, and the codfish and--"
"Confound your codfish, madam! I shall have that tea and toast. I--I_must_ have it. My system demands it."
She shook her head. "Oh, no, it doesn't," says she. "It will demand allthe nice things I've cooked for you if you only think so. Thought isall. Now let me give you your cheerful thought for the day. It is--"
"Confound your thoughts!" yells the nerve sufferer, jumpin' out of hischair and makin' for the door. "I always have tea and toast forbreakfast, and I intend to have it now."
I hate a fuss, so I tried to pour a little ile on the troubled waters."Now, Lemuel," says I, "don't let's be stubborn. You--"
He whirled on me like a teetotum. "Stubborn!" he snaps, "I was neverstubborn in my life. This is a matter of principle with me. That womanshall give me my tea and toast."
Aunt Lucindy smiled, same as ever. "Oh, no, I sha'n't," says she, "itwould only encourage you in your error and that I shall not permit.Please listen to the thought I have for you. It is _such_ a nice one.'Be true to your higher self and'--"
"Madam," shrieks Lemuel, "my thought about you is that you're an old fatfool! There!" And he rushed into the hall and the next second his doorslammed so it shook the house.
For just one minute I thought Aunt Lucindy was goin' after him. Hersmile stopped, her teeth snapped together, she took one step towards thedoor, and her big hands opened and shut. But that one step was all shetook. When she turned back to me her face was red, but the smile had gotbusy once more. She set down in the cane rocker--it cracked, but itheld--and says she:
"He's a little mite antagonistic, don't you think so, Cap'n Snow?"
"Well," says I, "I should think you might call it that withoutexaggeratin' much."
"Yes," says she, "but I don't mind. There was a time when if anybody'dcalled me an old fat fool I'd have--well, never mind. I'm above suchthings now. Nothin' can make me cross any more. Not even a sassy little,long-nosed shrimp like.... Ahem. Cap'n Snow, have you read 'The Soarin'of Self'? It's a lovely book, an upliftin' book."
I said I hadn't read it and she commenced to tell me about it, repeatin'it by chapters, so to speak. I couldn't make much out of it but awhirligig of words, and when she was just beginnin' I thought I heardLemuel's door creak. However, I didn't hear anything more, and shestrung along and strung along, about "soul" and "mental uplift" and"high altitude of spirit" and a lot more. By and by I commenced tosniff.
"Excuse me, marm," I says, "but seems to me I smell somethin' burnin'.Have you got anything on cookin'?"
_She_ sniffed then. "No," says she, wonderin'. "I can't rememberanything." Then, with another sniff, "But seems as if I smelt it, too.Like--like bread burnin'. Hey? You don't s'pose--"
She put for down-stairs. Next thing I knew there was the greatesthullabaloo below decks that you ever heard. Then up the stairs comesCousin Lemuel, two steps at a jump, which, considerin' that his usualgait had been a crawl, was surprisin' enough of itself. He had ascorched slice of bread in each hand and he stopped on the upper landin'and waved 'em.
"I've got the toast," he yells, triumphant, "and I'm goin' to have thetea." Then he bolts into his room and locked the door.
Up the stairs comes Aunt Lucindy. Her face was so red that it looked asif somebody'd lit a fire inside it, and her big hands was shut tight.She marched straight to that locked door and hollers through thekeyhole.
"You--you little, dried-up critter!" she pants. "Humph! I s'pose you'vebeen sent to try my faith, but you sha'n't shake it. No, sir! you nornobody else can shake it or make me lose my temper. I'm perfectly calmand cheerful this minute. I am! Ha, ha! Ha, ha!"
"I got my toast," hollers Cousin Lemuel from inside. "And I'll have mytea, in spite of all the New Thought cranks in this horrible hole!"
"Indeed you won't. I was prepared for a difficult case when I came here.Cousin Lot told me about your foolish 'nerves' and all the other errorsyour selfishness has brought onto you. I made up my mind to set you inthe right path and I'm goin' to do it."
"I'll have that tea."
"No, you sha'n't. When folks are in error I never give in to 'em. That'smy principle and I stick to it."
When she said "principle" I pretty nigh fell over. If _she'd_ got the"principle" disease the case was desperate. Anyhow, I thought 'twasabout time for somebody with a teaspoonful of common sense to take ahand.
"See here," says I, "for grown-up folks this is the most ridiculousdoin's I ever heard of. Mrs. Hammond, for the land sakes let him havehis tea and maybe we'll have peace along with it."
She turned to me. "Cap'n Snow," she says, "speakin' as one who haslearned to rise above their baser self, and perfectly calm andgood-tempered, I advise you to mind your own business. I don't carenothin' about the tea itself; it's the principle I'm strivin' for, Itell you. Do you s'pose I'll let that little withered-up, sassy,benighted scoffer--"
"There! there!" says I. Then I bent down to the keyhole. "Lemuel," Isays, "be a man and not prize inmate in a feeble-minded home. You're notan idiot. Apologize to this lady and, if you can't get tea, take hotwater."
The answer I got was hotter than any water he was likely to get, enoughsight. And there was some "principle" in it, too.
"Well," says I, disgusted, "I'm durn glad that I'm unprincipled. Fightit out amongst yourselves, but don't you either of you dare come nighme. I mean that." And I went into my room and locked _that_ door.
For two hours I stayed there, readin' some and thinkin' a whole lotmore. Down-stairs Aunt Lucindy was singin' at the top of her lungs--toshow how good her temper was, I presume likely--and out in the upperhall Cousin Lemuel was tiptoein' back and forth and yellin' at her thathe'd have his tea in spite of her, and passin' comments on her music. Inever knew two such stubborn critters in my life, and I couldn't see anysigns of either of 'em givin' in, long as their principles held out.
I remembered a conundrum that, when I was a young one in school, theteacher used to spring on the big boys in the first class in arithmetic.'Twas somethin' like this:
"If an irresistible force runs afoul of an immovable object, what's theresult?"
The boys used to grin and say they didn't know. Neither did I--then; butI was learnin' the answer that very minute. When an irresistible forcemeets an immovable object it's a matter of principle, and the result isliable to be 'most anything. That was the answer, and I was learnin' itby observation and experience, same as the barefooted boy learned wherethe snappin'-turtle's mouth was.
Now the force and the object was in the same house with me, and theminute the doctor, or Jim Henry Jacobs, or anybody else with a horse andteam, come to that house, they could take me away with 'em. I'dcontracted for quiet and rest, not for a session in Bedlam.
Twelve o'clock struck and I begun to think of dinner. I hobbled over tomy door, unlocked it and looked out. Cousin Lemuel's door was open, too,but he wasn't in his room or in the hall either. I wondered where onearth he could be. Next minute I found out.
There was a whoop from the kitchen--Lemuel's voice and brimmin' withpure joy. Then, somewhere in the same neighborh
ood, began a mosttremendous thumpin' and bangin'. A "cast" horse in a narrow stall wasthe only sounds I ever heard that compared with it. It kept on and kepton, and Lemuel was whoopin' and hurrahin' accompaniments. Such a racketyou never heard in your born days.
Thinks I, "The critter's nerves have gone back on him for good. He'sreally crazy and he's killin' that poor mind-curer out of principle."
Somehow or other I hopped down them stairs on my sound foot, draggin't'other after me. Through the dinin'-room I hobbled and into thekitchen. There was a roarin' fire in the cookstove and in front of thatstove was Cousin Lemuel dancin' round with a teapot in his hand. Thecellar door opened out of the kitchen. It was shut tight, and somebodybehind it was bangin' the panels till I expected every second to see 'emgo by the board. If they hadn't been built in the days when they madethings solid they would have.
"What in the world--" I commenced. "You--Lemuel--whatever your nameis--what are you doin'?"
He turned and saw me. His bald head was all shinin' with the heat, hisbig round specs was almost droppin' off the end of his long nose, and hesartin did look like somethin' the cat brought in.
"What am I doin'?" he says. "Can't you see? I'm gettin' my tea, same asI said I would. Ho! ho!"
"Where's Aunt Lucinda?" I sung out. "You loon, have you killed her?"
He laughed. "No, no!" he says. "She deserves to be killed, but she'salive. She refused to give me my tea; she refused to stop her horriblesingin'. She was utterly impossible and I got rid of her. I crept downand watched until she went into the cellar. Then I closed the door andlocked it. Cap'n Snow, I have never been treated as that woman treatedme in my life! It was a matter of principle with me and I was obliged--"
He couldn't say any more because the poundin' on the door broke outagain louder than ever. I headed for it and he got in front of me.
"She is absolutely unharmed, I assure you," he says.
She sounded healthy, that was a fact. The names she called thatinsect-hunter was a caution!
"Let me out!" she kept hollerin'. "You let me out of this cellar, youmiserable little good-for-nothin'! If I ever get my hands on you I'll--"
"Ha! ha!" laughs Lemuel. "I couldn't make her lose her temper, could I?Oh, no, she's perfectly calm now! You're not in the cellar, madam," hecalls to her, "you're in error. Thought can do anything; think yourselfout."
I looked at him. "Well," says I, "for a person with twitterin' nerves,you--"
"D--n my nerves!" says he, which was the most human remark he'd evermade in my hearin' and proved that he wasn't beyond hopes. "You told methat all I needed was somethin' to keep me interested. Well, I've gotit."
"You let me out!" whoops Aunt Lucindy. "Cap'n Snow, if you're there, youlet me out!"
I think maybe I would have let her out, but when I heard what sheintended doin' to Lemuel I thought 'twas too big a risk. I turned andhobbled through the dinin'-room to the front outside door. And there,just turnin' into the yard, was Jim Henry Jacobs, with his horse andbuggy. When he saw me he almost fell off the seat. And maybe I wa'n'tglad to see him!
"You!" he says. "You! _walkin'!_"
"Yes," says I, "and in five minutes I'd have been flyin', I cal'late.Don't stop to talk. Help me into that buggy.... There! drive home asfast as you can!"
"But what under the canopy is the row?" he says.
"Row enough," says I. "I've been shut up along with an irresistibleforce and an immovable object, and I want to get away from 'em. Gitdap."
We turned the horse's head. We had just left the yard when he lookedback. I looked, too. The cellar had an outside entrance, a bulkheaddoor. This door was bendin' and heavin' as if an earthquake was underit. Next minute the staple flew, the door slammed back, and Aunt Lucindypopped out like a jack-in-the-box. She never paid no attention to us,but made for the kitchen.
"Who--what is that?" gasps Jacobs.
"That," says I, "is the irresistible force."
There was a yell from the kitchen and then out of the door flew CousinLemuel. _He_ didn't stop for us, either, but ran like a lamplighter tothe fence, fell over it, and dove head-fust into the woods. After he wasaway out of sight we could hear the bushes crackin'.
"And--and _what_," gasps Jim Henry, "was _that_?"
"That," says I, "was the immovable object. Drive on, for mercy sakes!"
----
Next day Lot came to see me at the Poquit House. He was dreadful upset.Seems he hadn't stayed his time out at camp-meetin'. One of the mediumsor spooks or somethin' over there told him there was a destructiveinfluence hoverin' over his house and he'd hurried back to find outabout it.
"Humph!" says I. "I should have said it had quit hoverin' and had lit.How's Cousin Lemuel?"
Seems Cousin Lemuel was at the hotel over to Bayport. He'd telephonedfor his trunks.
"And he told me," says Lot, wonderin' like, "to tell Aunt Lucindy thathe intended havin' tea and toast three times a day now, as a matter ofprinciple. That's strange, isn't it?"
"Not to me 'tain't," says I. "And how's Aunt Lucindy?"
"Aunt Lucindy's gone back to Denboro," he says. "And she left word forCousin Lemuel that she should send him a 'thought'--whatever thatis--every day by mail from now on. And you'd ought to have seen her facewhen she said it! But, Cap'n Zeb, when are you comin' back to board withme?"
I shook my head. "Lot," says I, "I like you fust-rate, but yourrelations are too irresistibly immovable. I'm goin' to keep clear of 'emfor the rest of my life--as a matter of principle," I says, chucklin'.
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