Short Story. The Unexpectedness of Uncle D’rius.

Waimate Daily Advertiser, Volume IV, Issue 176, 11 March 1902, Page 1

Short Story. The Unexpectedness of Uncle D’rius.

Mr Basset slowly drew a fat, green down from the basket behind him, split jb down the middle with his thumb and sent the peas rattling into tho tin pan between his knees. Then he took his pipe from his lips in order to yawn more advantageously.

“Slow job,” he drawled, “this ere shellin’ peas is ; ain’t it!”

“ Yes,” said I, “ I wonder that no one has invented a method of shelling by machinery.” Now, it takes a good deal to disturb Mr Basset’s serenity. Local report says that Mrs Basset had a dipper of hot water is the combination that comes nearest to accomplishing the feat, Bui my innocent remark caused the phlegmatic gentleman to rash the empty pod vindictively to the ground and break out in a splutter of wrath. “Invention!” he snorted. “Bon’ ever say invention ter mo agin. I vrisht every feller that ever invented anything was hung higher’u Hamam !”

I was surprised and asked him to explain. After some coasing, Mr Basset complied. “ Yer never see Olindy’s—my wife’s— Uncle D’rius, did yer ?” he began. “No? Well, the old man was a character’ now, I tell yer. Richer’n mud, he was. Had thirty acres er cranb’ry swamp a hog and ahull weir, and aquarlershara 1“ a mack’rel schooner, and the Lord knows what all more, besides consider’ble cash in the hank. Olindy and her fust cousin ‘Lisha Blount, was the only near relations he had after his wife, A’nt Zuby that was, died. “ Well, ’Lish and his wife and Olindy and me, we nater-lly daggered considerable on the old man’s money and who was going tor git it when he slipped over the river. 'Lish and his tribe wa’n’t on epeakin’ terms with me and Olindy, owin ter a loetle squabble we had over a yellow dog be owned, that bit my brindle heifer and scairb her so she ran outer tho railroad track and got made inter beef by the up train. There was a law suit and one thing er ’nother, tor add to the gin’ral good feeliu’, besides, “ So me and Olindy we cal’lated that none of that money was goin’ ter ’Lbli, and 'Lish cal’lated the same thing about us, Uncle D’rius he was kinder impartial as yer might say. One spell he’d be ah for us and have his will fixed so we’d gir. everything, and next year yer know he’d switch around and alter it so’s ter leave it all to the other side er the fence. “ Fust otf ho come and lived with iis, and he was a trial, don’t talk! Crossgrained and fussy andcleef—why, he was so deef that a cannon might have gone [ off in his ear and all he’d a said would be, “What? Why don’t yer Speak louder ?”

“ Me’n Olindy put up with it best we could and never give him any hack talk and done our best ter please him, knowin that all llesh is grass, and the meek is goiu’ ter inherit the earth.

“ But we overdone it. He was diedful fussy about his eatin’ and one time he took a notion for gooseberry pic. Nawthiu’ would do hut lie must have gooseberry pie: So Olindy she cooked a big oue and he eat most the whole of it, and was awful stek, and swore we’d cried ter pizen him* Ho had his will changed, leavin’ everything lor 'Lish and went off and live with him for most a year. *• We was putty down in the mouth, hut everything comes ter them that waits, and bimehy he had, a row with ’Lish’s folks that beat the one he had with us all ter nothin.’ Yer, see, ’Wish is an inventor, Up ter that time nawthin’ he'd invented had been wuth a red cent., but he kep’ at ’t jest the same, persistent as a hen that wants ter set.

“ Well, Uncle D’rius took notions over there jest the same as he done st our house, and it came about that he thought the mosquitos was pesterin’ him at night after he’d ter bed. Seein’ as ’twas October, I guess the mosquitos was mainly imagination, but he said there was millions of ’em round him every night, and that he couldn’t sleep.

“ So ’Lish set ter work and invented a machine fer drivin’ away the mosquitoes. He argued that if you was campin’ out or fiahin’ or anything where there was lots of mosquitoes, that they would bite like anything is it was calm, but if a breeze came up there wouldn’t be nary one anywhere. So he rigged up a contrivance ter hang over Uncle D’rius’s bed. It was a kind of windmill thing like them fans they have in city eatin’ houses. It hung right over Uncle D’rius’s pillar, and could be raised or lowered and pulled by a string ter start it goin’. There was a windmill on the roof that was connected with it and gave it the necessary power.

“ Well, the very fust night Uncle D’rius tried it he laid down, lowered it close to his face, hauled the rope that set her buzzin’, and went ter sleep. Middle er the night he woke up and heard a noise, and thought ’twas thieves. He was alters lookin’ out for thieve- to come an’ torture him for his money.

“ So he sets up in bed, and ‘ Whack ! ’ one er the arms of that windmill contraption caught him right in the ear. He thought ’twas burglars sure, then, and hollers ‘Murder ! ’ and ‘ Help ! ’ ter wake the dead. And every time he’d rise up that mosquito mill would knock him down again. He was purty n>gh used up when ’Lish and his wife got ter him. “ So he was more down on ’ Lish than

a thousand er bricks, and made his will ail over again, givin’ mo and Olinciy everything, and back ho comes ter live with us. This time wc thought wo had him for keeps, ’cause he was so dead act agin’ the B'ounta that the best names he had fer ’em was ‘ Murd’rers,’ and it ycr mentioned inventions he’d rave fer hours tergether.

“ Well, he stayed along at our house and stayed along. Couple er years went by and he was still with us. Olindy and me begun tor put down a list of the things we was going’ ter buy when the property was ourn. New melcdeon fer the parlour, new whatnot, new haircloth fer the settm’-room eofy, any ([uantity er things. And the old man gettin’ older every day and crankier and d< efer.

“Bust along wc was as careful cf him as if he was made outer glass ; run round after him, and fetched and toted fer him, and always smiled sweeter’n but ter, no matter how he fussed and tumid. But after a while—you know how ’lis when the newness of a thing wears oil'—we got more used ter him, and we weren’t quite so careful of our maimers.

“Yersee, ho bein’ so dccf, t’was a gleet temptation ter ease bad; under our breath when he was particular outrageous 'Twas a kind of relief ter our feelm’s ter tell him what we thought of him, smilin all the time, as if we was sayin’ something mighty perlite. ’Course, when he’d ask us what wo were talkin’ about, we'd holler that it was a line day, er the like er tnat. You know how ’tis when a peraon’a hard er bearin'.

Got so ’twas a kind er joke, as ycr might say. I’d do it at the table jest fer fun. ‘ Haye some beans, you old image?’ 1M say, the fust part loud enough ter take the roof ofl, and the rest in jest a reg’lar tone er voice. And then Oliudy’d pucker up her face ter keep from biffin',

Fer them two years he never mentioned ’Lisha’s folks except ter run ’em down, but ail at once he commenced ter change his tune. Begun ter wonder how they was gettin’ along, and ht on he’d kinder like tor see ’em, till Olindy and mo began ter git u-al wo.ried.

“Hia seventy-eighth birthday was eoniin’, and we thought ’twould please him if we made a kind er celebration of it. We talked it over some, and Oli, dy said she’d git uy a special good dinner and have a birthday cake with seventyeight candles burnin’ on it. I told her 'r.waf pesky foolishness, and would look ldv.e a bran pitch with the poles on lire, but she was set on it, and said be was old and childish, and would be tickled ter death, so I let her go ahead. “ Wei), the mornin, of his birth !av I hitched up and drove down tor the village ter buy the caudles fer that cverlastin cake. I was goin’ ter git wax ones, but they eo-t so like all git out that I decided spermaceti’d have ter do. .So I bought seventy-eight of the sperm ile kind and neit home, and when I got there I found Olindy in a stew.

“ b'eems she'd gone over to the

Nickersons 5 ter borrer some molasses, and she and I’a.-hy Nickerson cot t.a'kin ah.in’, the minister's wife and how e.daavagant NathauUl Nixon was since lie got married, and one thing and another, till s t\vas seven o s elock s fore shstarted home. On the way sue im t Lysander Howes, who carries the mail, and he says :

“ ‘ I left a package at your Jhouse, 5 h > says. 1 ’Twaa for ytr Uncle U’rius.’ “Well, you C;in imagine how cur'iia O’iudy was ter find out what was in that package. She s’spected ’twas some o; Lisha’s doiu 5 s right c if. But, womd yer b’lit.vc it. Uncle U’rins wouldn’t tell her He was in one of Ids stubborn fits, and said ’twan’t nawthiu’ anyhow, and if ’twas, twan’t nobody’s business but his. “ And he wouldn’t tell me, either, when 1 came home. Me aud Olindy hunted fer the paper that Was on the package, so,s we eouid sec tlie wrilin’ of the addiess, but we couldn’t find it. He’d burnt it up, meat likely. “ We had a fine dinner, tin key and cranb’rry sass and pnnkin pie and the laid knows what, hut nawtbin 5 suited Uncle U’rius.

“He growled at the viftles, and said this was burnt and that was too rare, till I got madder’u a wet hen. “Fin’lly Olindy went out and fetched in the birthday cake. ’Twas a noble old cake, I tell yer. It had ter be ter make room fer all them candles. There was ‘ UNCLE DARIU ’ on it, done in red peppermint lozenges. Olindy made the letters too big, so there wasn't room f.-r the ‘ S ’ on the end. “ I scratched a match on my trousers and lit up the candles, and they blazed and sputtered and smelt Ur all the world like a whaler ‘ tryin’ out.’ I went ter cut a piece of the cake and two of the c mdh s upset and burnt my hand, and that didn’t make me any better company. “ ‘ Here’s a big slice fer you, uncle,’ I howled’ and then I says, in my usual tones, ‘ It looks as if ’twould piz.en yer and 1 hope ter goodness it does.’ “ Well, he jest grinned and took the slice and went ter eatin’, and I sat back and pulled my moustache down, so’s he wouldn’t see my lips move, and commented. “ I sartainly did give it ter him hot and heavy. Olindy had ter cough half a dozen times ter keep from hollerin’ right out. “ ‘ See him eat,’ I’d say. ‘We’ve got him this time. Every mouthful’s jest as good as a deed ter two acres er that eranb’rry swamp. Have some more ? That’s the ticket! We’ll kill the old deef reptile this time. 1 can see tha melod in the parlour. Order th

undertaker, Olindy; this is the best day’s work you ever done.’ “ When he’d finished three whoppin’ slices I says, ‘Better have a little more, you old alligator ; we want ter kill yer quick ; don’t want yer lingerin’ along. 1 “ Then he gits up kinder slow and deliberate, lays down his knife and fork, ; and says he ; “ ‘ No,’ he says, ‘ the old alligator won t have no more. He’s had enough—of cake and other things. But I wouldn’t order that melodeon this afternoon if I , was you, nor I wouldn’t figger on pickin’!, them cranberries this season.’ I * And out er the room he walks, leavin’ Olindy and me lookin at each other like ! a couple er waxworks. | “‘He can hear,” says she, after a! spell. I “ ‘He’s heard every word we’ve said,’ says I. Then we both looked at each other and never said ‘boo’ feras much as five minutes. Then we heard Uncle D’rius cornin’ stampin’ downstairs. He had his old plug hat on and his cane was in his hand and he hobbled out of the gate and down the road. “ ‘ You must foller him,’ says Olindy. “ I grabbed my hat and ran after him. He went for the telegraph office. When he come out er there I hurried in and tried to find out who he’d telegraphed to, but he’d left word fer the clerk not ter tell me, and I couldn’t git no satisfaction. Olindy was fairly dancin’ up and down on the porch when I got home. “ He’s upstairs in his room, she says, ‘‘ with the door locked, and he’s heavin' things round like all possessed. He’s been deef for years and years,” says she. “How, how HOW ean he hear now ?” “ I dunno,” says I, “ but I know our goose is cooked if we don’t make it up with him somehow,” “So he went upstairs and pleaded and hollered through the kephole for as much as an hour. Fin’lly I gave Olindy the nudge and we both broke out cryin, and Bobbin, like a couple of waterin carts. But all the satisfaction we got was him a tellia’ us not ter strain our lungs, ’cause he could hear us if we didn’t cry quite so much like an injyne whistle. “ At four o’clock somebody drives up <o the gate, and ’twas ’Lish in his buggey. Uncle D’rius come hoppin’ down the steps with his shut-over bag filled right up ter the top. “Oh, Uncle, sobs Olindy, “ where be you going ?” “ The old d?ef reptyle,” says he, “is goin’ ter another burrer.” And heclimbs inter the buggy. “ This is your doin’s,” says I, runnin’ out and shakin’ my fist at ’Lish. “ Yes,” says hejgrinin’. I’m glad ter say ’tis. Here’s somethin’ your man be interested in, and he threw me a piece oj paper. “ ’Twas a printed circular, and it says on it. The Deef Hear ! Blount’s marvellous “ Out er Sight” Ear Drums for restorin’ the bearin'’ Ordinary conver, sation easily heard Entirely Invisible !” and so on, “ Thera’s my latest invention,” says ’Lish. “ I sent Uncle D’rius a pair for a birthday present. He’s been wearin’ ,em ever since mornin.’ Yer can hear ordinary conversaiion with ’em, can’t yer, uncle ?” “Yes,” says the old man, “and extraordinary conversation, too.” “Then they drove off and I went in and kicked what was left of that birthday cake from the kitchen ter the parlour and hick agin.”