Chapter XXX
Mrs. Skinner's Romance
Anne stepped off the train at Valley Road station and looked about tosee if any one had come to meet her. She was to board with a certainMiss Janet Sweet, but she saw no one who answered in the least to herpreconception of that lady, as formed from Esther's letter. The onlyperson in sight was an elderly woman, sitting in a wagon with mail bagspiled around her. Two hundred would have been a charitable guess at herweight; her face was as round and red as a harvest-moon and almostas featureless. She wore a tight, black, cashmere dress, made in thefashion of ten years ago, a little dusty black straw hat trimmed withbows of yellow ribbon, and faded black lace mits.
"Here, you," she called, waving her whip at Anne. "Are you the newValley Road schoolma'am?"
"Yes."
"Well, I thought so. Valley Road is noted for its good-lookingschoolma'ams, just as Millersville is noted for its humly ones. JanetSweet asked me this morning if I could bring you out. I said, 'SartinI kin, if she don't mind being scrunched up some. This rig of mine'skinder small for the mail bags and I'm some heftier than Thomas!' Justwait, miss, till I shift these bags a bit and I'll tuck you in somehow.It's only two miles to Janet's. Her next-door neighbor's hired boy iscoming for your trunk tonight. My name is Skinner--Amelia Skinner."
Anne was eventually tucked in, exchanging amused smiles with herselfduring the process.
"Jog along, black mare," commanded Mrs. Skinner, gathering up the reinsin her pudgy hands. "This is my first trip on the mail rowte. Thomaswanted to hoe his turnips today so he asked me to come. So I jest sotdown and took a standing-up snack and started. I sorter like it. O'course it's rather tejus. Part of the time I sits and thinks and therest I jest sits. Jog along, black mare. I want to git home airly.Thomas is terrible lonesome when I'm away. You see, we haven't beenmarried very long."
"Oh!" said Anne politely.
"Just a month. Thomas courted me for quite a spell, though. It was realromantic." Anne tried to picture Mrs. Skinner on speaking terms withromance and failed.
"Oh?" she said again.
"Yes. Y'see, there was another man after me. Jog along, black mare. I'dbeen a widder so long folks had given up expecting me to marry again.But when my darter--she's a schoolma'am like you--went out West to teachI felt real lonesome and wasn't nowise sot against the idea. Bime-byThomas began to come up and so did the other feller--William ObadiahSeaman, his name was. For a long time I couldn't make up my mind whichof them to take, and they kep' coming and coming, and I kep' worrying.Y'see, W.O. was rich--he had a fine place and carried considerablestyle. He was by far the best match. Jog along, black mare."
"Why didn't you marry him?" asked Anne.
"Well, y'see, he didn't love me," answered Mrs. Skinner, solemnly.
Anne opened her eyes widely and looked at Mrs. Skinner. But there wasnot a glint of humor on that lady's face. Evidently Mrs. Skinner sawnothing amusing in her own case.
"He'd been a widder-man for three yers, and his sister kept house forhim. Then she got married and he just wanted some one to look after hishouse. It was worth looking after, too, mind you that. It's a handsomehouse. Jog along, black mare. As for Thomas, he was poor, and if hishouse didn't leak in dry weather it was about all that could be said forit, though it looks kind of pictureaskew. But, y'see, I loved Thomas,and I didn't care one red cent for W.O. So I argued it out with myself.'Sarah Crowe,' say I--my first was a Crowe--'you can marry your rich manif you like but you won't be happy. Folks can't get along together inthis world without a little bit of love. You'd just better tie up toThomas, for he loves you and you love him and nothing else ain't goingto do you.' Jog along, black mare. So I told Thomas I'd take him. Allthe time I was getting ready I never dared drive past W.O.'s place forfear the sight of that fine house of his would put me in the swithersagain. But now I never think of it at all, and I'm just that comfortableand happy with Thomas. Jog along, black mare."
"How did William Obadiah take it?" queried Anne.
"Oh, he rumpussed a bit. But he's going to see a skinny old maid inMillersville now, and I guess she'll take him fast enough. She'll makehim a better wife than his first did. W.O. never wanted to marry her.He just asked her to marry him 'cause his father wanted him to, neverdreaming but that she'd say 'no.' But mind you, she said 'yes.' Therewas a predicament for you. Jog along, black mare. She was a greathousekeeper, but most awful mean. She wore the same bonnet for eighteenyears. Then she got a new one and W.O. met her on the road and didn'tknow her. Jog along, black mare. I feel that I'd a narrer escape. Imight have married him and been most awful miserable, like my poorcousin, Jane Ann. Jane Ann married a rich man she didn't care anythingabout, and she hasn't the life of a dog. She come to see me last weekand says, says she, 'Sarah Skinner, I envy you. I'd rather live in alittle hut on the side of the road with a man I was fond of than in mybig house with the one I've got.' Jane Ann's man ain't such a bad sort,nuther, though he's so contrary that he wears his fur coat when thethermometer's at ninety. The only way to git him to do anything is tocoax him to do the opposite. But there ain't any love to smooth thingsdown and it's a poor way of living. Jog along, black mare. There'sJanet's place in the hollow--'Wayside,' she calls it. Quitepictureaskew, ain't it? I guess you'll be glad to git out of this, withall them mail bags jamming round you."
"Yes, but I have enjoyed my drive with you very much," said Annesincerely.
"Git away now!" said Mrs. Skinner, highly flattered. "Wait till I tellThomas that. He always feels dretful tickled when I git a compliment.Jog along, black mare. Well, here we are. I hope you'll git on well inthe school, miss. There's a short cut to it through the ma'sh back ofJanet's. If you take that way be awful keerful. If you once got stuck inthat black mud you'd be sucked right down and never seen or heard tellof again till the day of judgment, like Adam Palmer's cow. Jog along,black mare."
Anne of the Island Page 30