OUR 
 
 NATUPSKI 
 NEIGHBORS 
 
 BY EDITH 
 MINITER
 
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 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS
 
 OUR 
 NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 BY 
 
 EDITH MINITER 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 1916
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1916 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 Published October, 1916 
 
 THE CUINN il BOOEN CO. CRESS
 
 Co 
 
 J. E. T. D. 
 
 Who Made These Stories Possible 
 
 2137271
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 SPARROWS, GYPSY MOTHS AND SUCH 
 
 CHAPT 
 
 ER 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI 
 
 3 
 
 II 
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 
 
 . . 18 
 
 III 
 
 ABNER S TRY 
 
 3Q 
 
 IV 
 
 Two OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH .... 
 
 - - 63 
 
 V 
 
 LETTING NATUPSKI ALONE 
 
 . . 89 
 
 VI 
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 
 
 . - 103 
 
 VII 
 
 EMANCIPATION FOR ONE) 
 
 . . 131 
 
 VIII 
 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 
 
 tA t 
 
 V J.J.A 
 
 THE SECOND GENERATION 
 
 *t-J 
 
 I 
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 
 
 163 
 
 II 
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON . 
 
 . 182 
 
 III 
 
 Miss ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 
 
 . 2O4 
 
 IV 
 
 SUCH A CHANCE ........ 
 
 . 22O 
 
 V 
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 
 
 237 
 
 VI 
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE . . . 
 
 . 254 
 
 VII 
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 
 
 . 276 
 
 VIII 
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? .... 
 
 293 
 
 IX 
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 
 
 . 310 
 
 X 
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 
 
 327
 
 SPARROWS, GYPSY MOTHS 
 AND SUCH
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI 
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI looked skyward from a narrow street 
 in a great European seaport. She counted the windows. 
 Three perhaps four. She walked up three flights of 
 stairs to reach her room, but it was difficult to under 
 stand if that made the number of windows, counting 
 from the pavement, three or four. Where she had come 
 from there had been no tall buildings, like this one near 
 the docks. She must not make a mistake. If four there 
 would have to be a longer rope. Still, it was foolish to 
 waste money on one too long. Better pay the landlord 
 and be done with it. 
 
 Wrapping her skirt about the ring of bread which 
 hung over her arm, she pulled herself up the three flights. 
 The room she entered was a mere crevice among many 
 which the house held for the accommodation of those 
 seeking temporary shelter before sailing. A bed was in 
 it, a chair and a child. On the wall a black and red 
 poster announced sailings of the Hamburg-American 
 line. Mrs. Natupski could not read this, but the dates 
 were not only impressed on her mind those already 
 passed had been marked in pencil. " Kronprincessin 
 Caecilie " was two weeks gone. It was the boat with 
 which her train had connected the last of the trains 
 which had brought her from Poland. 
 
 She had been all impatience to leave Poland. Hardly 
 
 3
 
 4 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 could she attend to the vociferous farewells of relatives, 
 who gathered in numbers the day she left her own town. 
 They knew well enough she did not hear, but they had 
 forgiven she had ears only for the call across the sea. 
 The strained look of the listener never left her eyes even 
 when she automatically answered the questions of 
 wonder-crazed Stanislarni, the four-year-old now 
 balanced upon his stomach and the window-sill, trying 
 to catch a view of life in the alley from which his 
 mother had just come. 
 
 She snatched his legs in a quick frenzy which seemed 
 more anger than fear, gave him a couple of blows that 
 would have felled an adult carefully reared; then fold 
 ing him in her arms sat and choked him with mother love. 
 It was a hot afternoon. The still air held sounds as in 
 a solution the squalling of lots of babies, gruff voices 
 of men answering the shrill complaints of women, in 
 many dialects; street cries from a neighboring square. 
 
 " Hell " cried Mrs. Natupski, darting her beady 
 
 eyes upon the child, who seemed drowsing. 
 
 He straightened his little back, and lisped the word 
 after her. " L ! " His mother shook him. 
 
 " Mowie ze me! Hell " 
 
 His second attempt was better. She went on, " O ! " 
 His baby mouth pursed into a round, and Mrs. Natupski 
 swooped toward him as if to give reward in the form of 
 a kiss, then as suddenly desisted, and broke into Polish 
 speech. The child nodded, and made the best he could of 
 the greeting he was being taught. 
 
 " Hell-o, pa-pa ! " It sounded like the work of a badly 
 worn phonograph record. Mrs. Natupski thought it was 
 pretty good. She hushed him when a step came outside
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI 5 
 
 the door, however, but it was not the landlord. She 
 might save the seven marks yet. 
 
 The child said he was hungry and she gave him some 
 of the bread. She would eat none until later. That 
 way supper made breakfast. 
 
 They would be surprised, those relations in Poland, if 
 they could know she had not gone in the first boat. Nor 
 yet in the second. Perhaps she would not go in the 
 " Augusta Victoria," which sailed next. She crossed her 
 self, then tumbled Stanislarni into bed without any pre 
 liminary undressing, and proceeded to count her money. 
 It was tied into strange parts of her clothing, and she 
 kept each lot separate, in a little pile on the chair. This 
 on the right Kani had sent at Christmas. The sum was 
 not large. It came in the letter where he had said Lowell 
 in America was a lonely place and he wanted to see his 
 little Stanislarni. The other sum, much larger, had come 
 from the dealer who sold for her all she had except the 
 clothing she and Stanislarni were wearing, and the things 
 in the canvas extension case under the bed. 
 
 She had feared it might be necessary to wait in this 
 city; the farewell gift of Uncle Vladimir to Stanislarni 
 was to pay for that. As it had paid, those coins were 
 now missing. She had not thought it would be so long 
 a wait a week and then more weeks. How Wardi had 
 cried when she learned Mrs. Natupski was not going on 
 the " Kronprincessin Caecilie." Wardi was a girl she had 
 made friends with on the train, who bought sweet things 
 for Stanislarni. Wardi had an incredible sum sewed 
 into the top of her stocking leg, and longed to spend it, 
 because, as she explained, her man had done well in 
 America, and would be at that place called Ellis Island
 
 6 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 with much more. Some did pick up coins in the Ameri 
 can streets, it seemed, though poor Kani was not one. 
 
 Stanislarni was lying on his back, his mouth wide open 
 in a manner that would raise suspicion of adenoids once 
 he was adopted into his future country. Mrs. Natupski 
 thought she too would go to bed, and rose from the 
 floor, where she had been squatting worshiping the 
 money in the chair. Straightening up, a pang shot 
 through her. She could barely repress a scream. Then 
 it passed, and she realized the time had come to con 
 tinue her journey. Only she had to work carefully, and 
 save the seven marks ticket agents would not sell a 
 pfennig short ! She took a coil of rope from under her 
 bolster and fastened it beneath Stanislarni s armpits, 
 shamelessly padding the child with sheets and blankets. 
 The extension case she fastened some distance from the 
 end of the rope, with a double loop. And then, having 
 frightened the little one into probable silence by an ac 
 count of the fearful vengeances awaiting him should 
 he make the slightest noise, she pushed him from the 
 window, as a mother bird shoves her young from the 
 nest. 
 
 Was the rope long enough? The time came when 
 there was some slack. Suppose he had stopped upon a 
 lower window ledge, should fall to the street and be 
 killed? Another pang! She tied the rope to the foot of 
 the bed, and went out, locking the door. The landlord, 
 whom she met in the lower hall, kept on smoking his 
 porcelain pipe serenely. He did not mind her coming and 
 going, since she always left her child in the room. When 
 she took the boy would be time to ask if that remittance 
 had arrived. At the supper table he enjoyed his pumper-
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI 7 
 
 nickel and beer, and did not know he had lost seven 
 marks. 
 
 Stanislarni and the extension case were within reach, 
 in the alley. Five minutes later Mrs. Natupski was lay 
 ing down the money for a third-class passage to New 
 York. The agent saw she was pale, and, in her own 
 tongue, bade her cheer up, it would soon be over. He 
 spoke as of an ordeal, but to Mrs. Natupski all woe was 
 passed. She had planned wisely, and Stanislarni s little 
 brother would be born in the hospital of the big ship, 
 where were comforts of which Mrs. Natupski had heard, 
 but which she yet dimly comprehended : good food well, 
 she could understand that midwives in starched clothes 
 men doctors white beds; and no need to move for a 
 fortnight. She had got up and cooked Kani s supper 
 two hours after Stanislarni s birth. And nothing to pay 
 nothing at all ! It was certainly worth the waiting. 
 
 They etherized her, for no luxuries are denied those 
 who buy a $15 passage to the land of the free. Her last 
 thought was of Kani. He would be no longer lonesome 
 in that Lowell of America. Nor poor, even if he had 
 missed finding money as did Wardi s man. The hundred 
 dollars with which one bribed the great country was, she 
 knew, returned. The sum was just as you gave it, and 
 Kani should have it all; except, of course, what was 
 needed to take one to that Lowell in America 
 
 In the meantime, Kani had left Lowell and had gone 
 first to Mifflin Grove, then to West Holly, a small town 
 fifteen miles distant. He took Olka with him. He had 
 married her at New Year, perhaps because the weather 
 was cold, probably in order to have a woman when he
 
 8 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 should secure that farm which was the goal of his am 
 bition. Kani had not forgotten Marinki in Poland. He 
 had felt the truth when he wrote about wanting to see his 
 little Stanislarni. At Christmas time he even made in 
 quiries as to the cost of bringing over a woman and two 
 children. He knew there would be two by the following 
 summer. 
 
 Yes, he would have liked to see Marinki and Stanis 
 larni especially Stanislarni. But to spend all that 
 money ! It would mean putting off buying the farm for 
 a whole year. It would be foolish. So he took Olka 
 for wife, and with Olka her savings. Combined with 
 his own, which might otherwise have been squandered in 
 steamship tickets, a first payment was made on the Jud- 
 son Buckland place, in West Holly. 
 
 Mrs. Buckland had been ten years trying to sell her 
 rickety house and one hundred barren acres. Kani 
 thought he was shrewd to buy from a woman, who 
 would, of course, be easy to cheat. He could scarcely be 
 lieve in his own fortune when the place became his. 
 And Mrs. Buckland pinched herself as she drove from 
 the lawyer s with two hundred dollars cash and a mort 
 gage note. Those Polanders were sure great workers, 
 she reflected. 
 
 She would get her interest quarterly, even if she oc 
 casionally took a crop for it. 
 
 One October evening, three months after Mrs. 
 Natupski so skilfully took ship from Europe, Kani 
 Natupski and his Olka sat gloating on the steps of their 
 new home, which was a very old house, weather-beaten 
 by half a century of New England winters, warped by an 
 equal number of draughty summers. The windows rat-
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI 9 
 
 tied, the doors sagged, the chimney needed topping off, 
 there were huge wasps nests under the front gable, squir 
 rels had gnawed great holes in the roof, and rats ran 
 everywhere. Kani thought it perfection. 
 
 Night was near at hand, that was why he was not 
 working. By and by he might light the lantern and go 
 out to the barn, where he would give the horse a beating 
 and several quarts too much grain. This excessive 
 generosity, in addition to corn on the ear, would ulti 
 mately founder a fine animal, but Kani was blissfully 
 ignorant of the assured result. He must feed the cow, 
 too; the one from which Mr. Bowes had offered to buy 
 future calves. Mr. Bowes was in the veal-producing 
 line, and a great aid to other farmers who supplied 
 creamery milk. Natupski would none of him. 
 
 " No calf," he had replied with great decision to the 
 querist on the other side of the barb wire. " My cow 
 have no calf. Can t stop have calf. Me need milk. All 
 time." 
 
 Why did Mr. Bowes laugh? 
 
 Kani could hear the cow lowing expectantly while he 
 took the ragged sweater from Olka s shoulders and 
 wrapped it about his own. Cousin Nick Kovinski, who 
 sat with them, frowned, but Kani did not mean a cruelty. 
 He was dispassionately considering the greatest good. 
 The air had a tang. It would be very bad if he, the man 
 and the worker, should take a chill and be sick. Cousin 
 Nicholas was young, besides his was the disadvantage 
 of American birth. When he should marry Olka s sister 
 and buy a farm he would doubtless be glad to assume 
 the good Polish way of woman ruling. He had spoken 
 already of a liking for the place next door, whence came
 
 io OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 those whiffs of vinegar and spices that stood for Nancy 
 Slocumb s piccalil. 
 
 The Natupskis had a good smell of their own, too. 
 They were burning brush. Kani grinned when he looked 
 at the blazing mass, from which a slender gray smoke 
 went heavenward, after curling about the topmost twigs, 
 as if loath to leave. He was thinking of the fine after 
 noon s work he had done, grubbing up that topmost bush. 
 It grew in a corner of the homelot, of a tallness to his 
 shoulder when he stood on the wall, and it had little red 
 leaves all over it. Just meant to be pretty, of course, it 
 would have to go. He had denuded the house of the 
 woodbine and the wistaria which softened its ugly angles, 
 and made short work of the syringas and lilacs by the 
 door. 
 
 He knew what trouble they caused, in the spring; he 
 had seen it on his first trip of inspection, made the previ 
 ous May. Folks came along and broke off branches and 
 said, " Pretty, pretty." He didn t want them to say 
 " Pretty, pretty," in front of his house. He wanted 
 them to say, " Natupski, he rich. Natupski, big farm, 
 plenty children." 
 
 Here was the farm, the children were just beginning. 
 He cast a glance of something remotely related to affec 
 tion at little Statia, two weeks old, who lay on Olka s 
 knee. Then he began to tell about grubbing up the 
 red-leaved bush. 
 
 Oh, how he had worked, with crowbar and spade and 
 his bare hands. Proudly he exhibited many wounds. 
 Mr. Slocumb and his man had tried to keep him from 
 working, too. They had talked very fast and loud, using 
 many English words which he did not know. Only he
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI u 
 
 did know they begged him not to destroy the bush. For 
 some reason they did not want to see it go. By and by 
 Mr. Slocumb himself had yelled very loud and jumped 
 right over the barb wire, and grabbed the spade. But 
 he, Natupski, got the better of the old fellow. With a 
 kick he did it. And displayed two rows of handsome 
 white teeth as he grinned thereat. Oh, if he kept on as 
 he began, and had many children to help him, he would 
 show those people a fine farm and a rich farmer. 
 
 He had no suspicion it was the Judson Buckland crack 
 swamp blueberry bush he had destroyed the one which 
 yielded bushels of prime salable berries every summer. 
 Blueberries he had not known in Poland. He was in 
 America to get rich, that seemed necessary, but he had 
 no idea of accepting American advice. 
 
 The holocaust of values continued, and Kani, rising, 
 tucked his shirt into the waistband of his trousers, for 
 one had to make that much concession to American prej 
 udice when crossing the road, and started toward the 
 barn. He turned and reminded Olka that she had yet to 
 pursue and shut up the chickens. Half a hundred of 
 them, practically nude of feathers, were squawking al 
 ways about the premises, in the house as likely as not, 
 and helping themselves from the barrels of stale bread 
 which served as chief article of food alike for family and 
 poultry. Supplemented by astringent cider it kept the 
 breath of life in Kani, and had enabled Olka to nourish 
 Statia, but it would not put plumage on the chickens. 
 Kani was untroubled by the fact, evident to all the 
 neighborhood not named Natupski, that the little things 
 would turn up their toes and peep their last peep at the 
 first real sharp weather.
 
 12 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 The woman gained her feet and began to call " Cheek, 
 cheek," then stopped to gaze at another woman who was 
 standing in front of the house. She was not very young- 
 looking, this other woman, but perhaps this was because 
 her hair was unkempt, and her eyes sunken in a sallow 
 face. She wore a gay and filthy costume which Olka, 
 at the door, knew was made in Poland. Olka herself 
 had American clothes a 39-cent kimono above a 
 crinkled seersucker petticoat; and she pulled her hair 
 over a wire roll with rhinestone-set side combs. She 
 observed with scorn the full skirt of chocolate woolen, 
 the little fringed shawl embroidered in a floral design 
 perhaps Polish certainly America had no such green 
 roses and purple foliage the clumsy jewelry and silk 
 head scarf. The stranger carried on one hip a solemn- 
 eyed infant, and on the other hip balanced a gray ex 
 tension case, extended to its full extent. By her side 
 walked a boy. His shoes were sheathed in copper, his 
 flapping trousers were of cotton stuff, turned dirt color, 
 and above them was a tattered apron. He too bore a 
 burden, a small bundle, wrapped in black oilcloth. 
 
 The newcomer leaned against the fence, resting the 
 child and the extension case alternately, as if unable to 
 decide which gave greater relief. 
 
 Kani had paused in the road and was still fumbling at 
 his shirt. A mere lad he seemed, for he was slight of 
 figure, blonde, and with the ingenuous, direct gaze of 
 one whose aims in life were simple. 
 
 The foreign-looking woman pushed the older child 
 with her foot, exhibiting a Congress gaiter having its 
 elastic gores worn threadbare. Thus reminded, the lad 
 repeated a lesson he had been weary months learning.
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI 13 
 
 " Hell-o, pa-pa ! " he cried, mechanically. And as the 
 man only continued to stare, he repeated, " Hell-o, 
 pa-pa ! " 
 
 Kani struck his hands to his forehead. 
 
 "God! God!" he shouted. 
 
 It was not bewilderment at the presence of the two 
 women he had married, though Mr. and Mrs. Slocumb 
 would have thought so. It was sheer amazement at the 
 fact that little Stanislarni should be capable of coming 
 to America and addressing him in the English tongue. 
 
 Still, he was in a fix, and after a few moments realized 
 the fact. Marinki, by the road, and Olka, at the door 
 he must now lose one or the other. He did not feel in 
 any way to blame for the way things had turned out; 
 only Marinki was to blame. He could not send her 
 money to come to America because he was using his 
 money to buy the farm. With a farm there must be a 
 woman, and if your Polish wife stops in Poland you take 
 one near at hand. But those two beautiful children, and 
 Stanislarni a big boy ! Olka had only had a girl. Kani, 
 standing in the road, third in the immortal triangle, 
 mentally put the child to work that very instant. 
 
 " Up, Stanislarni, it is almost morning. Quick, to 
 the barn, you carrying one pail and I three; see, you 
 save me a trip back that way. Now, Stanislarni, up 
 through the little hole in the platform; you are small and 
 can go there, so I need not climb the ladder. Throw 
 down hay, much hay, oh, much more than that. Now 
 run with me to the bread bin, take this and throw to the 
 chickens ah, you like that. You laugh to see them all 
 come running. I must milk now, and you can carry in 
 chips for the fire; and by and by you shall go to the
 
 i 4 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 field with me, and after I have stuck the fork into the 
 hill of potatoes you shall creep up and put them into the 
 basket. I will teach you to follow the cows, too, and 
 wave a stick, you can run after them, and be just as 
 much use as that big dog the folks named Perkins are 
 so proud of. I saw the woman break a loaf in two and 
 give both parts to him one day. Just think, a whole loaf 
 of bread, and a dog, only good for chasing cows and bark 
 ing when folks pass. So come on, Stanislarni; and when 
 your legs shake because you are tired, I will not beat you 
 very hard, for you are my first-born, and I love you 
 much." 
 
 Olka came to the fence and looked scornfully at the 
 old greenhorn. Did she want work? Was she some 
 relation to Kani, that he never told her about ? The boy 
 tentatively ran out his tongue at Olka. The latter thought 
 his mother encouraged him by another furtive kick. 
 
 As the most cutting thing she could say she remarked 
 to Kani, in their own tongue, " One would think that 
 old woman looked on you as her husband." 
 
 Kani, moistening his lips with his tongue a couple of 
 times, replied simply, " She does." 
 
 Olka burst into a torrent of Polish vituperation, skil 
 fully embroidered with English filth. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski lifted her head and listened. Then she 
 proudly reassumed her two hip burdens, called Stanislarni 
 sharply, and turned on her way. Kani s jaw dropped. 
 He ran after her. 
 
 " Come back ! You come back ! " he yelled. Then he 
 pursued her, shouting explanations. " You too far ! 
 Me all alone. Me here all alone. Come back. Stanis 
 larni come back."
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI 15 
 
 He tried to speak English. Perhaps he thought the 
 child did not understand Polish. When he caught up to 
 them he ran alongside and continually repeated his frag 
 ments of pleading. The woman trudged right on, but 
 the child, already weary, began to lag and whimper; let 
 go his hold on his mother s skirts and half turned. 
 
 " Pairs! " he cried, pointing at the house. 
 
 As in a pillar of fire Olka stood by the burning bush. 
 Whether she had tried to follow, and had carelessly 
 pulled her flimsy kimono through the blaze, or if she 
 had not cared for life, knowing herself deceived, Kani 
 Natupski was never to be told. Cousin Nicholas saved 
 her from the result of whatever accident or purpose 
 there was. Whipping off his coat, a roomy old ulster 
 inside which he had been shivering in the sharp air, he 
 rolled her on the ground, from which she was then helped 
 up unhurt. 
 
 The burning bush, perhaps exasperated at loss of its 
 prey, blazed with extra fury; by its light Olka and 
 Nicholas exchanged a few rapid words and then sepa 
 rated, he going barnward, she entering the house. Im 
 mediately, in the glare, Nicholas could be seen leading 
 out the noble black horse for which Kani was still in 
 debted two notes of three and six months each at six and 
 a half and five per cent. Attached thereto was the shin 
 ing wagon for which he had forwarded the proceeds of 
 the owen to South Bend, Ind. The harness had already 
 been put in place. Kani was settling for the harness on 
 the basis of $2.50 a month. 
 
 At her child s exclamation Marinki had whirled about, 
 she even joined Kani in panting up the hill down which 
 she had marched so proudly. Seeing them coming,
 
 16 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Cousin Nicholas gave a sharp call, whereat Olka stumbled 
 out of the house. With one hand she held firmly on her 
 head a mass of lace curtains and stringy plumes, the 
 thing that had been her wedding hat. With the other 
 hand she fumbled at the fastenings of her $6.98 bargain 
 wedding gown. She walked unsteadily because she had 
 thrust her toes into French-heeled slippers. A pair of 
 striped stockings green and a near-silk petticoat, corn 
 color, hung on her arm. Nicholas lost no time boosting 
 her (and his concertina) into the wagon. Following over 
 the tailboard he grabbed the reins and drove off in too 
 much of a hurry to sit down. Both yelling derision, and 
 Olka helping what she could by plying the whip, they 
 vanished from the vision of Mrs. Natupski. 
 
 As for Kani, he was employed running hither and 
 yon, crying excitedly, " Statia, my little Statia, where 
 she gone, where she gone?" 
 
 Marinki believed him bewailing that other woman. 
 She could not keep a dignified scorn from her gesture, 
 as she pointed over the brow of the hill, where wheel 
 tracks would be seen come morning. But Kani had 
 suddenly begun to laugh. " Here she s, here she s ! " he 
 bellowed, finding the baby sleeping on the step. Olka 
 had chosen what she thought the better part. Lacking 
 time to assemble both her infant and her fine clothes, 
 she went with the clothes. They should help her to a 
 new husband. The baby would not do that, unless she 
 took another Polander of the old fashion. Feeling the 
 breath of Cousin Nick on her neck she didn t believe she 
 would so choose. 
 
 Kani had but one idea in recovering his offspring, to 
 shoot it into the arms of Marinki. They closed mechani-
 
 MRS. NATUPSKI 17 
 
 cally about the little gift. At the same time the almost 
 three months older Wajeiceh, whose native sod was a 
 steerage cabin, slid off her hip. He landed on the ground 
 with a thump and set up an astounded yell. His baby 
 hood had been brought to an abrupt end, but he did not 
 know that was why he cried. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski picked him up, with half an arm, and 
 followed her husband and Stanislarni into the house. It 
 had been a long journey from Poland, not to speak of the 
 weary search for Kani which began with that Lowell in 
 America, and had only just ended in West Holly. So 
 many were the adventures that this great one at the last 
 loomed no larger than the wonders of the tiled bath on 
 ship, or constant marmalade for breakfast. 
 
 Dropping wearily into the broken rocking-chair which 
 Mrs. Judson Buckland had not thought worth moving, 
 and baring her bosoms to the two infants, " Siedziec w 
 domu" ("I am come home"), said Mrs. Natupski.
 
 II 
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 
 
 ALL was soon as peaceful in the Natupski mansion 
 as could be any house that contained two infants under 
 twelve weeks of age. Mrs. Natupski complacently per 
 formed the duties of a mother. Kani drudged as a beast 
 of burden but for occasional detours into the stable, 
 where he hugged Stanislarni and then beat him for not 
 properly cleaning the cow-pen. A fork had been put 
 into the boy s hand, as the proper implement for a four- 
 year-old. 
 
 Not so did peace reign in any other part of West 
 Holly. The disturbance began with Nancy Slocumb at 
 the breakfast table with her husband. 
 
 " You know the Polanders, Abner," she said, while 
 dishing out fried pork and cream gravy. 
 
 He nodded, grinned, and put his hand sympathetically 
 on a lump which Kani Natupski s shoe had raised during 
 the altercation over the blueberry bush. 
 
 "You recollect the wife he had yesterday?" 
 
 " Guess I can manage to keep a good-looking woman 
 in my mind so long." 
 
 " Don t be coarse, Abner ! Well, there s a wife there 
 today, but she s the spitting image of somebody else." 
 
 " Shucks ! " said Abner, allowing two extra spoonfuls 
 of sugar to cover the four already in his cup, and hoping 
 Nance would put this prodigality down as due to ex- 
 
 18
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 19 
 
 citement. " How d ye know so much ? Maybe it s a 
 walkess come to help out. The baby was born a fort 
 night since." 
 
 " Don t tell me. If they d been going to have hired 
 help they d have got one first thing. Besides, there s 
 another mystery. The baby s two-three months old." 
 
 Abner considered that impossible. 
 
 " Fact," continued Nancy, " for I slipped up on the 
 stoop when nobody was round. It lay in the rocker, I 
 poked my finger into its mouth, and it was cutting a 
 tooth!" 
 
 " A feller in English history or Shakespeare was born 
 with em," Abner volunteered, but Nancy cared nothing 
 for the past, being wholly concerned with the immediate 
 present in West Holly. Something, she declared, must 
 be done, and at once. These foreigners came to live 
 nigh us, and as like as not they were used to being 
 Mormons " or worse " in their own country. And it 
 was a man s place to investigate. 
 
 Whereupon Nancy walked to the telephone and called 
 up Mrs. Perkins, Mrs. Blanchard Bowes, Mrs. Hiram 
 Farrar, and all her other female neighbors, in order that 
 they might convey these suspicions to their men folks 
 in properly lurid style. In the meantime Abner went 
 about the matter man fashion, for he looked over the 
 fence at Kani Natupski and after speaking of the 
 weather, politics, winter coming on and how chilly it 
 was getting nights, to each of which the reply was an 
 unmitigated " Yah ! " he came out with, " Got company 
 to your house ? " 
 
 " Wife. Lil boy. Baby," said Natupski. " In ship, 
 from Poland. Me glad."
 
 20 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Abner sat down hard, got up quickly to see where he 
 had split the fence rail, and dragged himself into the 
 presence of Nancy, where he was obliged to gratify her 
 with the intelligence that she had been almost right. 
 At the same moment the appearance of Mrs. Natupski on 
 the piazza with an infant draped over each arm solved 
 another mystery. 
 
 Public opinion was soon roused against the mischievous 
 foreign element, and while Kani and Marinki continued 
 their labors as packmule and mother and foster mother, 
 West Holly adorned them with various titles, not even 
 sparing that of " murderer." The poor young woman, 
 Olka, it was declared, might be even then weltering in 
 her gore down cellar, or at least pining away in the 
 garret. When the men sneered at these theories, the 
 women retorted to effect that " Such things did happen, 
 so now, and not only in Mrs. Southworth s novels. Look 
 in your daily papers! " 
 
 Suspicions of violence departed when Olka took to 
 driving about with Nicholas Kovinski in the buggy that 
 had been Natupski s, after the once Natupski nag, but 
 this made the moral aspect of the affair more shocking 
 than before. 
 
 West Holly was an ordinary piece of a large town, 
 set apart for something akin to self-government because 
 of a huge sparsely inhabited hill which intervened be 
 tween it and all the rest of Holly. To get anywhere you 
 went a long way around the mountain. Really, this bit 
 of a settlement should have attached itself to Lansing 
 or Hamson, both towns being much nearer than were 
 Holly Centre or Holly Depot, but it clung tenaciously 
 to Holly, perhaps in order to swell with pride when-
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 21 
 
 ever any one mentioned Holly Academy, where no West 
 Hollyite of the older generation but Blanchard Bowes 
 ever essayed to go, and he was expelled in one term for 
 coaxing a calf to the upper floor of the female dormitory. 
 
 West Holly considered itself a village all complete. It 
 had a church and graveyard, but no grocery, whereby one 
 obtains a perfect picture of the kind of a place it was. The 
 church was one door wide and two windows deep. The 
 minister was a non-resident, borrowed for Sunday after 
 noons from the Methodists of Hamson. There was a 
 good sheriff, however, always available unless he had 
 over-addicted himself to hard cider; and Blanchard 
 Bowes was land surveyor, fence-viewer, hog reeve, 
 justice of the peace, and sole owner of a painted barn 
 with a cupola and weathervane. 
 
 Not being devoid of modern literature or a woman s 
 club, West Holly knew other places wrestled with an 
 " immigrant problem," but the Natupski problem was 
 its own and its first. West Holly, not ungleefully, pro 
 ceeded to wrestle. 
 
 It was decided not to speak to the Rev. Mr. Skeele, 
 because, in a way, as Mrs. Sabrina Perkins pointed out, 
 he too was a foreigner, having been born in Nova Scotia. 
 Besides, he lived in Hamson, and West Holly didn t want 
 its scandals spread all over the county,- Mrs. Perkins 
 was strong for " haling " the wicked Polander before 
 justice, and putting him through a regular trial. Say, 
 at the schoolhouse some evening, when the chores were 
 done up. She and the other women could lend a lamp 
 apiece, and Mr. Bowes might preside. Natupski had 
 picked up considerable English, however he did it so 
 quick, and she guessed between em all they could under-
 
 22 
 
 stand what he might have to say for himself. Not that 
 there was anything in his defense to be said. It was 
 perfectly evident that he had deceived that poor young 
 creature, Olka, and now deprived her even of her child. 
 A mother s heart always cleaved clave clove how 
 ever you put it to her child. Look at the divorce cases 
 when all the quarrel was over how to divide the children. 
 Sometimes the other party kidnapped em, too. It meant 
 something, the way she and the Kovinski fellow rode up 
 and down the highway. 
 
 Six West Holly men met at the watering trough one 
 afternoon, and while waiting for precedence, the matter 
 of Mr. Natupski and the two Natupski women came up. 
 
 " My women folks," grunted Blanchard Bowes, " de 
 clare he ought to be convicted and tried. Yes, that s the 
 correct order, according to their way of putting it." 
 
 " Mrs. Perkins," observed Sabrina s husband, " con 
 siders them a disgrace to the neighborhood. Says we ll 
 be a byword to the rest of the town unless we take 
 some sort of action." 
 
 Three nods from as many heads indicated the preva 
 lence of Mrs. Perkins opinions. Abner Slocumb drove 
 up last. 
 
 " How s your wife feel ? " asked Mr. Bowes. " You re 
 the nighest to the seat of war and should have the 
 strongest opinions." 
 
 " My wife s way of thinking," said Abner, " is just 
 like every other woman s. She wouldn t want to be 
 caught out of style, whether twas matter of a bunnet or 
 state o mind." 
 
 " Great pity," remarked Bowes, " that Mrs. Judson 
 Buckland sold out. If she hadn t been in such a hurry
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 23 
 
 to turn her land into cash and move to the depot, she d 
 likely have had a real good offer from some party that d 
 been an addition to the neighborhood. But women are 
 always carried away with novelty." 
 
 Each man hastened to agree to this, which, as a general 
 proposition, might be true, though it hardly applied to 
 Mrs. Buckland, whose farm had been in the market ten 
 years, without a taker, before the arrival of Kani 
 Natupski. 
 
 Mr. Perkins objected chiefly to the inevitable lowering 
 of what he referred to as " West Holly standards." 
 
 " Say you have company from the city," he explained, 
 " and you hitch up and take em round to show em 
 West Holly is getting to amount to something these days. 
 You point out the Blanchard Bowes peach orchard, and 
 tell how many men and dogs patrol night times when 
 the peaches is most ripe, and their eyes begin to stick out. 
 Then you go on to Abner Slocumb s and they take in the 
 bay windows and iron stag in the front yard and the 
 squirting fountain with the boy and girl under an um 
 brella, and they have to allow ain t anything tastier or 
 more fancy in the city itself. So far so good, but then 
 it s necessary to drive past Natupski s, and after that 
 you ve got to cave in. Every bit of green grubbed up, 
 house spilling filth, and the whole family certain sure to 
 be walking round half dressed. No use to take em 
 further. They won t believe we know how to live like 
 folks when we tolerate such a human hog-pen on our 
 main-traveled road." 
 
 " And what it will be when those children get school 
 age I shudder to think of," observed Hiram Farrar, who 
 boarded the teacher and always had the inside history of
 
 24 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 how the educational system, with or without vertical 
 penmanship, was working on the baker s dozen of West 
 Holly pupils. 
 
 " Be we men or mice? " piped up the sixth man in so 
 shrill a voice that every person and some horses jumped. 
 Solomon Russell sat well hidden under the hood of his 
 low-topped buggy. He and his little chunk were never 
 aggressive. The horse was only beginning to sip what 
 water remained after the voracious tall animals had 
 been satisfied. All six men were coming from the cider 
 mill. Five long wagons were laden with barrels. Solo 
 mon had only a modest cask, coyly hidden under a plush 
 lap robe. 
 
 Solomon had never married ; he lived alone, in a house 
 he had inherited, and spent most of his time driving 
 around pleading poverty. As he dressed neatly and 
 plead in a low, refined voice, he was generally successful 
 in obtaining concessions. The hire of a yoke of oxen 
 and a plow, $5 a day to every one else, was only $3.75 
 to Solomon, with a stout boy thrown in to hold the 
 plow. Naturally Solomon Russell would not approve of 
 Kani Natupski, whose idea of farming was one of 
 personal hard labor. So, " Be we men or mice? " piped 
 up the old bachelor. 
 
 " What s your meaning? " asked Blanchard Bowes. 
 
 " Be we going to stand this invasion or be we going 
 to drive em out, first thing, before any more gets in? 
 America for the Americans, is my cry. I got it from 
 father. He was a Know-Nothing and left a lot of read 
 ing about that party which is just as good now as then. 
 There, I ve said my say. If I was a next-door neighbor, 
 like Slocumb, or had land adjoining, as you, Bowes, it
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 25 
 
 wouldn t be long before there was a vacant house where 
 Natupski s is. What s law and order for? Be we men 
 or mice ? " 
 
 Feeling he had made a neat speech, Solomon cramped 
 his wheels, turned in an incredibly small mud puddle, and 
 sent the little chunk pattering away while the impression 
 was good. 
 
 The other men likewise departed, after registering a 
 vague opinion that something must be done to cut this 
 festering canker out of the otherwise pure body politic of 
 West Holly. 
 
 Abner Slocumb, almost at home, met Mrs. Judson 
 Buckland, whose old calico horse was droning down the 
 road at its own gait, while the driver exulted over a 
 wad of money which she was spreading over her capa 
 cious lap, irrespective of danger from what highway 
 robbers might infest West Holly. 
 
 Mrs. Buckland was the free-and-easy sort. " Hullo, 
 there," she bawled, " look at all the nasty greenbacks 
 Natupski s paid me quarter s interest, right on the nail. 
 Took em out of his boot hope they ll hold together till 
 I can get em to the bank. I started to show em to your 
 wife, and make her green with envy, but she just squealed 
 * germs and bolted the door." 
 
 " All dollar bills? " asked Abner. 
 
 " Sure. The poor runt can t pick up much but chicken 
 feed this time of year. If I d sold to an American he d 
 have held me off till next season s crops, and I d been 
 just the soft-hearted fool to let him." 
 
 Abner, only too well aware that he was generally ready 
 to beg for time when the interest was due on his mort 
 gage, smiled in a sickly manner and as Solomon Russell
 
 26 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 half an hour earlier mentally hoped Natupski wasn t 
 setting what was to become a West Holly fashion. 
 
 Mrs. Buckland went on gloating. " Overpaid me, too, 
 into three dollars, on account of the bills sticking to 
 gether, as I ve just found out. I think he saw it just as 
 I drove down the road, for he came through the house 
 roaring something in his jargon which I thought best 
 not to hear. Then, judging from the sounds, he went in 
 and beat his wife. Say, ain t she aged rapidly? My 
 eyesight ain t very good, and these foreign faces never 
 make much impression on me, but honest to goodness 
 she didn t seem to me the same woman I got a glimpse of 
 last July. And where do they get such a snarl of young 
 ones?" 
 
 Abner escaped without explaining things to the volatile 
 Mrs. Buckland. She was too good a gossip to be trusted 
 with West Holly s closet skeleton. 
 
 When he was safely beyond hailing distance he turned 
 and watched Mrs. Buckland and her outfit disappear. 
 The horse being piebald, her buggy painted yellow with 
 red running-gear, and her attire a pink and green-striped 
 shirtwaist above a blue plaid skirt, there was a total im 
 pression as of a crazy quilt borne away by a sluggish 
 wind. 
 
 " Always a darn nice neighbor," mused Abner, " for 
 borrowing saleratus and such. And I don t think it s 
 improved her one mite having become a creditor. Took 
 three dollars over and above her due ! " 
 
 Abner pulled a neat pocketbook from his vest and 
 inspected the contents. There were exactly three one- 
 dollar bills. And what different bills from those Mrs. 
 Buckland bore away from Natupski s! Nancy Slocumb
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 27 
 
 washed and dried every piece of paper money that came 
 into her house the specie had to stand a good scouring 
 with whiting and later polishing under chamois skin. 
 Abner s three bills looked so new that he might have 
 just made them himself. 
 
 After he had put the horse up he meandered to the line 
 fence and took careful note of what Natupski had been 
 doing all day. Clearing a field of stones. It was marvel- 
 ously cleared, too; and not a corner left for harboring 
 seed-scattering weeds. Abner Slocumb wasn t that sort 
 of a farmer, but he could appreciate it. 
 
 Natupski was out by the road, waving a hand, bruised 
 and bloody from stone picking, at the butcher s cart. 
 He meant to buy no meat this evening not even his 
 usual meager purchase of half a pound of Hamburg 
 steak. Mrs. Natupski, drooping over the two infants 
 who were dragging her down, looked a hollow-eyed dis 
 appointment, but said nothing. 
 
 Abner Slocumb could not avoid connecting the pass 
 ing of the butcher and Mrs. Buckland s unmerited gain. 
 
 " Plaguy old woman, eat up with avarice," muttered 
 Abner, and looked again at his clean dollar bills. He had 
 been intending to break one of them at the butcher s 
 cart, but he too waved the white top along. After all, 
 he and Nance didn t need lamb chops at twenty-eight 
 cents the pound. They could make out perfectly well 
 with bacon, ham, dried beef, salted mackerel, codfish in 
 cream, baked beans, and a couple those roosters that 
 strutted round eating their heads off. 
 
 When he went into the house if there wasn t his 
 creditor come about the interest on the Slocumb place. 
 Only no one would have suspected it.
 
 28 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 This creditor spoke about the new branch railroad 
 and the cat and whether the governor had been justified 
 in refusing to sign a bill for a feeble-minded home in the 
 county, so all the idiots needn t be sent away off to 
 Boston, where their folks could hardly have the satisfac 
 tion of seeing them twice a year. Nothing was said 
 about anything so vulgar as money. After an hour of 
 this the creditor rose to go, and while drawing on a pair 
 of driving gloves commiserated with the Slocumbs on 
 their new neighbors. 
 
 " You must feel it," were the words, " this invasion. 
 Such old settlers as your family you hold it on a grant 
 from the Indians, don t you? " 
 
 " My forbears," laughed Abner, " are generally sup 
 posed to have got the better of the red man one time the 
 latter was wagged out with fire water. I ve never felt 
 very consequentious over the transaction." 
 
 " Oh, it was quite justifiable quite. You see, the 
 red men never developed or improved the country. They 
 had to go to the wall in the interest of civilization. Now, 
 these Natupskis " 
 
 " I haven t any cash on hand just now," cried Abner, 
 as if glad to talk of anything not Natupski. And so he 
 was, for memory of that stoneless field contrasted with 
 his own, feeding in which was possible only to the 
 proverbial sharpened sheep s nose. If his forbears per 
 formed a noble deed in supplanting the savages, what 
 would be the historic opinion of a slack New Englander 
 who acted as obstructionist to an industrious Polander? 
 So, " I haven t any cash on hand," he blurted out, adding, 
 " I calculate to sell the apples next week, or maybe the
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 29 
 
 week after. I d have tried to catch up if I d known you 
 was coming." 
 
 And, " Oh, that s perfectly satisfactory," returned the 
 creditor. " I just thought I d drop in while I was 
 up this way. You can mail me a check when it s 
 convenient." 
 
 Abner Slocumb glowed with manly pride at the manner 
 in which the affair was conducted, and the creditor seemed 
 quite contented, too. Not so did Mrs. Judson Buckland 
 treat Kani Natupski. Oh, not so! Abner felt that he 
 ought to thank the Powers that Be that fate hadn t made 
 him a foreigner with a mortgaged farm in West Holly. 
 Then he wondered what the Powers that Be had to do 
 with it. 
 
 In the end he went out in the yard and looked at his 
 three dollar bills. He felt a queer, a thoroughly non- 
 New England impulse. He would like to walk up to 
 Natupski and say, " Here s three dollars for you. Do 
 what you gol ram please with it." Only he was afraid 
 the Polander wouldn t take the money. He had an 
 idea he was proud under all his dirt and vermin and 
 ignorance, proud ! There was only one way to get round 
 such pride. Tell a lie. Slocumb told it like a gentle 
 man. 
 
 He handed the three dollars to Natupski, with a story 
 of having been entrusted with the money by Mrs. Buck- 
 land when she found she had been overpaid. He won 
 dered if he had saved Mrs. Natupski from a beating by 
 his deception. And then again, was it not a bruise she 
 was nursing on her cheek? Had he saved her from a 
 beating? And, after all, why should he save her from 
 a beating?
 
 3 o OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 He felt he had somehow got the better of Mrs. Buck- 
 land. That alone was worth three dollars. 
 
 " Pretty small potatoes, I call it, picking on a foreigner 
 because he is one. What sort of a figure d we cut in his 
 country, I d like to know? Green as grass to ways and 
 lingo." 
 
 Right after this came a call to the schoolhouse that 
 evening. Blanchard Bowes was driving about, asking 
 the men of West Holly to meet and discuss the Natupski 
 scandal. 
 
 Slocumb considered a while, rolling a pebble this way 
 and that under his boot. Finally he said, slowly, " Wai 
 yes I guess I ll be on hand." 
 
 " Do we want the women folks ? " asked Bowes. 
 
 Slocumb came to a sudden decision. " We do not," 
 he said. 
 
 "On account the scandalous doings?" 
 
 " On account the scandalous doings. The tow row 
 is liable to be something awful." 
 
 " I suppose so," said Bowes, and went to drum up 
 recruits, licking his lips. 
 
 The schoolhouse was warm as toast and bright with 
 six-lantern power when the men assembled. They felt 
 they were part of history, and bore themselves with dig 
 nity, not to say as on stilts. But over on the Judson 
 Buckland place Mr. and Mrs. Natupski little dreamed 
 what this evening was in their life story. They thought 
 it the first real frosty night of the year, when both babies 
 had the colic because economy had dictated no fire in 
 the bleak house ; and Stanislarni nearly gave up the ghost 
 from unwonted indulgence in green chestnuts. The cow 
 was sick, too, and a veterinary came to look at her and
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 31 
 
 shake his head, which cost two of Abner Slocumb s 
 three dollars. Mr. Natupski dragged his leather belt 
 a notch or two closer as the supperless night wore on, 
 and Mrs. Natupski polished her teeth with a piece of hard 
 bread on which the chickens had whetted their beaks 
 without making any impression. In fact, it was, for 
 them, a very ordinary evening, because if the vet. wasn t 
 always called, something was generally dying in the hen 
 house or barn. 
 
 Farming in Massachusetts was different from farming 
 in Poland besides, Kani Natupski had not been a farmer 
 in Poland. In Poland he had envied the farmers, that 
 was why he had so yearned for a bit of land. 
 
 He would accept no advice from Americans. His 
 own people, in this country many years, told him to accept 
 no American advice. The Americans did not know how 
 to live, they spent money as fast as they earned it, they 
 seemed to think one earned only to spend. 
 
 Looking at his wife Marinki, Kani felt a sudden 
 pleasure in that she had followed him from Poland. He 
 did not send for her because it seemed foolish to bring 
 a wife from Poland when one had a wife at hand here, 
 but Olka had been something of a disappointment. She 
 had wasted five minutes every morning combing her 
 hair, and had asked money to buy clothes when less than 
 a year married. Marinki would be a help. She could 
 not buy clothes, for she knew no American words with 
 which to ask for them in shops. 
 
 While he went about, thinking all this, hauling poultry 
 from the frosty trees in which they persisted in roosting, 
 and flinging them, a squawking mass, into the dusty 
 shed; and between whiles helping his wife to cuddle the
 
 32 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 sick children in warmed rags, his fate was being settled 
 in the seat of learning for West Holly. 
 
 The arraignment was the same as that at the watering 
 trough. West Holly resented the invasion of Natupski. 
 It was ready to drive him out, by fair means or 
 foul. 
 
 Fair means describing to the proper authorities that 
 immoral performance, bringing a wife home who was 
 no wife at all. 
 
 Foul means cutting his wire fences. 
 
 The first would probably put Mr. Natupski in jail. 
 Mrs. Natupski would then be unable to keep the farm, 
 Mrs. Judson Buckland would foreclose, and the immi 
 grant peril be forever over in West Holly. 
 
 (" Unless she sells to the Jewish Ag. Soc.," Solomon 
 Russell murmured, but no one paid any attention to the 
 poor old bach.) 
 
 The men had disposed themselves according to char 
 acter. Blanchard Bowes was in the teacher s seat on the 
 platform. Blanchard Bowes was the sort of man who 
 naturally takes chairs and gravitates to platforms. Solo 
 mon Russell was on the dunce stool. That, too, was 
 natural. Solomon had been there most of his schooldays. 
 Josiah Perkins used a desk for a seat. Josiah and his 
 wife were always out for novelty. Abner Slocumb was 
 in the front seat, the one so front it had no desk in front 
 of it. He was endeavoring to construct a spit ball and 
 doing pretty well considering how many years it was 
 since he had made them every day. 
 
 Abner was thinking what a lot of old hounds we West 
 Holly men were, and what a poor sort of an anise bag 
 we were pursuing (no, he wouldn t dignify Natupski by
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 33 
 
 calling him a fox). Blanchard Bowes, up there, had 
 exactly the sagacious long face of a certain Dowsabel 
 that bayed the mountain each autumn; Perkins wore the 
 ferret look of a younger animal; and Sol Russell be 
 tokened a worthy desire to run with both hound and hare, 
 and be in at the death, whoever was killed. Abner fell 
 to wondering if there was any council fire at which the 
 hopes of his ancestors were settled, some time in the 
 seventeenth century. 
 
 Suddenly he pasted Sol Russell in the forehead with 
 his new construction, and stalking to the blackboard 
 wrote : 
 
 Pride 
 
 Covetousness 
 
 Wrath 
 Gluttony 
 Envy 
 Sloth 
 
 And, in another column : 
 
 Prudence 
 Justice 
 Temperance 
 Fortitude 
 
 " Anybody know what I m driving at? " he asked, and 
 Solomon Russell nodded. 
 
 "Oh, you think you know, eh, Sol? Well, Sol, walk 
 to the board and write the title best way you know how."
 
 34 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Solomon selected a crayon that pleased him and pro 
 duced in fine and fancy lettering: 
 
 " Seven Deadly Sins." 
 
 " Good. You shall have a Reward of Merit card, Sol, 
 to take home, if I can find where teacher keeps em. 
 Seven Deadly Sins. I left the third blank, so s not to risk 
 any shadow of a bad word disturbing the morals of 
 school tomorrow, but it starts with 1 and ends with t 
 and has four letters, and you can guess what tis. Now 
 let s take em in order, since I think our Natupski neigh 
 bors have been accused of pretty much all of em, taking 
 it by and large. Pride comes first. And indeed it is 
 a deadly sin. I own to it myself. I m house-proud and 
 barn-proud and tarnal-proud of the Slocumb family. 
 When I was younger I was too proud to work out. Folks 
 thought I was easy as Tilly, but I wasn t, I was proud. 
 No Slocumb had ever been anything but his own master. 
 Now, it don t seem to me we can truthfully call this 
 Natupski fellow one bit proud. As I take it he dug like 
 a nigger in the mill to make a payment on Mrs. Buck- 
 land s weed-bound farm, and he isn t above hitching 
 himself into the shafts since he s lost his horse, for I ve 
 seen him. So we ll have to cut out any warrant for 
 pride. 
 
 " Covetousness. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor s 
 ox, nor his wife, nor anything that is thy neighbor s. 
 Gosh, he don t. He hasn t borrowed so much as a curry 
 comb yet, and that s more n most of us can say of 
 American born and raised neighbors. Remember that 
 winnowing mill of yourn, Bowes, that you always had to
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 35 
 
 spend two days chasing from place to place when you d 
 any grain to winnow? Why, Natupski has even set up 
 a grindstone of his own, first one on the place since it 
 was a place. He seems to think I bought my grindstone 
 to grind my own scythes on. The Bucklands acted as 
 if they thought it was kep for their special benefit. As 
 for wives stop snickering, gents. I will only remark 
 that he don t exactly need any of our n at the present 
 time, having, as it were, bit off more n he can chew in 
 that line. 
 
 " For the last four he may be wrathy, but he keeps 
 it pretty much for home use, and won t pick a quarrel if 
 you let him alone ; gluttony folks living on bread crusts 
 are let out on that score; he s too cock-sure of his own 
 ways being correct to rightly know what envy is; and 
 when it comes to sloth we, who get our eight hours sleep 
 and doze over the newspaper all noon, haven t any call 
 to criticise a poor cuss who, so far as my observance 
 goes, works eighteen hours a day and does chores the 
 rest of the time. 
 
 " Let us now pass to the other column, containing, as 
 I presume you are aware, the four cardinal virtues. Pru 
 dence, justice, temperance, fortitude any one proving 
 up to that standard must be a pretty good fellow. Now 
 isn t our neighbor prudent ? He puts his money into land 
 and home, instead of blowing it on good times, as most 
 young chaps who emigrate away from West Holly start 
 doing. He practises justice and pays his bills on the 
 tick, whether he can buy a supper or not. He s temper 
 ate. I never expect to have to haul him out of the wheel- 
 tracks into his barn to sleep it off, as I ve hauled our 
 worthy sheriff more n once on Sundays when his wife
 
 36 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 wasn t to home to do it herself. Fortitude! That s a 
 big word with a lot of meaning. Still, it seems to me it s 
 another way of spelling bravery, and he s a brave man 
 who undertakes to support a wife and three children on 
 Judson Buckland s worn-out land, and pay for the land 
 while he s a-doing it." 
 
 " They that know nothing fear nothing," piped up 
 Mr. Perkins. " I just read that out en a copybook here. 
 You ve made out a good enough case for the foreigner, 
 but I think you ve slurred a leetle mite over that third 
 sin, the unmentionable one. He s an immoral man by 
 his own showing, and we can t harbor an immoral man 
 in our community. Marrying one woman while you ve 
 got another and a couple of young ones is doing that 
 can t be glossed over. It stinks, plain as the nose on 
 your face." 
 
 " Well," said Abner, " some of us are church-goers, 
 and we might get the Rev. Mr. Skeele to give a discourse 
 from that text about the one without sin casting the first 
 stone. You know, gentlemen, there is a part of West 
 Holly known as Silver Street? " 
 
 Indications of unrest were noticeable in the assembly. 
 
 " Over in what s been called Silver Street since the 
 Tory tax collectors before the Revolution never found 
 more n a single sixpence thereabouts, were two families 
 living peaceable and happy side by each. One couple had 
 three boys, the other one girl. The father of the girl 
 set eyes on the mother of the boys, and she didn t mind. 
 So it was proposed to t other husband and wife that they 
 consent to swap partners. At first they was inclined to 
 be ugly about it, but at length they agreed on one condi 
 tion, they should be rid of family cares. It was done
 
 IN CIVILIZATION S SERVICE 37 
 
 the woman and her three boys moved to the other house, 
 and the man who had one child of a Saturday night, as it 
 were, found himself possessed of four on Monday fore 
 noon. Did we do anything to purify West Holly from 
 this splotch on our reputation as a moral, law-abiding 
 folks ? We did not. We grinned and passed a few sassy 
 remarks and let it go at that. Some said they guessed 
 the ins and outs wasn t rightly understood, and probably 
 all parties was fully justified ; others guessed maybe they 
 went to the county seat and got a bill, and it wasn t any 
 of our business to go prying round to find out. The 
 women one and all stood up for the wives for the reason 
 that they was neat housekeepers. I believe one of em 
 sozzled her kitchen floor every day, and that went a long 
 ways in softening public opinion. 
 
 " Mr. Natupski maybe has a good excuse, only we 
 haven t asked him to give it. Perhaps he heard a while 
 back that his wife in the old country was dead or going 
 to be married again. He certainly has done his full duty 
 in one particular, and so s she. They took that little baby 
 and kept it to home where it s no expense or trouble to 
 the town; though I have heard of married men fore 
 handed, too leaving deluded girls and their offspring to 
 come on the town." 
 
 "What about the deceived young wife?" put in Mr. 
 Bowes, sententiously. " It seems to me something should 
 be done for her." 
 
 " She s done it for herself, I hear," replied Slocumb. 
 " She was married to Nicholas Kovinski this afternoon. 
 He s got a good paying job hauling school children from 
 Holly Centre. Recollect, he took Natupski s horse." 
 
 " This case seems to have run to seed," observed
 
 38 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Bowes. " The defense has choked the prosecution silent. 
 As the lanterns are burning out, I propose we go home." 
 
 Abner intended to walk, but accepted a lift in Solomon 
 Russell s buggy. 
 
 " It beat all creation, that argument you put up for 
 Natupski," piped Russell, as they drove into a darkness 
 accentuated by flashing Northern lights. " And you d 
 likely spent considerable time beforehand thinking what 
 to say. You must be almighty anxious to keep the 
 Polackers next door to you." 
 
 " Honest to man," said Abner, " I was wishing every 
 gol darned minute that the town had done as it threat 
 ened one time, and bought the Judson Buckland shanty 
 for a pest house ! "
 
 Ill 
 
 ABNER S TRY 
 
 AFTER his public championship it was generally ex 
 pected that Abner Slocumb would " do something to 
 civilize Natupski," but Abner seemed inclined rather to 
 talk than to act. Such indeed was the seeming inclina 
 tion of all West Holly. For instance : 
 
 " Cold-blooded critters, ain t they ? " said the hired 
 man, as he earned $2.50 a day watching for the sound 
 of the six-o clock whistle to be heard in the Slocumb 
 mowing. 
 
 " Well, I do know. Sometimes I think they be, n 
 sometimes I wonder if they be," was Abner s well-quali 
 fied response. His wife said Abner always qualified 
 everything, even the cider he drank. Sometimes he put 
 water into it, more often red pepper. 
 
 A year had gone by since the great events recorded 
 in the last chapters, but the Natupskis, it will be noticed, 
 were still favorite topics of conversation. In memory 
 West Holly lived as a peaceful neighborhood where 
 nothing happened before the Natupskis. Afterward 
 when any two were gathered together it was no stunt for 
 a third to guess the subject which made their jaws wag. 
 
 " Pretty unfeeling the way he goes on," commented 
 the hired party, tossing the thin windrows, and leaving 
 the heavier masses of hay for his employer s attention. 
 
 " Yes, he does that," Abner acknowledged, adding, 
 
 39
 
 40 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 with a chuckle, " My wife, she can t see through em. 
 F r instance, they set round on soap boxes in the house, 
 but he s bought my hay-cutter to use chopping feed 
 to the barn." 
 
 "You don t say!" 
 
 Abner indicated he had said. The mind of the man, 
 considerably more agile than his right arm, leaped to 
 another view of the matter. 
 
 " How you cal ate to get along without it ? " 
 
 " Oh well I can chop what little I require by hand, 
 I guess. Twon t be convenient, but I can make out. I 
 was mighty glad to complete the bargain, for I needed 
 money the worst way. My wife had set her mind on a 
 parlor carpet. She said, true enough, the old one had 
 been down most ever since we was married. A woman s 
 got to have something new once in a while to make her 
 contented, y know; besides, I feel she earns a good deal 
 of what the farm produces." 
 
 This without reflecting that for a good many years 
 the Slocumb farm had not produced anything worth 
 naming as a profit. 
 
 " Besides," continued Abner, with the lordly reasoning 
 which was rapidly reducing him to a genteel penury, " if 
 I feel I gotta have a hay-cutter, I c n always sell a cow 
 and buy me a new one. Say, what s that noise? " 
 
 " I b n sensing it some time. Seems to come from over 
 Natupski way." 
 
 " Well, let it come. We ll let it alone. I started in 
 trying to be a good neighbor to him, but when he de 
 stroyed that blueb ry bush, sez I, go it, there s no cure 
 for obstinacy, any more n f r red hair, cept dyeing." 
 
 Nevertheless, Abner stopped to help the hired man
 
 ABNER S TRY 41 
 
 listen. That worthy had, of course, ardently embraced 
 the first opportunity to quit work. 
 
 " Pretty bumptious noise. Sounds like some one danc 
 ing a devil s breakdown." 
 
 Abner s response was to stab the turf with his fork 
 and a thunderstorm impending also to say, " I presume 
 he brung it on himself, but I can t help that. Be you 
 coming or be you not ? " 
 
 " I be," said the hired man, " soon s I get a fid o 
 tobacco in my cheek." 
 
 A weird agglomeration of sounds was in the Natupski 
 barn. There were the irregular thuds of fierce blows 
 backed by the energy of excitement; mixed with growls, 
 groans, shrieks. Peering into the dusky interior the 
 men presently sorted out the noises. The shrieks came 
 from a cow-stall, wherein no one was visible, the growls 
 were from Kani Natupski, who likewise produced the 
 blows. They were directed at the hay-cutter, and deliv 
 ered with an ax. Kani was barefooted, his khaki trousers 
 slopped about his ankles, and his black shirt was rapidly 
 working loose from the leather strap by which the little 
 man held himself together. With every blow he leaped 
 into the air and came down on the unlucky machine 
 roaring. 
 
 Although the contraption had been bought and (well) 
 paid for, Abner Slocumb felt personally hurt at the way 
 his ex-property was being treated. Perhaps a man had a 
 right to kill his own hay-cutter, but at least the deed 
 shouldn t be consummated without a word of warning. 
 
 " Here you, let up, let up! " Abner bawled, advancing 
 boldly. " If the durn thing won t work, let me at it." 
 He thought that possibly Natupski s ire had been raised
 
 42 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 by a failure to understand the mechanism. Abner was 
 not quite unacquainted with a form of revenge known 
 as cutting off your nose to spite your face. 
 
 Natupski paid no slightest attention to the remon 
 strance, but from the manger of the inhabited stall popped 
 up three disheveled heads Mrs. Natupski s, little 
 Wajeiceh s and Statia s. The woman merely hissed, 
 " He fierce ! he fierce ! " and popped her face back under 
 the hay. 
 
 Slocumb turned open-mouthed to his hired man, who 
 let discretion temper his valor in the open door. 
 
 "Well, what d ye make of it?" 
 
 " Better come home-along. Let em squiggle out s 
 they can." 
 
 "I ll be durned if I will. Here, what you doing?" 
 he roared at Natupski, letting out his voice so it had to 
 be heard above all the other din. 
 
 The banging ceased for a moment, then Natupski, 
 lowering his forehead and coming forward in the blindly 
 butting manner of a temper-mad man who sees red, made 
 for Slocumb, yelling a Polish word which neither New 
 Englander identified with the fearful accusation " Mur 
 derer ! " yet such it was. 
 
 Abner could not believe his neighbor s charge was 
 made in earnest, it was only when the ax actually began 
 to descend that he realized this was no joke. With a 
 jump on his own part he escaped, while the hired man 
 gave aid by tossing a stone at Natupski and hitting the 
 stall where lurked the woman and children. Redoubled 
 shrieks from that direction seemed to bewilder Natupski; 
 he returned to the hay-cutter. 
 
 At the same moment, under advantage from the slight
 
 ABNER S TRY 43 
 
 lull in superior noise, Slocumb found the source of the 
 groans. While his father killed the machine in the dim 
 perspective, and his mother hid in the middle distance, 
 Stanislarni, with two fingers off, peacefully bled to death 
 in the foreground. 
 
 A noble picture of misplaced vengeance, pessimistic 
 acquiescence in cruel fate, and general incompetence. 
 Abner Slocumb might not know the first thing about 
 making his business pay, but such a crisis as this put him 
 on his mettle, and he felt able to cope withal. 
 
 " Git me a slab o shingle," he called to the hired man 
 would that he had used such a tone of command in 
 ordering his own work to be done " now take my jack- 
 knife and slit off the tail o my shirt it s whiter n yours. 
 Then git over n help me fix a turnyquit to stop this loss 
 o blood." 
 
 In a jiffy the child was out of danger, though Mrs. 
 Natupski crazily tried to prevent their touching Stanis 
 larni by getting in their way, beating her breast, clutch 
 ing their shoulders, and otherwise misconducting herself. 
 Such behavior, however, was not quite nonunderstand- 
 able. Slocumb knew she was begging him not to hurt 
 the kid. His Nancy wouldn t have behaved so, but 
 gritted her teeth and delivered her nearest and dearest 
 up to tortures unnamable had it been considered correct; 
 however, there weren t many womenfolks in this world 
 like Nancy Slocumb, and Abner ought to know, for she 
 told him so many times a year. 
 
 Just as the man was completing his " first aid " and 
 Stanislarni had ceased to groan, because he had fainted 
 away, the hay-cutter collapsed with a crash, and lay a 
 corpse, one might say, amidst the hayseed on the well-
 
 44 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 polished floor. Kani dropped the ax, spit on his blistered 
 hands, and leaping to the hired man s back soon reduced 
 that Samaritan to a similar ruin. Slocumb did not wait 
 for a greater effort to be directed his way. Snatching 
 the child he ran out of the barn and across the yard. He 
 was followed by an awful jangle of consonants, dried 
 dung and other missiles, but cleared the fence unharmed 
 and broke abruptly on the sweet peace of his sitting- 
 room, where Nancy sat sewing crocheted edging on 
 dish towels which she didn t need. 
 
 " That looks like a Natupski young one," she re 
 marked, controlling a great excitement with the aid of a 
 frigid demeanor. 
 
 " Tis." 
 
 " How d you get saddled with him ? And where you 
 going?" 
 
 " I guess," said Abner, " I m going to jail, if that hel 
 lion of a father of his catches me. Hurry up, Nance. 
 I want Dr. Gibson and the phone number of the Mercy 
 Hospital, and ten yards o clean rag, and the hoss hitched 
 up, and aromatic spirits ammony, and a couple o large 
 pillars, and something to eat, and a wet sponge, and Dr. 
 Chase s recipe book What to Do in Case of Accident 
 page." 
 
 " Anything more ? " asked Nancy, sarcastic-like, and 
 yet moving so quickly she had most of the requirements 
 assembled even as they were named. 
 
 "Yes. A clean shirt." 
 
 While he hauled at the mangled garment, and Nance 
 bathed the boy s face from the odoriferous bottle in 
 which chunks of camphor gum had floated in a sea of 
 alcohol ever since the day when Nancy s mother had
 
 ABNER S TRY 45 
 
 inherited it from her grandmother, Abner urged his wife 
 to look out and see if the hired man was back. 
 
 " Back from whereabouts ? " she wanted to know. 
 
 " I left him getting killed in Natupski s barn," re 
 turned Slocumb, cool as a cucumber. " The critter s done 
 for my hay-cutter and took my hired help next I wish 
 to goodness he d let my belongings be. Darn, ain t that 
 fool ever going to show up ? " 
 
 " Here he comes, round the road, walking as if he was 
 all lamed up." 
 
 Abner called out to effect that he wanted the horse 
 harnessed, but the man glumly declined to do anything 
 more that day until he d gone home and had " her " 
 put some " arniky " on his back and legs. A loud buzz 
 coming nearer up the road showed up presently as Dr. 
 Gibson in his buggy, Nancy having been successful in 
 catching him at Blanchard Bowes , and convincing him 
 that the Natupski child offered a more pressing case than 
 Mrs. Bowes nervous prostration of fifteen years stand 
 ing. 
 
 " Good enough," quoth Abner, when the physician had 
 complimented him on his " first aid " and started with the 
 child to meet the ambulance already on its ten-mile run 
 from the city hospital. He breathed a long sigh of re 
 lief, and turned to adjust the gingham tie which he wore, 
 even at haying time, under the turndown collar of his 
 neat cotton shirt. " Whatever bad marks the guardian 
 angels score up against us in the big book up yon 
 der I guess will be partly balanced by the record of 
 this afternoon. We ve certainly done ourselves 
 proud." 
 
 "Indeed!" ejaculated Nancy. "I sh d say we had!
 
 46 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 And to prove you re right, Abner Slocumb, here comes 
 the rain like cats n dogs V pitchforks tines down." 
 
 " Thunder ! " grinned Abner, not meaning the ex 
 clamation should refer in any particular way to the 
 style of shower just arrived. " And six load o my best 
 upland grass out in it." 
 
 " Well, you re a smart one," sneered Nancy, in reality 
 all puffed up with pride in a husband who put humanity s 
 business ahead of hay. 
 
 " Well, it goes to show our reward s in heaven." 
 
 " Seeing s tain t here," Nancy snapped. 
 
 Abner picked up the Springfield Republican and his 
 wife retired to the kitchen, where she proceeded to knock 
 up something specially delectable, elaborate, and expen 
 sive for supper. Presently her voice was heard. 
 
 "Say, Abner!" 
 
 " Spit it out." 
 
 " That Polander show any sense o gratitude for what 
 you done ? " 
 
 " Pelted me with cow manure." 
 
 Nancy s eyes flashed scorn, and she instantly put a 
 double portion of butter into what she was making, at 
 the same time deciding to frost it. Abner certainly 
 merited some reward ! 
 
 Just as she shut the oven door the hired man came 
 back, smelling like a front yard with a Balm o Gilead 
 tree in it. 
 
 " Thought I might s well make it a full day," he ob 
 served, with a glance at the clock. He added that he 
 felt pretty pindling, though, and not more n able to hold 
 the cat. 
 
 " I see Natupski s I came along," he continued. " Say,
 
 ABNER S TRY 47 
 
 that feller s madder n tunket. He lets me out, though. 
 Seemed to be right down sorry for lighting onto me like 
 he did. But he s still got it in for you, Slocumb." 
 
 Abner rustled his paper, to get at Sam Bowies real 
 opinions, and remarked he wasn t going around looking 
 for thanks. 
 
 " It s worser n that. I listened to his jargon quite a 
 while, and got it conjured out finally that he blames you 
 for the whole business. Seems to think if you hadn t 
 sold him the cutter he d have his young one now, good s 
 new." 
 
 " Great reasoning," commented Nancy. She didn t 
 see it was about as logical as hers had been when she 
 accused a saloon in Hamson of sending forth her 
 nephew in such a state that he fell asleep on the railroad 
 track. 
 
 N what s more, he s a-lotting on doing you some 
 harm, I surmise," the man went on. " I left him turn 
 ing the grindstone for his ax, and I wouldn t wonder if 
 your young peach trees suffered fore sunup." 
 
 " Oh, shut up ! " yelled Abner, exasperated by this 
 constant reiteration of annoyance. " Don t give me 
 none of your surmises. The watermelons you worry 
 about never get stole." 
 
 Brave words, spoken to due effect; yet the warning 
 was Abner s first thought as he wakened next morning 
 when the dawn was hinting at its arrival, and early birds 
 began to remind others not quite so early of that doomed 
 worm. Some one was about at Natupski s barn, and 
 Abner trembled a moment for his trees. He hoped 
 Natupski wasn t going to prove that sort of a fellow. 
 The Slocumbs had lived on this side of the mountain
 
 48 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 for half a dozen generations, always taking pride in 
 getting along with their neighbors. Sometimes one 
 had to eat considerable humble pie, but twas generally 
 worth it. Abner didn t think much of neighborhood 
 quarrels. You began with a line fence, and whichever 
 was in the right as likely as not got the worst of it in the 
 end. What if Natupski did hack into a tree or so? Best 
 set it down to some varmint and let it go at that. If 
 you took the law on him you d be forever riding over 
 to the county town, wasting money on lawyers, and in 
 the end he d likely set your buildings afire. 
 
 So Abner turned over, stuffed a ruffled pillow slip into 
 his ear, and was rewarded by not hearing a team drive 
 past at a lively clip. It came back while the Slocumbs 
 were at breakfast. Kani Natupski was driving. The 
 hired man reported he had been to the Mercy Hospital 
 to see little Stanislarni. 
 
 " Went the five mile to the depot, caught the first 
 trolley, and was back here in time to do a day s work. 
 My, that feller s got git up and git ! " 
 
 Abner wished some other fellows had ditto, while 
 Nancy said primly she was pleased (and surprised) the 
 foreigner had as much interest in the child as that showed. 
 It was her unuttered but faithfully held belief that every 
 alien lived in hope of getting his offspring into an insti 
 tution where, if possible, it would be marooned for 
 childhood. Abner, as taxpayer, was helping to support 
 goodness only knew how many ! 
 
 The next morning it rained. Abner turned easily on 
 his feathers as he heard the monotonous drip drip on 
 the tin roof of the parlor bay-window, and prepared for 
 another nap. It happened no hay was down to worry
 
 ABNER S TRY 49 
 
 about, and the garden was spoiling for a good soaking. 
 He d milk late, for once, and tell Nance to cook up a lot 
 of flapjacks. They always ate well at rainy-day break 
 fasts when he had time to eat them in. 
 
 A team drove down the road at a lively clip. He 
 couldn t believe it, even when he woke up Nancy to help, 
 but that Natupski father was making the fifteen-mile 
 journey again, just for the sake of ten minutes beside 
 the cot where Stanislarni luxuriated in such cleanliness 
 and care as had never been his before. 
 
 " The dum fool," bleated Abner, later in the day, as 
 he saw the drenched man driving the discouraged horse 
 along the swampy road. Kani was evidently soaked to 
 the skin, and his hat, a cheap derby, had disintegrated to 
 pulp, besides turning most of its dye into a violet hue 
 that mottled his cheeks. As for the animal, it was plainly 
 tired out. Such unwonted journeys, in addition to work 
 in the hay field all day, would ruin anything not an 
 * all-day " horse. 
 
 The sight was too much for Abner s philosophy. 
 Dashing his knife into a sea of syrup, he opened the 
 door and begged Natupski to come in and have some 
 breakfast. 
 
 "Jest to show I don t bear malice I mean, you don t. 
 It s all ready n waiting. Grub, you know, Natupski, 
 victuals eatings whatever you call it. Come along. 
 Do come along." 
 
 And he yelled to Nancy to set the griddle back and fry 
 another mess of cakes. 
 
 The sole response of Natupski was a whip cut. It was 
 sent Slocumb way, and accompanied by the objectionable 
 word which Abner now understood meant something
 
 50 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 akin to " murderer." Then another cut sent the jaded 
 horse on a last spurt. 
 
 Nancy laughed, with a couple of foolish tears in her 
 eyes. " Now I guess you will leave him alone," she 
 remarked. " Here, don t fill up too much on flapjacks. 
 I m going to open a jar o the new currant jell to see 
 what it s like." 
 
 Of course, they said, he wouldn t go next morning, 
 which promised to be hot and a great hay day; but he 
 did. When he came up the road in the blazing sun, nod 
 ding from want of sleep, while his sweat-flecked horse 
 hung its dejected head and limped, one hardly knew 
 which to pity most. 
 
 Nancy, one mass of nerves, made a long step to the 
 phone. Abner understood. She felt the fear that was 
 agitating him that the child might be on the dangerous 
 list. While Central got the number, he fled to bovine 
 society. She d give him the news in a lump. He guessed 
 he could stand it better so. 
 
 She stumbled over the words, and he believed the 
 worst, but it was only dander getting up. 
 
 " They say they say the boy s getting along splendid. 
 No complications nor nothing. Got the appetite of a 
 little pig, and has a great time jiggling toys with his 
 well hand. They ve just give him some barley sugar to 
 pacify him for taking away a mess o mouldy stodge his 
 pa brung him." 
 
 " There s no fear o mortification ? " muttered Abner, 
 absent-mindedly offering an astonished calf the measure 
 of oats intended for the horse. 
 
 " Nary bit." 
 
 A pause, then, " Pity he wouldn t let well enough alone,
 
 ABNER S TRY 51 
 
 thout getting his betters all work up," she offered, and 
 flounced into the house. 
 
 But Natupski wouldn t, and by the end of a week all 
 that part of West Holly was on edge. The wires, once 
 alive with reports about the price of early potatoes or 
 late strawberries, Mrs. Perkins condition and the best 
 food for orphaned infancy, now buzzed mainly for 
 Natupski. Central could scarcely find an unbusy moment 
 in which to unburden herself of the daily weather. No 
 body seemed to care about the barometer and areas of 
 moisture could be as stationary as they pleased without 
 rousing remonstrance. It was only, " Hello say, the 
 hoss fell twice going by my place. We renced out his 
 mouth with cool spring water and he moved along after 
 a while, but I doubt if he ever manages it again. The 
 man? Oh, the man s all in." 
 
 Or perhaps a message such as this went from house 
 to house : " Say, you know the Polander lives t other 
 side the mountain ? Well, watch good, and when you see 
 he don t go by, call me up and I ll go out and look after 
 him. He s more dead n alive for want o rest and 
 liable to fall in his tracks any minute." 
 
 Kind women stood by picket fences with perspiring 
 jugs of sweetened water, which Kani did not refuse. 
 Children offered corncob dolls and well-thumbed picture- 
 books, for the father to take to the little boy in the 
 hospital. The father appeared grateful, but nearly al 
 ways he forgot to give the presents to Stanislarni. His 
 energy was so intensely concentrated on getting to that 
 bedside each day, that he was worse than a log when 
 he got there. Once he began to scold the boy for not 
 recovering more quickly, so as to be on the farm helping
 
 52 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 papa by turning the grindstone, treading hay, raking 
 after, weeding the garden, throwing down straw from the 
 high beams, and performing other trifles of labor which 
 unAmericanized Poland held fit for five years. There 
 was a dreadful scene, in the midst of which Kani was 
 turned out of the ward, and the nurses confided to one 
 another a wish that he would now leave the kid to get 
 well in peace. 
 
 Vain hope. He shambled in next morning, but slightly 
 improved in temper and appearance. Blanchard Bowes 
 had started what was presently to be a style in West 
 Holly, volunteering the use of a fresh horse to take 
 Natupski from his house to the station, while the jaded 
 one recuperated in a roomy box stall. After that the 
 journeys were made with more comfort, though the man 
 himself showed the results of rising at 3 a.m., after a 
 long evening mowing by moonlight. 
 
 The chief sufferer was Abner Slocumb, who got even 
 less sleep than Natupski. He had taken to walking the 
 floor nights, because the state of things got on his nerves, 
 and Nancy didn t know whether to give him another dose 
 of the spring s sulphur and lasses, or to mix an infusion 
 of wild cherry bark with his cider. 
 
 It did not help Abner toward tranquillity that most of 
 the neighbors seemed convinced he was somehow to 
 blame for the loss of Stanislarni s fingers. Natupski s 
 description of the affair, in a language largely not under 
 stood by his hearers, was responsible for this impression. 
 The little Polander had got it in for Abner, and, one 
 couldn t believe, not without reason ! 
 
 Nancy used to slip into the hen-house and talk to the 
 chickens. She told them that what she mainly abhorred
 
 ABNER S TRY 53 
 
 was the utter uselessness of it all. There no need to 
 have been an accident, to begin with, if the Natupskis 
 had any sense. Who ever heard of a five-year-old child 
 let meddle with a hay-cutter? And then if your young 
 one did get hurt why send good money after bad by 
 destroying property? Above all, what did possess the 
 ijit that was willing to let the little tyke lie on the barn 
 floor and die, to go every mortal day fifteen mile to look 
 at him? That was the most useless performance of all. 
 The boy was doing fine ; and yet a fool man had to frazzle 
 himself, kill a horse, and maul the town out of plumb 
 when he d be better employed tending to his summer 
 work like a sane being. Nancy believed in keeping emo 
 tions on a taut line of practical result; she loved Abner 
 to death, but if he died tomorrow there would be a great 
 feeling of satisfaction in having made over the pillow- 
 ticks in the spring, and she would be quite capable of 
 quelling her grief sufficiently to knock up plenty of flour 
 victuals for the funeral. 
 
 With the passing of the last of the six weeks, West 
 Holly s interest in Natupski began to wane. People 
 wondered how much longer they would be expected to 
 furnish horses to haul his good-for-nothing carcass to 
 the trolley? Stanislarni was reported as up and larking 
 about the corridors. He had kicked a nurse who objected 
 to being bawled at in evil-sounding Polish every time her 
 apron tickled the boy. She couldn t believe it a word 
 of endearment. It sounded something quite different. 
 Anyway, Miss O Brien was down on all these foreigners, 
 having the true pride in her native America of an adap 
 tive girl three generations from ancestors who had 
 " plenty Gaelic " and a scarcity of anything else.
 
 54 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 There came an evening when Natupski, it was under 
 stood, was up a tree. No one offered to take him to the 
 car next morning. Even when he called and looked 
 wistful at their back doors they did not melt. Blanchard 
 Bowes was cutting alfalfa. Hiram Farrar murmured 
 something about cowpeas. The poor little man, with his 
 usual waste of effort, trotted as many miles about the 
 neighborhood as he was trying to save himself, and after 
 all got no horse. Lashing his own legs with the whip 
 he carried, perhaps with a view to keeping himself from 
 going to sleep standing up, Natupski kicked open the 
 Slocumb gate and stamped his way across the piazza. 
 
 Consternation reigned in that establishment. The 
 hired man panted in at another door, giving it as his 
 opinion that the Polisher had come to lick Abner. This 
 was delivered in an excited whisper, but Nancy spoke 
 her mind audibly. 
 
 " If you, Abner Slocumb, demean yourself so far s to 
 talk to him you re a bigger fool than I take you to be," 
 she said. 
 
 Then she went on putting nutcakes into a pail. It 
 was their wedding anniversary tomorrow and they al 
 ways celebrated it by going off somewheres. This time, 
 luckily, the Giffordville Fair was opening just in time. 
 They d drive over, starting before light, and to save 
 money for Nancy, when on pleasure bent, was like 
 John Gilpin s wife in having a frugal mind she had 
 manufactured a magnificent loaf of cake that was going 
 to get her through the gate on an Exhibitor s ticket 
 besides, as likely as not, taking a prize that would pay 
 for baiting the horse and all. 
 
 The little man stood and knocked with the whip butt
 
 ABNER S TRY 55 
 
 for some time. He could hear steppings about within, 
 but no one seemed disposed to answer. Finally he stum 
 bled away. 
 
 " By gum," said the hired man, " he s got cheek. 
 Ain t going home, but right out to the barn." 
 
 Abner felt it necessary to follow. The two con 
 fronted each other in the growing twilight of the horse 
 stall. 
 
 " Looky here," remonstrated the New Englander, 
 " don t you think you re getting pretty bunkum ? This 
 barn don t go with the Judson Buckland place, you 
 know." 
 
 Of course the sarcasm was thrown away. Natupski 
 had an eye for the horse and nothing else. He tried 
 brazenly to get by Abner s bulky form and disturb the 
 peace of that splendid animal that stood calmly munch 
 ing bits of its bed, while careful to disturb neither the 
 cat that rested on the natural saddle of its back, nor 
 the hen that had chosen to hatch a belated brood in the 
 manger. 
 
 " Him," said Natupski, briefly, but with assurance, 
 " Me got to have him." 
 
 " Well, you won t, and that s flat. I ve a use for my 
 own hoss as it happens, but if twas otherwise " 
 
 Natupski, calm as if eating apples, began to pick up 
 portions of the harness which hung by the stable en 
 trance. 
 
 " Here, you ! Put that headstall where you found it ! 
 I tell you this hoss is going to haul me and my wife 
 to Giffordville cattle show tomorrow. And even if 
 twasn t " 
 
 Suddenly an idea of being refused his boon filtered
 
 56 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 into Natupski s brain. He dropped the bits of leather, 
 and stood like a child whose snow house has suddenly 
 collapsed in a February thaw a child so young he can t 
 realize ice won t last the year through. The wildness of 
 his red-rimmed eyes, bloodshot from loss of sleep, sought 
 the top of the barn, where the light of the afterglow 
 penetrated from a great latticed cupola, and then his 
 gaze turned out of doors. Mentally, it is to be presumed, 
 he went again the rounds of the inhospitable neighbor 
 hood, whence his feet had taken him to Slocumb s last. 
 Perhaps there was some natural pride in the man, per 
 haps he had not wanted to ask this favor from one whom 
 he had elected should be an enemy. He had forced him 
 self to forgive Slocumb. He acted as one who had not 
 reckoned on refusal. All his energy had been concen 
 trated in forgiveness, he had none left to use in pleading. 
 He went all to pieces, fell on his knees, blubbered, tried to 
 clasp Abner s hand as that of a patron, said things he 
 had never thought to say in America, where he had 
 understood all were equal. 
 
 Abner had been offended at his effrontery, he was 
 disgusted at seeing the man play baby. 
 
 " I wouldn t lend ye my hoss if he was twins," he 
 roared. " Git up and git out." 
 
 A little flash of the old anger sent Natupski off shak 
 ing his fist. 
 
 Abner went into the house. 
 
 " Of course he didn t get what he come after? " asked 
 Nancy. 
 
 " Of course not/ said Abner. 
 
 He did not walk the floor that night, but hopped into 
 bed feeling firm and cool, as when a boy he would dive
 
 ABNER S TRY 57 
 
 deeper than any other in the old swimming-pool. He 
 thought he was going to have a great night for sleep, and 
 start fresh as a daisy for the fair. His mind was pretty 
 easy the interest on the mortgage didn t fall due until 
 the crops would be in, and perhaps they would all do 
 better than he was afraid they wouldn t. The sheets 
 felt grateful to his tired limbs. He always did enjoy a 
 cricket s chirping. Nance s heavy breathing ought to 
 send one off directly. Only he couldn t sleep. His 
 thoughts would wander right away from his own vine- 
 embowered dwelling to that one over the way, whence all 
 leafage had been rudely swept. He could not think of 
 his own bedroom, with its matted floor, drawn-in rug, 
 cretonne upholstered shirtwaist box and bureau covered 
 with crocheted mats over pink silesia. It went to 
 Natupski s, that vagrant mind; it saw the rooms 
 which hadn t been swept out since the Natupskis 
 moved in, where the moonbeams struggled through 
 windows well curtained by films of dirt, and where 
 a large family lived without any of the things he 
 and Nancy thought necessary for two. He remembered 
 Nancy observing once that she didn t suppose, judging 
 from the Natupskis, there was such a thing as a pin 
 cushion in Poland. This seemed to him hardly likely to 
 be true, since there must be rich folks in that far-off 
 land, who lived decently. He supposed what strained 
 out into America was the dregs. But to think of any 
 folks without a pincushion, or a pipe-rack, or a silk string 
 to hang neckties on! Maybe West Holly folks were 
 victims of " house pride," but they treated by and large 
 alike. Even that lady pauper, Mrs. Anderson, had got 
 the town fathers to subscribe to a fashion paper for her !
 
 58 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 What he anticipated a noise. Nancy stirred quickly, 
 too. Perhaps she had not been as fast asleep as she had 
 pretended. Abner leaped to the window, softly withdrew 
 the screen, and leaned afar out. He could hear the bed 
 creak as Nancy sat up. Ten minutes went by, then Abner 
 replaced the screen and slipped under the counter 
 pane. 
 
 " Any one to the barn ? " Nancy whispered. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Abner. " All s tight as a drum that- 
 a-way." 
 
 She did go to sleep then, and he was able to steal out 
 unnoticed in the deepest darkness of the second morning 
 hour. He did not light the lantern until safely hidden 
 by the barn door. Horse, cat, and hen were alike amazed 
 at the disturbance. He sent pussy hunting and led the 
 horse softly into the barn floor, where he tackled. A 
 few armfuls of hay spread on the gravel enabled him to 
 pass to the road in something near absolute silence. 
 
 " Nance don t know it," he sniggered, " but a durn 
 good midnight hoss thief was sp iled in making me. It s 
 what I was cut out for." 
 
 A dim light flickered in Natupski s ell. You couldn t 
 call any room there either kitchen or parlor, for there 
 was a bed in the apartment holding the cook-stove, and 
 the coarse lace curtains stretched across the foreroom 
 windows hid only an accumulation of junk. Mrs. 
 Natupski sat out of doors. Wajeiceh and Statia were 
 doing something dangerous in which themselves, the cat, 
 and a butcher-knife were involved. Mr. Natupski was 
 not to be seen. 
 
 " Where s he ? " asked Abner, wondering if he were 
 talking to a blank wall.
 
 ABNER S TRY 59 
 
 The woman got up and pointed down the road. Then 
 she walked a few steps, nodded solemnly, and sat down. 
 Abner understood. The poor creature had started on a 
 desperate tramp. But perhaps one might catch up with 
 him yet. There was a nickel clock on the mantel ; he took 
 it to the woman and she pointed to midnight. Kani 
 would be almost at the depot by now unless he had 
 fallen in a faint. Quite forgetting Nance and the wed 
 ding day, Abner got into his own buggy and shook the 
 reins. As he drove, with one leg hanging out, in the 
 approved fashion of West Holly, he wondered how he 
 could make it plain to Natupski that he bore no grudge 
 not even for last night s untold injuries and that this 
 softening was not brought about through fear, but be 
 cause after all a good American, raised in a clean home 
 and educated nine winter terms in the red schoolhouse, 
 felt he owed more than common kindness to an alien 
 minus such advantages. Natupski wasn t manly, nor 
 sensible, but maybe if neighbored right such qualities 
 could be driven into him. 
 
 Due to overmuch prodding of bushy roadsides, Abner 
 arrived at the depot after the first trolley had left. The 
 sun was up and the day gave indications of being hotter 
 than blixon. The depot always was a stuffy, uncom 
 fortable place, anyhow. Shut in by hills, it nestled close 
 to the river, now at its lowest, gleaming back of the 
 paper mill like a tiny silver scarf held in place by jutting 
 jewels of rocks. It glistened but never seemed to be 
 getting anywhere; so rapid was its flow that no wavelet 
 was visible. Abner had his fill of looking at it, of seeing 
 the hands pour forth from their funny little double 
 cottages to be sucked up by the factory door; of driving
 
 60 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 the horse from one bit of shade to another. The car came 
 back, but no Natupski got out. Abner felt puzzled. 
 Could the chap be lying up there on the road, suffering, 
 in some hideaway place he had missed? In spite of a 
 yearning stomach he waited another hour, and then began 
 the weary drive back to where Nance would wait in a 
 worry that would quickly turn to a real mad fit. He 
 didn t blame her, either. What had possessed him to go 
 and spoil the whole day for the sake of a miserable 
 little ungrateful no-account runt? 
 
 It was the utter lack of any gratitude on Natupski s 
 part that galled most. Abner didn t hide the doings of 
 his right hand from his left. He knew he d been a 
 mighty good neighbor to Natupski, right from the start. 
 He d made no mean remarks when Mrs. Buckland sold 
 to Polanders, and he d jumped in quick to save the blue 
 berry bush. And mighty few men would let a lot of 
 good upland hay go to ballyhack to try and argufy with 
 a crazy man. What had he got for it ? Only abuse. Not 
 an indication the miserable Polander sensed any thank 
 fulness whatsoever. Yet he supposed the cardinal virtues 
 were the same in any language. 
 
 As he approached his own dwelling Abner dismounted, 
 to let the horse bury its nose in the roadside hogshead, 
 which kept ever full of sweet water, trickling from a 
 far-away spring in open troughs of log. 
 
 Who was this dancing along the wheel tracks? 
 Natupski actually Natupski. And beside him Stanis- 
 larni, in all the glory of a clean face and hygienic promise 
 of a close haircut, principal advantages fetched from the 
 hospital, unless one counted much more English than 
 his parents could understand. The face was rapidly being
 
 ABNER S TRY 61 
 
 disfigured by large chunks of pink frosting from a 
 hunk of cake which somehow seemed familiar to 
 Abner. 
 
 A team, driving off in the opposite direction, showed 
 how father and son had made the journey. Probably 
 some good-natured hospital doctor had been the 
 charioteer, and they had gone Hamson way. 
 
 "See! see!" yelled Natupski, jerking his child into 
 the air by the leaping exuberance of his joy. " My little 
 Stanislarni come home! My little Stanislarni come 
 home ! " 
 
 " And then," as Abner would report by and by, " if 
 the crazy loon didn t up and kiss me in two places ! " 
 
 Slocumb escaped as fast as possible and after com 
 forting the horse with oats got into the kitchen, where 
 Nancy, smiling as a basket of chips, was rapidly 
 unpacking luncheon pails and reducing the pantry to a 
 complete forgetfulness of ever having been disturbed 
 for an impending picnic. 
 
 As he suspected, she had cut the cake. 
 
 " Natupski s boy s home," she said, snippy-like. 
 
 " As if I didn t know it. He s led me a pretty dance. 
 Got my hired man out of commission, sp iled a good 
 mess o hay, ruined my reputation, girdled six fine peach 
 trees, and made us miss the first celebration since we 
 was married. Still, I d rather have his ill-will than 
 his gratitude. Bussing me twice in the public high 
 way ! " 
 
 " I didn t know about the trees," said Nancy, looking 
 at the cake as if she wished she could put it together 
 again. 
 
 " I didn t intend you should," returned Abner. " It s
 
 62 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 a dead secret betwixt me and him. Done last night when 
 we d orter been asleep. But that smacking it happened 
 much as five minutes ago take down the receiver quiet, 
 Nance, and see what they re saying about it along the 
 line."
 
 IV 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 
 
 YEARS before Kani Natupski knew there was an 
 America, a fortissimo suite, played pianissimo, sent 
 sound waves through West Holly from the old Pinkney 
 place, next door to what would ultimately be Natupski s 
 (the other next-door, not Slocumb s). 
 
 Ma am Pinkney died and left a will, which satisfied 
 neither of her daughters. 
 
 " Cat s foot ! " exclaimed Julia Farrar, she that was a 
 Pinkney. " I should think mother might have remem 
 bered me with something worth having, as I ve not had 
 to be supported since I was seventeen and married Hiram 
 Farrar." 
 
 Julia Farrar was given all the Pinkney land abutting 
 on Farrar acres. 
 
 " Mother knew what she was after, I don t doubt," 
 observed Juletta Pinkney, " but she evidently failed to 
 consider that my youth was sacrificed to her and to 
 father." 
 
 Juletta received the Pinkney mansion and what was 
 left of the land with Julia Farrar s share subtracted. 
 This was the worst forty acres. 
 
 The sisters divided the personal property. 
 
 "Suffering ages!" remarked Julia Farrar. "What 
 under the sun did mother mean? Me to take the parlor 
 sofa and you to keep the chairs! You to have two vol- 
 
 63
 
 64 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 umes Pamela/ and me the rest, so neither of us ll ever 
 be acquaint with the whole story! Mother must have 
 been a doddering ijit. I think we could break the will." 
 
 " Mother," returned Julia, " presumably understood 
 her own mind. Is there anything special you hanker 
 after, Julia?" 
 
 " I don t care a dutch curse," cried Julia Farrar, " for 
 anything but that Rising Sun quilt with all the pieces of 
 my school dresses in it. And the pink luster set. I d 
 just as soon call it all off for the pink luster set." 
 
 " You may have the quilt of your selection," said 
 Juletta, " and I will balance it by one of the hand-woven 
 blankets. As far as the chiny goes, I presume mother 
 had it in her mind when she said things was to be 
 divided." 
 
 " Good Lord and Tom Malindy," Julia Farrar re 
 sponded. " Do you set there in that fiddle-backed chair 
 and tell me to my face our mother didn t suppose one or 
 t other of us would have the full set? Juletta Pinkney, 
 you act like a natural-born fool, same as you did when 
 you wouldn t hear to Hiram Farrar and left him for me. 
 Looks likely mother believed I d be satisfied to accept 
 six cups and sassers and leave the same for you." 
 
 " Certainly not," asserted Julia. " Mother wished us 
 to divide them. Will you take the cups or the saucers? 
 It is quite immaterial to me which I keep." 
 
 War was declared from that moment, a bitter war, 
 which kept West Holly all wrought up. For virulence 
 no quarrel equals a family quarrel; and Julia Farrar, 
 after accepting the cups, was able to exasperate Juletta 
 with much better success than she could have employed 
 with any mere acquaintance.
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 65 
 
 West Holly, with the usual neighborhood propensity 
 to arrange (and well arrange) the affairs of other people, 
 held that Juletta was to be envied. She had a house and 
 forty acres. It would cost her nothing to live abso 
 lutely nothing! A cup of tea and a piece of bread would 
 make a meal for an old maid. They wouldn t expect her 
 to even set the table, but just take a bite standing in the 
 pantry. She would be well able to have a black silk 
 every five years, shingle the house, which had needed it 
 since the Civil War, and subscribe liberally to the Metho 
 dist denomination. 
 
 But Juletta farmed according to precedent, which put 
 always the same crop in the same place. If the potato 
 patch did not yield a sufficiency of potatoes she bought 
 more, but planted nothing extra another year. It was 
 the manner of the Pinkneys, and they had been growing 
 poorer for six generations, ever since the first Pinkney 
 came over the Bay Path from Dorchester and secured 
 one of those preposterous grants, ten miles long and half 
 a mile broad, by which Holly was divided when it was 
 " Outward Commons." 
 
 Quintus Pinkney, of the fifth generation, had fully 
 established the family ruin by an attempt to redeem the 
 Pinkney acres. He died land poor, bequeathing Sextus 
 a bewildering variety of lawsuits. 
 
 Now there was only Juletta, who said it seemed as if 
 all nature and the fraternity of hired men were in league 
 against one poor old maid. Abner Slocumb informed 
 her she had no monopoly on the attentions of potato bugs, 
 tomato worms, and men afflicted with inertia and gross 
 and confirmed habits of intoxication. 
 
 " I wonder," said Juletta, " how the women managed
 
 66 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 in the old times? My maternal grandmother was left 
 alone when her husband went to the French and Indian 
 wars. On his return he found she had settled the mort 
 gage, while the farm was twice the bigness of what he 
 had left." 
 
 Juletta did not consider that her maternal grandmother 
 went dressed in one gown, probably linsey-woolsey, and 
 was up early and down late. As for grandmother s 
 house, it had been furnished with bare necessities. The 
 pink luster was after her day. 
 
 Juletta performed no outdoor labor. She sat, white- 
 handed, in the parlor, covering the backs of old en 
 velopes with figures proving how much poorer she would 
 be after she had paid off the harvest hands. Then she 
 made the envelopes into squills, being economical, if not 
 prudent. 
 
 There came a day in summer when Mrs. Judson Buck- 
 land jubilantly hailed her spinster neighbor. 
 
 " Glory be ! " she shouted. " I ve sold the farm." 
 
 Juletta knew she had wanted to sell it ever since the 
 death of Judson Buckland. In fact, she had wanted to 
 sell it for so long that there had ceased to be any dis 
 quieting novelty in the idea. But now that it was sold 
 Juletta shivered with apprehension. She felt changes 
 all about. Hints had been in the air some time, but she 
 had tried to ignore them. Talk about trolleys around 
 the mountain, putting green hay in barns, using engines 
 to uproot stumps, rotating crops, curing consumptives on 
 piazzas. She had listened, but fixed her own mind against 
 innovations. She determined never to ride on electric 
 cars or store uncured hay, and if she was blessed with 
 weak lungs she would shut herself in a room with an
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 67 
 
 airtight stove and make an edifying end in the good 
 old fashion. 
 
 But a Polish family next door was making the new 
 New England come extremely close ! 
 
 " You don t need to neighbor with em," snapped Mrs. 
 Buckland, who could not have forborne going to tea 
 with a cannibal, had one happened to buy near her, and 
 " I guess it won t ever come to that," returned Juletta, 
 in her customary mulish mildness. It never did. Miss 
 Pinkney lived almost two years in the next house to the 
 Natupski family without being seen by any of that 
 family. This was possible because Juletta seldom went 
 abroad, not caring to risk meeting Julia Farrar. She 
 viewed the passing from a pantry window shielded with 
 slats. And though there was a narrow piazza on the 
 south side, Juletta never sat out. The Pinkneys never 
 had sat out. 
 
 All the more startling, therefore, was the unearthly 
 yell that disturbed Kani Natupski one spring morning, 
 the second year after his arrival in West Holly, when he 
 was doing violence to West Holly agricultural traditions 
 and a piece of ground. The yell was most amazing in 
 that it did not come from any part of his own domain. 
 There yells were common. Marinki yelled at the chil 
 dren, Stanislarni yelled at the cow, Statia and Wajeiceh 
 at the calves; even the small baby yelled at the cat, and 
 that pampered animal meekly obeyed orders and stood 
 still to have its tail pulled. 
 
 Yes, there was a small baby, and its arrival had been 
 absolutely devoid of excitement. Kani, recollecting the 
 birth of Statia, when both doctor and nurse had been 
 called in attendance on Olka, was very grateful to
 
 68 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Marinki for having followed him from Poland. This, 
 despite the disappointment of another girl, and the queer 
 fact that Marinki herself seemed proud of the affair, and 
 would call the little one by her own name. 
 
 Kani could not dream, nor would his wife tell, that 
 she rejoiced in a girl because she hated to see him with 
 the wee Statia in his arms. She intended to provide 
 plenty of both kinds in her own brood. 
 
 But this yell came from the old Pinkney place, where 
 when had a yell ever come from the old Pinkney place ? 
 Even the family quarrel had been conducted in ladylike 
 tones, and after sending Julia Farrar the cups Juletta had 
 retired to an upper room and whimpered. 
 
 On this May morning she yelled, right in her own 
 front yard, among the budding peonies and fading lilies 
 of the valley. Natupski looked over the fence. A little 
 woman with white hair was wringing her hands as if 
 they were clothes newly washed. Her snowy curls, 
 which, from a parting, hung on either side of her face, 
 swayed against the two pairs of spectacles on her sharp 
 little nose. The slender braid of hair that usually mingled 
 with the curls until it went to join the " done up " sec 
 tion in the rear, had fretted itself loose, and made a 
 dissipated appearance in the sunshine, being customarily 
 so set at liberty only in connection with a night 
 cap. 
 
 "What matter?" asked Natupski. 
 
 Miss Pinkney closed her eyes, whirled three times, and 
 pointed. Her index finger was directed right over the 
 way, where the bewildered man saw a robin carrying 
 straw. 
 
 " Hei ? " he grunted, and climbed the fence. Miss
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 69 
 
 Pinkney shrieked, " Don t look at the door ! I can t 
 stand it if you look at the door! " 
 
 Natupski looked. A weird fur bundle hung on the 
 latch. 
 
 " Little small cats. Your little small cats, missus? " 
 
 Heavens, no! I m Miss Pinkney!" 
 
 This explained nothing to Kani Natupski, who did 
 not know that every Pinkney came into the world a 
 cat-hater. He had lived in West Holly nearly two years, 
 but he had never heard about Perry Pinkney, who started 
 West in 49, with a bowie knife, a pistol, and one clean 
 shirt, but came home in consequence of being put into a 
 stage coach where the other passenger wore a coat on 
 which a cat had lain. Natupski merely thought it proper 
 to make a closer inspection of the door s adornment. 
 
 " He dead," was the comment conveyed to the dis 
 tracted lady. As she answered nothing beyond a gasp, 
 he went on to ask, " You want him? " 
 
 " No, no ! Take em away ! That is, don t take em 
 away while I can see you touch em. I can t bear to 
 think that you can bear to touch em. Ah ! Ah ! " 
 
 Down she sank under the old cherry tree and beat her 
 heels in frenzy, until this brought reminder that the 
 tree sheltered a great ant hill. 
 
 West Holly, knowing Juletta Pinkney only by her 
 seventy-five years of genteel behavior, would never have 
 believed she knew so many excited woman tricks as were 
 displayed that morning to Kani Natupski. For half an 
 hour she kept him jigging back and forth from the door 
 where hung the martyred kittens, to his own fence. 
 
 " Take em," she would scream, " please take em and 
 hide em," but when he essayed doing so she decided that
 
 70 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 the very idea was too ghastly for contemplation. The 
 climax was reached when he got tired of bothering with 
 the old woman, and remembered his neglected work. So, 
 " Out of way! " he bawled, and pushing her toward the 
 Japanese quince bush, went over and untied the bunch 
 of fur. Miss Pinkney, entirely out of her head for the 
 moment, flung herself at him, with dreadful conse 
 quences. Never, while life remained, would she forget 
 the shock of that collision with the filthy man and the 
 dead animals. She tumbled into the house and lived the 
 rest of the day on camphor-soaked lumps of sugar. 
 
 The sensation lasted, mingled with an awful shame. 
 To have lost her dignity, and before such a spectator! 
 Juletta Pinkney came to hate Kani Natupski more than 
 she hated her sister Julia Farrar; for he had been present 
 when she went mad, while Julia Farrar was only the 
 probable cause of the madness. Whenever the Natupskis 
 came into their yard and exchanged remarks in their 
 native tongue, Miss Juletta fancied they were shouting 
 abuse at her. If the children pelted the atmosphere with 
 gravel, after the aimless manner of children who play 
 so seldom they hardly know how to go about it, she 
 imagined their father had told them to pepper the Pink 
 ney house. That the neighbors called and never spoke 
 about cats struck her as a suspicious circumstance. Of 
 course Julia Farrar would have told what she intended 
 doing, and Juletta couldn t imagine that chattering 
 Polish monkey keeping a still tongue, either. 
 
 Miss Pinkney, from living alone, had a somewhat 
 magnified sense of her own importance in West Holly. 
 People were a good deal more concerned about the long 
 drouth than about Juletta Pinkney s affairs. Mr. and
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 71 
 
 Mrs. Natupski had no idea why she gave them so many 
 black looks. They now saw her often, because she used 
 the back door, which was on their side, after the affair of 
 the kittens had caused the South door to seem haunted. 
 
 At the Pinkney house the front door was never opened 
 except to take the coffin out. 
 
 Juletta used to appear pretty often to grind pink luster 
 bits into condition powder for chickens. For the better 
 affliction of Julia Farrar, Juletta had gone to baking 
 pies in the saucers. Whenever one went to pieces in the 
 oven she ground the remnants into powder, lest her 
 sister should somehow secure the pieces and restore a 
 saucer by sour milk cement and twenty-four hours 
 boiling. 
 
 It was rumored that every time Juletta did this, Julia 
 Farrar went out and smashed a cup against the side of 
 the barn. It seemed an incredible story, because Julia 
 Farrar was a great hand to keep everything. She never 
 wilfully threw away so much as an old hoopskirt. She 
 thought as like as not they d come round again. Still 
 Sabrina Perkins, who knew everything, stated it as a 
 " positive fact " that when two saucers alone remained to 
 Juletta, Julia Farrar had just a couple of cups. 
 
 On the 1 2th of July they finished haying at Juletta 
 Pinkney s. The news went all over the neighborhood 
 that they finished haying at Juletta Pinkney s. The drouth 
 had made the crop light, and then it had been decided 
 that the upland wouldn t pay for cutting. The upland, 
 which had filled two barns and left enough for a re 
 spectable stack in the time of Quartus Pinkney! On 
 the same day Juletta examined her bank-book, after 
 paying the men, and saw her balance one of two figures.
 
 72 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 On the mahogany before her lay a notice from the bank 
 in Hamson, calling attention to interest considerably 
 overdue on the mortgage. 
 
 Miss Pinkney sighed gently, but did not lose her dig 
 nity. This was only ruin that confronted her; she felt 
 that she could meet ruin like a Pinkney. Besides, it 
 didn t come suddenly. It had been drawing nearer every 
 minute since she and Julia Farrar had read the will. 
 
 " If you had left me everything, mother," she said, 
 in mild reproach, to the simpering crayon portrait above 
 the narrow mantel, " I could probably just have stuck 
 it out and put up a stone for myself in the graveyard. 
 The land was worth about $3,000 and I certainly couldn t 
 last beyond 83. Father passed on at 83, and grand 
 father at 81. As it is, mother, I ll have an auction and 
 make inquiries about a good Old Ladies Home." 
 
 The bills came out from Hamson, smelling of fresh 
 ink, and were stuck up under the sign at the cross roads, 
 on the schoolhouse fence, Natupski s corn-barn, the rear 
 of Solomon Russell s buggy, and other places of public 
 information. On the loth of August there would be 
 sold, at the residence of the late Sextus Pinkney, Esq., 
 house, barn, forty acres of land, together with stock, 
 tools, vehicles, and household furniture including . . . 
 
 Two pink luster saucers were not especially named, 
 but they were in many minds. Would Juletta allow them 
 to be placed in the sale, thence, of course, to go into pos 
 session of the Farrars? Would she bake a farewell pie 
 in each? Would she carry them with her to the Old 
 Ladies Home in Mifflin Grove, where it was understood 
 she was to seek admission, her credentials being five 
 hundred dollars in money and a black silk gown?
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 73 
 
 On the loth there was a large turnout. Juletta guessed 
 it equaled her grandfather s funeral, which was still 
 remembered as one of note. Quintus Pinkney, dying, 
 had given orders that no clergyman of any denomination 
 was to attend his obsequies. But, it being difficult to 
 realize a funeral without a minister, it was finally decided 
 to invite three, a Methodist from Hamson, the Holly 
 Centre Congregationalist, and a Baptist who happened 
 to be visiting in town. The last no sooner entered the 
 house than the dead man rose in his coffin and towered 
 above the assembly. 
 
 :< You were only a young girl, I ve heard mother say," 
 remarked Mrs. Perkins, who was keeping Miss Juletta 
 company in the seclusion of the middle room, while the 
 auction went on, " but you were perfectly cool and col 
 lected, though every one else, without exception, fled 
 in hysterics. She always used to hold you up as such 
 an example of deportment. Juletta Pinkney never loses 
 her head, she would tell us. You never have lost your 
 head, have you, Miss Pinkney ? " 
 
 Miss Pinkney, slightly confused, turned the conversa 
 tion once more to her grandfather s funeral. " There 
 was no need to get excited, Sabrina," she remarked. " It 
 wasn t grandpa s ghost come to be revenged because we 
 were giving him a proper funeral. There was merely a 
 board dry-rotted in the parlor floor, and it gave way at 
 the coffin foot. Fifty-eight carriages followed the hearse. 
 I believe there are just as many here today." 
 
 " The crackers and cheese won t begin to go round," 
 commented Mrs. Perkins, " but I suppose it s just as 
 well, as there s nothing to drink. There s Solomon Rus 
 sell torturing the poor old pump again. Hear it sigh."
 
 74 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Seem s if I never knew such a dreadful dry spell," 
 said Juletta, to make conversation. In her heart she was 
 all tremulous with a sense of the violence being done to 
 the Pinkneys corn-sheller by putting it under the ham 
 mer. But she maintained a firm front. No one but the 
 Polish shrimp should ever boast of seeing Juletta Pink- 
 ney give way. " It never was so when I was a girl," 
 she went on. " I recollect just once the well give out. I 
 was about sixteen. And it must have been something 
 unusual, because father rejoiced in the chance to clean it." 
 
 " He found a lot of curious truck, didn t he ? " 
 
 " I don t think so. There was a set of teeth and a 
 few old shoes and the collar of a dog we d lost unac 
 countably, but nothing remarkable for a well that had 
 never been cleaned since it was dug." 
 
 She hardly knew what she was saying, for Mr. 
 Natupski had entered the yard. 
 
 " There s the Polander," said Mrs. Perkins, " come 
 for a meal of crackers, I s pose. My, how the folks are 
 laughing." 
 
 An exquisite joke had just been played on Natupski. 
 He had been nodded to by half a dozen men. When he 
 ducked his head in response the auctioneer declared him 
 the owner of a lot being worked off, comprising two 
 yards of rusty stove pipe, a Pub. Doc. for 1872, and a 
 mangy stuffed fox. 
 
 " And sold for fifty cents," said the auctioneer, " to 
 Mr. Natupski. Change for a dollar ? Certainly. Kindly 
 remove your goods." 
 
 Of course Natupski didn t need the stuff, and was 
 torn with rage to see half a dollar disappear. He tried 
 to say he only wanted to bid on the Jersey cow, but
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 75 
 
 nobody would listen to broken English in the hubbub. 
 Anyway, cows weren t being sold just then. Only trash 
 was being sold. Every country auction furnishes much 
 trash, and the Pinkney garret had yielded many quick- 
 silverless mirrors, tableless legs, and bottomless band 
 boxes. The crowd had found it an uneventful day, since 
 most of the interesting items had been bid in by a strange 
 man who didn t seem to care what he paid. " Might as 
 well have some fun/ said Abner Slocumb, and bid a 
 nickel " sight unseen " for which he secured a leaky 
 demijohn. 
 
 Then Solomon Russell was implored to " be a sport," 
 and accepted, for a dime, something described as " an 
 article of universal household utility," which turned out 
 a cradle. 
 
 After that Natupski was made to appear eager. They 
 got him in a ring and slapped him on the back so 
 that he always nodded when the bidding had gone high 
 enough. Soon he owned several sermons in pamphlets 
 with the long " s," a number of broken clocks, a coffin 
 plate, a clapper without a churn, and some dozens of 
 cracked dishes. 
 
 The last had been hastily made into a " lot " by Mrs. 
 Perkins, when news came that Polish Natupski was bid 
 ding like a wild man would buy anything, or could be 
 made to appear ready to do so. 
 
 " After all," said Abner Slocumb, when, the interval 
 of fooling being over, a decorous move was made to go 
 into the house and sell tipup tables and mahogany high 
 boys, " you needn t get your dander up, Natupski. You 
 ain t spent but $2.60, and the young ones 11 pick a lot 
 of playthings out of the truck."
 
 76 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Natupski had no words for the benighted American. 
 That a sane man should be suspected of a readiness to 
 pay $2.60 for playthings! Children didn t need play 
 things if you gave them plenty of work. Besides, he 
 needed that $2.60, because his quarterly interest would 
 be due by and by. He was always saving for that 
 quarterly interest, even when one quarter had just been 
 paid. He was not like the American farmers, who paid 
 half what was owing, and then went off and celebrated. 
 
 He didn t go into the house, because he was afraid 
 they would make him buy something more. He got a 
 wheelbarrow and carted his purchases home. He didn t 
 know it was etiquette to let the crowd have these jokes 
 to kick and smash, just as it was a generous performance 
 to buy uneaten pies at church suppers and play roll the 
 platter with them in the highroad. 
 
 The auction got talked over at Slocumbs supper. 
 
 " I don t think much of it," said Nancy, deftly dishing 
 out dip toast. " It wasn t fair and square. Positively 
 without reservation the bills read, and twas no such 
 thing." 
 
 " Can t see why not," returned Abner. " They trotted 
 out a lot of stuff I d put in a bonfire. Poor Natupski 
 bought a coffin plate." 
 
 Two very valuable things wasn t put up." 
 
 "What was they?" 
 
 " Those two pink luster sassers." 
 
 Abner roared. " I suppose you women lotted on seeing 
 em sold sep rate." 
 
 There d have been bidders. If we ever have an 
 auction " 
 
 " Don t talk about it," cried Abner, averse to any com-
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 77 
 
 parison of his own course with that which had brought 
 the great Pinkney family to so sad an end. " I was 
 brung up to call the auctioneer the man who followed the 
 undertaker. But unless the Charter Oak bu sts, Nance, 
 you ll find I m worth more dead than alive. What s that 
 hid way back of the teapot ? Loaf of cake ? Pass it this 
 way so I can get the taste of the bread out of my mouth." 
 
 Two chunks having been devoured, he asked, " What 
 was you so concerned about those saucers for? " 
 
 " Well, I didn t know if they wasn t run up too high 
 I might bid one of em in " 
 
 " And give it to Julia Farrar ! More fool you ! She 
 and Farrar can afford to have Have-land, or whatever 
 the latest dewdab is, only they re so condemned near." 
 
 " I should give it to Miss Pinkney," said Nancy. " It s 
 a sin and a shame the way she s come out, just because 
 she wasn t a master good manager. And only of her 
 own will can any one have a clear title to that house, 
 because her granther left a settlement in the North 
 chamber to any of his unmarried female grandchildren. 
 I ve seen the words North room, passage in the entry 
 thereto, and two shelves in the butt ry. She needn t go 
 to no Old Ladies Home thout she s perfectly willing." 
 
 " Well," quoth Abner, " what s the use setting like a 
 queen in a North bedroom when you ain t left yourself 
 nothing to set on, and no victuals to eat, and not even a 
 pink sasser to eat from?" 
 
 " She s got the sassers," returned Nancy. " That s 
 what I was speaking of. She held em out, so it wasn t 
 a sale fair and square." 
 
 Abner stared. " You was desirous of spending some 
 of my cash in getting em back for her " he began.
 
 78 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Certainly. I want her to have em. But it s the 
 principle of the thing that makes me mad," retorted 
 Nancy, as she retired to the kitchen. Abner was so 
 stupid. " I d most rather talk to a cat than a man," she 
 told herself. " Quite as much satisfaction. Don t neither 
 of em know what you re aiming at." 
 
 At this very moment Juletta Pinkney was glancing 
 about her old house with a candle that guttered grease 
 over her bare hand, looking for those very saucers. She 
 had hidden them this is really romantic ! in the secret 
 drawer of Granther Pinkney s secretary. Then she had 
 taken them out, because the crowd was about to come in 
 and start bidding on the furniture. She was sure she 
 put them into her carpet bag, which stood half packed in 
 the middle room. No one had been in the middle room 
 but herself and Sabrina Perkins. Yet the saucers had 
 disappeared. 
 
 Sabrina, who was waiting to get home and take Miss 
 Pinkney with her, called sharply from the road. 
 
 " It s most dark. Better leave things till morning. 
 I ve just got to get back and set bread." 
 
 Juletta s old white face appeared at an upstairs win 
 dow, looking, in the twilight, a good deal like the ghost 
 of the last Pinkney. 
 
 " You trot along, Briny," she said, with her (almost) 
 never varied self-command. " I ve mislaid something 
 of consequence. I m going to find it if it takes all night." 
 
 Mrs. Perkins drove off. 
 
 " I wouldn t stay in the poky old place after sunset," 
 she assured herself, " but I s pose it s second nature to 
 her." 
 
 Any stranger would have thought the rooms especially
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 79 
 
 ghostly this evening, with bureaus standing where they 
 didn t belong, in front of windows; every uncarpeted 
 board having its own squeak, and all the closet doors 
 standing wide open as if to give the skeletons egress. 
 But Juletta didn t mind. Besides being used to the old 
 house, all her interest was concentrated on finding those 
 pink luster saucers. 
 
 She searched and searched, through her own property, 
 and that which had been bid in by the man who bought 
 the house. She searched until it was getting on for nine 
 o clock, and the candle went out. It went out while 
 she was in the North room, which was yet hers by right 
 of inheritance, under her grandfather s will. 
 
 " We sha n t pass the papers until tomorrow," she 
 thought, and threw open the shutters that she might take 
 a look on what was probably the last property holding of 
 a Pinkney in West Holly. The moon had risen and did 
 something to atone for the fact that Juletta s once care 
 fully tended kerosene lamps were scattered all over the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 She sat down on the edge of a bed which had been 
 stripped to its bare cords. It was horrid to have to go 
 over to Sabrina s, to stop right in the face of the change 
 she, who hated change, had wrought in West Holly. 
 Mrs. Judson Buckland was in the right of it, when she 
 moved the very next minute after the sale was com 
 pleted. Several had asked Miss Pinkney to visit 
 round while good weather lasted, but she guessed she 
 wouldn t. 
 
 " I ll put myself into the home tomorrow and be done 
 with it," she declared. " If I can t be Miss Pinkney of 
 the old Pinkney place no more, I ll go and be an inmate
 
 8o OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 in an institution. I always did hate betvvixts and be- 
 tweens." 
 
 She rose to depart, and then she heard a noise. Some 
 body had come crossways through the homelot, under the 
 plum trees. Somebody got over the wall do\vn by the 
 willows, knew how to avoid the old dry ditch back of 
 the well, and tripped as with accustomed feet to the 
 door in the shed. 
 
 This door in the shed was a Pinkney secret. All the 
 world knew of the front door, the South door; even the 
 Natupskis could see the back door. But the door in the 
 shed was so artfully hidden that no Pinkney had ever 
 locked it at night, even with money in the house. It was 
 approached by such a winding way, through piles of 
 seasoned wood, past pitfalls of swill barrel, up steps 
 and down, with avoidance of other stairs that led into a 
 workshop and a back butt ry, that no one could success 
 fully negotiate it who had not been brought up in the 
 house. 
 
 " Whoever you are," said Juletta, with an awful calm, 
 and looking like a polite old wraith in the moonlight, 
 " you came in through the shed, so you re either an an 
 cestor s spirit, or Julia Farrar. Well, you re Julia 
 Farrar!" 
 
 A little amazement crept into her tone, but she re 
 pressed it immediately. She and Julia Farrar hadn t met 
 for almost a quarter of a century, but the house was 
 hers until tomorrow, and she would show she was mis 
 tress of the place and of herself. 
 
 Julia Farrar was brazen and outspoken. Brazen and 
 outspoken as she had been forty-nine years before, when, 
 breaking a sentimental deadlock, she had roused her
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 81 
 
 sister at midnight, with the request, " Don t meach, 
 Juletta, speak out straight. Do you want Hiram Farrar 
 or be you planning to give him the mitten? Because if 
 the last is your intention I m going after him myself." 
 
 "Ain t you got kerosene?" she now asked, just as 
 if she had been talking to Juletta every day for the past 
 twenty- five years. " I d better have fetched a lantern." 
 
 She sat down at one of the front windows. The moon 
 shone becomingly on her broad, pasty face, making her a 
 fairly good-looking woman. Usually she could " never 
 hold a candle " to Juletta, but just now Juletta, before the 
 other window, seemed witchlike, as if ill fortune had 
 tweaked her features. 
 
 But, and for it she applauded herself, she was able to 
 keep perfectly calm. As she would afterward tell herself 
 the story, when she might awake along toward morning 
 and it would be too early to rise, " I recollected my man 
 ners and that I was a Pinkney. Julia Farrar didn t. 
 She acted fidgety and all strung up. Sat and laughed for 
 two hours at nothing in particular. It proves what comes 
 from marrying out of the family." 
 
 Julia Farrar s first remark, after the long laughing 
 spell, was rather offensive. " Why don t you speak out," 
 she said, " and ask what I m come for ? You must be 
 dying of curiosity. I m sure I should be." 
 
 " I presume one always has a reason for making a 
 seeming unseasonable call," replied Juletta, as nicely as 
 if this were a quilting party and she and Julia Farrar 
 snapping wet-starched strings across the frame. 
 
 " One has," snickered Julia Farrar, in a hilarious 
 manner ill becoming her years, false teeth, and the fact 
 that she and the other lady present were supposed to be
 
 82 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 actively supporting a family quarrel. " I had some 
 things bid in for me today. I came to see em safely 
 disposed." 
 
 The other chair in the nearly dismantled room creaked. 
 
 " Some things bid in." Juletta knew what things. 
 Pink saucers. She had always suspected Sabrina Perkins 
 of being double-faced ! But Julia Farrar hadn t got em 
 yet, that was proved by this sneaking up between daylight 
 and dark. Those saucers should never leave the house 
 intact, Juletta swore it. Unless over her dead body. 
 
 What was Julia Farrar giggling about now? The 
 Natupskis, who could be heard at their usual midnight 
 noise. " Don t they ever quiet down ? " she was asking. 
 Juletta stopped to wonder if they ever did quiet down. 
 She guessed they didn t. 
 
 " They re rather company," she observed, and waved 
 a palm leaf fan. 
 
 " You must hate to think of going away and quitting 
 em," said Julia Farrar, and laughed some more. Juletta 
 might have risen and smitten her in the jaw, but she had 
 never smitten Julia, even when they were both children, 
 though even then Julia had been very clever at roiling 
 the other s temper. 
 
 Night began to wane, while the two old women sat 
 facing one another, with an occasional giggle from one, 
 an occasional remark from the other. A soft gray took 
 the place of blackness, and trees and the Natupski barn 
 stood forth in that new washed, clear-cut appearance 
 which marks a summer s dawn. This was a signal for 
 the Natupskis to get up, if indeed they had ever been to 
 bed. Kani came forth, wearing a milk pail upside down 
 on his head, and carrying a few articles of clothing.
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 83 
 
 Mrs. Natupski sat on the edge of the piazza, and shook the 
 youngest baby into animation. The children bathed by 
 rolling in the dew. At least they rolled in the dew. 
 
 "Ain t they never out o sight? " asked Julia Farrar. 
 " I should think you d be tickled crazy at the idea of 
 being shut of them." 
 
 Juletta assumed the full panoply of elder sister dignity. 
 " Was you thinking of stopping to breakfast?" asked 
 she. " Because, if so, I must inform you there s not a 
 mite of china in the house." 
 
 " What ? " returned Julia Farrar, with that idiotic 
 giggle which had kept Juletta s fingers twitching all 
 night, " not even your two pink luster sassers? " 
 
 Juletta started forward precipitately, then remembered 
 whom she was, sat back, and tried again. This time she 
 was able to soar upward like a balloon new-inflated in 
 agricultural show time. " I beg your pardon, Julia 
 Farrar. You mean your two pink luster sassers." 
 
 " Mine ? Oh, not mine. I wish they were mine, for 
 I ve the cups to match. Still there s the will, if you 
 wish to hang on to em. I m sixty-five. Sixty-five sees 
 things different from forty. So keep the pink luster 
 sassers if so be it your conscience tells you to." 
 
 Juletta opened her mouth, some like a nicely disposed 
 fish almost determined to accept the bait, and then closed 
 it with a snap. 
 
 " I would tell the truth and shame the devil," she ob 
 served, in her delightfully exasperating, painfully polite 
 manner. 
 
 Julia Farrar struggled to her feet, panting, because she 
 was of stoutish habit, and unused to sitting up all night. 
 She looked out into the green world wherein the Pinkney
 
 84 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 place was set like a brown jewel in a jade setting. Two 
 little nondescript birds were squabbling on one bough. 
 They chattered and pecked one another, yet neither would 
 fly away. There were unoccupied miles all about them, 
 a multitude of idle twigs, yet they stayed on one bough 
 pestering each other. What either wanted it was im 
 possible to tell, but it was quite plain one would never go 
 and leave the tree for the other. 
 
 Julia Farrar laughed again. She laughed until Juletta 
 wondered if living with Hiram Farrar had left her 
 touched. Hiram was a good man, as men went, but 
 married life of any sort presupposed change, and change 
 was dangerous to the mind. Juletta had felt so at twenty- 
 six. That was why she had given Hiram up. 
 
 " Say," cried Julia Farrar, with brutal frankness, 
 " don t let you and me be a couple of ninkums, like those 
 dozzy birds out there. I don t know what you re driving 
 at, but this is what I want. Two pink luster sassers. 
 You ought to be giving em to me this identical minute, 
 Julet. Then I could give you the cups, and we d stick 
 em together up in the corner cupboard, where they used 
 to be. It s what I intended when I had that man bid 
 in the house and the barn and the land and all that was 
 worth saving of the furniture." 
 
 For the second time in her long, self-controlled life 
 Juletta broke down. She didn t shriek, as she had done 
 when she found dead cats at her door, but she allowed 
 two symmetrical tears to course over her white cheeks, 
 as she said, " Then this is yours and Hiram s " 
 
 "Mine," returned Julia Farrar. "I ve sold the land 
 I got by mother s will, and it was enough to pay for the 
 place. Quit crying, Julet. Quit, I say! Of course you
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 85 
 
 couldn t go to that old woman s almshouse in Mifflin 
 Grove, while you have a settlement in this very room. 
 And now where are those pink luster sassers ? " 
 
 " I d be pleased to have you state," said Juletta, re 
 stored by a double dab from an edge of her petticoat, a 
 handkerchief being no part of her costume because she 
 hadn t wanted one since twenty-five years ago. 
 
 " You think I ve got em?" 
 
 " I certainly do. I think Sabrina Perkins assisted you 
 to their possession." 
 
 Juletta was all the more strenuous in her belief be 
 cause of an overwhelming gratitude for what Julia 
 Farrar had done in saving the home. Now, without 
 working out the details, she felt assured of living out 
 her days in the familiar rooms, and having the front door 
 pried open for her remains. 
 
 " You re frank, I must say," grinned Julia Farrar, 
 " but you re on the wrong tack. I ll be just as open- 
 mouthed. I think you ve got em in some hideaway 
 place." 
 
 In their mutual passion both had drawn to the side 
 window; Julia Farrar pettishly drumming on the sill, 
 Juletta clasping the plug of wood that kept marauders 
 from lifting the sash. Kani Natupski, in his morning 
 leaps and bounds, had gone to his house, whence he 
 was now issuing. In each hand he bore a dish, laden 
 with repulsive brown fluid. The dishes were pink. 
 
 Julia Farrar did not giggle. " He buy anything? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Two dollars and sixty cents worth of trash," 
 answered Juletta in a manner not especially stately 
 almost tinged with anxiety.
 
 86 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 The birds on the bough kept on sputtering. Perhaps 
 they enjoyed it. They sputtered all day. Their erstwhile 
 human prototypes, united in a common horror, consulted 
 with each other and decided to call on Abner Slocumb. 
 
 " Please go to Mr. Natupski," gasped Juletta, " and 
 endeavor to secure the articles he took at the auction." 
 
 " Tell him we ll proceed against him by law unless 
 he gives em up," said Julia Farrar. " He won t know 
 we can t do it." 
 
 " Offer him anything he wants," continued Juletta. 
 
 " Yes. Here s a ten-dollar bill which it s lucky I had 
 in my pocket," cried the practical Julia Farrar. 
 
 Natupski saw Slocumb approaching, while two women 
 loitered in the Pinkney dooryard. For some reason he 
 hauled Stanislarni from the bread barrel, thrust on him 
 the stuffed fox, and snorted in his ear the amazing order, 
 "Play!" 
 
 "Hei?" 
 
 " Say, Natupski, where s that truck you bought to 
 next-door auction? It was all meant for a joke, you 
 know fun, just for fun. Here s two dollars and sixty 
 cents and I ll take it all." 
 
 " Yah ? " ironically. Then, back of the hand to Stan 
 islarni, who strayed near with the fox, " Play ! " 
 
 " Five dollars, Natupski, for the things. You said 
 they wasn t no use to you." 
 
 "Oil" 
 
 Slocumb, perturbed at the other s density, did some 
 thing Nancy would never have allowed drew out a plug 
 and bit off a considerable chew. Then he resumed 
 negotiations, and ran the price up to ten dollars. It was 
 the limit ; perhaps he showed that in his voice. Perhaps
 
 TWO OLD BIRDS ON ONE BOUGH 87 
 
 Natupski needed exactly ten dollars to make up his 
 quarter s interest. 
 
 At any rate, he thrust the bill into his pocket, collected 
 a wheelbarrow load, which he transferred to Miss Pink- 
 ney s doorstep, after soundly belaboring Stanislarni for 
 having too conscientiously obeyed orders, and played one 
 of the glass eyes out of the fox s head. 
 
 So Miss Juletta became repossessed of one stuffed 
 fox and a glass eye, several sermons in pamphlet form, 
 two yards of rusty stovepipe, a Pub. Doc. of 1872, a 
 number of broken clocks, a coffin-plate, a clapper without 
 a churn, and some dozens of cracked dishes. 
 
 The last were all white. 
 
 Julia Farrar raised an angry face from the inventory 
 and faced Juletta. Juletta was haggard. 
 
 For an awful moment each suspected the other of 
 double-dealing. The quarrel of a quarter of a century 
 was very near being continued to the edge of the grave. 
 Then Natupski crossed the road and the same picture 
 came to the memory of both. 
 
 " He did carry pink sassers, drat him ! " exclaimed 
 Julia Farrar. 
 
 " You are not incorrect in your surmise," was Juletta s 
 comment. 
 
 In the end the cups moved to the Pinkney place, as 
 did also Julia Farrar and her husband Hiram. Juletta 
 lived in serene and irresponsible glory in the North 
 chamber, passing through the entry thereto, and keeping 
 plenty of goodies on her share of the shelves in the 
 butt ry. 
 
 Natupski swaggered in his mind. He had got the 
 better of the old woman for making a fool of him;
 
 88 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 that was all he cared. He hadn t liked it at all that the 
 old woman flung dead cats in his face, and told him in 
 one breath to take them away and not to take them away. 
 
 As for the pink saucers, they were very handy down 
 in the barn cellar to hold the stuff one put on the places 
 where the dehorned young creatures were sore. When 
 the women had come suddenly on him, after looking at 
 the wheelbarrow load, and shouted, " Is that all ? Are 
 you sure that s all?" he had shaken his head and batted 
 his eye and answered, " Me not understand." 
 
 They had believed him, those fool Americans. But he 
 knew quite well what they were after. He had lived in 
 West Holly almost two years, and what he could have 
 told the inhabitants about themselves would have sur 
 prised them.
 
 V 
 LETTING NATUPSKI ALONE 
 
 ABNER SLOCUMB lacked determination. Every time 
 he looked over to Natupski s he was reminded that he 
 lacked determination. And then, too, Nancy never by 
 any chance let him forget. 
 
 How many times had he settled on terms of implacable 
 animosity to his Polish fellow-farmer, only to be turned 
 away by something that seemed pretty serious to an 
 American such as the uprooted berry bush or the mar 
 tyred hay-cutter but about which the Polish agricul 
 turalist would allow no interference. How many trips 
 had he made to the Natupski barn with information as 
 to the market for potatoes, a sure cure for botts on 
 horses, or the weather man s prophesy of storm signals 
 tomorrow, get your hay in this afternoon, only to have 
 his well-meant advice flung in his teeth. Then would 
 Abner Slocumb darn all interlopers of non-English- 
 tongued varieties, and resume scorn and derision as a 
 couple of upper garments. 
 
 And still Abner could never quite content his social 
 soul with emulating the unneighborly frigidity that 
 existed always on the Pinkney side of the Natupski 
 farm. 
 
 " They say," observed Abner the January following 
 the famous Pinkney auction, " that you have to summer 
 
 8 9
 
 90 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 and winter folks to know em. Done both twice and a 
 half to Natupski and by Godfrey Mighty he gets harder 
 to guess right along." 
 
 " Give him up," returned Mrs. Slocumb in her thinnest 
 lip manner. 
 
 " Wise counsel," laughed her husband, " and you ve 
 taken it yourself, as all counselors don t. I keep aim 
 ing to do the same, too, but the critter makes so much 
 noise when he tries to get quietly out of fixes that I 
 don t succeed particular well. Hear considerable of a 
 towse this afternoon?" 
 
 Nancy nodded. 
 
 " He d got that new horse wedged in between the 
 wall and a stone boat, and cause the creature couldn t 
 move he was whipping it to make it move. I stood it 
 a spell, then went and made him lay down the whip and 
 unbuckle the harness. The horse stepped out, sort o 
 shivery, and looking back said plain enough, Glad I m 
 shut o that ! You know how a horse can speak, with 
 great rolling eyes. You d thought that Polish scrimp 
 would a felt some pleasure at the way the noble creature 
 stood stock-still, not offering to move, but no. The 
 brute Natupski picked up the whip and commenced 
 lashing again, s if the horse was to blame all through. 
 By the way, Nance, where was you?" 
 
 She laughed in the self-taunting manner she assumed 
 when " acting foolish." 
 
 " Oh, to Natupski s, course. If you had him in the ten- 
 acre lot, I had all the rest in that kitchen bedroom Mrs. 
 Judson Buckland said was too small for a sewing-machine 
 and a dressmaker to oncet. Two or three s got croup. I 
 looked across and see em gasping through all the win-
 
 91 
 
 dow grime. Remembered my goose grease and slipped 
 over with it and flannel." 
 
 Both lay on the table, whither Mr. Slocumb sent an 
 inquiring glance. 
 
 " We never had any children, thank the Lord ! " she 
 burst out. " But common sense and observation have 
 taught me the way to bring em up. Feedings at regular 
 times, a proper formula, with a teaspoonful of water 
 or six drops of orange juice if necessary. The second 
 year scraped beef and educators. In case of a choking 
 spell a kettle of hot water under a sheet tent, with liberal 
 application of lard or goose grease to the chest. Tain t 
 no way to fight it to tie a charm round the young one s 
 neck and then sit on the floor and wail." 
 
 She swept the rejected medicaments into the chimney 
 cupboard. 
 
 " Polish babies, being nourished on germs, at irregular 
 intervals of from fifteen minutes up to half a day, may 
 have their croups different," she snorted. 
 
 Perhaps Nancy Slocumb was right; at any rate, 
 Wajeiceh, Statia, and the new baby, whose name was 
 getting gradually changed from Marinki to Marinka, re 
 covered from this spell of sickness with a celerity that 
 spoke well for their constitutions. 
 
 The few American babies in West Holly, pursued with 
 wet sponges, hygiene, and sterilized linen, had the rickets, 
 didn t weigh what they ought for their age, sometimes 
 died. Natupski kept his family intact, with several grati 
 fying incretions. Kazia followed Marinka and Novia 
 put Kazia s nose out of joint. This was giving Statia 
 a good many little sisters, but Kani was too busy getting 
 a man s work out of Stanislarni to voice many com-
 
 92 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 plaints. This one born in Poland was proving a husky 
 delight to his father. Even before he stopped beating 
 him with the goad, Kani never looked at his oldest son 
 without a great feeling of thankfulness that the boy had 
 not been wasted on Poland. He shivered sometimes 
 when he reflected on his narrow escape from a total 
 missing of this fine young hired man who was his to com 
 mand until of age. 
 
 Stanislarni was about ten when his father stopped 
 beating him. Stanislarni convinced his father that he 
 could do more work when not exhausted by a licking, and 
 wonderful to relate Kani Natupski believed it, 
 though only so far as Stanislarni was concerned. He 
 kept on pounding Wajeiceh and threatening the girls if 
 they did not work to suit him. 
 
 Nine years after his arrival in West Holly two more 
 boys had come to prove Mrs. Natupski s assertion 
 that, given time, she could provide her husband with 
 plenty of both kinds. Stepan was the elder, and the 
 advent of Tadcuse might have been celebrated simul 
 taneously with the last payment to Mrs. Buckland, only 
 the payment left nothing to celebrate with. For about 
 then her piebald horse, now tottery on the legs, made a 
 last trip to the house over the way from the barn he was 
 born in. The best of the crops and the cream of the 
 profits could no longer be claimed by the lady who drove 
 him. 
 
 Owing to the fact that Nancy Slocumb had been 
 snubbed when she advised oiling Stepan at three weeks, 
 since he seemed a tendsome child, she had been two 
 years trying to copy the Pinkney plan. Abner helped her 
 because she made him. They did pretty well in turning
 
 LETTING NATUPSKI ALONE 93 
 
 their backs on the house next door and resolutely using 
 the rooms and looking from the windows on the opposite 
 side. Hence they were amazed one fine morning to see 
 Natupski slouching up their walk, in his hand a torn slip 
 of paper which he tendered in silence to Abner. 
 
 " What s this ? A mortgage note and canceled. What 
 d ye show it to me for? " 
 
 Natupski shook his head in pure bewilderment. 
 
 " Me paid M s Buckland," he murmured, in a puzzled 
 manner, evidently thinking this a mysterious call for 
 more moneys. 
 
 Slocumb of course abandoned his role of non-inter 
 ference in a self-forgetful rejoicing that his little neigh 
 bor was out of debt. He never expected to reach that 
 halcyon state himself, but then he had not to suffer 
 Mrs. Judson Buckland as a creditor. 
 
 He snatched the paper and lit it with the match he 
 applied to his pipe. 
 
 " Rah for you," he shouted and explained himself. 
 " Now you re rich, Natupski. All this is yourn ! " 
 
 He swept a half-circle with his thumb, the horizon 
 one limit, his own domain another. It was indeed a 
 sparkling prospect for a man who had once lived in 
 Poland envying landowners. The soil peeping up be 
 tween crops of Natupski s planting was black with fer 
 tilizer, fine as sand from much working over, and always 
 weedless. In Natupski s barnyard a fine herd of cows 
 gathered nightly, for Kani had learned by experience how 
 to care for his creatures. Splendid fowls stalked about, 
 making one forget the featherless chicks that had been 
 buried by the hundred in the first two years of Natupski s 
 farming.
 
 94 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 His house looked just as when he moved in, with 
 nine years accretion of dirt; but the barn had been ef 
 ficiently patched with new boards, plastered with dung, 
 and shingled with cedar shingles at an extravagant price 
 per thousand. 
 
 But Natupski, despite all these reasons for gloating, 
 shook his head gloomily. 
 
 " Nie. Me poor. Me poorest man in all world. Me 
 got no hope." 
 
 " Shucks ! You got a whole lot little hopes. Besides 
 one big one Stanislarni. That chap s so darn cute not 
 one of the neighbors ever manages to get a glimpse of 
 those left-hand fingers was nipped off in my hay-cutter." 
 
 The small man, whose boyish grace was already turn 
 ing to a wizened agility, would not rise to the bait. 
 Something troubled him so that he was not willing to 
 brag of his big boy. He leaned against the post and 
 groaned. 
 
 They were on the stoop, where Nancy tried to banish 
 her husband the warm half of the year. It was her 
 ideal to get the inside of the house immaculate and then 
 go outside and live. But whose ideal is achieved ? Cer 
 tainly not Nancy Slocumb s. The line storm or the 
 minister to tea were always interfering. But today they 
 were on the stoop and when she looked at Natupski s 
 shoes she was glad. 
 
 Natupski spoke next with bitter emphasis. " Me not 
 going to stay on farm." 
 
 " Heavenly Betsey ! " shrilled Nancy from her place 
 in the background, where she was stringing beans. 
 "Looking to sell?" Her mind rapidly sought the 
 chances for neighborhood improvement, and found none.
 
 LETTING NATUPSKI ALONE 95 
 
 " What next ? " she asked herself, and answered, 
 " Hungarians, I s pose." 
 
 The Polander was shaking his head as he said, " Me 
 go way. Jus go way." 
 
 " I see," drawled Slocumb. " Think you ll treat your 
 self to a vacation, now you re shut of the mortgage." 
 
 " Me go other land." 
 
 " Back to the old country, where you were raised ? 
 Take any of em with you? " 
 
 " Me go lone, all lone," crooned the little Polander, 
 falling at a straight-backed chair and trying to rock 
 in it. 
 
 " What not even your wife ? Well, I s pose you 
 want her to look after the farm " 
 
 " No good ! " he exploded with great force. " She 
 not know how to tend farm. Not know how to tend 
 children. Me go nights cover up little boys. Me say who 
 cover up little boys next year." 
 
 " Wai Statia s getting a sizable girl," Slocumb tried 
 to say, but the broken speech went on, " Wife need me. 
 Children need me. Stay five year, then go. Not so 
 bad." 
 
 " Then why not stick to it that spell?" Slocumb sug 
 gested. 
 
 " Me sorry," Natupski continued, in doleful singsong. 
 " Me awful sorry. That why." 
 
 " Reason and a half," derided Slocumb. " You re 
 sorry you got to go, and you got to go cause you re 
 sorry " 
 
 Natupski stamped his foot. 
 
 "Me awful sorry sorry here!" He put his hands 
 on the place where the khaki of his trousers met the
 
 96 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 black of his shirt. And then, " Me sorry here, too," and 
 spread his stumpy fingers on his throat. 
 
 The Slocumbs, dimly discerning what he would be at, 
 sat gazing, then rallied. 
 
 " I see. You re under the weather. Sick? " 
 
 " Me sorry. Yes. Me no care for farm. No care 
 nothing." 
 
 " Have a doctor," snarled Nancy, the more viciously 
 because softened into sympathy a few moments before. 
 
 " Me did." 
 
 "Dr. Gibson?" 
 
 " Ump." 
 
 "What d he say?" 
 
 " Doctor feel me all over. Doctor say no nothing 
 matter. Me say you damn fool." 
 
 The affair of the doctor being thus suddenly closed, 
 Slocumb, after blinking, observed, " But see here, 
 Natupski, don t you want to get well ? " 
 
 " Sure. All folks want get well. But don t get well. 
 Hospital full folks want get well. But don t get well. 
 Tell me how get well me give farm. Give Stanislarni. 
 Give all children. Give wife " 
 
 " Sh! " warned Nancy, rising and shaking nothing off 
 her gingham apron. " I don t believe you re half s sick s 
 he was last year. Can you eat an aig ? " 
 
 Yes, Natupski could do that. 
 
 " Well, he couldn t." 
 
 " Not one egg? Jus one egg? " 
 
 " No. Couldn t down it. Had to have the white set 
 off n frothed up. Now " 
 
 " I can manage the cow and the calf and all the rest 
 o the rhymed version," put in Slocumb.
 
 LETTING NATUPSKI ALONE 97 
 
 Natupski ran a bleared eye over the Slocumb form, 
 muscular and strong. 
 
 " And I sleep " Slocumb went on, when Natupski 
 
 interrupted. 
 
 " Me no sleep. Me cry. Wife cry. Children cry. 
 No sleep." 
 
 " He couldn t, till I got him outdoors. Ever sleep 
 outdoors ? " 
 
 " Nie ! " Then, brightening up, " Me smash rest o 
 window." 
 
 Nancy sat down hard at that and remained until the 
 visitor was gone, after demonstrating, by a considerable 
 thumping of breast and stomach, the places where he was 
 not " sorry," implying disease in all other parts of his 
 anatomy. 
 
 Then she made a long step to the phone and asked 
 Central to give her Dr. Gibson. Every receiver was 
 down on the line, she knew that, but those listening for 
 salacious symptoms heard only, " Say, Doctor, why didn t 
 you do something for that sick Polander on the Judson 
 Buckland place? He s able to pay full price now, you 
 know." 
 
 " I m aware of the fact," returned the doctor, " but 
 what s the use? " 
 
 " You set me watching Abner last year. Why not 
 let Natupski s wife cure him?" 
 
 " Being what she is, she won t. Not one of em 11 
 take care of another that s sick. They sit round and 
 wait." 
 
 "But what s the matter of him?" 
 
 She listened with all heed during the ensuing pause 
 and nodded at the answer she expected, " Starvation."
 
 98 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " You see," she was yelling ten minutes later to Mrs. 
 Natupski (forcibly waylaid between duties such as 
 nursing the baby and pitching hay), "he can t get well 
 without nourishing food. Oh, dear, I don t s pose she 
 senses a word I m saying. These, there," pointing to a 
 pair of pullets, and going through a dumb show of fri- 
 casseeing. " And aigs. Lots of aigs. Milk, too." She 
 imbibed a couple of quarts from her own fist. " Come 
 here, Statia," seizing on the girl who was fetching 
 baby Tadcuse to the maternal fount. " Tell your 
 
 ma " she repeated her words and heard them turned 
 
 into excitable Polish. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski rejected the idea with vigorous gestures. 
 
 " Says," volunteered Statia, " papa no will let." 
 
 " I presume," returned Nancy, " he counts every aig 
 and knows how many hens there be." 
 
 She meant this for sarcasm, and felt like bursting into 
 sympathetic tears when the little girl replied that it was 
 really so. Mrs. Slocumb had known New Englanders 
 who were " near," but their wives had won unmoral 
 victories by holding out a pound of butter to a churn 
 ing, a chick to a brood. After all, life must be pretty 
 hard as a Natupski. 
 
 She laid a kindly arm on the other woman s shoulder, 
 and then turned home. 
 
 " She told me," Statia put in Polish, " she will bring 
 back nice things for papa." 
 
 The Natupskis had been tempted with very few gifts 
 from their scornful neighbors, but Mrs. Natupski smiled 
 in Nancy s face over the basket containing the yellow- 
 legged fowl, the dozen eggs, the jar of cream, though 
 she did force acceptance of a square of vari-hued Polish
 
 LETTING NATUPSKI ALONE 99 
 
 embroidery in return. Nancy regarded the gaudy bit in 
 questioning amazement. " Don t know what to do with 
 it any more n a cat knows how to wag two tails," she 
 observed, as she locked it into a drawer where she kept 
 all the " too good " things, as mother s last set of false 
 teeth and Mr. Slocumb s stepfather s first wife s mar 
 riage certificate. 
 
 A fortnight passed, during which Kani absorbed as 
 much cream and as many guaranteed eggs as the best 
 sanitarium could have induced the most obstinate of 
 " lungers " to put away. He had been benefited after 
 the surreptitious manner recommended to wives of dipso 
 maniacs, for Mrs. Natupski was unexpectedly clever in 
 chicanery. The chickens could not, to be sure, be " ad 
 ministered secretly in a cup of coffee," but he had picked 
 many bones without comment after being told a story, 
 entirely fiction, concerning an unfortunate biddy that 
 flew against the grindstone and was picked up 
 dead. 
 
 The end, however, did not justify the means. Kani 
 was no better. He coughed in the night, and roused the 
 family at unholy hours to join him in praying for saintly 
 interposition. The third donation was accepted, but 
 gloomily. Nancy was almost determined to call up Dr. 
 Gibson and tell him his diagnosis was wrong. While 
 she sat considering, and at the same time mending a sock 
 and holding the cat, a usual day had an unusual ending 
 next door. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski, having done four hours work before 
 breakfast, swallowed a few unsavory morsels, and then 
 beat the children all round, this being her method to 
 insure their willingness that she should depart to the
 
 ioo OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 field. As it was haying time she did her full share of 
 loading, raking after, even mowing away. Statia stag 
 gered about the untidy yard, weighted by fat young Tad- 
 cnse, and keeping an eye on the creeping Stepan and the 
 waddling Novia. Kazia and Rinka had been sent to 
 glean raspberries from the Slocumb canes. Statia did 
 not forget to put the fowl to boil, as Mrs. Slocumb had 
 advised, and, there being no sale in West Holly for green 
 peas, the meal was indeed almost American to which 
 the Natupskis sat down at sunset, mamma having worked 
 so late that in hastening to the baby she had time to 
 bestow but a single kick on the passing horse. It was 
 her usual fashion to be more liberal in wanton tyranny, 
 which was simply a handing on of her husband s former 
 manifestations toward her in the happy days when he 
 possessed health and strength and was sustained in energy 
 by the fearful anticipation of Mrs. Buckland s quarterly 
 calls. 
 
 Mamma was so busy simultaneously satisfying the 
 hunger of the baby and her own appetite that not until 
 the second leg was pulled from the fowl did she notice 
 papa. She saw he was eating in a way that reminded 
 her of her bridegroom Kani tearing the black bread at 
 their first meal together in Poland. A wing followed the 
 leg, and half the breast disappeared in two gulps. With 
 this meat he drank six cups of the boiled chicory which 
 had been doctored with eggs and cream at noon, and left 
 for Statia to warm up. Finally he reached across the 
 board, abruptly removed the plate from under Statia s 
 nose and shoveled the food into his mouth with two 
 sweeps of a knife. 
 
 The girl, who had lost time by trying to eat nice, with
 
 LETTING NATUPSKI ALONE 101 
 
 a fork, put up a lip, but there was no little girl crying 
 done in Natupski s house that day. 
 
 Papa rose, stretched his arms, lowered his head like 
 an infuriated beast, and from under his brows looked his 
 wife in the face. 
 
 " Labial! " he roared. Then he leaped over his chair, 
 and made a passing kick at the only unbroken pitcher on 
 the premises. In a moment more he had Mrs. Natupski 
 by the arm and was administering resounding slaps to 
 the side of her head such slaps as one might give an 
 obstinate ox if one was cruel. Nor did this end the 
 episode. The goad was on the piazza, and after being 
 shouted at several times Wajeiceh, trembling, brought 
 it to papa, who forthwith lashed mamma stingingly. 
 
 This scene Mr. and Mrs. Slocumb interrupted. They 
 had never, in all their nine years of living next door, 
 ventured to actually call on the Natupskis, but " Come 
 on," said Abner, " let s give the cuss one more chance to 
 treat us like men and brothers. He s under the weather 
 and we owe him kindness on that account, any 
 how." 
 
 They took one look of frenzied horror at the scene, 
 then dragged one another home with curdling blood. 
 Nancy was hysterical for the first time in her life. 
 
 " That poor, poor woman ! Toiling all day and a 
 nursing baby and eating crusts while he has the fat 
 of the land " 
 
 " A dumb brute," said her husband, " only I m morti 
 fied to insult the critters by comparing him to em " 
 
 " And to think" Nancy choked " that I and I alone 
 am to blame. Forcing nutritious food on her for him so 
 she may become a victim of abuse. She ll always hate me
 
 102 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 now, and no wonder. Abner, we must make a vow 
 never " 
 
 " I mean always " he interrupted. 
 
 " Never to interfere with the Natupskis," she 
 screamed. 
 
 " Always to let the Natupskis alone," he roared. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Natupski, bruised, even bleeding, but 
 voluble. 
 
 " Zbawiciel! " she shouts, and having shown her grati 
 tude by addressing these gaunt New Englanders as 
 saviors and redeemers, adds that thanks to them she has 
 her husband back as he was in the honeymoon 
 " Pierwscy, miesiac po slubie!" 
 
 And falls down and worships, much to the embarrass 
 ment of her neighbors.
 
 VI 
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 
 
 " WHAT S he got ? " asked Mrs. Nancy Slocumb, hold 
 ing her needle at the full thread s length from the stock 
 ing whose thinnest part was stretched over a well-rounded 
 sea-shell. She was mending hose, as usual, before the 
 holes broke, while Abner read a letter they had just re 
 ceived from a nephew in Boston. 
 
 A few weeks had passed since Mrs. Natupski s horrify 
 ing exhibition of gratitude, but the Slocumbs could not 
 forget. 
 
 As usual, after a falling out of understanding between 
 the two nationalities, the border line was strictly ob 
 served, and all communication reduced to mere civilities. 
 
 The Slocumbs had retired to that sitting-room which 
 looked " the other way " when Nancy said, " What s 
 he got?" and " N-e-u-r-r-th-nic," said Abner, shooting 
 out the final sentence as if afraid it might stick in his 
 system and clog the works. 
 
 "What s that?" 
 
 " It s what he s got," was Abner s best offer. 
 
 " Don t try to be funny with me. If you can t tell, 
 say so right out." Nancy was as encouraging as a school 
 teacher dealing with a boy whom one is desirous of 
 trapping after school. 
 
 " I think," said Abner, " it s a disease. The letter goes 
 on to say the doctor tells him he s worked too hard and 
 
 103
 
 104 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 he must go to a place where there s absolutely nothing 
 to do. So he s coming here next Saturday." 
 
 " Gracious ! " exclaimed Nancy, her mind rapidly film 
 ing all the carpets that must be up and down, and all the 
 cooking that must be done, before she would be ready to 
 welcome young Arthur, now fifteen, and by her unseen 
 since he was in short pants. 
 
 Abner had at last found chuckling food and was shak 
 ing gleefully. " What I like," he gurgled, " is his coming 
 here because there s absolutely nothing to do. Rowen to 
 cut, oats to cradle, apples to pick, fodder corn to save, and 
 that ball-faced cow liable to come in any day! If I did 
 all I ought to do every twenty-four hours I d overtake 
 myself on the way up to bed." 
 
 When the boy arrived Nancy was not slow in finding 
 out what neurasthenic was and pleased to learn that Ab 
 ner was partly wrong. It was not a disease, certainly 
 not; just a state of the system. As for the work, that 
 was what study was called nowadays. 
 
 Abner reminded himself of his boyhood, when lads 
 considered winter school a neat sitting-down job, wel 
 come after eight months wrestling with planting, cultivat 
 ing, and reaping. How almost incredible it seemed that 
 one of his blood should hold it a task to read books. 
 Abner rather flaunted his own practical prowess as he 
 drove the hired man to the ten-acre piece. Nancy 
 thought it a good thing if having the boy around 
 was going to make her easy-going husband take that 
 course. 
 
 But no sooner did Arthur get wonted to life in West 
 Holly than he wanted to go home. Actually packed his 
 little valise and deposited it in the sitting-room, with the
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 105 
 
 remark that the nearest train was the 4 130, and he didn t 
 mind walking if uncle needed the horse. 
 
 Uncle remonstrated. 
 
 " Land o Goshen," he said, " I don t favor this a-tall. 
 Lotted on your staying till sweet apple time. Wanted 
 to see you get some color in your face and fat onto your 
 ribs. Don t you like it here with us?" 
 
 " Y-yes. You and aunt are awful kind," stammered 
 the boy. " But you see I want something to do." 
 
 Abner shook his head and wondered what we were 
 coming to. 
 
 He had heard a great deal about the fatal fascination 
 of city life, and here was a mere boy an example of long 
 ing for vaudeville and passing crowds. 
 
 It seemed a case for feminine cajolement. Nancy was 
 called. 
 
 " Say, Arthur s thinking he wants to go home-along. 
 Thinks it s too tarnation dull on a farm. I want you to 
 tell him haying 11 be over pretty soon, and then we ll 
 try and lay ourselves out more in the way of enter 
 taining." 
 
 " Surely," said Nancy. " There ll be Sunday-school 
 picnic for one thing, and cattle shows start around 
 August" 
 
 " H m, h m," nodded Abner, in approval. Then he 
 added, " And you n she can take the hoss any after 
 noon and go a-cousining." 
 
 " Oh, you haven t understood," interrupted Arthur, 
 blushing pitifully. He was a nice boy, and really dis 
 tressed because his uncle and aunt thought him ungrate 
 ful. " You mustn t trouble to take me about. It s 
 only "
 
 106 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " You mustn t leave," said Abner, " till you ve had 
 more of your aunt s cooking. Why, Arthur, garden 
 sass is hardly begun to come yet. And there won t be 
 chickens broiling-size before next week." 
 
 " I was planning roast sucking-pig for Sunday din 
 ner," interpolated Nancy, " and if you re sick of pie 
 plant pies and strawberry shortcake, which I admit we 
 have had pretty regular because just now s between hay 
 and grass for pie-filling " 
 
 " Apples being out, and blueb rys not yet turned," 
 Abner put in, intelligently. 
 
 " Why, I ll send to the store for raisins and citron and 
 stir up a batch of fruit-cake. I d just love to do it." 
 
 " And I d just love to eat some on t," said her gallant 
 husband, smacking his lips. " So would you, Arthur, if 
 you once got your teeth into it. Your Aunt Nancy 
 don t pattern by any woman when it comes to makin 
 cake- 
 
 " And you mustn t think you ve wore your welcome 
 out," she was saying. " I admit I was some sca t when 
 Abner said you was a-coming. You see, I ain t much 
 used to boys, and I s posed you d hector the cat, n track 
 in mud, and throw things round upstairs till the spare 
 chamber looked bout ready to ride out. From what I 
 rec lect o my brothers that was the only sort o boy there 
 was. But you re not like that, Arthur. I must say your 
 ma or somebody has trained you splendid. The cat s 
 never so happy as when you re a-making of her, and I 
 never did see anything quite so cute as the hangers you ve 
 fixed for the clothes press with old wire and a broom 
 handle." 
 
 Arthur had to do something to stop them talking, so
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 107 
 
 he burst into tears he was only fifteen, remember, and 
 suffering from neurasthenia and sobbed out he was 
 quite happy at West Holly didn t want to go out nights 
 could be contented for weeks lying in the hammock 
 reading " Japhet in Search of a Father " and the other 
 products of the bookcase but that he felt his precious 
 time was being wasted. 
 
 " When I say there s nothing to do," he added, polish 
 ing himself off with a handkerchief fresh from the folds, 
 " I mean there s nobody to do anything for." 
 
 Abner s jaw dropped. A boy, only fifteen, complain 
 ing there was nobody to do anything for! As he re 
 called it, Abner s own youth loomed up a period entirely 
 occupied with devising schemes to get out of doing things 
 for folks. All the boys were similarly employed in 
 escaping woodboxes that must be filled, carpets that 
 must be beaten, grandfathers who must be run errands 
 for. 
 
 " What particular line of thing was you planning to 
 do for somebody, when you get back to the city ? " asked 
 Abner, adding, "Of course it s right down good of you 
 to consider your ma so much, though she writes she s 
 managing to make out." 
 
 Arthur stared. 
 
 " I don t help mother," he observed. " We have dif 
 ferent lines. She s in Civic Improvement clean-up day, 
 you see, and all that. Most of the fellows mothers are, 
 now. Municipal housekeeping it is called. But I m wor 
 ried about my club my own special club." 
 
 Abner and Nancy stood silent, talked out. The boy 
 went on, " I organized it all myself, though it meets at 
 the West End Settlement House. I began with five and
 
 io8 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 now from twenty-five to thirty come every evening. 
 They are splendid chaps and getting a fine tone; they 
 agreed to take turns being director while I was away, and 
 the scribe was going to write me all that happened. Then 
 I thought maybe I could organize something like it out 
 here a corresponding branch. But all the boys I ve met 
 in West Holly are home from Academy and ahead of 
 me in things. So I think I d better go back, where I can 
 really do some good, and not spend the whole summer 
 just amusing myself. I m too mature, you know, for 
 anything like that." 
 
 Abner suddenly sat down and began to roar. 
 
 "Ho-ho-ho!" he laughed. "So that s what s eating 
 you? The grub s all right and the place s all right, but 
 you want some submerged tenth to do a little good to. 
 Have I guessed right?" 
 
 Arthur nodded, though it touched a raw spot to have 
 his " work " thus ridiculed. Perhaps Abner saw, for he 
 presently stopped laughing and put a few questions. 
 
 " Serious, now, boy, tell me about it. Who are this 
 twenty-thirty and what d ye do to em?" 
 
 " Well, they are mostly newsboys. Russian Jews. 
 And oh, so eager to learn things. Why, when it came to 
 naming the club one boy suggested West End Society 
 and the rest all said no. They didn t expect to live in the 
 West End all their lives, they said; they would go to 
 better places when they were men and earning money, but 
 they should always keep the club going, so they wanted a 
 name they never need change." 
 
 " Well, what s it called ? " asked Nancy. 
 
 " The Oliver Wendell Holmes Guild." 
 
 " I suppose that s your notion ? " Abner gasped.
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 109 
 
 " Oh, no. Every suggestion has to come from a mem 
 ber. I d never have got along with them at all only by 
 letting the boys run things." 
 
 " Then what s the use of you? " Abner inquired, puz 
 zled. " Why couldn t they have made up a club all 
 alone?" 
 
 Arther couldn t tell, only they didn t. He was director. 
 All the clubs in the settlements had directors. It was 
 the director s business to keep out of everything and yet 
 be in it all. 
 
 " You see, I gave em little talks," he remarked, with 
 firm modesty. " I was always ready and studied up, but 
 I didn t say anything until they asked. And then I 
 brought round other boys, who told em things they 
 wanted to know. Things I wasn t up in. Once I was 
 ready to run away, when they insisted I should explain 
 Football Signals. You see I never have time for athlet 
 ics. But I got our school captain of the Eleven to come 
 up and he was perfectly splendid. He put on his spiked 
 shoes and other togs downstairs, and then I got a pan of 
 mud and mussed him and he wore his nose-guard the 
 entire evening. My, the club was pleased, and I was 
 solid with them after that." 
 
 " Arthur," exclaimed his uncle, " I beg your pardon! " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I m afraid I been thinking you was sort of a molly 
 coddle ; your aunt said you was good as a niece round the 
 kitchen, and I was afraid you d grow up and be some 
 thing sissy, like a gent schoolmarm. Now I know better. 
 I ll bet your aunt anything she pleases to name that you re 
 cut out for a circus man." 
 
 "Oh, don t!" grinned Arthur. "I really did help
 
 i io OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 those kids. And you should have seen the treat they in 
 sisted on giving me before I came out here. They said 
 I d been doing things for them all winter, so now I must 
 be their guest. And they took me to an amusement 
 park, and I had to eat peanuts and drink sarsaparilla and 
 ride flying horses, while those splendid little chaps, who 
 have to sell four papers to earn a single penny, paid the 
 nickels. I tell you, uncle, I never expect to swallow such 
 soda water again. They just stood round in a circle and 
 looked happy while I drank alone." 
 
 " The little tykes ! " said Abner, while Nancy flirted 
 her apron into her eyes and wondered what such a club 
 would do with half a barrel of Early Astrachans. 
 
 " Put most of em in their pockets to carry home to 
 the littler kids," said Arthur. " They re always doing 
 that. Try it with ice-cream and greasy drumsticks at 
 the big Christmas dinners. But it s getting awfully late, 
 uncle. I ve not much time to spare if I catch the 4:30." 
 
 " Take that valise right up chamber," responded Ab 
 ner. " I won t have any nephew o mine going back to 
 the city complaining the rooral deestricts is short of 
 anything. We got a sample of about everything that s 
 going right here in West Holly." 
 
 " Oh, uncle, not slums ! " 
 
 "What is slums?" asked Abner, settling back in his 
 chair with an ease that augured ill for what hay was out, 
 since if the hired man was not asleep under a birch 
 sapling, then it was because he was smoking his pipe 
 under the pines. 
 
 " Oh you know. Dirty houses, old, and never built 
 to be used for what they are used now. And the people 
 don t know how to live clean, besides many of them are
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY in 
 
 new to America, so they can t understand what is 
 best." 
 
 " Boy," remarked Abner, " if your description s c rect, 
 and I reckon tis, we ve got as good slums as any one 
 could want right hereabout. Oh, yes. As dirty a house 
 as one need hanker after old, never intended to be used 
 as tis used; people who don t know the first thing about 
 living clean; and so new to America that they " 
 
 " Haven t a fly-screen, a wash-rag, or a door that ll 
 shut on the premises," quoth Nancy, catching her hus 
 band s drift. 
 
 :< You ve said it. Now, Arthur, that high-named club 
 might have been very well for a starter, but there s a 
 tougher job cut out for you here in West Holly. We re 
 going to let you tackle the Natupskis ! " 
 
 " What are they ? " stammered the boy, and having a 
 confused remembrance of being already introduced to a 
 lot of objects with similarly confusing names Holsteins, 
 Berkshires, Minorcas. 
 
 " What are they ? Hard to tell. When the young ones 
 take vermin into school we call em pests ; n again when 
 the man reclaims a old barren pasture and makes it feed 
 fifteen creatures where before three starved, I say they re 
 precepts and examples. Anyway, they re your meat. 
 Come from Poland, don t know the first thing about 
 American ways, and don t want to know. I tackled the 
 man, and was called a murderer for my pains; your aunt 
 set out to be good to the woman, and got the poor thing 
 a beating. I design you should get after the children." 
 
 Arthur appeared bewildered, but he saw plainly enough 
 his uncle was making fun of that Oliver Wendell Holmes 
 Guild.
 
 ii2 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " He thinks I m a silly kid," the boy reflected. " Well, 
 I did help those newsboys I did so ! Let him bring on 
 his old country slum." And aloud he asked mildly how 
 many young people were supposed to await " tackling." 
 
 " There s a snarl of em," said Nancy. 
 
 " He d better take the ones already broke in to school/ 
 observed Abner. " Stanis, the biggest boy, is turned 
 thirteen, I should say." 
 
 " And Statia," put in Nancy. " She s ten and bright s 
 a button, if some one d only tell her what for." 
 
 " Not girls," Arthur murmured. " I couldn t tell a girl 
 anything." 
 
 " All right. It s completely your funeral," was Ab- 
 ner s lugubrious comment, as he finally rose to look after 
 the hay. " You better start in straight off, Mr. Eleemosy 
 nary Hardworker. You ll probably find your congrega 
 tion out stealing something off n my farm." 
 
 Arthur set his jaw and explored the premises. There 
 was a shed the upper part of which would make a good 
 enough meeting place. It was approached by a trap-door, 
 which was splendid in itself; and the bare floor was only 
 encumbered by shavings from stray carpentry. Arthur 
 swept vigorously, and borrowed some old chairs from the 
 garret, also a sort of rocking-bench that he could not 
 know was a chair cradle. On a light stand he placed the 
 splendid gavel he found in the cellar (it was a bung 
 starter) and over the wide window he draped the felt 
 banners of his school. He was glad he had brought 
 them. It would have seemed wrong to start a club with 
 out felt banners. Arthur decided it looked good enough, 
 and went to find his Natupskis. On the way he meditated 
 anent his first talk.
 
 "HI-JINKS" IN WEST HOLLY 113 
 
 Oh" The Toothbrush." 
 
 After that, " Hygiene of Hair and Nails," " Fresh Air 
 in the Sleeping-Room," " Mastication of Food," cul 
 minating in " The Daily Bath." Arthur had been trained 
 in that large school which endeavors to secure moral 
 regeneration through sanitation. 
 
 Being an adept in catching boys he had no trouble in 
 securing the presence of two young male Natupskis at his 
 first evening session, which began with sunset and con 
 tinued under the bright light of Aunt Nancy s well- 
 polished lantern. 
 
 Looking the lads over some understanding of their 
 loneliness thrilled Arthur s little practical heart. 
 
 Arthur no longer remembered that he wanted to 
 " make good " as a means of getting back at Uncle 
 Abner. He really yearned to give these waifs some 
 present happiness. He began to talk more eloquently 
 than he had ever talked at the Oliver Wendell Holmes 
 Guild. 
 
 His subject was that other club in the West End of 
 Boston. From it he passed to the subject of himself. 
 He had come to West Holly, he said, and he was lone 
 some. 
 
 " Let s meet here every night, if you like. Perhaps 
 not quite so often? You are to say what we are to do. 
 We will take turns being in charge." 
 
 Stanislarni nodded a very shock head. The younger 
 boy stared. 
 
 " We will do things together. Things we like to do," 
 Arthur went on, rather nervously. His city newsboys 
 had not received him in silence such as this, they had been
 
 ii4 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 forever bobbing up and waving their hands for recogni 
 tion. " Er games, for instance." 
 
 It was hurrying things to produce these so early in the 
 evening, for he had depended on dominoes and tiddly- 
 winks to sugarcoat a half-hour s instruction. But the 
 constant gaze of four ox-like eyes had effect in putting 
 the young missionary out of his reckoning. 
 
 Not a boy looked at the enticing table. Even when 
 Arthur stooped to get the checkerboard from under a 
 chair, he could feel the top of his head being bored by a 
 piercing gaze. 
 
 As a gambler who plays his last penny " Go Bang " 
 was added to the pieces on the board. Arthur sank back 
 exhausted and waited. 
 
 The place grew full of those dreadful sounds that ring 
 in the ears of those who suffer from stage fright. Stanis- 
 larni slowly uncrossed his right foot and crossed his left. 
 Wajeiceh wetted his lips. The table gave an independent 
 creak. The wind in the trees sounded like a rainy day. 
 Arthur was afraid that if he tried to speak he would find 
 he had lost his voice. What was his topic for the even 
 ing? 
 
 " The Toothbrush." 
 
 At the O. W. H. Guild it had been bad form to intro 
 duce it abruptly. One worked up to it with tact. How 
 did one begin ? 
 
 " Let us tell a story let us each tell a story. Benny 
 Levi, will you not begin ? Tell us the first thing you re 
 member." 
 
 Benny tells a tale, probably apochryphal, about going 
 to Heder. 
 
 " That is very nice. Now I am going to tell you what
 
 "HI-JINKS" IN WEST HOLLY 115 
 
 I first remember. I suppose you will all laugh. The 
 first thing I remember is having a toothache." 
 
 Obedient laughter accompanied by much falling off 
 chairs. 
 
 " Well, boys, I ve never forgotten that toothache. 
 Have any of you had the toothache? Then I m sure 
 you ll never forget it. Now we none of us like to have 
 toothache. Do we like to have toothache? Course we 
 don t. And the only way not to have it is to brush our 
 teeth every time we eat anything." 
 
 Due pause for hilarity, then continuance : " Oh, it s 
 all right to laugh, but those of us who have had the 
 toothache know it was no laughing matter. Perhaps we 
 had to go to the dentist and have it pulled out. Just 
 think, that tooth will never grow again!" 
 
 Pause for consternation. Next, " I, for one, have 
 made up my mind to always brush my teeth, and so not 
 have any of them pulled out. I m going to brush them 
 up and down, because the dentist says that is the correct 
 way. And I am going to take lots of care of my tooth 
 brush and keep it in a wax-paper case, like this. Would 
 any of you boys like to try it, with me ? We might agree 
 to brush our teeth three times a day for a week, and to 
 report if we forgot. Mr. Sporrow, the kind man who 
 built this house, sent up all these nice, sealed-up brushes, 
 and if any one wants to take one he may. They are 
 not gifts, they are only loaned. I m sure he would like 
 every boy here to borrow one and keep it for a while. 
 Then bring it back, and let him know if you are not 
 glad. And he will have a new brush and a tube of 
 paste for every one who hasn t forgotten." 
 
 That clever sop to self-respect, loaning the toothbrush,
 
 n6 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 seemed to all the settlement workers the top-notch of 
 delicacy. " I ve fifty-five brushes lent out," they would 
 brag to one another. 
 
 Arthur felt that he must make a break. He opened 
 his mouth to start the toothbrush peroration, when an 
 immense bump on the underside of the trap-door saved 
 the evening. Stanislarni, who was sitting over it, jerked 
 out a very American "Ow ! " Wajeiceh growled "What s 
 matter ? " and looked pugnaciously at Arthur. Stanis 
 larni recovered first and grinned, after cuffing his brother. 
 
 " Bet yer," he said, " my sister Statia. She mad." 
 
 Another bump lifted the trap. The boy looked for 
 instructions. 
 
 "Give a lick?" he asked. 
 
 " Why, of course not," said Arthur, naturally dis 
 tressed at this manner of dealing with the female sex. 
 He advanced to parley. Pert little Statia, her black 
 hair adorned with cobwebs, a result of butting that 
 wooden trap, peered eagerly around the forbidden place. 
 
 " Lemme in," she said, peremptory as a militant at the 
 door of Parliament. " I got more English than any of 
 em. I can talk awful good. Teacher telled me so." 
 
 " B-but this is a boys club. Just for boys, you know," 
 explained the afflicted Arthur. Stanislarni, catching his 
 drift, showed that his former silence had been the result 
 of choice, by exuding a mass of Polish talk which Arthur 
 hoped was less abusive than it sounded. 
 
 " A right," said Statia, at the finish. " Go ahead. I 
 sit here." 
 
 She plumped herself on the top step, politely out of the 
 room, practically in it. 
 
 Arthur felt the impossibility of letting her brothers
 
 "HI-JINKS" IN WEST HOLLY 117 
 
 bang the trap down on her head, and restrained their 
 desire to do so. He got back to his chair, and began the 
 toothbrush patter, hardly knowing what he said. 
 
 " Let us tell a story let us each tell a story. Stanis- 
 larni Natupski, will you not begin? Tell us the first 
 thing you remember." 
 
 As he feared, no giggles, no apochrypha, no anything. 
 Stanislarni sat as if made out of wood. It was quite 
 dreadful. Arthur lacked inventive power, he could see 
 no way of dashing into the toothbrush lecture but by the 
 well-learned path. 
 
 A voice, from the stairs, broke his revery. 
 
 " Ask me, mister. Don t ask them greenhorns." 
 
 He asked her. 
 
 " First I remember is Stanislarni has a banana. Some 
 nice rich person is give him a banana. He bites with the 
 skin on and it is bad. Stanislarni is a awful green 
 horn." 
 
 Having thus neatly scored off her customarily tyran 
 nical brother, Statia folds her hands over her inadequate 
 seersucker skirt and beams. 
 
 Arthur goes on. He repeats the story of his own 
 toothache. When he pauses for laughter, it is Statia 
 who laughs. When he stops for consternation over the 
 tooth that will never grow again it is the intelligent female 
 who interpolates, " Second tooth." Even the brisk-witted 
 Russian Jews hadn t thought of that. But at the invita 
 tion to borrow a toothbrush, which Arthur illustrated by 
 the production of a half-dozen, properly sealed (he never 
 left home without them), it was the masculine element 
 that abruptly arose. 
 
 " No good a club," said Stanislarni. " Teeths. Dam !
 
 n8 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 I want George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and 
 Mister Thaddeous Roosevelt. Teeths ! Dam ! " 
 
 Followed by his subservient brother he clattered down 
 the stairs, not in the least minding that he walked all over 
 Statia. Indeed, she was upstairs before they were 
 down. 
 
 " Don t yer care," she grinned. " You lemme take 
 one them brushes and I ll use it good on all the small 
 kids. They s too little to kick." 
 
 Arthur essayed to append something of the doctrine 
 concerning individuality in toilet matters, but she refused 
 to listen. Pocketing the wax-paper packet neatly by 
 putting it down her neck as the heroine does all in 
 criminating documents in the melodrama she mean 
 dered about, touching everything and approving generally. 
 
 "These chairs is nice. Slocumbs , ain t they? Do 
 they stay out here always ? " Then, seeing the games, 
 "What for?" 
 
 Arthur endeavored to explain. She recognized domi 
 noes, but the beautiful Go Bang board appealed most 
 heartily. 
 
 At nine o clock, when Abner Slocumb crept out to see 
 how the experiment was resulting, he found a dirty little 
 girl and a pale-faced youth playing their seventh game 
 of Go Bang by the waning flame of the lantern. 
 
 " Light her long the road a piece," said Abner, but 
 Statia didn t need such attention. She ran off gaily, 
 yelling, " Sure I come tomorrow. And bring them green 
 horns." 
 
 "Wai, you made a good start?" asked Abner. 
 
 Arthur didn t know. He might have thought he had 
 because, as his uncle reminded him, a girl was as well
 
 "HI-JINKS" IN WEST HOLLY 119 
 
 worth saving as a boy, but her next-to-farewell request 
 had been very disquieting. 
 
 " I s pose you couldn t, please, mister, gimme a chew? " 
 It was perfectly evident that Arthur had a good sum 
 mer s work cut out for him in West Holly. 
 
 ii 
 
 True to her promise, Statia appeared the next evening 
 holding two younger brothers by the ear. One was only 
 Stepan, not yet four, but his sister answered for him as 
 eligible to any masculine society, since, if any one would 
 give him a cigarette, he would smoke it and swallow the 
 butt just as skilfully as she could do it herself. 
 
 " Here, you, mister, they wants to wash their teeths. 
 They wants to wash their teeths all the time. Shut 
 up, Stepan ! Ain t I a-telling you ? Don t you go putting 
 your talk in. Oh, mister, I most killed our baby. He 
 ain t got washing size teeths, but I didn t think." 
 
 " Say," said Uncle Abner, who exercised a general 
 oversight in the evening sessions for which he bought 
 kerosene and Nancy baked gingersnaps, " why don t the 
 biggest boy come round ? " And " He went off mad," 
 said Arthur, " saying something about Roosevelt and 
 Washington. Of course I m not stuck on myself to that 
 extent. I couldn t keep school." 
 
 Abner reflected. " I sh d judge," he remarked, " that 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes business was just a sort of 
 washing-machine." 
 
 His words had effect. Arthur burrowed in the old 
 bookcase and disinterred Edison s comprehensive en 
 cyclopedia. It was rather disgusting that he, a well-
 
 120 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 educated American boy, didn t feel equal to telling Stanis- 
 larni Natupski about the Father of his Country. But 
 wood-carving, botany, and laboratory work did take such 
 a lot of time! 
 
 He sent a polite message, which he hoped was properly 
 delivered, to Stanislarni, announcing the immortal Wash 
 ington as a topic, and the thirteen-year-older con 
 descended to come and shove his sister from her pet seat 
 in the chair cradle, at the end of the table. 
 
 Stanislarni listened, low-browed, to the Cherry Tree 
 story, to the Crossing of the Delaware, to the sufferings 
 at Valley Forge, to the insults put upon the first president 
 by John Hancock, to the greetings of the maids at Tren 
 ton personating the thirteen states. 
 
 " Huh," commented young Poland, " not so much. 
 He wasn t great as the great Sobieski." 
 
 Arthur realized, with a pang, he had never heard of 
 the great Sobieski. However, he decided if Stanislarni 
 wanted American statesmen he should have them, and 
 promised Abraham Lincoln for the next night. Stanis 
 larni listened, but still gave the palm to the great 
 Sobieski. 
 
 " He stayed back, did Aberham Lincoln," was the 
 crushing criticism of the man who raised millions for 
 defense. 
 
 " But he wasn t a soldier," explained Arthur. " The 
 country needed him to get money for the great war, and 
 men. It was his duty to stay in the White House." 
 
 " Poh for such a president," sneered Stanislarni. 
 The great Sobieski did not do so. He ride front of all 
 mans, waving sword, hollering Come on! He not get 
 killed any theater show. He the great Sobieski ! "
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 121 
 
 Again Arthur realized, with a pang, that he had never 
 heard of the great Sobieski. So of course he couldn t 
 be very great! Following an example in vogue long 
 before the March Hare employed it as a means of ex 
 trication from conversational tangles, he was about to 
 propose a change of subject, when Statia bobbed up and 
 saved him the trouble. 
 
 " Shucks for great Sobieskis ! " she cried. " We ain t 
 Polisher no more. We re American. Aberham Wash 
 ington is the Father of my Country anyhow, and 
 Wajeiceh and Stepan s. Shut up, kids. I m a-telling 
 you. Now I suppose you couldn t, please, mister, tell us 
 some those Hi-Jinks." 
 
 Hygiene was what she really enjoyed, and Arthur 
 responded with a few words on " Mastication of Food." 
 Stanislarni remained, but only to request a literary pro 
 gram next. 
 
 " Sure I come some more," he said, when Arthur 
 timidly suggested a desire for the pleasure of his com 
 pany. " You shall tell me Longfellow, Shakspere, Miss 
 Beecher Toe, Lowell, Mass., and Lord God Byron." 
 
 " Arthur appears to have considerable of a job laid 
 out," remarked Aunt Nancy, after a peep into the sitting- 
 room, where all the poetry in the house was assem 
 bled. 
 
 " Hain t heard no complaint of late concerning his not 
 having nothing to do," returned Uncle Abner. 
 
 Arthur felt pride in the result of his literary cram 
 ming. He took Longfellow to the bridge by moonlight, 
 and then later he took him out and buried him and put up 
 his monument in quite another place at Mt. Auburn; he 
 compressed Shakspere into five hundred words, credited
 
 122 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Mrs. Stowe with starting the Civil War, sent Lowell as 
 Ambassador to England, and let Byron die with gallan 
 try in Greece. 
 
 " Huh," said Stanislarni, " didn t they make no poetry? 
 The great Mickiewicz he made poetry." 
 
 Of course Arthur had never heard of the great Mickie 
 wicz, but his chief regret was for not having understood 
 Stanislarni s want. Why had he not prepared himself to 
 repeat "The Psalm of Life" and "To Be or Not to 
 Be ? " instead of getting up a " theme " ? 
 
 As usual, Statia came to the fore. 
 
 " Say, mister, don t get a peeve on Stanislarni. Tatulo 
 papa talks all time on great Mickiewicz; but those 
 readings about Coopies in the magazine teacher has to 
 school is more nicer. Now I like we should learn about 
 teeth some more. Stanislarni never heard that." 
 
 But the oldest Natupski firmly declined any but ethical 
 information. 
 
 " Teeths to hell," he observed, with a succinctness at 
 which Arthur alone shuddered. " Come on, now, you tell 
 some American poetry and I ll tell some the great 
 Mickiewicz made." 
 
 Arthur brisked up. "Oh, a debate!" he exclaimed. 
 " That would be fun. And we ll ask Uncle Abner to 
 judge." 
 
 " Such foolishers, you boys," sneered Statia. " Stan 
 islarni can say it in Polish. Tha s all." 
 
 A cloud settled over the assembly, until it appeared 
 that the girl had stuck up the bogy only to have the 
 pleasure of knocking it down. 
 
 " Here, lemme tell you. Stanislarni learn the Ameri 
 can, and you, mister "
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 123 
 
 " Good ! " cried Arthur. " I ll send for a translation 
 tomorrow." 
 
 Statia was somewhat bewildered, having probably 
 thought Arthur could easily master the Polish tongue in 
 a few days, and Stanislarni inquired in surprise if all 
 " greats " were in American books. 
 
 "English?" said Arthur. "I suppose so." 
 
 Then why, Stanislarni wanted to know, were any of 
 the people in his adopted country ignorant of the great 
 Mickiewicz ? 
 
 Arthur didn t stop to think up an explanation, he was 
 trying to keep Statia from considering herself part of 
 the debating team. In the end she was forcibly self- 
 annexed to Arthur s side with the announcement that 
 tatulo had " teached her a say." To make matters even 
 Wajeiceh and Stepan were turned over to Stanislarni. 
 " Let him have em both, mister," she remarked. " I 
 guess they ain t no good." 
 
 Since it had been impossible to hide any light under 
 any bushel in West Holly after the introduction of the 
 rural phone, the fact that Abner Slocumb s nephew from 
 the city had started a club to take in the Natupski children 
 had been common property from the start. Now Arthur 
 found that the coming literary trial was to be attended 
 not only by Uncle Abner and Aunt Nancy, but by Mr. 
 Hiram Farrar of the school board and the Rev. Mr. 
 Skeele of the Methodist church. 
 
 Arthur made the shed chamber extra clean and incited 
 Statia to helping him weave garlands of oak leaves and 
 ground evergreen. Wajeiceh and Stepan were drafted, 
 by their energetic sister, into helping. Only Stanislarni 
 held aloof. He was fully occupied in trying to re-
 
 i2 4 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 member not the words of his selected poem, but where 
 to put his hands when reciting. Arthur, training his 
 opponent with great conscientiousness, had said, " Oh, 
 no, don t wipe em on your sides no, nor wave em in 
 the air no, indeed, you must not scratch your head let 
 em hang easy see, like mine." 
 
 " Sure," said Statia, who assisted at everything. 
 " Like mister s, easy, right on the bend in his pants." 
 
 Arthur flushed. He hadn t been aware that the crease 
 Aunt Nancy had so obligingly pressed into his serge 
 trousers was so very noticeable! 
 
 The evening arrived, Mr. Farrar perspired in shirt 
 sleeves, and the minister looked cool, as a minister must, 
 in a black coat. Nancy had invited several of the 
 neighbor women to hear the children speak pieces. With 
 her they sat on the cradle bench and waved palm leafs. 
 Mr. Natupski had come, armed with his goad. Statia 
 whispered to Arthur that he was going to lick whoever 
 forgot. Mrs. Natupski couldn t come. Tadcuse was 
 having all the afflictions of a baby s second summer. 
 They wouldn t kill him, but they were severe, so Mrs. 
 Natupski couldn t come. 
 
 The shed chamber was a pretty sight, adorned with 
 green garlands; on the table glowed a great bunch of 
 marigolds, and golden rod and asters had been tacked all 
 round the window space, making a frame for the night. 
 Evidence of successful lectures on hygiene was visible in 
 the clean face and hands of Statia and the relatively 
 decent appearance of Wajeiceh. Stanislarni, it was 
 rumored, would not wash until he might have to, when 
 school began. 
 
 The selection for Wajeiceh had been made by Stanis-
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 125 
 
 larni, without reference to his comparative lack of ac 
 quaintance with the English tongue. Never, perhaps, 
 had such work been made of " Spartacus to the Gladi 
 ators." Mr. Farrar and Abner had to laugh, but ex 
 cused themselves by saying they remembered choosing 
 that piece when they had to speak Fridays in the old red 
 schoolhouse. 
 
 Then Stanislarni rose and began in a rumbling young 
 bass voice: 
 
 " What, Phoebe, are you come so soon 
 Where are your berries, child?" 
 
 He went on, in a manner beautifully serious, to give 
 the whole twenty-eight stanzas of that immortal poem; 
 indeed, with hardly a pause, he followed it with the next 
 seventeen of " The Blackberry Girl at Church." Arthur 
 was prepared for a start of surprise when that young 
 ruffian for Stanislarni was big for his age, and had a 
 well-deserved reputation for pugnaciousness in the 
 neighborhood repeated this mawkishly sentimental 
 story of old-fashioned almsgiving. It had been young 
 Natupski s own choice from a book of " Selections." He 
 was by no means deterred when Arthur had explained 
 shrilly it wasn t real poetry or written by any one 
 " great." 
 
 But the club director was not prepared for the chalking 
 of a white line down the middle of each Stanislarni leg, 
 soberly arranged by Statia just before the big boy 
 stepped to the front. 
 
 " Because his pants don t bend," she explained, nodding 
 intelligently to the rather astonished audience.
 
 126 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 The English tongue having had adequate representa 
 tion, it was now Poland s turn. 
 
 " Miss Anastasia Natupski will now recite two poems 
 of Adam Mickiewicz, the most famous poet of Poland," 
 said Arthur, in the easy manner he had acquired at the 
 O. W. Holmes Guild, " and I will give them in English." 
 
 Miss Anastasia swelled with pride at her fine name, 
 and spoke glibly. She knew she alone had to fear papa s 
 goad; he couldn t be sure if the rest spoke correctly or 
 otherwise. 
 
 Arthur got up rather wearily. He had been trotting 
 about all day absorbed, like Martha, in many cares; he 
 had sweltered in the hillside pasture pulling up ground 
 pine, he had been worried with drilling the poor little 
 boy, who ought, by rights, to have been required to lisp 
 nothing more difficult than " I love little kitty " or " Mary 
 had a lamb." The book with the translation had not ar 
 rived until the last minute, he had committed his lines to 
 memory in the midst of sweeping, lugging chairs, and 
 helping Aunt Nancy with the " refreshments." With 
 the polite, well-drilled inanity of his excellently inten- 
 tioned but shallow nature, he began: 
 
 THE FATHER S RETURN 
 
 Go, children, all together go 
 
 Unto the pillar on the hill, 
 Before the picture there bow low, 
 
 For father pray with all thy will. 
 
 For father still is far away, 
 
 Where streams arc swol n and wild beasts howl,
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 127 
 
 And seeking us, by night or day, 
 
 Must pass the wood where robbers prowl. 
 
 In a pleasant tone Arthur told the story the children 
 prayed, then was heard " the sound of wheels approach 
 ing," and father arrives, asking: 
 
 And is mother well, your aunt and the maids 
 Here are grapes in the basket, boys. 
 
 Then glee resounds in the wooded glades, 
 And the air is rent with noise. 
 
 Soon, however, joy turns to grief, for the robbers 
 leap forth and the father is being borne away, when the 
 leader of the band, " mustached, with saber drawn," 
 orders him liberated. While lying in wait he had, it 
 seemed, overheard the prayer of the children : 
 
 Though I listened at first with laugh derisive, 
 Soon to pity my heart was stirred. ^ 
 
 Merchant, depart to the woods I go 
 And, children, come sometimes here, 
 
 Before the pillar, bending low, 
 Give me a prayer and a tear. 
 
 It was completed, and lo, a miracle. 
 
 Arthur fell in love ! And though it was only with an 
 author and a poem, it was as deep and sincere a love as 
 could be given to any earthly object. This was indeed 
 the great Mickiewicz he knew it, he felt it. No wonder 
 Stanislarni had been impatient of the pabulum spread
 
 128 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 before him. Others felt as Arthur did, too. The wist 
 ful story had brought tears to the eyes of Aunt Nancy 
 and the minister, while even Uncle Abner looked as he 
 did at church. Mr. Natupski appeared startled at hear 
 ing his favorite author in an English version. Before the 
 end of the poem he abruptly rose and threw his goad out 
 of the window. 
 
 Thus there was nothing for him to do but pull his hair 
 when, by way of a surprise, " Miss Anastasia " offered 
 what she said was 
 
 Jeszcze Polska me zginela 
 and which Arthur then gave as 
 
 Poland is not yet lost. 
 In unison (and English) they piped up 
 
 While we live she is existing, 
 Poland is not fallen 
 
 and Mr. Natupski growled in the chorus, 
 
 March, march, Dombrozvski, 
 
 From Italy s plain. 
 Our brethren shall meet us 
 
 In Poland again. 
 
 Arthur sat down, the exaltation of his mind showing 
 in his eyes. He was firmly determined that whatever 
 happened the next winter, he would read everything
 
 " HI-JINKS " IN WEST HOLLY 129 
 
 Englished of Mickiewicz and Wybicki. The company 
 drew numerous long breaths, and was only just able to 
 come back to earth at the sight of lemonade and jelly roll 
 cake. 
 
 Able, also, to talk of the sensation. 
 
 " Well, I vum," said Mr. Farrar, " I never knew there 
 was anybody wrote any poetry come up to Whittier s 
 1 Barefoot Boy/ but I must say I s pose, Mr. Skeele, 
 you ve read all this Mr. Mikkywitz ever wrote? " 
 
 The minister shook his head, smiling. 
 
 " But I m going to," he remarked, exchanging a look 
 of intelligence with Arthur. 
 
 The three gentlemen judges announced the Polish 
 authors to have " won out," and the copy of " One 
 Hundred Choice Selections " which Abner Slocumb had 
 provided as a prize was given to Statia, who employed it 
 variously during the evening to bang her younger brothers 
 into good behavior and to strike envy to the heart of 
 Stanislarni. That young gentleman was in the position 
 of the reformer who lives to find himself the victim of 
 his theories. He had bragged of the great Mickiewicz 
 until even these Americans came to believe it just about 
 the time he was coming to believe in other greatness. He 
 guessed, anyhow, it all came from letting a girl in. That 
 about " teeths " was just meant for a girl. He ostentar 
 tiously erased the chalk mark from each leg, and decided 
 he would never have a real bend in his pants a reform 
 to which he had been almost persuaded earlier in the 
 evening. He wouldn t go to school any more, either. 
 Books were no use. He would do like tatulo wanted, go 
 into the Mifflin Mills, earn a heap of money as much as 
 five dollars a week and in a few years have a farm
 
 130 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 like papa. That was the thing to do. Papa could fix up a 
 paper saying he had been born over sixteen years ago in 
 Poland. 
 
 It was but a short time that the lantern hung o nights 
 in Abner Slocumb s shed chamber. Arthur went back 
 to the city, and was only known to the Natupskis as the 
 sender of frequent souvenir postal cards. One winter 
 day, on returning from a strenuous session of the O. W. 
 Holmes Guild, he found his mother smiling over a letter 
 from Uncle Abner. There was a postscript. 
 
 Tell Arthur Stanylarny Natupski is gone to work in 
 the mill where the hands live in bording houses sleping 
 three in a bed for the day shift same for night adding up 
 to half dozen and no chance to air or turn matras on a 
 forged school cirtifycate. Stacy is doing better. She 
 tole her ma she wold wash her neck whatever the weather 
 and not with the kind of sope floors is washed with 
 neither. So he has not lived in vane for its as much to 
 save a girl as a boy and so your ant thinks too. 
 
 Arthur believed his work had not been without due 
 reward, for if he hadn t taught the Natupskis much, the 
 Natupskis had taught him a good deal even more than 
 appreciation for Mickiewicz and the great Sobieski, 
 though that was much. 
 
 As for Stanislarni, he gave him up, even to the extent 
 of cutting him from the souvenir card list. Arthur was 
 a good sort, but un-eyed for the future. He could not 
 discern when and where he would next find the name of 
 Natupski, and in what juxtaposition to his own.
 
 VII 
 EMANCIPATION FOR ONE 
 
 IT could not be denied that America was having its 
 effect on the Natupskis. Stanislarni, over at Mifflin 
 Grove, had gone into a Chinese restaurant, eaten chop 
 suey, and pronounced it " darn good." He said all 
 Americans thought it was darn good. Wajeiceh wanted 
 to argue with his father when his father refused to tell 
 for what reason the boy would have a whipping. It was 
 his assertion that no American father licked a boy with 
 out a reason. Did ever any one hear of such nonsense ? 
 Nine-year-old Rinka and seven-year-old Kazia said 
 teacher said they should learn their lessons and go to 
 bed, instead of staying in the barn until midnight drop 
 ping ears into the corn-sheller. She said she didn t keep 
 a school for kids to sleep in. What d ye say to that talk, 
 tatulo ? 
 
 Only Mrs. Natupski did not seem in the least recon 
 structed. She plodded on in the old country ways until 
 even her very own children wished she wouldn t. First, 
 from Statia s lips, came a sneering " Greenhorn ! " 
 
 Mrs. Natupski made no reply, and Statia thought she 
 didn t notice, but she did. She could think of a great 
 many replies, but there was difficulty in employing them, 
 because Mrs. Natupski had never really learned to speak 
 English, while Statia was rapidly forgetting her little 
 Polish speech. On the whole, thought Mrs. Natupski, it 
 
 131
 
 132 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 would be better to tell Kani. She might be too hard on 
 the girl, herself, for she was always a stepmother, and 
 on this day felt like it. It would be a revelation to Statia 
 to learn suddenly what a stepmother reared in Poland 
 might do to a disobedient stepdaughter. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski did not expect sympathy from her hus 
 band, but his goad was generally so ready for action that 
 Kani did not hold it in restraint even when it was only 
 to be employed in avenging a mere insult to his wife. 
 But this time papa was on Statia s side. He absolutely 
 refused to beat the girl. Statia was only getting Ameri 
 can. He liked that. He hoped all the children would 
 get American. And he was going to buy a threshing- 
 machine and no longer do it with flails like in the old 
 country. As for what Statia said wasn t it true? 
 
 And he went out with a swagger that showed he was 
 wearing high-heeled, box-toed tan shoes, with white 
 buttons on them ! 
 
 Mrs. Natupski reflected. So she was a greenhorn, 
 and worthy of being so called ? She, the mother of seven, 
 who had always done her share of the field work, and 
 more than her share of the barn work, whatever her ma 
 ternal duties or her household cares. 
 
 She looked on the next farm, and what did she see ? 
 
 Nancy Slocumb, American without " getting " that 
 way. Nancy rose at the advanced hour of 6.30, after 
 Abner had started the fires, filled the tea kettle, ground 
 the coffee, and put the potatoes boiling. Did Nancy do 
 her share of work out of doors? Far from it. Mrs. 
 Natupski had heard her calling Abner when she wanted 
 so much as a head of lettuce from the garden. 
 
 Setting her lips and nodding her head, Mrs. Natupski
 
 EMANCIPATION FOR ONE 133 
 
 made up her mind that Kani had temporarily gone astray. 
 When the shoes were worn out perhaps he would come to 
 his senses. And in the meanwhile he must be paying for 
 the thresher. 
 
 Stanislarni gave the next jolt. He was her own son, 
 and her first-born, so that the hurt from him far worsted 
 Statia s. He came by the turnip field, one holiday, with 
 a half-dozen mates American boys from the grammar 
 school in the village by the depot. Mrs. Natupski stopped 
 work and waved her hoe with a shout, but Stanislarni 
 hurried on, while the other boys laughed. Mrs. Natupski 
 stood in the mud, stonily thinking. She did not realize 
 the picture she made, wearing Kani s worn-out boots, a 
 draggled skirt hanging in scallops, a jacket of Stanis- 
 larni s own from which all her wizened arms protruded 
 below the elbow, and with her dark hair tied under a 
 filthy red and yellow rag that in every thread proclaimed 
 its old country origin. 
 
 She finished the field before she went back to the house 
 and hung the hoe on a horizontal apple-tree limb already 
 decorated with a row of scythes. Perhaps she might 
 never take it down again ! 
 
 Next day she went raspberrying. Kani had not ex 
 pected her to go; instead he had laid out for her some 
 thing like a hired man s full day, and a few duties over. 
 But she went raspberrying, and lugged the pails of red 
 berries halfway round the mountain, where she sold 
 them to Mrs. Blanchard Bowes. 
 
 Whereby the Bowes family indulged in a luscious short 
 cake; Mrs. Natupski put forty cents into an old stocking, 
 and Kani detailed plans for the morrow, to include all 
 that day s work added to as much more. But Mrs.
 
 134 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Natupski picked raspberries while they lasted, then began 
 on huckleberries, went on with them- until blueberries, 
 taking a detour into blackberries low bush followed by 
 high. Of course she could not do this every day, without 
 being brought openly to account, and in her quiet way she 
 decided the time for that was yet to come. She resumed 
 the hoe and rake, and worked ably five days out of six, 
 but the sixth was sure to find her missing, and she alone 
 knew how the stocking-hoard grew. 
 
 Once she took her berries to a house way down the 
 road to Hamson, where she had never stopped before. It 
 was a tiny cottage, very clean and sparkling, from pris 
 matic window-glass to whitewashed stones outlining 
 the path to the barn. Even the grass seemed less dusty 
 here than in any other dooryard that sultry August, and 
 the scarlet runners trained on strings beside the wee 
 porch had certainly been sponged off that very after 
 noon. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski knocked and a woman of about her own 
 age came to the door. Like her house, she was not very 
 beautiful, but exquisitely clean. She said the berries 
 were " fine and dandy," and made Mrs. Natupski come 
 in. 
 
 " You poor thing, you," she observed, " you must be 
 all tuckered out. Set ye down and I ll fetch a cooling 
 drink." 
 
 Mrs. Natupski perched on the edge of a wooden chair 
 that glistened with three coats of thick yellow paint, until 
 the woman came back with a big goblet of sweetened 
 water the combination of molasses, ginger, and H 2 O 
 once popular in haying time and then it was evident the 
 hostess intended to take her pay in sociability.
 
 EMANCIPATION FOR ONE 135 
 
 " Say," she began, " it s pretty plain we re both in 
 the same boat. I m right glad you happened along, too, 
 for it s my first, and I m scart out my wits in this out 
 place. Husband says we can get a doctor in half a jiffy, 
 with the telephone and all, but what if it was in the night 
 and the girl in Central asleep? Does she keep awake, 
 I d like to know ? And would she be willing to drink lots 
 o coffee about then, so s to be sure o not closing her 
 eyes ? Another worry, too, is about getting some one to 
 come and stay. We ve got a reg lar city nurse for ten 
 days, but of course it will be some time after that before 
 I m around, and there don t seem to be nobody in this 
 neighborhood that wants to hire out. How do you 
 manage ? " 
 
 Mrs. Natupski understood two-thirds of this, and 
 rather wished she was able to reply. How did she 
 manage? Why, sometimes, if it were winter, she did 
 not go to the barn for as much as a week. Otherwise 
 an addition to the family meant practically no change in 
 her habits. As she was unable to answer she smiled 
 again, and said, shaking her head, " Me Polander." 
 
 " Oh, you re one o them families up on the mountain ? 
 Well, stay and rest a piece, do, even if we can t have a 
 dish o gossip. I ll go on with my work, if it s all the 
 same. I m in something of a hurry." 
 
 She was busy with a new wire dish drainer, and Mrs. 
 Natupski hitched her chair nearer to see. First she drew 
 on a covering of pale blue cambric, and then fitted a 
 dainty slip of dotted white muslin with bows of blue 
 ribbon. There were little pockets in the muslin, and 
 these she proceeded to fill. A white brush went into one, 
 a wash cloth sealed in wax paper into another, and then
 
 136 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 appeared a regiment of pins, big and little, and various 
 shaped cushions to hold them. 
 
 "Cute, eh?" the woman laughed, holding the com 
 pleted basket aloft. " And light as a feather. Only ten 
 cents, too I mean the drainer." 
 
 Seeing the other s intentness, she continued, " If you 
 want to wait I ll hyper upstairs and get all my things. 
 They ain t so fancy, but I did em myself, every stitch." 
 
 Mrs. Natupski did wait, and handled the soft flannels, 
 the white slips, the pink " outing " kimono, and the 
 knitted cap with reverence. 
 
 " Got your things ready? " asked the woman, with the 
 careless curiosity of a neighbor. 
 
 "Nie!" and Mrs. Natupski shook her head. She 
 never had anything ready. The newest member of her 
 family simply had to take a chance of being wrapped in 
 something none of the rest was wearing. 
 
 " Oh, well, p r aps you got lots o time. Or maybe 
 you buy yourn. You can get real nice layouts all com 
 plete layettes they call em, goodness only knows why. 
 He got me a catalogue of one them mail-order houses, 
 but I d ruther make mine. Here tis; possibly you d like 
 to look it over." 
 
 She thrust into Mrs. Natupski s hand the twelve-pound 
 book wherein was listed every known commodity, from 
 malachite roofing to horseshoe nails. It opened of itself 
 at the layettes, and the hostess pointed out the one she 
 liked best. 
 
 " Everything plain, but the picshures say neat, and 
 plenty enough for a summer or fall baby, when you can 
 get to do washing regular. Only $6.98. I d know but 
 I d try it another time. One gets tired sewing, and it s
 
 EMANCIPATION FOR ONE 137 
 
 mighty easy to mark that cowpon, No. 5, put the money 
 in a invellup, and nothing more. Well, must you be 
 going? Come again, any time you get so fur. I m al 
 ways glad to see a friendly face." 
 
 The catalogue weighed more than two pails of berries, 
 but Mrs. Natupski did not mind. She was in a hurry 
 to count the contents of the stocking and see what she 
 could make of the puzzling American coins. 
 
 Anything above fifty cents being beyond her com 
 prehension, she was obliged to call on Statia for help. 
 
 " My, my, mamma, what a lot o money," cried the 
 girl, looking admiration at the accumulation of pennies 
 and nickels. " Did papa give it to you ? Papa s pretty 
 good, ain t he? " 
 
 " How much ? " demanded Mrs. Natupski, ignoring the 
 question. 
 
 Statia put the different coins by themselves, and after 
 numerous false starts and long pauses, announced the 
 sum-total of seven dollars and thirty-eight cents. 
 
 " Gee, mamma," she chattered, as Mrs. Natupski pre 
 pared to hide the hoard in her bosom, " you didn t ought 
 to take that all places where you go. It s a whole lot. 
 Why, some one might steal it." 
 
 " Sure. You lose it, all right ! " Kani, having entered 
 the kitchen in time to see the money disappearing, now 
 lounged across the table, and giving the stocking a pull 
 poured the coins into his own broad hands. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski silently produced the catalogue, which 
 opened of itself at the layettes, and pointed out the $6.98 
 outfit. Then she raised her eyes to Kani, and dropped 
 them to the money, which represented such a number of 
 aching backs, lacerated fingers, and sunburns on her part.
 
 138 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Surely he would see that she was at last trying to be 
 an American. In Poland one did not so, but this was 
 very different from Poland, as Kani and Statia had often 
 reminded her. 
 
 Kani rose from the table, with his favorite grunt, and 
 poured the jingling mass into his pockets, dividing it 
 pretty equally on both sides of his khaki trou 
 sers. 
 
 " Safe ! " he said, condescendingly. " Me not get 
 robbed. Me take care of all money." 
 
 It seemed to Mrs. Natupski that she had always known 
 this would happen. She put the catalogue into the stove 
 with her regret already overcome by further determina 
 tion. Some day she and Kani would have it out with 
 each other. Not yet ! 
 
 The eighth member of the brood arrived one hot Sep 
 tember day, and lacking a layette seemed quite healthy 
 and happy dressed in nothing particular, and the fates 
 undecided whether she should bear an old country name 
 of many syllables or a brisk American one sounding 
 like a sudden cry for help. 
 
 Kani was displeased, not only because the child failed 
 to be another boy, but by the way his wife lay on the 
 straw tick, smiling pleasantly, and having for her only 
 occupation the keeping comfortable of a baby that had 
 chosen to arrive in fly-time. Why didn t she get up and 
 attend to things, as always before? Couldn t she know 
 the wheat was ready to reap, the apples ripe for cart 
 ing to the vinegar mill? Did she feel a sickness any 
 where, he asked anxiously, whereat she shook her head 
 and settled more comfortably in bed. Kani didn t know 
 how extremely difficult the muscular woman, used to
 
 EMANCIPATION FOR ONE 139 
 
 constant outdoor activity, was finding this self-imposed 
 rest. He could not see her jump when he went out, and 
 trot from window to window in her bare feet, grinning to 
 note how things lagged for want of her. Determined to 
 keep her bed ten days, Mrs. Natupski consulted the 
 calendar, each morning. Hereon she had marked the 
 day of her release ; it gleamed cheerfully beneath a lugu 
 brious picture of a bereaved widow (unprotected by life 
 insurance) scrubbing a living for her children. The 
 calendar was a tribute from the agent, who hoped to land 
 Natupski (and failed). 
 
 On Tuesday she would get up and resume life as she 
 lived it. Not before. 
 
 Saturday she descried Kani conversing with two men 
 of their own nationality, and he even had them into the 
 kitchen and treated to the cider he was saving for the 
 harvest. Then he came upstairs and asked once more 
 if she felt anywhere sick? Nie! Then why did she not 
 get up ? She only shook her head and rustled the straw. 
 Kani came nearer and his face assumed its occasional 
 mask of anger. She should get up, then, if he was 
 obliged to pull the bed down. He had the harvesters 
 coming Monday, and she must go out and bind. No one, 
 and well she knew it, was so skilful at the binding. He 
 had put it off two weeks now, the grain was spoiling and 
 could wait no longer. She must get up and be ready for 
 work by Monday. 
 
 "Nie!" said the woman. And added that she did 
 not stir from that until Tuesday. 
 
 Kani set his jaw and clenched his hands until the 
 knuckles turned white. Tuesday what nonsense! That 
 was no time to begin, he was obliged to hire the men for a
 
 140 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 full week. The work was promised and a drink had 
 bound the bargain. She would get up Monday. If she 
 didn t he waved his hand in a way that showed how he 
 manipulated the ox-goad. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski, left to her own reflections, stole a 
 reassuring look at the calendar, and waited for the eve 
 of Monday. If she made an excursion to the barn before 
 then no one knew it, not even the baby, who was proving 
 a splendid sleeper. Sunday evening Mrs. Natupski called 
 Statia before supper was put cooking. What was there 
 to eat? Oh, just the bread and coffee. Papa said if 
 any one wanted more to go and sneak some peaches from 
 the Bowes orchard. Mrs. Natupski handed Statia a 
 broken cup in which was a small amount of white powder. 
 
 " Tatulo," said Mrs. Natupski. 
 
 Statia nodded. She supposed it was sugar that Mrs. 
 Slocumb or some one had given mamma for the baby. 
 As the quantity was so small Statia honorably refrained 
 from dipping even a moistened finger tip. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski, listening in the twilight, heard the 
 meal begin the scraping of chairs, Kani s sudden ad 
 monitions to the children, little nose-just-out-of-joint 
 Tadcuse s cry for milk before (evidently) Statia had it 
 warmed, a big slam when Stepan s tin plate went on the 
 floor, a grumble from Wajeiceh that boy was his father 
 over again and finally a roar as of an infuriated bullock. 
 Mrs. Natupski sat up, her hair dangling in elf locks about 
 her weather-beaten face. " He s got it," she told herself, 
 " He s found it." Shrieks from the children, and denials 
 in voices gruff and shrill from Wajeiceh and Statia 
 brought her to her feet. Sounds of a lash vigorously 
 wielded took her downstairs.
 
 EMANCIPATION FOR ONE 141 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! " she cried in Polish to Kani. " They 
 don t know. I did it." 
 
 He tipped against the wall and stared at her with a per 
 spiring forehead. " You ? Lying abed there, what do 
 you know ? The coffee. A devil s mess. Only mine. A 
 white powder in it, just like what me put on the potato 
 in the summer. Only me keep the barrel covered. Mr. 
 Slocumb tell it is poison, kill one like it kill potato bug." 
 
 His wife nodded. Then she said, " Whatever was in 
 your coffee, Kani, I gave it to Statia for you." 
 
 " Why ? Why ? " he was inarticulate in amazement. 
 
 The woman grew voluble, in her own language. " You 
 say I am not American. Statia, there, who is none of 
 mine, calls me greenhorn. My boy, Stanislarni, is 
 ashamed of his mother when he is with depot boys. 
 You, Kani, tell me I must defend myself, that Statia 
 is right, and you cannot stop her calling me names. Very 
 well. I will defend myself. And I will be American." 
 
 Taking a reef in her petticoat, which had pulled itself 
 awry in bed and was slipping from her waist, she went 
 on, " American woman buy pretty things for their 
 American babies. But no, I cannot buy such things. 
 American women keep the money they earn by berries 
 and butter. But no, I am a greenhorn. I would lose 
 my money. American women stay in bed ten days 
 when their babies come." 
 
 She paused, and saw that Kani was listening intently, 
 then she ended in a crescendo, " Very well, I will lie in 
 bed ten days. It is only nine days till Monday, when 
 the harvest begins. I will not get up. An American lady 
 only gets up for a funeral. And for only a funeral will 
 I get up ! "
 
 142 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Kani made one jump and she was afraid, for a mo 
 ment, that her last hour had come. However, he merely 
 grabbed her by shoulders and waist and hoisted her to 
 the floor above, there to be deposited on the straw mat 
 tress. Pushing the covers to her chin, he emptied his 
 pockets, making a pyramid of pennies and nickels on the 
 place where the solar plexus is popularly supposed to 
 lurk. 
 
 " Take rest, Marinki," he whispered, " take rest. The 
 men come tomorrow, pick up apples. Wheat me begin 
 wheat on Tuesday." 
 
 Mrs. Natupski, every nerve and muscle quivering for 
 exercise, breathed elation as she resigned herself to an 
 other twenty-four hours imprisonment. She could hear 
 Kani throwing out the coffee and smashing the cup. 
 He could never know she had won emancipation with two 
 spoonfuls of powdered plaster from a rat-hole near her 
 bed.
 
 VIII 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 
 
 Two years had been added to the history of West 
 Holly since Kani Natupski paid for his farm and lost his 
 health, but he had by no means " gone away." Built up 
 with chicken broth and cream from the Slocumbs store, 
 he was afterward able to thrive under his own regimen. 
 
 Behold him, blessed with excellent health, a growing 
 family, a clear farm; and absolutely miserable! 
 
 He perceived he was not rich. Eleven years in 
 America, nine children, and not rich. In spite of his one 
 hundred acres of well-tilled land, his fat cows, his mon 
 strous pigs, his smart horse, a poor man. For he had 
 nothing beyond the farm and stock not even money to 
 buy more, which he coveted. It was hard to understand. 
 
 " Eleven year from Poland," he muttered, " and not 
 rich." 
 
 It upset all his calculations. 
 
 To be sure the neighbors all about him were likewise 
 poor, but they were Americans. Abner Slocumb not 
 only still owned to his mortgage, but seemed to think 
 he would have it always. " Inherited the darned thing 
 from granddad," he had been known to remark in a 
 jocular moment, when the interest was just paid. 
 " Nance and I couldn t keep house without it." Ameri 
 cans understood nothing of the way to live. They turned 
 up their very remarkable noses at the broken bread which 
 
 143
 
 144 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Kani continued to have shipped weekly from the city. 
 Yet it cost much less than any other food, and with 
 coffee made from the chicory one grew it formed a 
 satisfying meal. Of course the chickens didn t like it 
 very well, but then it was best to feed them cracked corn. 
 One had to pamper animals and fowls, else they lay down 
 and died. Kani had learned this by many bitter experi 
 ences in those now far-off days when he was struggling 
 with quarterly payments to Mrs. Buckland when 
 Marinki had but lately come from Poland. Now he had 
 acquired wisdom in feeding stock, though he still ex 
 pected his family to restrain their present appetites in 
 the interest of future fortunes. 
 
 Long as he had lived beside them he had not ceased 
 to wonder over Americans, who were determined to eat, 
 whether or not they prospered. And even more be 
 wildering was the fact that these Americans not only had 
 no children, but rejoiced thereat. Mr. and Mrs. Abner 
 Slocumb in their childless neatness on the one side had 
 for several years been balanced by the presence of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Hiram Farrar in the old Pinkney place on the 
 other side. The Farrars were pretty old. Kani Natupski 
 had supposed they were grandparents, and artlessly in 
 quired after the supposed grandchildren one day when he 
 and Hiram were mutually strengthening a line fence. 
 
 " Ah," drawled Mr. Farrar, " there you have me where 
 the hair s short. Always wanted to be a grandpa, felt I 
 was cut out for it. Looked forward to it for years. 
 Should have been one, in fact, but for a trifling obstacle. 
 Don t amount to much, but it s kept me what I be, and 
 that ain t a grandpa. It s only this never raised no 
 children."
 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 145 
 
 " Your lil boy die ? " asked Natupski. " Too bad ! " 
 
 " Die? He wasn t never born nor thought of." 
 
 " Girl ? " Natupski was still hopeful, though not en 
 thusiastic. 
 
 " Not so much as twins. Guess it s just as well. Boys 
 generally fetch up in jail, and a girl only stays around 
 till you get attached to her and then marries the meanest 
 scamp in town. Children are an awful responsibility. 
 My wife thought so too. And then, she was a Pink- 
 ney." 
 
 Natupski understood some of this, but remained un 
 shaken in his own belief that babies were so many aids 
 to the wealth that he still wished might lie in the future. 
 
 Shortly afterward he received a jolt in stumbling over 
 Abner Slocumb s point of viewing the same subject. 
 
 Passing congratulations on the news that Mrs. Natup 
 ski had made her eighth exertion to add to the number of 
 incipient farmhands in her husband s house, Abner 
 Slocumb followed the common fashion of a dig in the 
 ribs and the remark, " Lucky dog, wish I was in your 
 shoes!" 
 
 It meant nothing, because Natupski never seemed to 
 sense half you said, for one thing, and for the other you 
 didn t hanker to stand in his leather at all, you and your 
 wife being united in the same opinion as that of the 
 Farrars, that a snarl of young ones was a useless ex 
 pense and a pesky nuisance bound to worrit you into 
 your grave. But Abner neglected to say this in plain 
 language, so his sentiments were quite unappreciated by 
 partially Americanized Poland. 
 
 Natupski, after he had gone away and ruminated a 
 while, came back with the following outrageous proposi-
 
 146 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 tion : " You pretty good man. Me help you out. Me 
 see. You all lone. No children. No help. Me help. 
 Me go right over your house. No baby. Next spring, 
 baby. Me like you. You pretty good man." 
 
 If any other had made the suggestion Mr. Slocumb 
 would have surely led him out into the swale and licked 
 the galluses off the wretch, but it didn t seem worth 
 while getting mad with the little Polack. Abner con 
 tented himself with doing as he should have done in the 
 first place, expressing his delight at having no mouths 
 to feed but those of " self and wife." After that Natup- 
 ski went home miffed; so, once more, the two nations 
 rested, each determined t other in the wrong. 
 
 On realizing that he was not rich, Kani naturally 
 sought a corrective for the situation among his offspring. 
 He was at work, himself, early and late; and Marinki, 
 with whom he most gallantly shared his complaint against 
 fate, was likewise never idle. What, he would have her 
 tell him, could they do that was now undone ? 
 
 She it was who set Statia up with crocheting. A 
 length of dirt-incrusted edging was now always dangling 
 from the girl s chapped wrist, whether she fed the chick 
 ens, drove home the cows, or tended the baby, whose 
 name had tumbled from the grab-bag of fate in the 
 romantic form of Yadna. Statia also did all the house 
 work that was done, so that mamma could continue sav 
 ing the wages of a man in such light forms of labor as 
 cultivating, haymaking, harvesting. 
 
 Stanislarni was still earning wages in Mifflin, the 
 larger part of which was carefully banked. The other 
 children were kept loaded with duties, from the hour 
 when Kani kicked them out at dawn, until they fell into
 
 H7 
 
 torpor, which was often shortly after they had completed 
 the long walk from school. 
 
 Suddenly Mrs. Natupski seemed to go crazy. She 
 laughed, she clapped her hands, then slapped papa on 
 his khaki-covered knee until the dust rose in puffs. 
 
 School that was the trouble. Hours and hours every 
 day those children had been spending in that white- 
 painted building, wherein they learned strange and in 
 convenient things to drink only from individual paper 
 cups, to wash with soap that came out of a nickel spout. 
 
 The two were interrupted in their cogitations by the 
 sudden entrance of Statia, who dashed long-leggedly up 
 the slope to the barn, her fingers busy in her vermin- 
 teased hair, and her tongue wrapped hastily about the 
 collection of consonants informing papa that the cattle 
 were out. 
 
 Out, when he had put them into the big upland pasture 
 that very day, and nailed the barway with long spikes? 
 Oh, the brutes had broken down the fence in another 
 spot, had they ? He d see about that. Seizing his goad, 
 and giving Statia a tentative cut about the knees, which 
 of course she deserved as the bearer of bad tidings, he 
 slouched his way into the road and down the grass- 
 grown track. 
 
 " Come long," he bawled at Statia, who replied, 
 partly, " Can t. It s schooltime." 
 
 Well, there would be no school for her, mamma broke 
 in eagerly, nor yet for Wajeiceh, nor Rinka, Kazia, or 
 Novia. And Kani added, as an improving clause to this 
 license, that they might all come and help him build fence. 
 
 So Miss Olive Greene was forced to attend to her duties 
 in District 7 with most of her primary grades absent.
 
 148 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 And Natupski got his cattle only after he had sleuthed 
 them almost to Holly Centre and paid a certain sum 
 per head " poundage." A farmer there had, it seems, 
 found them wandering in the highway, and shut them in 
 his barn. Kani was forced to settle for their " board and 
 keep " and something over as a fine. 
 
 It was a harrowing experience for a man who had 
 just begun to perceive that he was not rich. But when 
 the last strip of wire was fastened atop of the old stone 
 wall that formed the basis of all the fencing which 
 Natupski had secured when he bought the Buckland 
 place, when the unused part of the coil was abandoned 
 among the hardhack and bittersweet until it should be 
 loudly sought for next time, when the children were 
 sucking at lacerated fingers and mamma was binding up 
 Wajeiceh s forehead, bruised by a flying hammerhead, 
 Kani had the idea. 
 
 He did not tell his wife exactly what it was, it not 
 being good for a woman to know too much of a man s 
 plans, but he gave her a grunt of praise for having sug 
 gested keeping the children home from school, since 
 therein lay the best of the plan. He added, " Now we 
 going to be rich," and Marinki believed him. 
 
 It being unlucky to " carry Jews " (nod) when one has 
 work to do, Kani determined to begin laying the founda 
 tion for his fortune that very night. It was dark and 
 very muggy; black silence hung alike over the dwelling 
 of Kani Natupski and his brood and that of the Slocumbs. 
 In that point alone were the dwellings akin. 
 
 Natupski s was, of course, littered up with children. 
 Neighbors sometimes wondered how they got along with 
 so many cradles over there, but these wonderers were
 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 149 
 
 not the near neighbors, who knew the popular bed for a 
 young Natupski was a soap-box. 
 
 Kani and his wife never undressed. In the winter 
 one s clothes assisted economy in blankets. In the sum 
 mer what was the use when one must rise at dawn and 
 that came at four o clock? 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Slocumb, in their matted chamber, laid 
 their heads upon ruffled pillows, and if it turned cold 
 before morning would snuggle their bodies under a log 
 cabin quilt entirely silk, satin, and velvet. 
 
 Natupski had no real cause for worrying, beyond the 
 fantastic desire for a fortune; Abner Slocumb was being 
 considerably pressed for money. His complaisant cred 
 itor had passed away, leaving his estate in the hands of 
 trustees. They had turned the Slocumb mortgage over 
 to a bank, and the bank, in a heartless manner, demanded 
 its interest. 
 
 Nevertheless the sound sleepers "were not on the erst 
 while Judson Buckland place. 
 
 " Up, up," whispered Kani, in a vigorous hiss, " up, 
 lazy loafers ! " And he administered kicks with such 
 indiscrimination that the next to littlest baby got a couple, 
 and Stepan too, while the cat Natupski s cat was the 
 finest in the neighborhood, no one could tell why in 
 dignantly removed herself to Mrs. Natupski s side and 
 licked her whiskers in an aggrieved manner. 
 
 "What s matter, papa?" called Statia from the next 
 bare floor. " Anybody got colic ? " 
 
 No, but somebody might have something worse if he 
 or she didn t hurry. He wanted her, Statia, and 
 Wajeiceh and yes, Rinka might come. Only stop 
 scratching that match. He d have no light.
 
 150 
 
 Mrs. Natupski raised herself on her elbow. She sup 
 posed he was going out to harvest oats. But he had 
 better take her along, rather than the children. 
 
 To which Kani interposed a rough refusal. If she 
 came away the baby would be sure to cry. For his pur 
 pose the children were well enough. 
 
 So he led them, stumbling and stuttering sleep in their 
 limbs, through the night to the upland pasture where 
 the Slocumb cattle chewed their cuds and breathed 
 heavily in well-fed content. 
 
 The next morning Abner Slocumb, making a long arm 
 for another doughnut at his breakfast table, was in 
 formed by a friendly passerby that his cattle must be out 
 fences seemed to be down all along the mountain road. 
 Abner did not reach for his goad, nor lash Nancy with 
 either whip or hard words. He kept right on forking the 
 nut-cake, and only called the cattle " pesky varmints." 
 
 They were discovered quite safe in the Natupski barn 
 yard, and Slocumb borrowed fifteen dollars from Blan- 
 chard Bowes to redeem them, giving Natupski hearty 
 thanks in addition for having, by presumed early rising, 
 prevented the animals straying. 
 
 A few more days and the same tale disturbed Blan- 
 chard Bowes himself, then Hiram Farrar, then Mercy 
 Bruill, who promptly fell in hysterics and claimed widow s 
 redemption, as in taxes, but all of whom paid, and gave 
 Natupski grateful words into the bargain. 
 
 No one thought it strange the cattle were always found 
 in his barnyard. He was up at all hours, the little runt, 
 while his young ones forever scoured the hills. 
 
 Kani believed he had discovered the source of all 
 wealth, the golden fleece, the Apples of Hesperides, the
 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 151 
 
 Midas touch, and the one place in America where, as had 
 been told before he came from Poland, one might find 
 nuggets in the streets. It was so easy. One had only, 
 with the children s aid, to stampede the animals in the 
 direction of the weak link in the chain of fence every 
 fence had one, or you made it and presto ! they were in 
 the highway. Then to bed for a few hours, to rise before 
 dawn and as like as not discover the beasts making havoc 
 with your corn or garden. After which you collected 
 fifteen dollars eighteen even twenty and added it 
 to the store. All a by-product, too, since one worked just 
 as efficiently by day, only allowing the children a long 
 noontide nap under the shade of a haystack. 
 
 It went beautifully only for one impediment Mrs. 
 Natupski! Think of Marinki talking almost as boldly 
 as that Nancy Slocumb, who had never produced a boy, 
 talked to her Abner. Was there something in this 
 American air? 
 
 For several nights Mrs. Natupski listened sleepily 
 while papa turned out the older children, but so weary 
 was the poor drudge that her curiosity did not awaken. 
 She only rejoiced that he didn t need her, and turned to 
 deeper rest. Finding Nancy Slocumb sobbing under the 
 blueberry bush first stirred the little dark woman to 
 inquiry. Shifting her own pail of berries to better balance 
 the baby, she tapped Nancy on the shoulder and nodded 
 questioningly. 
 
 " Don t mind me," snapped Nancy, who felt " mad- 
 der n a wet hen " at being caught making a fool of her 
 self. " I came out here to have a good bawl where Abner 
 shouldn t know nothing about it. It s the interest money. 
 We re behindhand, and banks ain t given to waiting. Had
 
 152 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 it all saved up, but the cattle have acted so like all pos 
 sessed getting out and it s gone in pound fines." 
 
 Then she threw her apron over her head and added 
 inconsequently, " No other L-kitchen 11 ever seem home 
 to me. I know just what sort of an east wind 11 make 
 the stove smoke every time." 
 
 People were apt to think Mrs. Natupski dunderheaded, 
 but she was nothing of the sort. A very little musing 
 and a few questions of the children made the matter 
 plain to the quiet little woman. Kani saw to it that the 
 cattle got loose, and then, owing to some mysterious 
 American law, he was enabled to get money for driving 
 them back to their owners. Mrs. Natupski approved of 
 it all, except as concerning the Slocumbs. Nancy had be 
 come endeared by numerous kindnesses, sullenly re 
 ceived. Mrs. Natupski determined the Slocumb cattle 
 should henceforth be sacred. 
 
 It was truth that Kani had been a bit hard on Abner. 
 His pasture was most convenient, to be sure, and when 
 one was very sleepy it was a temptation to stop at the 
 first fence, instead of climbing higher. Blanchard Bowes 
 was a rich man, and better able to pay; the Pinkney- 
 Farrar sisters had been disagreeable to the Natupski 
 children, and there might be satisfaction in turning their 
 creatures loose, but Slocumb suffered because of pro 
 pinquity. Three times he had paid the scot, and once 
 more he seemed to be marked as victim. 
 
 Dreamily in the now familiar darkness Kani and his 
 children played their parts. Down rolled the stones into 
 a soft bed of fern, the two strands of wire being pulled 
 to the ground and held by another stone. It looked like a 
 place where berry-pickers had made their way. A little
 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 153 
 
 scattered salt attracted the cattle, and with sleepy 
 " Shoos ! " the children drove them to the highway and 
 turned them in the right direction. At least that was the 
 attempt, when Kani was fully roused by the appearance 
 of a white-clothed figure, while an earnest voice said, 
 " Nie, Kani, nie!" 
 
 It was Marinki, right in the opening, so that the cattle 
 had already turned back. 
 
 " Mamma ! " yelled Statia, in a voice to alarm the 
 township, but papa stilled her with a kick. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski, standing obstinately at the hole in the 
 wall, talked at her husband in a way no one would have 
 believed. Any other cows, very well. But not Mr. Slo- 
 cumb s. Not his any more. To which Kani made reply 
 a grunt. Then Marinki again oh, yes; he, Kani, was 
 certainly a wise and a great man, and his plan to be rich 
 was very wonderful; all the more, then, let out Blanchard 
 Bowes twenty-nine head rather than Slocumb s half 
 dozen. Another mile to go for them ? What was another 
 mile up the mountain to a strong man ? Kani s comment 
 on this was expressed in a sibilant click of tongue on 
 teeth, and a threatening snap of his fingers. His wife 
 kept right on. She would have him tell her if it was quite 
 safe, all this? Was there not a great danger of being 
 found out and somehow made to suffer? Mr. Slocumb, 
 now, lived near, and was always building up his fence. 
 Would he not begin to think it strange the wall so often 
 fell down ? And then might not even Mr. Slocumb turn 
 to the law. In Poland, now 
 
 Kani, quite infuriated, lashed the darkness, but missed 
 the woman. She had touched a little spot where the germ 
 of fear had already been established, not by easy-going,
 
 154 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 trustful Abner Slocumb, but by Mr. Blanchard Bowes 
 himself. Kani could not surmise why, he blurted out, 
 but Mr. Bowes seemed to think it very strange his cattle 
 were loose a second time, and had made sharp remarks 
 about getting a constable to search for wire-cutters if 
 such a thing occurred again. Kani had determined so 
 rich and fierce-spoken a man could be a source of revenue 
 no longer. But Abner Slocumb had always fair words 
 and a confiding manner. Having thus explained why 
 it must be Slocumb cattle and not those of Bowes, Kani 
 hissed to keep his courage up, " Law ! American law ! 
 Poh ! Poh ! Me make a snoot at it ! Me make a snoot 
 at American law ! " 
 
 Marinki did not move; the Slocumb cows still lounged 
 along the fence. Then, "Out of the way!" Kani sud 
 denly whispered. " Me drive cows over you." 
 
 With a slap on the back a big Holstein was made to 
 dash onward, and the baffled woman, sobbing with anger, 
 made a hasty step and fell, tangled in the wire. 
 
 " Oi ! Oi ! " she moaned, as the barbs tore her hair and 
 gashed her thinly clad body. Each time she essayed to 
 rise another bulky animal would scramble past her, send 
 ing a shower of pebbles to sting her face, and compelling 
 her to curl and shrink lest she should be trodden by the 
 awkward, cloven feet. 
 
 The last, a skittish two-year-old, did give her an un 
 toward kick, then the herd clumped off in the darkness 
 and she realized she was quite alone. Kani and the 
 children never returned along the road after these noc 
 turnal adventures. He drove the little ones through a 
 path among the sweet fern and sumach bushes, and so 
 by the rear into their own domicile. It was important
 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 155 
 
 that any bad sleeper who might note cattle straying by the 
 road should not see any human beings near. 
 
 Marinki had not the slightest idea what hour it might 
 be, only it was very, very dark. Well, there would be no 
 hole in heaven if anything happened to her. That was a 
 consoling thought. So closely was she held by the barbs 
 and by a large stone that had pinned down her petticoat 
 that she could not move without increasing the scratches. 
 She was not afraid, out there on that lonely hillside, but 
 she was very tired, and the comparative softness of her 
 straw bed at home would have been grateful. Anger 
 continued to keep her warm, and she made up her mind, 
 heavily but decidedly, that Kani must now be made to 
 give way. He had done as he liked this time, but there 
 would be other times. Dawn did come presently; by its 
 first light Mrs. Natupski picked herself up, extracted the 
 burrs and beggar lice from her garments, and made her 
 way home, sucking the most accessible of her wounds. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski determined to remember the words, 
 " Constable," " Snoot," " American law." Each morn 
 ing for a week she repeated them like a prayer. Indeed, 
 right after prayer. It was difficult to learn how to write 
 them, but the children assisted, each one a bit, so that no 
 one might suspect. 
 
 In due time " Constable " (official title, not name, as 
 Mrs. Natupski had believed) received a rumpled postal 
 card, which informed him that Kani Natupski " Snoots 
 at American law." The handwriting was undecipher 
 able, being verily that of the Natupski family, for Mrs. 
 Natupski managed her husband s name, Statia did snoots 
 in the best perpendicular of District Number Seven, 
 Rinka accomplished American with the aid of consider-
 
 156 
 
 able tongue chewing, and law in Polish alone demanded 
 an interpreter. The constable obtained one, in the person 
 of a schoolboy who knew more English slang than words 
 in his father s tongue. " Snoots at American law, eh ? " 
 observed the constable. " I wonder who in tarnation is 
 so concerned to tattle on the chap ? And one of his own 
 jargon talkers, too." 
 
 " I ve heard pa say the Nick Kovinskis got it in for 
 the Natupskis," volunteered the youthful interpreter. 
 
 " Shucks, you don t say ? What seems to be the 
 trouble?" 
 
 " Well, Mr. Kovinski married a lady was married to 
 Natupski once." 
 
 " Reason enough! " shouted the constable. " Making 
 snoots at American law. Gosh, that might be most any 
 thing. What s my next move? Oh, call on Miss Olive 
 Greene. These schoolmarms know all about their 
 scholars folks." 
 
 The constable s next move was nearly always to call 
 on Miss Olive Greene, but in the midst of an entranc 
 ing evening he did manage to introduce her Polish 
 pupils. 
 
 " Polish pupils," she replied. " I haven t any. The 
 Natupskis have not been to school since May. I sent 
 word to the truant officer, but I suppose it will be vaca 
 tion before he gets to this out-district. I m scared to 
 go after them myself. The man looks so fierce, and 
 the woman can t talk English, so I don t know if she s 
 abusing me or not." 
 
 The constable rose in excitement. So that was it? A 
 snoot at law indeed. It should rise in its majesty that 
 was him and overcome the snooters.
 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 157 
 
 Mrs. Natupski had been watching every day for the 
 coming of strangers. She supposed Kani would go to 
 prison, but her own wrongs, in which Nancy Slocumb s 
 tears formed a coalition with festering scratches, kept 
 her firm. Kani appeared to have forgotten the night 
 incident, and impelled his wife to work as eagerly as ever. 
 There had come a lull in turning cattle out, but perhaps 
 that was because of a moon in its second quarter. 
 
 At last the strangers arrived. Three men piled in a 
 narrow buggy. They stopped to ask a question of Abner 
 Slocumb. Abner turned his thumb Natupski way. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski kept right on hoeing beans. The chil 
 dren stood in a gaping row. One of the men alighted and 
 handed a paper to Kani. It bore a red seal and in all eyes 
 was awesome. Mrs. Natupski began to tremble. After 
 all, had she done so well? Suppose Kani was put in 
 irons? What if he should be carried to some far-off 
 place, leaving her alone with the children? She did not 
 notice she was hoeing badly. A half-grown bean plant 
 was sacrificed. 
 
 One stinging box on the ear brought her back. The 
 men were cramping the buggy wheel. Evidently they in 
 tended to go away. Perhaps they would come again for 
 Kani, or send. 
 
 Statia," he was calling. 
 
 Giving her the paper he ordered her to read. 
 
 Statia wrinkled her neatly penciled brows, and 
 scratched her head partly from doubt. Then she looked 
 up puzzled. It was too much for her understanding. 
 
 Kani made a quick trip to the Slocumbs , Marinki trail 
 ing after. 
 
 Abner laid down his pipe and took up the paper.
 
 158 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Oh, ho, Natupski," he said, " it seems you ve been 
 breaking the law." 
 
 Kani denied it, solemnly. 
 
 " Oh, you have. It s all here in black and white. You 
 was a good n law-abiding citizen up to last May, and 
 then you commenced your career of crime." 
 
 Natupski leaned on the fence and essayed a sickly smile. 
 
 His wife ventured to draw near and lean on the same 
 fence without reprimand. Looking closely, she perceived 
 that her husband s knees trembled. 
 
 " And since then you have infracted that is, bu sted 
 said law no less than eight times and under six separate 
 and identical counts. It s all here! " 
 
 Natupski, the trembling now extended to his hands, 
 turned to his wife and whispered the figures. Rapidly 
 she counted on her fingers. Slocumbs four times, and 
 the Bowes s cattle twice, the Sawyer girls yes, truly, 
 all came to eight. And the six? Well, Slocumb had six 
 cows, if that meant anything. 
 
 Wonderful, wonderful that what a man did in the 
 dark should come out in a paper, quite correct. Mrs. 
 Natupski was lost in amazement. Kani was shaking all 
 over, his few teeth chattering against each other despite 
 the eighty degrees of heat quivering in the air. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski drew still nearer her frightened mate, 
 nudged his elbow, and pointed to Mr. Slocumb. Kani 
 understood. 
 
 Drawing a wad of bills from the belt which never left 
 his body, sleeping or waking, Kani counted out forty-five 
 dollars. 
 
 " Others after supper," he shook out of himself, and 
 turned away.
 
 A SNOOT AT THE LAW 159 
 
 " Stop, stop, what s this for ? " 
 
 " Cow," murmured Natupski. 
 
 " Aw, get out. You was in your rights there. Keep 
 your cash and say no more about it. I m going to let that 
 breachy two-year-old go for the interest, and without her 
 to lead em on I bet yer my cows won t make any more 
 trouble." 
 
 Mrs. Natupski, firm, and Mr. Natupski, trembling, 
 pointed to the paper. 
 
 " This ? Oh, it says if you don t now and forth 
 with send Anystatiz and Wajeiceh and Marinka and 
 Kazia, yes, and Novia to school in Deestrict Seven 
 and keep em there each schoolday until every last 
 one of em s turned of fourteen, you ll be haled to court 
 and made to tell what for. God save the Commonwealth 
 of Massachusetts." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Natupski turned toward one another, 
 united in horror. Before them stretched long years of 
 toil, unremitting, lightened by the assistance of the second 
 generation only at infrequent intervals known as vaca 
 tions. 
 
 What a country was this America, famed for liberty, 
 yet where parents might not manage their own children ! 
 
 Abner chuckled. 
 
 " Nine of em now, ain t there ? Mighty pooty little 
 family. Darn sight pootier n ten." 
 
 Natupski was Americanizing fast. He replied to Slo- 
 cumb s jest in the very words Slocumb had once used. 
 
 " Luckee dog. Me wish me was in your shoe." 
 
 Eleven years in America, nine children, all but one to 
 be kept in school until 14. Natupski perceived he never 
 would be rich.
 
 THE SECOND GENERATION
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 
 
 AMERICAN language as adopted by the Natupski 
 family made constant use of the term " Where does it 
 get you? " It was no use to wash your face. That got 
 you nowhere. Why exterminate vermin ? That also got 
 you nowhere. By working early and late, eating little 
 and saving much, one (reasoning from analogy) got 
 somewhere. 
 
 Stanislarni Natupski had eagerly consented to leave 
 school at thirteen and enter the Mifflin Mills. No one but 
 Arthur Slocumb had expected him to do anything better. 
 
 He remained in the mills until he was (actually) over 
 seventeen. Being nerveless and teachable he had ad 
 vanced steadily until he finally held down a well-paid 
 job. Bosses recognized that Natupski did not go to 
 pieces in the last hour of the working day, when so many 
 did go to pieces and forfeit their fingers or their back 
 hair, according to sex. Even the horrors of the rooms 
 where humidifiers were installed had no effect on him. 
 He swabbed perspiration and worked right on with cus 
 tomary stolidity. 
 
 If Stanislarni had stuck it out he might have been made 
 a " super." More likely he would not have been made 
 a super, but would have figured at seventy-five in a news 
 paper item as the marvelous old man who had been given 
 
 163
 
 164 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 a gold-headed cane in recognition of his record over 
 sixty years on one corporation. 
 
 One early summer morning, when four years ad 
 vanced toward this enticing goal, Stanislarni rose and 
 turned his bed over to the night-shift man, who was al 
 ready clamoring for it. He vaulted the pile of filth which 
 automatically gathers at the outer doors of factory tene 
 ments, and stepped briskly toward the brick bevy over 
 the bridge. It was not a day for indoors. Bits of fluff 
 were the only clouds in the blue, the trees were greening, 
 violets dotted the roadside grass, and a robin sang on an 
 electric light pole. 
 
 Stanislarni heard a panting breath by his side, and 
 looked down on Pania Wazowski. Pania was not long 
 from Poland. She wore a shawl over her head, and the 
 family breakfast, a loaf of bread, was hugged closely 
 to the bosom of her dirt-stiffened gown. 
 
 " Lo," she said, shyly. " Where you going, Stan 
 Natupski? " 
 
 Stanislarni heard the clock strike six. He had thought 
 it would strike seven. Then he remembered the hours 
 of the night shift had been changed. What should he 
 say to Pania? Where was he going? For a moment he 
 thought he would go and pull that night-shift man out 
 of his bed but no, let the poor fellow snooze. It would 
 be bad if a fellow could not fill in an hour on a June 
 morning. Still Stan Natupski, where are you going? 
 
 Paying no further heed to the pattering Pania 
 Stanislarni never did pay heed to girls he turned 
 abruptly from the millward way and struck into the road 
 leading to the city of which Mififlin Grove was a some 
 what independent suburb. He had ridden over this road,
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 165 
 
 after dark, in trolleys, he had never walked it before. 
 Soon the corporation tenements were past, he saw long 
 rows of houses, set in yards, with gardens and shrubs 
 for further beautifying. Lace curtains waved in the 
 morning air, behind screen doors good-smelling break 
 fasts were cooking. Everybody was taking in ice, milk, 
 the morning newspaper, an Angora cat. Stanislarni had 
 been used to a few such dwellings about the mills, but 
 they were set apart for the elite supers and such. Here 
 were hundreds of them. The side streets, as he passed, 
 were lined with granolithic sidewalks and automobiles. 
 It would appear, then, that the ordinary citizen had these 
 things not the one or two " big " men whom Stanislarni 
 had contentedly observed from an acknowledged lowly 
 plane. 
 
 Quite forgetful that seven o clock now impended, 
 Stanislarni decided to find out who lived in these fine 
 houses. It being his way to proceed instantly in pursuit 
 of any idea, he began walking boldly to door after door. 
 If a plate or card showed above the electric bell he read 
 it. Otherwise he rang and bluntly inquired who lived 
 there. No one paid any attention, beyond answering his 
 questions. He was taken for a stupid boy looking for a 
 job. 
 
 At the end of an hour Stanislarni had accumulated a 
 mass of evidence that might have been useful to a politi 
 cal worker. His memory marvelous, only no one ever 
 told him so informed him that besides Smiths, Browns, 
 and Birnies, " American names," there were a good 
 many McCarthys and O Briens and a vast number of 
 Goldmans, Levys, Cohens, and Aronsons. That is, it was 
 not impossible for foreign-borns to support mansions and
 
 1 66 OUBL NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 send their offspring to school with big hairbows and 
 white socks. 
 
 Yet not one Polish name ! 
 
 Stanislarni had hitherto honored his father for work 
 ing hard and living poor, now he doubted. It really 
 seemed that the way his country people lived was wrong. 
 It got them nowhere. 
 
 The time had crept on to nine. The boss had by this 
 time cursed Stanislarni well and thoroughly, and put 
 his machines in charge of another. Stanislarni didn t 
 care. He was thinking that all the folks in the office, the 
 writing girls in white waists, the bookkeepers, the 
 draftsmen, did not get on the job until this prepos 
 terous hour. When he and thousands others had forgot 
 ten breakfast and almost sniffed dinner, these strolled in 
 picking their teeth. It wasn t fair, it wasn t. Stanislarni 
 had been so busy earning wages and getting promoted 
 that he hadn t thought much about it; now he decided 
 it wasn t fair. He felt the unfairness so strongly that he 
 brought his big fist down slam! while telling himself it 
 wasn t fair. 
 
 " Ouch ! " grunted the object banged, that turned out 
 to be the back of a fat neck. It appertained to a man 
 who had been leaning over a gate in an endeavor to see 
 up the street and ascertain that Mary and Katy got safely 
 to the other side. 
 
 " Excuse excuse, please," gasped the Polish boy, and 
 the stout gentleman kindly did so, even while shaking 
 pieces of collar button into places where they would be 
 least annoying. 
 
 At intervals he looked Stanislarni over. Then he said, 
 " I ve seen you before. Half an hour ago I was to the
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 167 
 
 grocer s and you went up all the doorsteps on Banks 
 Street. What place was you looking for ? " 
 
 " No place," said Stanislarni. " I just wanted to know 
 how many houses was lived in by fellers from the old 
 country." 
 
 " How you find that out? " 
 
 Stanislarni briefly explained. The other s eyes bright 
 ened at this intellectual turn to the affair, while apologies 
 were offered for unconsidered belittlement. 
 
 " I supposed you was looking for a job. And it was 
 statistics. Say, I m some bear on statistics myself. 
 Won t you come in? " 
 
 Thus was Stanislarni introduced to the interior of one 
 of the gorgeous mansions. This was a very gorgeous 
 one. It had a porte-cochere, though lack of any wide 
 gate implied dearth of carriage company. There was 
 also a sleeping porch, occupied by the Boston terrier. 
 The stout man took his guest to a den by way of a long 
 meander through a green velvet parlor, a white enamel 
 dining-room, and a living-room so mission that Stanis 
 larni took it for a Baltimore lunch. He had seen a Balti 
 more lunch when he went to the city Saturday nights for 
 a hell of a time. The den was upholstered in puffs and 
 brave with the steins and posters whereby one knew it 
 for a den. Stanislarni s first performance even before 
 he let himself be awed by the finery was to work out 
 the geography of the house and prove that the den opened 
 directly from the hall. His host had taken him through 
 the other rooms to show they existed. Stanislarni liked 
 that. It was what he would have done himself. 
 
 " I guess he should be a Jew," Stanislarni told Stanis 
 larni, while accepting one of the cigarettes that were
 
 168 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 shoved his way. He was then asked, " Why you get 
 statistics? Working on some newspaper?" 
 
 " No. I don t work no place today. I wanted to find 
 out how such nice houses was had. I wanted to know if 
 all the fellers had em was American-born." 
 
 " You American-born ? " 
 
 " No. I was four when mamma came from Poland. 
 My brother was born on ship." 
 
 "So? Polish?" He was so very mildly interested 
 that Stanislarni at once reconstructed his ideas and told 
 himself, " Russian he is, I bet me a cent." 
 
 The fat man now leaned back in a massive arm-chair 
 and assumed the air of a magistrate examining witnesses 
 in an intricate civil case. 
 
 " So, my young friend, you admire this beautiful sub 
 urb ? And maybe you think sometime you d like to come 
 here to live yourself? Well, it ain t easy. For one not 
 American-born oh, it ain t easy. And more specially 
 for Polanders it ain t easy." 
 
 Stanislarni dovetailed this expert opinion to the lesson 
 of doorplates and felt condemned. His entertainer went 
 on, " To be sure, some us folks in this neighbor 
 hood ain t always had it so nice. We re what they 
 call self-made. Now me, myself say, how old be 
 you?" 
 
 " Seventeen," replied Stanislarni, for once determined 
 to indulge himself in the luxury of the truth. 
 
 " Oh ! " The other pulled out a watch and stared it 
 in the face. 
 
 Stanislarni could take a hint, even though appearing 
 stodgy. In fact he generally took hints most quickly 
 when most stodgy.
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 169 
 
 " Seventeen years from Poland," he said, helping him 
 self to a second smoke. 
 
 "Oh that s it. And you were four then? Voted 
 yet?" 
 
 " No/ 
 
 " Father took out his papers ? Is it this ward he lives 
 in?" 
 
 " He lives to West Holly," said Stanislarni, shortly. 
 " I wasn t talking about him." 
 
 The gentleman rose, tiptoed to a letter-press, opened a 
 slide, and disclosed beer bottles cuddling round an ice 
 cake. 
 
 " It s early," he said, " but prosit ! " 
 
 " He s a dam Dutchman," thought Stanislarni, while 
 getting tangled in a stein lid and defying any onlooker 
 to grin. 
 
 " At your age it is to laugh I was peddling garden 
 truck. Before that I sold papers. I have even shined 
 shoes." 
 
 It is impossible for mere words to show how proud 
 he was of all this. That he actually swelled with pride 
 is proven by his suddenly unbuttoning his waistcoat, 
 though Stanislarni thought a silk shirt had something 
 to do with it. He went on, " Of course that wasn t so 
 much. Any fool can push a pushcart. The thing is to 
 know when to get out. Like in the stock market. I 
 always knew when to get out. I knew it when I wove 
 jute at so much the cut or when I did janitor s work 
 with a third-class license. After a while I got out of 
 business and took up politics. Ran last year for common 
 council. Excuse me there s the phone." 
 
 He closed the Circassian walnut door, leaving Stanis-
 
 170 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 larni a few moments with the glory that was from boot- 
 blacking, the grandeur founded in truck-peddling. Stanis- 
 larni meditatively counted the cigarettes and put a few 
 in his pocket. 
 
 " Stucked on yourself, you is," he remarked to an en 
 larged crayon portrait of his host, " just like a darn 
 Swede." 
 
 The citizen of the world came back, almost breathless. 
 
 " Call from the mayor," he said, with a hard look that 
 defied a listener to think otherwise. " Him and me is 
 rather pals. You see, our grandfathers " he paused 
 for effect " came to this country the same time." 
 
 Stanislarni understood. His spirits, that had quick 
 ened when he heard of boot-blacking and coal-shoveling, 
 tumbled below their usual level. All guesses as to nation 
 ality had been wrong. This was a real American (with 
 an Irish name, Stanislarni knew enough of politics to be 
 sure he had an Irish name) with a mayor for a friend. 
 
 " I got to be at the C. H. in half an hour," the other 
 went on. " Want to ride to the city in my car ? " 
 
 " No," said Stanislarni, with a smile that expressed 
 that pathetic Polish proverb, " Always you can hear the 
 tears in their laughter." All this had got him nowhere. 
 He thought he would go back and be humble to the boss. 
 " Thank you, mister, for the pleasant hour," he went on. 
 " I just remembered it s most ten, and my job she starts 
 at seven. Goo by." 
 
 " Here, don t go off mad. I d like to help you, honest 
 I would. I always like to help young fellers with ambi 
 tion. But we can t all be at the top, you know. One 
 thing, I have education. I wasn t anywhere and wouldn t 
 have got anywhere, only I got educated. That s what
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 171 
 
 this country requires education. Lookit President 
 Wilson Taft Roosevelt where they been without 
 education ? Or the mayor o Boston ? He s even been in 
 jail. Now most fellers been in jail would know they 
 couldn t be mayor and let it go at that. He didn t. Hired 
 a man to go round with him to caucuses and such and 
 ask every time How about that jail sentence? Give 
 Mr. Candidate a swell chance to answer back, I done 
 it for a friend. And what he done was take an examina 
 tion, so you may say it s education put him in the 
 mayor s chair. Now I take it you ain t much educa 
 tion?" 
 
 Stanislarni shook his head gloomily, fearing to even 
 mention District Seven of West Holly. 
 
 " And Polish-born besides. My boy, if you got a decent 
 job, believe me, you better stick to it. Why, it was some 
 
 horrible effort I made before I got that " he pointed 
 
 triumphantly to a beribboned sheepskin that hung over 
 the humidor. " One time I had all the Y.M.C.A. betting 
 I wouldn t make it." 
 
 Stanislarni went out properly subdued and his enter 
 tainer saw him go, and then called up a grin. He always 
 held out helping hands to young men with votes present 
 or potential but he didn t encourage them in aspira 
 tions to his own eminence. He was tickled at sending 
 that youth forth satisfactorily burning with envy and 
 hopelessness. 
 
 All went well until the depressed Stanislarni turned to 
 make sure the door was fast closed. He saw a silver 
 plate polished to the last degree. 
 
 Taddeous Wajakalowski
 
 172 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " By God ! " Stanislarni informed the surrounding at 
 mosphere. " He is a dam Polisher all the time ! " 
 
 He rang the bell with assurance, walked over the 
 answering maid, and slapped into the den, where Mr. 
 Wajakalowski was trying to decide which of two motor 
 ing caps was the most knowing. 
 
 " Hullo, Mr. Wajakalowski," said Stanislarni, ripping 
 the top off a beer bottle and letting the contents gurgle 
 into his stein. " You see, I corned back. I didn t know 
 when your grandpa and the mayor s got to this country 
 same time it was in different ships. Now I want you 
 please to tell me all you did, beginning with next first 
 from the jute mill. So far, you see, I already got." 
 
 Mr. Wajakalowski made a gesture of despair. 
 
 " Would you go to college ? Why, you don t know the 
 beginning of the entrance requirements." 
 
 " Yah," said Stanislarni, rudely swilling beer. " You 
 shall tell me. That Y.M.C.A. did you say helped you 
 to know how? Then it shall help me. And anyhow, 
 mister, I thinks I ain t so foolish. I thinks even now I 
 talk better as you. I done it for a friend. Mayors 
 never says so. What else you do besides Y.M.C.A. ? " 
 
 Mr. Wajakalowski cowered behind his mahogany flat 
 desk. At length he ventured to say, humbly, " I got 
 married. It s a good thing to be married young. Keeps 
 a feller from going out evenings spending money." 
 
 Stanislarni slammed down the stein and made a second 
 exit, which he diversified by yanking aside a portiere 
 and gaping into the living-room, where a little girl was 
 playing the piano with marvelous skill (and her feet). 
 
 " Too much blue eyes," said Stanislarni, and banged 
 his way into the street. It was half an hour before Mr.
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 173 
 
 Wajakalowski understood that his youngest daughter 
 had been considered as a possible wife and summarily 
 rejected. 
 
 By then Stanislarni was out in Holly. Soon after he 
 started on a five-mile tramp to his father s farm. 
 
 Kani Natupski was found, as generally, adoring his 
 swine. By constant and pertinacious attention he had 
 reared a monumental sow and in her whereabouts he 
 always was when not asleep or slave-driving the family. 
 He stopped smiling at the pig and frowned at his big son. 
 
 " What s doing? " he asked. " You on strike? " 
 
 " I ve quit," said Stanislarni. 
 
 " Good nuf ," returned the father, who always pre 
 ferred his children should work directly under his eye and 
 lash. " Start cutting hay next week. Good nuf." 
 
 Stanislarni went directly to the point. 
 
 " Where s my money-book ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, she safe. In pocket belt like mine." 
 
 " Le s see it." 
 
 " Me too busy," grumbled the father, and scratched the 
 pig. A pause ensued. Then, " I want to see my money- 
 book," said Stanislarni, as if the matter hadn t been 
 mentioned before. 
 
 His father walked away. Stanislarni patiently fol 
 lowed. Kani led his son all over the farm and into the 
 barn, Stanislarni calmly sauntering after and at inter 
 vals giving reminder that he was waiting around to see 
 the money (i.e., bank) -book. He had been through this 
 part of it before. The real fight would come if he de 
 clined to return the book. Kani finally drifted back to 
 the pig-pen, there being nowhere else to go, and reluc 
 tantly drew out the book.
 
 174 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " All ri ," said Stanislarni, and quickly hid the precious 
 possession inside his clothes. Then Kani forgot the pig 
 for an instant, and cursed inadequately in English, more 
 satisfactorily in his native tongue. 
 
 " Spender," he bawled, " anyhow the moneys you can t 
 get. The bank man he will not give it." 
 
 Stanislarni stopped so suddenly one foot remained in 
 the air. 
 
 " Dam / he muttered to himself. He knew what his 
 father said was true. Kani had gone with him when he 
 made his first deposit, after working a month in the 
 mill. The bank people had carefully explained to the 
 man and boy such terms as " under age " and " guardian." 
 Everything began to look black once more, just as when 
 he made his first exit from the Wajakalowski mansion. 
 Kani was tuggingly vigorously at his son, endeavoring 
 to extract the book as one pried potatoes from rocky soil. 
 Then a bright light illumined Stanislarni s vision and he 
 gave his father a push and surged onward. As he went 
 he shouted, " The cash-money s all mine. The man 
 said it was when I was twenty-one." 
 
 " Fool ! " bawled the father. " You be seventeen." 
 
 And Stanislarni holloaed back, " Nix. I m twenty-one. 
 A paper to the Mifflin Manufacturing Associates office 
 says so." 
 
 Kani stood bewildered, making rapid calculations on 
 his fingers. He had, to be sure, sworn before somebody 
 that his oldest son was seventeen four years before, but 
 but how could that have been when Stanislarni was 
 his oldest child and Marinki and he married at sixteen 
 and nineteen? Kani almost determined to monkey no 
 more with American laws.
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 175 
 
 Stanislarni, assured as to his career on the financial 
 side, next attacked the Y.M.C.A. He found Mr. Steel 
 of that organization on guard. 
 
 " I ve come " said the boy. 
 
 Mr. Steel saw the rough clothes and unpolished boots, 
 and said " Employment Bureau next door." 
 
 " T anks. I ve come " 
 
 " Gymnasium registration this evening." 
 
 "Is it? I ve come " 
 
 " Excuse me, I m very busy. Can you call some 
 other " 
 
 " No," growled Stanislarni. " I ve come today and I 
 can t come no more. I m going on from here." 
 
 Mr. Steel did then stop his important work he was 
 plotting a circular to interest exactly such boys as Stanis 
 larni in the work of the association and looked up. 
 
 " Oh what d ye want? " he asked, fatuously. 
 
 " What college does presidents go to ? " 
 
 " I I don t quite understand." 
 
 " A feller a man he told me all presidents went to 
 college. Which one?" 
 
 " Why er, Mr. Taft went to Yale. And Roosevelt, 
 Harvard " 
 
 " That s the one," exploded Stanislarni, bringing down 
 his fist till the ink bottles jumped. " I go to Harvard. 
 Tell me how." 
 
 Mr. Steel was interested at once. He called to other 
 departments and when he got the men in he showed them 
 the boy who wanted to go to Harvard. Some of them 
 were men who had been, and they thought it specially 
 funny. Only one youth, an extra gym instructor who 
 was trying to worm his way into an institution of higher
 
 176 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 culture any institution of higher culture that would let 
 him work as he studied did sit down and talk. 
 
 " At school ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not now. Vacation," said Stanislarni, calmly. 
 
 " Oh h ! Well, I suppose you know it s darn hard 
 to pass the entrance exams." 
 
 " I know it," said Stanislarni. " I buy books and 
 pretty soon I know it all." 
 
 " Gosh, tain t simple as that. If you weren t to a 
 prep school you got to have tutors and all sorts of fancy 
 training. Then there s the kale. That s what stumps 
 me. I m so long earning fifty dollars ahead that I spend 
 a hundred while I m at it." 
 
 " Oh money," said Stanislarni, with a sweep of the 
 hand. " She don t hurt me none. How much it cost 
 this college ? " 
 
 " One can scrape through on five hundred a year. 
 Less if he tends a furnace. But where s the five hun 
 dred?" 
 
 " How much you take," asked Stanislarni, " to show 
 me those books ? " 
 
 Cupidity gleamed in the poor rat s eye; he named a 
 dollar an hour, expecting to be beaten down. 
 
 " Come, begin," said Stanislarni, " I got no time for 
 fooling." 
 
 And tendered the dollar forthwith. 
 
 The lad felt he was robbing the poor fathead, but be 
 cause he saw a good supper in that dollar he accepted it. 
 Mr. Steel grinned when he saw the two walking off, and 
 made a crack anent the blind leading the blind. 
 
 For three weeks the rat his name was Ralph Brown 
 ing phoned excuses and did not come to work. Then
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 177 
 
 he sent word that he gave up the position, " having se 
 cured a steady one, more lucrative." 
 
 He had indeed, its name being Stanislarni Natupski. 
 His teachers in District Seven would not have remem 
 bered the boy as an especial glutton for learning, but that 
 was probably because books then seemed to get you no 
 where. Ralph Browning s nose was now seldom far 
 from the grindstone, and it was not until spring that he 
 reappeared at the Y.M.C.A., hollow-eyed, but alert. No 
 circular being imminent at that season, Mr. Steel was 
 talkative. 
 
 " Haven t seen you since you walked off with the im 
 migrant boy. By the way, Mr. Blanchard of the night 
 school tells me you ve sent for the past performance 
 exam, queries." 
 
 " Yes," said Browning, " and I wish you d ask him to 
 look over these answers." 
 
 " Ask him yourself. Here he comes." 
 
 Browning whistled under his breath out of the window 
 while Mr. Blanchard bent a quizzical brow over the 
 papers. Soon he said, " This isn t your hand? " 
 
 " No. It s another fellow who s making this try." 
 
 After a while Mr. Blanchard straightened, and spun 
 his glasses on their cord. 
 
 " It s a good test," he said, " but a queer one. Many 
 quite easy questions aren t answered at all, while some 
 difficult ones are taken flying. The odd part of it is that 
 there s absolutely no incorrect answer. What the man 
 knows he is sure of unless he worked unfairly. This 
 isn t a hoax, Browning? " 
 
 " No, indeed," said Browning. " It s say, Mr. Steel, 
 you remember the Polish boy? Well, these are his
 
 178 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 papers, and that s what he s learned since last summer, 
 with my assistance. And I don t know if he s a real man 
 or some automatic thing an Edison guy made out of the 
 memory the rest of us have missed. I read him a thing 
 and it seems to be his for keeps. That s how his answers 
 are so straight, when he makes em at all." 
 
 " Not like the most of you, who know so many things 
 that aren t so," snapped Mr. Blanchard. 
 
 " But the thing is does he know enough to get into 
 Harvard?" 
 
 " He can be stuffed," said Mr. Blanchard. " The ex 
 aminations aren t until May. And then there s the sum 
 mer to work off conditions. A marvelous memory! 
 But I suppose he has no reasoning power and no 
 money? " 
 
 " Can t say as to the first," laughed Browning, " but I 
 think he s not poor. Every time I suggest an hour off he 
 shells out a dollar. But I m glad you ll take him over. 
 He s given me the willies." 
 
 It was characteristic of Stanislarni that except for an 
 occasional picture postal he held no communication with 
 his home in West Holly. Neither did he buy new clothes, 
 attend moving-picture shows, or always take off his boots 
 when he went to bed. His mind was concentrated wholly 
 on the business in hand. By and by, when going to col 
 lege did for him what it had apparently done for Mr. 
 Wajakalowski, he intended to have all his little sisters live 
 in his fine house and play pianos with their feet. 
 
 And so it came to the important week in May and 
 Stanislarni Natupski sat in a room at Harvard and wrote 
 answers to queries with such rapidity that he had plenty 
 of leisure to gape about and wonder why the men in
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 179 
 
 charge gave him such sour looks if they happened to pass 
 in patrol. 
 
 Stanislarni was truly a marked figure, with his huge 
 bullet head; besides he seemed idle so much of the time 
 that the examiners could but suspect he had introduced 
 some new and devilish method of dishonesty. 
 
 Stanislarni, cursed with neither imagination nor con 
 science, sat serene and unworried. He thought he saw 
 straight before him three years of scenes such as this 
 many times repeated, and if his clothes wore out in the 
 meantime he supposed he could buy a strong suit for 
 five dollars in Boston just as he had done at Cohen s 
 We Clothe the World in Mifflin Grove. The fact that 
 he had two thousand dollars ahead by no means incited 
 him to any extravagance. 
 
 While Stanislarni tried to fill in half an hour with en 
 tertainment of a roving eye he saw that the young gentle 
 man next him who was yet far enough away to make 
 " communication " difficult, if not dangerous was deeply 
 and frequently interested in his shirt cuff. No one hav 
 ing put the Polish boy wise as to these aids in available 
 information, Stanislarni stared in such undisguised 
 wonder that the youth blushed, wriggled in his chair, and 
 exhibited an illness at ease which Stanislarni understood 
 not in the least, and so could not know that his 
 inconvenient espionage, added to that of the regular 
 literary police, was driving a fellow-student nearly 
 frantic. 
 
 That afternoon a thunderstorm came up with peculiar 
 swiftness and in the darkest moment, while an obstinate 
 electric switch was being negotiated at the farthest end 
 of the room, Stanislarni saw the other student slip a tiny
 
 i8o OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 book under the table edge. In an instant Stanislarni had 
 darted from his seat and placed a grip of iron on the 
 volume, while in a whisper he hissed, " Fool ! " 
 
 The lights came up, the book disappeared, and Stanis 
 larni Natupski was caught standing. An anxious mo 
 ment ensued, then allowance was made for lightning act 
 ing on youthful nerves, and the boy was told, " Take 
 your seat, sir." 
 
 At the day s end the other youth waited for Stanis 
 larni to lope out into the lilac-scented air. 
 
 " I say," he said, " you re a good sort, keeping a still 
 tongue that way. I really thought you were going to 
 bawl me out." 
 
 " Here s your book," said Stanislarni. As he held it 
 out hidden by his huge hand the cover flew back and an 
 otherwise blank page showed the volume belonged to 
 Arthur Slocumb. 
 
 " I guess you know me," said Stanislarni. " Me and 
 you had a club once at West Holly. You gave my sister 
 teeth-brushes." 
 
 " Sure," cried Arthur. " You re Stanislarni Natupski. 
 And you re going to college ! " 
 
 Both boys grinned and began to walk away very fast 
 to wherever they were going. Where that was neither 
 had any idea. In a moment Arthur resumed talking. 
 " Say, this is great stuff. Just to think that the little 
 club I cooked up that summer I was so bored at the farm 
 should result in your being at Harvard with me!" 
 Stanislarni nodded and forbore to mention what had 
 really incited him to such intellectual effort. Arthur 
 prattled on, " Now I can put you wise to a whole lot of 
 things."
 
 POTS AND KETTLES 181 
 
 " Yes," said Stanislarni. " I don t know much just 
 what a Y.M.C.A. feller showed me." 
 
 Arthur stopped and took a general survey of his com 
 panion. 
 
 "Shoes rotten! Socks degenerate! Trousers 
 impossible! Shirt a nightmare! Tie a blizzard! 
 What a pity you re St. Bernard size while I m in the 
 Collie class." 
 
 "What s matter?" asked Stanislarni. "I got this 
 necktie off a feller in the mill two years ago, but if you 
 want I should buy another I can do it. I got two 
 thousand dollars in my kick." 
 
 Arthur turned faint, dropped his chin, and forgot to 
 pick it up. Stanislarni went on, " And maybe I can put 
 you wise to somepin, too. So don t take no more books to 
 the examinations. I tells you the right numbers so 
 with my fingers under the table when the man he ain t 
 looking." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Arthur, meekly. " I thought 
 when you called me fool just now it meant you had Sun 
 day-school ideas from the Y.M.C.A." 
 
 " I said fool and fool you was," sneered Stanislarni, 
 " because the right answer ain t in this book at all. It s in 
 t other volume, page 88." 
 
 The boys passed, with slight conditions which both 
 felt sure would be safely worked off. Arthur soon 
 brought Stanislarni to recognition of ,the nail-buffer 
 and its uses; Stanislarni patted himself pridefully and 
 was prepared to tell any multitude that should by and by 
 elevate him to an office, " I did it I did it for a friend."
 
 II 
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 
 
 WAJEICEH NATUPSKI was a pickle. All and sundry 
 were agreed as to that. 
 
 During Wajeiceh s schooldays there was a great deal 
 of talk in home kitchens about " associates." A boy 
 might be made or ruined by his associates. It was a pity 
 that District Seven had been invaded by foreigners and 
 state kids. The proper thing was to frown on all coast 
 ing frolics and ball nines that included these elements. 
 
 " It won t be very much to your advantage," a mother 
 would say, severely, while administering to her offspring 
 with caraway cookies, " to be seen going round with that 
 Polish boy." 
 
 Thus the Polish boy and the state kid were thrown into 
 each other s society, and by mutually marking time ar 
 rived simultaneously at their fifteenth year and the ninth 
 grade. 
 
 " Won t get us into their old High School," they 
 told each other with the air of having escaped a dire 
 peril. 
 
 The state kid was named Shaum Kelly. He had been 
 placed in West Holly after a lurid childhood divided be 
 tween slums and institutions. According to him the 
 slums were pleasant, but foodless; the institutions hot 
 beds of vice. 
 
 Wajeiceh and Shaum constructed a hangout in the 
 
 182
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 183 
 
 Bowes woods, making a tent of stolen bedquilts slung 
 over interwoven grapevines. West Holly, which calmly 
 accepted this friendship, would have rubbed its eyes had 
 it seen who was often with them in his grandfather s 
 woods. Frank Seymour, only child of a widow, who had 
 come to the Bowes mansion to eke out her small income. 
 Frank, with blue eyes and curled hair in a crest, might 
 have been galvanized from the frontispiece of some little 
 blue-and-gold book called " Orphan Willy." Search out 
 such a book. You will see the frontispiece had no chin. 
 Neither had Frank. 
 
 Wajeiceh and Shaum considered Frank the greatest 
 pal that ever happened. He furnished the ideas for the 
 three. Of course he was booked for the Academy, but 
 what should the others do now they had so cleverly 
 escaped High School? 
 
 " I got to work for my father," said Wajeiceh, with 
 the gloom appropriate to such a sickening announce 
 ment, " till I m twenty-one. Then I guess I ll strike. 
 Gee, he ll be mad !" 
 
 " Hell of a time to wait," said Frank, who introduced 
 the profanity. " Why don t you read the riot act 
 now?" 
 
 " Ouch ! " said Wajeiceh, and wriggled at the assured 
 result. 
 
 " If any man laid hands on me," said Frank, " I d 
 run away." 
 
 Glorious idea! Shaum took it up at once, being an 
 expert in running away. " Come on," he cried, " let s do 
 it. Let s all do it. Let s go to the city. And when I 
 say city it s the real city I do be meaning not Mifflin 
 Grove."
 
 184 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 He spoke from splendid recollections, when policemen 
 had plucked him starving from gratings over warm res 
 taurant kitchens. 
 
 Frank was now happy. < The others had been 
 induced to lead him into temptation. He prepared to 
 fall. 
 
 " Listen," he said. " I ll put you wise to lifting some 
 stuff at the house and we lf go to the city. There we ll 
 live easy. Real cigarettes and beer not this sweet-fern 
 thing at all." 
 
 Animated by this description the hangout was solemnly 
 demolished. The quilts, wrapped around stones, were 
 sunk in the nighest pond, there to rise and give West 
 Holly women awful shocks as they recognized the Flying 
 Goose or Love in Eden patterns missing since years ago 
 from the clothes line. Wajeiceh, be it remembered, was 
 a pickle ! Yet his imagination did not now dictate any 
 exploit more criminal than taking a pie from Nancy 
 Slocumb s pantry window. Frank s soared to brilliant 
 heights. 
 
 " I say," he whispered, at the rendezvous, down the 
 road a piece from the Bowes mansion, " who s bare 
 footed?" 
 
 Wajeiceh was thriftily carrying his only shoes. 
 
 " Slip over the piaz and in that open window. There s 
 a bill-book on the slide of the desk. I got to have it. 
 Dassent go myself because the folks in the next room 
 might hear me and wonder why I was out of bed. There s 
 no light except where they are." 
 
 Wajeiceh did not realize that this book held Mr. 
 Blanchard Bowes profits of a week s peach sales, and 
 that it would mean something serious to be caught. He
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 185 
 
 did the trick. Mr. Bowes, dozing in the dark, afterward 
 remembered a moving shadow that seemed more sub 
 stantial than anything in a dream. 
 
 " Good," said Frank, pocketing the money and tossing 
 the book into the bushes with highwaymanish ease. At 
 Holly depot he bought tickets for Boston, though the 
 other two thought something adventurous and economi 
 cal might be done with a freight train. 
 
 " Supposed you fellows were out for living easy," 
 quoth Frank, pumping change into a slot-machine. 
 
 The journey was uneventful except for the brilliant 
 moment when Frank tipped the brakeman twenty-five 
 cents for a pillow. Wajeiceh could not sleep for thinking 
 of it. " Easy come, easy go," said the gallant receiver 
 of stolen goods. 
 
 In the early morning the boys stood at the entrance 
 of the passenger station. That city, destined to give 
 them an easy living, was waking up. A tall boy with a 
 single leg arranged papers in the safety island of the 
 square. Other boys swept walks. One came out of a 
 restaurant and slapped on the glass a sign reading " Com 
 bination breakfast thirty cents." It was so new that the 
 purple fluid ran over last night s signs, oatmeal and eggs 
 putting welsh rabbit in the discard. 
 
 The wandering senses of the boys were brought to a 
 focus by a loud question, " Who wants to carry these 
 cases? " 
 
 An obvious drummer had taken two heavy pieces of 
 luggage from a red-capped porter. Shaum, once of the 
 city, understood. This pirate would expect you to lug 
 that business all over town for a dollar and lunch money. 
 " Nothing doing," said Shaum airily and turned away.
 
 186 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Frank was insulted. He, grandson of " Peach Orchard " 
 Bowes, a luggage carrier! 
 
 " Hire a taxi," said he, " they re only four dollars an 
 hour." 
 
 The man laughed and staggered off. 
 
 "What about eats?" asked Shaum, whose stomach 
 had become used to nourishing food at regular intervals 
 in the West Holly home where a paternal state had 
 placed him. 
 
 Frank drew a hand from either pocket empty! 
 
 " I ve been frisked ! " he said glibly. He savored the 
 situation. It was almost as if he read about it in paper 
 covers. Then he caught Wajeiceh s look of consterna 
 tion, followed by a quick " See you tonight, right here," 
 before the Polish boy was up the street in pursuit of the 
 drummer, whom he caught changing hands. 
 
 " I d like the job, mister," he volunteered, but it was 
 not so easily obtained. 
 
 " Um," remarked the man, " what s the matter with 
 that light-complected chap? He looked honest." 
 
 Wajeiceh stood in open-mouthed dismay. His bad 
 reputation seemed to have followed him to the city. 
 " I m awful strong," was the best he could offer, and 
 when he did get the job it was for the dollar minus the 
 meal. 
 
 " Hurry up, splay-foot ! " was his greeting from 
 Shaum that evening at the place of meeting. " We got a 
 dandy room. Rent? The old woman didn t ask for it 
 in advance. She said Frank looked honest." 
 
 The boy who looked honest was laid across the bed, 
 with his feet on a pillow. " This is the life," he ob 
 served, wrenching the top from a beer bottle.
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 187 
 
 " Fool, you," was Shaum s comment on Wajeiceh s 
 first day in the city. " Padded the hoof and blistered 
 the two hands of you, and for what ? " 
 
 Wajeiceh laid the dollar bill on the bureau. The 
 others regarded it with proper scorn. Work ten hours 
 for that! Work! 
 
 Nevertheless they were quite willing it should pay for 
 three suppers. 
 
 The landlady seemed to have borrowed the drummer s 
 spectacles. "That Polander your chum?" she asked 
 the angel- faced Frank next morning. 
 
 " I m helping him out a bit," said Frank, jingling the 
 coins remaining from Wajeiceh s earnings. 
 
 Take my advice, don t trust him. He s got a bad 
 face," said the woman, and went on working with the 
 feather duster, flirting dirt from one piece of furniture 
 and leaving it to settle on another. 
 
 After coffee and sinkers Wajeiceh proposed visiting 
 a place which he had discovered the day before, where 
 " Help Wanted " advertisements could be read on big 
 cards, but "Who wants to be reading em?" Shaum 
 wanted to know, and Frank said, " You keep forgetting 
 we came to the city to live easy." 
 
 Wajeiceh was very grateful for this kind reminder, 
 but a few hours spent in eating nothing reconciled the 
 others to the Polish boy s seeking a job. He became 
 one of a " crew " that went about belawned suburbs 
 ringing doorbells and distributing samples of something 
 nobody wanted. A man waited at the head of the street 
 and saw that no house was neglected, not even those 
 approached by thirty-eight steps. Each evening he as 
 sembled his assistants on a corner, where there was a flat-
 
 i88 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 topped fence, and paid off. You were expected to show 
 up next day. If you didn t he cursed and put another ad. 
 in the want column. 
 
 Wajeiceh grew footsore and haggard, also dirty. One 
 evening Shaum went out and did not return. " Gee, I 
 shall miss Shaum," was Frank s comment, " I shall be 
 alone all day." Wajeiceh, slopping about in mangled 
 shoes, wherein cardboard inner soles alone kept his toes 
 from the pavement, was haunted by a picture of Frank 
 alone all day. Tired as he would be, he pinched him 
 self awake evenings to listen while Frank talked. Frank 
 was a very good talker, but Wajeiceh was always cruelly 
 sleepy. Then, too, he had to be up early to provide 
 Frank with daily cigarettes. Frank said it wasn t worth 
 while for him to get up. Just as soon as he got up he 
 would begin eating breakfast and that would be a nice 
 state of affairs. 
 
 " It ain t so bad, being alone all day," was his comment 
 after a week had passed and Shaum failed to return. 
 " Besides, more eats for little Frankie and you." 
 
 Wajeiceh was very grateful for this recognition of 
 his needs, though he still ate much less than he wanted. 
 He had been used to something approaching it at papa s 
 in West Holly. He still deceived himself with the idea 
 that he was living easy. He wished he could get a better 
 job, so that Frank might have more to spend. It was 
 pretty bum, being right in the city, where were all sorts 
 of shows, and short of coin. Nor was Wajeiceh devoid 
 of ambition. He believed he could command a " crew " 
 himself if he had a decent rig. Frank licked his lips. A 
 boss got twelve dollars a week. Lots of spending in 
 twelve dollars. He proposed Wajeiceh should put on
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 189 
 
 what of his would fit. And say here s ten cents. Get 
 your pants pressed! 
 
 Wajeiceh, meekly accepting a dime of his own money, 
 paid unconscious tribute to the dignity that attends those 
 who live easy. Pretty well turned out he went after 
 the better job, animated by the desire to have a larger 
 sum for slipping Frank. 
 
 Was he a dupe? He was still a little bewildered at 
 being admitted to the friendship of Blanchard Bowes s 
 grandson. He lacked the self-reliance of his brother 
 Stanislarni, who at this very time was completing his 
 freshman year at college with a record of " making 
 good," in the face of more than common obstacles. 
 Stanislarni owed a great deal to his American chum, 
 too; but he had not chosen a Frank Seymour. Arthur 
 Slocumb would never have made a pretty frontispiece, 
 but he had a chin. 
 
 During Wajeiceh s temporary absence Blanchard 
 Bowes arrived at the furnished room. He had been de 
 layed in tracing the boy by Mrs. Seymour s frantic re 
 fusals to have him looked for anywhere except in hospi 
 tals and morgues, but the return of Shaum Kelly to West 
 Holly had helped a great deal. 
 
 Frank was discovered living easy in trousers and 
 undershirt. 
 
 "How s this?" said Mr. Bowes. "Where are your 
 shoes?" 
 
 " Worn out, poor darling, on the cruel pavements," 
 sobbed his mother. " We must buy a pair at once. 
 Six D with a box toe. I always pay seven dol 
 lars." 
 
 Grandfather stirred not. " Where s the rest of your
 
 igo OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 suit? " he asked, hard as when he was extolling a carload 
 of seconds in the open market. 
 
 Mother knew. " Pawned ! " she shrieked. " To keep 
 from starvation. Oh, hurry to a drug store for beef 
 extract. You have pawned it?" 
 
 " Not exactly," murmured Frank. The old man was 
 looking at the still smoking stubs in the ash tray, and 
 getting ready to disbelieve any hard-luck story. So 
 Frank told the truth. He had loaned his clothes to an 
 other fellow, so the other fellow might get a job. 
 
 "Dear, unselfish boy!" yelled Mrs. Seymour, and 
 Blanchard Bowes acknowledged she was right. Yes, 
 though the borrower was the impossible Natupski. 
 
 " Your evil genius, sweetheart," moaned Mrs. Seymour. 
 " We know it all how he stole grandfather s money 
 and Mrs. Perkins s only bedquilt pieced by her dead 
 sister in turkey red. I suppose you stopped here with him 
 to save him from ruin in this awful city. Now we will 
 take you home and send you to a military academy at 
 Peekskill. Your grandfather says all letters you write 
 must be supervised, but you can put any special message 
 under the stamp and I ll never fail to look." 
 
 Mrs. Seymour and her recovered jewel rode in the 
 parlor car. Mr. Bowes took stern charge of the Natupski 
 culprit in the smoker. Kani Natupski was in waiting. 
 Mr. Bowes handed over the boy as to the keeper of a 
 prison van. 
 
 " Here he is," said the exasperated grandfather. 
 " Better give him a licking he ll remember." 
 
 " Sure," replied Mr. Natupski. " Leaving right in 
 time to make hay. You lick yours, too? " 
 
 "Well, I m afraid I can t," was the reply. "His
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 191 
 
 mother don t think he was to blame. Twas your boy 
 led him into it." 
 
 West Holly was of the same opinion, to a woman. 
 " You see what happens," they said, " to any boy who 
 goes around with a Natupski." 
 
 ii 
 
 After his artistic beating, the story of which was long 
 prominent in West Holly horrors, Wajeiceh remained 
 immured in fertilizers, obscured by haystacks and fat 
 swine, for over a year. Then, considering him cured 
 of his propensity to wild oats, his father gave him a 
 dime and let him go to cattle show. It was a very wee 
 cattle show, held at Holly Centre in a cheerful spot 
 bounded on two sides by the graveyard. One would not 
 suppose a boy could get into mischief there. He might 
 only waste a nickel bucking the knife game, or tire himself 
 at weight-lifting more than he would by a day in the 
 harvest field. Ah, but this is reckoning without girls ! 
 
 Wajeiceh had never noticed girls before this day. 
 At fifteen minutes past two he was considering whether 
 he should spend his dime on the three-legged calf or his 
 stomach. At 2 125 he was inviting Harriott Bruill to have 
 an ice-cream cone. Harriott should have accepted, be 
 cause it was the only " attention " she was to receive all 
 day. Harriott was an ordinary girl, with freckles; not 
 hair enough for the style, but clever at eking it out with 
 ribbon; a blue muslin blouse, and a string of beads. She 
 was always fingering the beads. Her hands were pretty, 
 white, and bloodless. They were very different from 
 Natupski hands. Wajeiceh knew her slightly she had
 
 192 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 been to District Seven " off and on " while visiting her 
 grandmother, old Mercy Bruill. 
 
 " Oh, I guess not," she said, but never offered to 
 move from before the stand where the cones were dis 
 played. 
 
 " Come on please," said Wajeiceh. He had wild 
 visions of a halcyon afternoon, spent walking beside 
 Harriott to every point of interest on the grounds. 
 
 He ordered the cones prepared and held one out, en 
 ticing in pink and brown. Harriott wanted it. The day 
 was sultry, she was thirsty, and she wanted it. She also 
 wanted a beau. She had never had one, and the fact was 
 against her at home. " I was wrong to let your grand 
 mother call you Harriott," her mother had been known 
 to say. " It s a regular old maid s name." 
 
 But to go with a Natupski ! to meet other girls 
 and see their first look of ardent envy turn to one of 
 derision. 
 
 " I guess I mustn t stay," she mumbled, and as she 
 turned Wajeiceh s rejected offering was thrown into the 
 Midway mud. He stood aghast, glaring at the pink 
 ruin which stood for so much loss. Turned down! In 
 the face of multitudes, turned down ! Two other girls 
 who had been watching, asked each other with exquisite 
 sarcasm, "Did you ever get left?" 
 
 Wajeiceh had as soon proffered his nickel s worth to 
 either as to Harriott. He was yearning for zest in life. 
 If those girls had let him walk about with them, had 
 allowed him to play a few games of croquet in their door- 
 yards, had invited him to a " promenade concert " in the 
 winter, they would have done all the missionarying re 
 quired of a pretty girl. A capital opportunity for civic
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 193 
 
 improvement was lost that autumn afternoon when Har 
 riott turned away and Phoebe and Beulah laughed. 
 
 Wajeiceh flung the other cone at Harriott. It landed 
 splash between her shoulders. The two, while scraping 
 off ice-cream and quieting Harriott s convulsive sobs, con 
 gratulated her on having shown the Polish scum its place. 
 Phoebe and Beulah believed, because their parents had 
 told them so, that we could sell farms to Natupskis, go 
 to school with Natupskis, naturalize Natupskis (male) 
 and count their votes town meeting day, and all the 
 while keep Natupskis at arm s length socially. 
 
 Wajeiceh was a festering sore on youthful Holly. Not 
 being cured, he became offensive. 
 
 The next time his father gave him a day off he went 
 to Mifflin Grove and walked three times round the rail 
 road station. A very pretty girl with pink cheeks smiled 
 at him. Wajeiceh s eyes were dulled by following fur 
 rows; he felt flattered, and smiled back. 
 
 " Looking for a friend ? " she asked. " So m I. Did 
 you ever get left ? " 
 
 Wajeiceh could now grin at the phrase. Maisy she 
 said her name was Maisy took his arm openly and led 
 him into the street. She had come to Mifflin, she de 
 clared, on a visit, but there was no one to meet her. 
 She d just go in a booth and phone and then he 
 could take her anywhere he wished. Had he a nickel 
 handy ? 
 
 His father having given him a whole quarter of a 
 dollar, he had. Afterward they sat an hour in the 
 park. The things she asked him to buy before the hour 
 was up! Wajeiceh didn t fancy this line of talk, as it 
 reminded him constantly that he had no money, but he
 
 194 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 was very happy sitting by Maisy s side. Several West 
 Holly people passed by and saw him. 
 
 When he went away Maisy reminded him she would 
 be in the same place the next Saturday afternoon. 
 Wajeiceh didn t think he would meet her then, because 
 his revenge on Holly was already complete. He d got a 
 girl ! He d shown em. But back in West Holly, mixing 
 mortar Kani Natupski was setting the neighbor 
 hood an example in the shape of a cement milk cooler 
 he kept telling himself that Maisy would be in the same 
 place next Saturday afternoon. He wondered if she 
 would wear the same clothes and if one of her cheeks 
 was always redder than the other. And he thought he 
 would ask her why she drew little lines about her eyes. 
 
 It seemed to be settled that he would meet her Saturday 
 afternoon, and she did not appear surprised to see him. 
 He asked about the eyes. 
 
 " What d ye make pictures of black lines about em 
 for? " he blurted out. He didn t care if she was peeved. 
 Harriott Bruill and the girls of Holly had it in their 
 power to make him wretched or happy on the turn of a 
 word, but Maisy was powerless. She was also shameless. 
 
 " Why, to make my eyes look big, stupid ! " she ex 
 claimed, and beamed under her lacy hat brim. 
 
 Wajeiceh was not impressed. " Big eyes, glutton," 
 he observed, remembering the old country proverb often 
 employed by his father to repress the family appetite. 
 
 " You ve got big eyes," pouted Maisy, in her best 
 wise wax-doll manner, and " There you have it," re 
 turned Wajeiceh, waving his hand. 
 
 Quite suddenly Maisy began to cry. She owed her 
 landlady, she confessed, and was miserable about it. " I
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 195 
 
 didn t da st go home last night till ever so late," she 
 whispered. " I walked the streets in all the rain and 
 thin shoes " 
 
 She showed her shoes to prove it. They were thin, 
 but bore no indication of having been out in the rain. 
 Wajeiceh knew something of thin shoes himself, from 
 his attempt to live easy in Boston, and emptied his pocket 
 on Maisy s lap. She invited him to come and see the 
 bill lifted, but he said in consternation, " I don t care 
 what the dump s like." 
 
 To fill in the idle time Maisy began to abuse home- 
 sheltered girls who weren t obliged to live in furnished 
 rooms. Wajeiceh should have learned about Harriott, 
 Beulah, and Phoebe from direct association; that being 
 impossible he began to despise them on the false valuation 
 of a painted sister. 
 
 " High schoolers are the limit," Maisy declared, " and 
 even the ladies magazines write em up." Which she 
 proved by a news-stand. " Their lady mothers go to 
 Daughters of Evolution, and the girls do just what they 
 like. Lookit, a boy told me he knew a drug store sold 
 more dope to Mifflin High than any street in N York." 
 
 Wajeiceh went home in a hurry, with a bad taste in 
 his mouth, but the story stung. Could it be true those 
 dainty girls were as Maisy had described them? He 
 wished he could find out. But he would want to kill 
 himself if she was right. 
 
 A picnic impended in Rivers Grove, and Wajeiceh got 
 permission to go. It was announced as a " Get To 
 gether " picnic, and all the Hollys would be represented. 
 Great tables were being built under the trees, and plank 
 seats arranged alongside. The combined ministerial
 
 ig6 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 force of the three villages would invoke a divine blessing 
 on the gathering. 
 
 Wajeiceh, with boyish faith in words, believed it would 
 be a " get together " picnic. He thought somebody there 
 would have a word of friendship for a Natupski. He 
 was rather tired of meeting Maisy, and some instinct 
 told him she would not enjoy the picnic. 
 
 " I won t take her," he told himself. " I ll just take 
 sardines." 
 
 He had more money than usual just then, having 
 helped Abner Slocumb build a cement well curb in an 
 occasional hour when he would otherwise have rested. 
 He bought all the sardines the grocer at Holly Centre 
 had in stock. He even remembered lemons and a knife. 
 
 In the wake of the post-office clerk, the bookkeepers 
 from the paper mill, the butcher, and numerous young 
 farmers Wajeiceh drifted into the grove. Girls in white 
 muslin were setting the table. Wajeiceh dumped his tin 
 boxes at one end of the festive board, making a lemon 
 pyramid nearby. 
 
 Soon Tom Newell, who had bugled in training camps, 
 gave them " taps," and they, not knowing it was inap 
 propriate, sat down immediately. The blessings were 
 asked, and then, " Oh, we have sardines," was the general 
 shout. " Somebody has brought sardines. Or were 
 they sent by the grocer? No, not any ham sandwiches 
 for me. Nor cornbeef. I dote on sardines. Never had 
 enough sardines in all my born days." 
 
 The little fishes went up and down the board, which 
 became liberally oiled with splashings. The Methodist 
 minister took his on crackers. The Congregationalist 
 preferred his in a bread sandwich, with lemon. Others
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 197 
 
 grabbed them by the tails and devoured them as cats do 
 mice, starting at the head. Blanchard Bowes alone 
 skinned his and removed the backbone, thereby being half 
 a box behind his neighbors. 
 
 Wajeiceh Natupski ate sandwiches when he could 
 reach them. No one passed him anything. Every one 
 wondered what he wanted there anyway, at a " get 
 together " picnic. It was impossible to get together when 
 fellows would push in whom it was desirable to keep out. 
 
 He spoke twice. To the man at his left he said, 
 " Please pass the sardines." He didn t hear him. Later 
 he asked the girl on his right, " What we going to do 
 after supper? " She didn t hear him, either. 
 
 Presently the young people grouped themselves under 
 the trees by the side of the pond and lifted their voices in 
 song. Wajeiceh could sing as much as any one there, 
 which wasn t much. When " There s a Little Spark of 
 Love Still Burning " was started, he joined in. Five 
 seconds later he was singing alone. 
 
 In a bitterness which he could feel, but not express, the 
 boy hot-footed it to Mifflin Grove. 
 
 " What do you think ? " buzzed the rural phones next 
 day. " Whatever do you think ? That dreadful Natupski 
 scalawag went right straight from the picnic to a bar 
 room in Mifflin, and never came home till daylight. He 
 looked dreadful peak-ed. He ll land in jail sure as fate." 
 
 Wajeiceh had found Maisy in the park. She told 
 him she was hungry, and as he had not spent quite all 
 his money supplying Holly with sardines, he took her to 
 a place where they ate and drank. 
 
 Maisy seemed to feel like talking. 
 
 " Do you know," she said, " I like you, kid. I ve a
 
 i 9 8 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 darn good mind to get you drunk some night and marry 
 you." 
 
 Wajeiceh, unwontedly stimulated by a pony of beer, 
 almost wished she would. Perhaps the subsequent beat 
 ing his father would give him might help him to forget 
 the picnic in Rivers Grove. 
 
 Maisy went on telling the story of her life. The rest 
 of her name was Violet Gold. She told them it was 
 Violet Gold when she went to work in the necktie factory 
 after she left school. Her father had been a gold-beater 
 before he was sent to the island. She had lived in Boston, 
 on Amethyst Street. 
 
 " There was a guy ... his name was Tom . . . 
 some beef ... he was always gassing about the happy 
 day when he d be raised to fourteen dollars. I was to 
 have my own oil stove and he d say how perf ly lovely t 
 would be to come home and see me plastering onions 
 on the skirt steak. . . . You got a look like him when 
 you laugh. ..." 
 
 " I ain t laughing now," said Wajeiceh, who believed 
 every word. 
 
 * Course not, cause I m telling you a sad story. Well, 
 was a night . . . hot! Me and Tom was on a street 
 where was trees. Never been there before. Well, it 
 was certainly some street. Make a corking education reel. 
 Leaves, you know, showing their shapes on the side 
 walk. And Tom says, Vi let, let s get married. Just 
 like that ! Well, I was under the influence. ... I was 
 going to say I would . . . but I looked up and there 
 was a man. Well, he was a man. I d seen him before. 
 Knew I d see him again. I wouldn t want to see him 
 again every day, but some day I would want to
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 199 
 
 and he d be right there. His kind is always right 
 there." 
 
 She stopped and beckoned to a waiter. " I m sick of 
 ginger ale," she muttered. " Bring some Scotch and 
 seltzer." 
 
 Wajeiceh couldn t see how the man knew what she 
 meant. 
 
 The story was finished in a hurry. " I laughed in 
 Tom s face. Felt fit to die that minute. Thought it was 
 the green leaves on those trees made me do it. Because 
 if I married Tom I wouldn t know nothing about frying 
 steak. I d want to be where the lights was bright. Tom 
 was too good for that kind. He deserved a wife wasn t 
 city-wise. 
 
 " So I met the one in the spats and the braid on the 
 sides of his dress pants and the rest of the swell scenery. 
 It was one grand summer. Say, come again on the 
 Scotch and seltzer. I need it something fierce." 
 
 Wajeiceh had to assist her to the furnished room. 
 They were pleasantly met by a suave landlady who did 
 not in the least match Maisy s picture. He held the 
 basin while the woman bathed Maisy s head. When she 
 felt better the girl grabbed his sleeve and babbled a 
 sequel to her story. 
 
 " Lookit. Come fall I went to that darn street again. 
 My pumps was falling off my feet and I didn t have no 
 underthings. It was down and out, and the leaves was 
 brown. How many kinds of a fool was I ? Tom didn t 
 get no country goil. Didn t know no country goil. He 
 went hell bent after one worse n I ever thought of being. 
 The lemonade was sour and I d passed up the sugar once 
 too often. And the leaves was brown. I d done different
 
 200 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 if I d remembered the leaves would turn brown." 
 
 "Kind o sickening, ain t it?" said the landlady to 
 Wajeiceh. " But she s a cute little thing in the fore 
 noons, before she s been out. Comes into the kitchen 
 and helps me with the wash as handy as can be. She 
 knows how went to work in a laundry soon as she 
 left school." 
 
 Wajeiceh dropped the basin and let Maisy s head fall. 
 He had believed every word. He had compared himself 
 with Maisy, and when he saw her shivering under the 
 brown leaves he saw also Wajeiceh Natupski facing the 
 adamant enfilade of that " get together " picnic. The 
 girls of Holly had been hard as nails, so he had turned 
 to Maisy. And Maisy had failed him. She was a liar. 
 Were all girls hard as nails or liars? 
 
 " She told me it was a necktie factory," was his bitter 
 and inadequate explanation to the landlady. Then he 
 tore from the house, purposely missed the last car, and 
 drilled all the way to West Holly. Thus he arrived at 
 sun-up, after having talked his disgust to Virginia rail 
 fences along the way. 
 
 Three weeks later there came a holiday commemorat 
 ing the discovery of America. Wajeiceh had once " com 
 mitted to memory " and declaimed, from the platform of 
 District Seven, a part of the " Port of Ships " : 
 
 ft . . . Adm ral, say but one good word 
 What shall we do when hope is gone?" 
 
 The words leaped as a leaping sword: 
 "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" 
 
 Wajeiceh wished he had never sailed on. He worked 
 until mid-afternoon in the " underneath of the barn."
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 201 
 
 His father was building new walls of cement. Wajeiceh 
 had heard them say it would last longer than he would, 
 growing harder all the time. He felt he was making a 
 tomb. 
 
 Then Novia had to stick her head down and say, 
 " Whaw, ain t it dark ? And smells like grave 
 yards." 
 
 Wajeiceh knew the sun was bright up in the great 
 outdoors. It would be bright in Mifflin Grove. He 
 threw down his trowel and ran for his other clothes, 
 while his father was still in the woods marking trees. 
 In due time he got to Mifflin. The park was full of girls 
 American girls, in kilted skirts and immaculate mid 
 dies. Wajeiceh walked round and round, intoxicating 
 himself with looking at them. He hankered for some 
 thing clean positively and entirely clean. He loved his 
 mother and sisters, but they were dirt-colored. Even 
 the park seemed new-scrubbed today in the dazzling 
 October sunlight. A lawn mower had just passed over 
 the grass, the odor of wilting blades made Wajeiceh 
 sick. There had been just such an odor, of dying grass, 
 when he had met Harriott. The flowers in the park 
 glowed with hectic fire, as flowers do when frost is in the 
 air. 
 
 Still Wajeiceh went round and round. Asters, 
 the smell of new-mown hay, splashing fountains, 
 a burst of music, laughing passersby, all told him 
 it was a holiday and he was alone. Even boys 
 shunned him. Old Frank had never sent him so much 
 as a souvenir card. Of course a Blanchard Bowes grand 
 son couldn t have remained always in Boston supported 
 by a Natupski, but he had liked living easy while it lasted,
 
 202 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 old Frank had. Now not so much as a card. Lots of 
 others in West Holly had them, though. 
 
 In the glut of girls four girls were now noticeable. 
 
 First, Beulah, Phoebe, and Harriott. 
 
 Behind them, Maisy. Maisy in something bright and 
 silky, with a few buttons off, because buttons off didn t 
 matter if you had style. 
 
 Beulah, Phoebe, and Harriott shied like frightened 
 colts and ran to a seat by the bandstand. 
 
 "Oh," gasped one, "did you see him?" 
 
 " He acted queer." 
 
 " They say he drinks." 
 
 " I thought he was going to speak." 
 
 " He wouldn t dare." 
 
 " He s talking to a dreadful girl." 
 
 " See she s going into an awful place." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " That one, with the swinging doors." 
 
 " Hush, Harriott. You re green. We mustn t let on 
 we know what that place is. It s a Place ! " 
 
 " She s looking over her shoulder at him." 
 
 " And beckoning. The bold piece ! " 
 
 " Just think, Harriott, how you d be feeling if you d 
 eaten ice-cream with him that day at the fair." 
 
 Harriott sighed. " I suppose he ll end in the lockup," 
 she whispered. " Mother said I only need wait a little 
 to see what would happen to any girl who went round 
 with a Natupski." 
 
 All three agreed he was lost, and went home to spread 
 the story in Holly. But he was not lost. He had told 
 Maisy, " So you worked in a laundry ? And told me it 
 was a necktie factory ! "
 
 EVERYBODY S DAUGHTER AND MY SON 203 
 
 Her nods and becks had no effect on him. He went 
 back to his father s barn, took his licking, and resumed 
 working in cement. With teeth set he determined he 
 would yet make Holly respect him. And do it alone 
 no thanks to any girl Beulah, Phoebe, Harriott! He 
 didn t realize that he ought to thank Maisy.
 
 Ill 
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 
 
 THE spring she was sixteen Statia Natupski decided to 
 " work out." The American inhabitants of West Holly 
 considered that it was what might have been expected. 
 Of course their daughters wouldn t work out. Their 
 daughters were booked for situations as schoolma ams, 
 bookkeepers in the mills, or clerking in a store. But the 
 American parents saw nothing peculiar in a Natupski 
 working out, though as a matter of fact Kani Natupski 
 could buy some of them twice over. He offered himself 
 to the world as filthy and ignorant, and was taken at his 
 own valuation. The Natupski children were looked 
 upon as the banes of Miss Olive Greene s career as a 
 teacher. Every winter she told at Hiram Farrar s how 
 they were sewn up for the season, and every spring she 
 hoped they would be ripped out long before it was reason 
 able to expect they would be. 
 
 So, when Statia announced she was going to Mrs. 
 Sabrina Perkins s to " work out," the general feeling was 
 only one of commiseration for Mrs. Perkins. And, after 
 all, it was so difficult to keep any sort of help that per 
 haps Mrs. Perkins was not so much to be pitied. Gone 
 forever were the good old days when at the docks you 
 could grab off a green girl who was open to teaching be 
 cause up to sailing she had done nothing but herd rein 
 deer. Nowadays even the steerage passengers had 
 
 204
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 205 
 
 " taken D. S." in their own lands, demanded six dollars 
 a week and got it. 
 
 One beautiful spring day Statia wiped the hearth 
 with the dishcloth, hung the glass towels on the roller 
 ready for the hired man s face, and found a place for 
 the frying pan in the china closet next the opalescent 
 finger-bowls. She had now been sixteen weeks with 
 Mrs. Perkins and felt all American housewifery at her 
 command. 
 
 " I guess that looks pretty good," she muttered, as she 
 pulled down the sleeves of her shirtwaist, and decorated 
 the back of a dining-chair with her seersucker apron. 
 
 Then she went out on the piazza and abruptly told Mrs. 
 Perkins she d go home. 
 
 Mrs. Perkins was surprised as she worded it " struck 
 all of a heap." 
 
 " Home, Statia? Why, you ve only just come." 
 
 " No m. Las March I left backside the mountain. I 
 guess I go home." 
 
 " But, Statia, think how much I ve taught you. Why, 
 when you came you put the knives on the lefthand side 
 of the plates, and you washed the cups and saucers after 
 the gridiron in the same water, and you served lettuce 
 in a colander dripping all over the best tablecloth, and 
 you put kerosene in the oil cruet, and you never heard 
 of scalding the skin off tomatoes, and you threw out the 
 rind of the cantaloupe, and put the seeds on the table in 
 soup plates with dessert spoons, and " 
 
 " No m. Yes m. Now I learned all those thing. I 
 guess I go home." 
 
 " And," the infatuated mistress went on, " you hadn t 
 any proper underclothes, Statia. Didn t I buy you a
 
 206 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 cut of longcloth, and paper patterns, and show you how 
 to finish em after I d done the machine stitching? " 
 
 " Yes m. The combinations is nice sure and that 
 edging you give me perfectly grand. I guess I go " 
 
 " And your room, Statia. At your papa s you slept 
 on the floor and didn t know the meaning of a chif 
 fonier. I ve set apart that little chamber for you to 
 yourself, and the iron three-quarter bed with ruffled 
 pillow-slips, all complete, and a stand and candlestick like 
 a picture. Oh, Statia ! Besides, it s haying, and I don t 
 know how I can get along with the extra men and baby." 
 
 " Yes m. My papa, he s haying, too. I guess I go 
 home." 
 
 " The baby, Statia. However can you leave her ? She 
 loves you so, and puts out her little hands mornings for 
 you to play with her, like you know how. And I will 
 say this for you, Statia, ignorant as you are, you cer 
 tainly have a way with babies. Isabel took to you right 
 straight off." 
 
 " Yes m. Isabel awful nice baby. My mamma got 
 a baby. She s a boy. I guess I go home." 
 
 " Go," was the command jerked out of Mrs. Perkins 
 by the exasperation of the moment. " And don t think 
 I ll ever take you back." 
 
 " No m," returned Statia, promptly bursting into 
 tears, and at the instant eagerly clutching the last of her 
 wages which Mrs. Perkins reluctantly produced from a 
 mesh bag. " I think I won t. My papa don t like me 
 to work out no more." 
 
 Mrs. Perkins, in the intervals left after doing her 
 own work through haying, waxed voluble over her 
 wrongs.
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 207 
 
 " I took that girl, Mrs. Bowes, filthy, absolutely un 
 knowing of the commonest ways of decency. She was 
 bright and teachable, I admit, and picked up things fine. 
 Thinks I if she stays a year I ll make something of her. 
 And she leaves at the end of sixteen weeks. No quarrel, 
 no reason for going, just that Polish obstinacy I guess 
 I go home. Of course if the little tyke was homesick 
 I d gladly have let her have a week off, for I suppose 
 they be attached to their folks, queer as they seem to 
 us; but there was no reasoning with her, so away she goes, 
 bag and baggage, and I suppose that s the end. I 
 wouldn t recommend her, and she ll come to no good in 
 that den of filth." 
 
 Mrs. Bowes knew it even better than Mrs. Perkins, 
 being a nearer neighbor. 
 
 " No proper furniture at all," said she. 
 
 " No regular meal times." 
 
 " Always a baby, yet no baby clothes on the line " 
 
 " For that matter no washday " 
 
 " Children playing in the cow stable and chickens 
 roosting in the kitchen " 
 
 " Not a mop " 
 
 " Nor a dishpan. Dishes right in the sink." 
 
 " An old stocking for a dishcloth and the same one to 
 wash the children, if they ever are washed " 
 
 " In winter a pan on the back of the stove out of which 
 comes water to boil coffee and into which go hands and 
 soiled clothes " 
 
 The Natupski house seemed a collection of negations, 
 and so indeed it appeared to little Statia when she ar 
 rived after her education in Mrs. Perkins s kitchen. She 
 had learned so much where all was new one acquired
 
 208 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 knowledge with every waking moment that it had 
 seemed to her impossible to wait another day without tell 
 ing papa and mamma. They, of course, could not imag 
 ine the pleasure of sleeping in sheets and eating from a 
 table covered with a cloth, nor how much better one 
 felt after a meal of soup, meat, vegetables, salad, pie and 
 tea, than when breakfast, dinner, and supper were alike 
 the unpalatable broken bread and boiled chicory. Be 
 sides, Statia had read several articles which Mrs. Perkins 
 had put in her way, written by great men and women 
 about exactly such people as her papa and mamma, people 
 who came from far-off places to America and made the 
 mistake of living in the old way. 
 
 " It say, papa," she chattered, on the evening of her 
 arrival, " that in America one should live like people here. 
 So one gets to be like them." 
 
 " Huh? " papa snorted. Who wanted to be like em? 
 Mostly Abner Slocumbs, farms mortgaged and buying 
 pianos. 
 
 " Oh, not always, papa. Look at Mr. Perkins and Mr. 
 Bowes, rich men and Americans." 
 
 This Kani Natupski acknowledged, but anyway they 
 didn t make it on their farms. Bowes was a big 
 politicker, and Perkins got paid for collecting taxes. 
 
 " Well, papa, but they get lected. And what s to keep 
 you from being lected to something sometime ? You got 
 nationalized papers, ain t you? And you go to town 
 meetings. Only we should live like Americans, so the 
 folks who vote for folks see you are reg lar cit zen." 
 
 Natupski swelled with pride for a moment, then the 
 caution bred by a childhood of poverty and repression 
 asserted itself and he shook his head. Perhaps when
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 209 
 
 the boys grew up things would be different. He was 
 as he was. 
 
 " The boys," broke in Statia. " Sure, the boys will 
 do big things. Only they must have American names. 
 We must all have American names." 
 
 Mrs. Natupski, who had been foddering the cattle, en 
 tered at this juncture and sat down heavily. Even better 
 than Kani did she appreciate the prettiness of Statia, 
 with her hair kept in place by combs and a black ribbon, 
 neat shoes and stockings on her trim feet, a well-hung 
 linen skirt (cut down from one of Mrs. Perkins s), and 
 the shirtwaist bought with the first week s pay. Still, she 
 was amazed at such revolutionary talk. American names, 
 indeed? Where did that idea come from? 
 
 " One from the old country, mamma," returned Statia, 
 " a big thick book, and the lady who wrote it named Mary 
 Antin. She and her papa and mamma and brothers and 
 sisters came from Polotzk not so long ago and right off 
 took American names. In Polotzk she was Mashke, but 
 Mary Antin she is now and her dinner she eats with 
 presidents, too." 
 
 Kani made his wife get up so he could have a chair 
 in which to put his feet. Then he remembered that every 
 one in West Holly, in the whole town, knew him as Kani 
 Natupski, and Stanislarni had got into college without an 
 American name. 
 
 " All right," shouted Statia, with the zeal of the true 
 convert. " Let em stay like they are. My name s 
 Annie S. Natupski, and don t you forget it." 
 
 Then she went upstairs to bed on the floor along with 
 little sister Novia, determined it was the very last night 
 she would ever sleep that way.
 
 210 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 The American name worked wonders. Under it Statia 
 installed white iron beds with National springs complete, 
 and papa and mamma actually slept thereon, though the 
 first muttered " Tin ! " when they creaked, and mamma 
 thought she could never be really comfortable on any 
 thing but a tick fresh stuffed with straw. Fly screens, 
 too, appeared in every window, and papa was made 
 properly apologetic whenever he forgot and propped the 
 door open. Nor did Statia feel peeved when, of an 
 evening, she trimmed the Rochester lamp and set it cozily 
 on the round table in the front room, with the Morris 
 chair and willow-rocker hard by, only to see their natural 
 occupants making excuses to seek a congenial atmos 
 phere. She followed to the vicinity of the hog-pen and 
 said reproachfully, " Papa, I don t like it for you to let 
 me spend money on tables and chairs less you use em." 
 
 If papa made an exclamation that sounded very profane 
 it was in a language Statia was rapidly forgetting, and 
 he looked ashamed directly afterward. 
 
 Another day, " Papa, I made for you a punkin pie. 
 It s like the Americans eat." 
 
 And she sat smiling at his right hand until a wedge 
 disappeared. 
 
 Again, " Oh, papa, see how splendid I scrubbed the 
 floor. With sand, like Mrs. Slocumb showed me." 
 
 He truthfully admired the shining boards, glad this 
 day he was not made to eat another pie ; he felt akin to a 
 criminal when he managed to slop a few quarts of swill 
 on them. Statia said he ought to and the pantry was 
 no place for a swill barrel, anyway. 
 
 With mamma she felt she should have no difficulty, 
 for mamma had once, on a never-to-be-forgotten occa-
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 211 
 
 sion, the birth of Yadna, emancipated herself from cer 
 tain Old-World customs, and they had never been re 
 sumed when Yan came along two years later. So in her 
 presence Statia cheerfully went about sniffing at the cook 
 ing pots, and remarking that a single shirt wasn t clothes 
 enough for a five-year-old Yadna even in summer. 
 Statia gave orders, further, that mamma was to do no 
 more field work, but sit on the piazza for hours making 
 embroidery like Mrs. Bowes and Mrs. Perkins. Mrs. 
 Natupski s fingers were somewhat stiff for the needle, but 
 she seldom lifted her eyes from its shining point not 
 even when she suspected the hired boy was pulling up the 
 vegetables and hoeing the weeds. 
 
 Statia, being possessed with the energy of youth and 
 the hopefulness of a nation that ventures to emigrate, 
 enjoyed herself in this self-appointed mission. How 
 much better it was for her papa to spend money now, 
 than to hoard it as he had done. Presently she would 
 prove to him that he did want a coat of paint on the 
 house and a rambler rose over the door. She had al 
 ready told him to feel shame for uprooting the woodbine 
 when he bought the place from Mrs. Judson Buckland 
 the year she Statia was born. As for eating from 
 the kettle, and wearing a nightshirt, " Don t, papa ! " 
 and " It ain t decent not to do so," had become words 
 she repeated, parrotlike, all day long. 
 
 Thus things stood at Natupski s when news arrived 
 that Cousin Anton was coming to West Holly. He 
 too was a Natupski, and papa had not heard from him in 
 years. He wrote that he was quite worn out with in 
 justice, that now he began to feel he was " spinning fine " 
 and, though not of adventurous spirit, he had turned his
 
 212 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 possessions into money and was sailing for America. He 
 arrived carrying an extension case which the younger 
 Natupskis held was stuffed with rubles. 
 
 Statia had prepared to lionize him, but he looked too 
 much like papa to be very interesting. Hard and unre 
 mitting labor, in both cases, had made the men wizened, 
 knock-kneed, stoop-shouldered before their time. 
 
 The children were presented to the new old cousin, 
 in turn, and with elaborate exposition of name 
 and capability. He examined each with the air of a 
 genial slave-driver. Statia was rather pleased that he 
 spoke longest about her. Afterward her parents seemed 
 to forget everything but their relative. The little ones 
 might have fallen asleep all over the floor but for Statia. 
 She told mamma so in the somewhat severe tone she had 
 unconsciously adopted of late, but mamma did not hear. 
 She was listening, spellbound, while Cousin Anton re 
 lated gossip of one " Pani Marya " whom it appeared 
 mamma had known in Poland. Statia got the children 
 upstairs, and presently came down with her crocheting. 
 Seated by the window she listened scornfully to the 
 infatuated conversation of the three elders, sprawled 
 over the table, on which Kani had put both cider and sour 
 wine, and where a bottle of weird shape (perhaps smug 
 gled by Cousin Anton) was exuding a colorless liquor of 
 great potency. 
 
 " Wiewilgas," " the hoopoos," " then I gave him some 
 thing for a keepsake oh, a good beating," " Jolkevski 
 from Myemtsevich," " 5 zloty, 10 groshes," " no English 
 but a toothful," "Upper Kryvoda, Lower, Vyvlash- 
 chyntse" over and over such talk repeated itself, as 
 the chorus when you sang " Yankee Doodle." Statia
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 213 
 
 considered this a poor way to welcome a newcomer to 
 America. Why not speak of the land he was to make his 
 own? Brag of the R. F. D. and the schools it didn t 
 cost a cent to go to. 
 
 Impatiently, Statia realized that her parents hadn t 
 been so happy as this for a long time. She it was who 
 had danced and clapped hands when the beds and tables 
 were put in place, but papa s looks were gloomy, and 
 mamma had sighed. Now how their eyes glistened and 
 what questions fell eagerly from their parted lips. Yet 
 all were talking of places none would ever see again. 
 To iconoclastic youth it was a sad waste of enthusiasm. 
 
 She looked up and caught the eye of Cousin Anton. 
 He turned to papa with a query. What did papa reply? 
 " Sixteen." He had asked her age. " Upper and 
 Lower " collections of consonants now disappeared from 
 the conversation, and Mrs. Natupski was also left out. 
 Once she stole a glance, half tender and half jealous, at 
 her step-daughter. Statia did not know that Cousin Anton 
 was already bargaining for her, and that Kani, while 
 less liberal than the prospective bridegroom wished, was 
 inclined to greater generosity than Mrs. Natupski ap 
 proved of, when she remembered the girls in her own 
 brood. 
 
 The evening ended with Statia very thoughtful. She 
 said good-night to her parents almost as submissively as 
 if she had not started to make them over. The next 
 morning Cousin Anton appeared in a sheepskin coat and 
 enormous boots, looking so like a picture of " typical 
 Polish peasant " in the supplementary geography that 
 Statia could scarcely refrain from a real American gig 
 gle. She was startled when he came straight to her,
 
 214 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 and, touching her forehead with his thick lips, muttered 
 " Anastasi panienka (young lady)." 
 
 " My name is called Annie S. Natupski," she remarked, 
 in a somewhat indignant manner, and was flouncing 
 away, when her father, a bit anxiously, called her into 
 the entry. 
 
 " Cousin Anton he may buy Slocumb place," he 
 began. 
 
 " All right. I m willing," said Statia, in her pertest 
 Annie S. manner. 
 
 " If he get it cheap," Kani went on. 
 
 " Don t think he can," interposed Statia. 
 
 " Well, he think he get married. He start big, like 
 me and mamma didn t." 
 
 " Did he bring her from Poland? " Statia demanded. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "His wife?" 
 
 " Nie. He get one here. He take you." 
 
 Statia s eyes bulged. Then, getting used to the idea, 
 she asked, " What did you tell him to make him want 
 me, papa ? " 
 
 " Me say you wonder of a girl dam fine. Go to 
 school and know how to live nice. Not like girl from 
 Poland." 
 
 " And Cousin Anton ? " 
 
 " He say tha s all right. He never mind. He think 
 you and he do fine." 
 
 Statia could wait to hear no more, she had to go right 
 out where Cousin Anton was manfully shoveling dung, 
 and look him over thoroughly. To be sure he wasn t 
 pretty, but perhaps he did have that extension case full of 
 rubles. It would be fine to live in the Slocumb house and
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 215 
 
 have one s own way. To keep it nice, as Nancy Slocumb 
 did, with a copper tea-kettle always shining, ruffled sash 
 curtains washed and starched on alternate Mondays, 
 books and magazines with articles about " The Strangers 
 Within Our Gates " and the fashions. 
 
 " Boh ! " she cried suddenly, showing all her teeth to 
 the passing geese. " Cousin Anton wouldn t stand for 
 none such. Or if he did I d have to work my finger 
 nails off to make him. Why, even my papa takes Ameri 
 can ways hard, and he s sixteen years from Poland." 
 
 The deal for the Slocumb place hung fire Abner hav 
 ing no idea of selling and Cousin Anton seemed to 
 think love-making came after house-hunting. He had 
 never observed the birds, that mate first and then assemble 
 straws for nest-building. 
 
 Wajeiceh went to Mifflin Grove peddling one Saturday, 
 and came home accompanied by a youth whom he intro 
 duced as Tommy Donahue. Despite his name Tommy 
 Donahue discoursed very ably in Polish until he became 
 convinced that most of the family knew English. 
 
 " Tommy Donahue," laughed Statia, as she and the 
 handsome visitor stood under a wild grapevine supple 
 menting the meal which Statia, no longer domineering, 
 had allowed to be as meager as her father wished. 
 
 He laughed back. " Oh, I had another name. Only 
 no one could say it and I couldn t spell it. What is it 
 your father called you Stacy ? " 
 
 " My name," she returned, with great decision, " is 
 Annie S. Natupski. Miss Annie S. Natupski." 
 
 He understood and nodded. " Good enough," he said. 
 " I think Miss Annie S. is a awful handsome name." 
 
 Mrs. Bowes and Mrs. Perkins, on their way to " pass "
 
 216 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 magazines for the West Holly book club, saw the two, 
 and Mrs. Bowes remarked, " There s your former maid 
 acting anything but maidenly." 
 
 " Yes. And with such a flash fellow ! I suppose that s 
 why she was so anxious to get away, to chase after 
 beaux." 
 
 " They re all like that," agreed Mrs. Bowes. " When 
 they re sixteen they think they re husband high." 
 
 As a matter of fact Statia was not "like that" at 
 all. When her father spoke again on behalf of Cousin 
 Anton, and the inconvenience of living over by Silver 
 Street, since Abner Slocumb wouldn t sell, the girl twid 
 dled her feet and said, almost as she had announced her 
 determination to Mrs. Perkins, " I guess I won t get 
 married." 
 
 Kani, on the doorstep, was splicing a chisel handle, as 
 he had seen Abner do, and making a poor job of it. 
 When his daughter spoke his hand slipped and the point 
 of the tool entered the fleshy part of his thumb. Statia 
 ran for a rag and began to wind a bandage as she had 
 been taught at school. 
 
 Tying the ends and tucking in the surplus, she re 
 peated, " I guess I won t get married, papa. You need 
 me to home." 
 
 " Yah ! " murmured Kani, docilely, " me need you to 
 home." He began to work once more on the chisel and 
 presently the girl went away, perhaps to inform mamma 
 that one should not boil eggs and baby s clothes in the 
 same or any tea-kettle. Kani Natupski regarded the 
 neat " first-aid " bandage with an expression of utter 
 loathing, then, grunting " Labial! " he tore it from his 
 hand and thrust it into his pocket. He continued work-
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 217 
 
 ing, paying no attention to his wound beyond shaking 
 off the blood when its flow inconvenienced him. So he 
 was found by Statia, who remonstrated in horror, " Oh, 
 papa, when I say and I say you get blood poisoning 
 so!" 
 
 Kani looked up. Exasperation, hatred of interfer 
 ence, fear for the loss of his ego, looked smoldering 
 from his grim eyes. Statia was well scared. Did papa 
 feel so about it? Had he lived all his years in privation 
 and filth because he preferred privation and filth? Did 
 he long to return to them even now? She recalled the 
 sinister merriment of that evening when Cousin Anton 
 arrived. Pulling at her heart strings was the wish to 
 make over home and family, and in her burned the energy 
 for the task. Love for papa and mamma had led her to 
 it. She could not enjoy her new-found experiences with 
 out asking them to share therein. 
 
 Well, now it was love for papa and mamma that would 
 take her away. 
 
 " Tatulo," she whispered, softly, in his very ear, " I 
 got for you a surprise. I guess I will get married." 
 
 Kani was delighted. " Good. Good girl ! " he cried, 
 patting her little shoe, which was all he could reach of 
 her. " Me go catch a colt and four, six young creatures. 
 For thee and Anton." 
 
 Statia sighed over her lost cause. Papa must have 
 been tortured indeed if he was willing to do all this to 
 be rid of her. 
 
 " Waiterminut," she burbled out, " I guess I ll get 
 married. But I guess I won t get married to Cousin 
 Anton." 
 
 "Oi! Oi!"
 
 218 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " No, papa. I guess I ll get married to Tommy Dona 
 hue." 
 
 Karri s mouth sputtered objections, for which Statia 
 was ready. She knew that out of Tommy s fortune 
 " dog s boots might be made " as she Americanized it, 
 he smoked more cigarettes than he could afford, and 
 didn t earn day wages in a week. But " Just the same, 
 papa, I guess I ll get married to him. He wants what I 
 want, papa, and what you and mamma don t want. You 
 see, papa, me and him was both born in America." 
 
 So Cousin Anton " received a basket " (refusal) when 
 across the fields went the two improvident children one 
 October twilight, to set up housekeeping in a cottage 
 just beyond the Bowes place. It was as American as 
 inventive genius and the credit house could make it. 
 Statia had ruffled curtains and the kettle was agate 
 ware blue. 
 
 Mrs. Perkins called on Mrs. Slocumb. 
 
 " I ve run in on her," said the latter, " and she has it 
 comfortable and slick. You d be surprised." 
 
 " The little she knows she learned in my kitchen," 
 observed the other, mollified. 
 
 " And I m getting to wonder," mused Nancy Slocumb, 
 " if mebbe she didn t come home-along with an idee o 
 getting her folks to live like folks. She was forever 
 stepping over for me to learn her ways o doing 
 things." 
 
 They pig it worse n ever, I understand, now that 
 relation from Poland s come." 
 
 " Abner tells me, though, that Natupski s getting fore- 
 handeder every year. He and t other have put in a bid 
 to chop off the river woodlot. Abner wanted to try, but
 
 MISS ANNIE S. NATUPSKI 219 
 
 they wouldn t hear to any man that couldn t bond hisself 
 for a thousand." 
 
 Yes, it does beat all how those foreigners get along. 
 But give me less money, and decent living," commented 
 Mrs. Perkins. " By the way, I hear Statia scuse me, 
 Annie S. Donahue isn t so pizen perticular after all. 
 I guess there s Polish slackness underneath the varnish. 
 They say she turns all the plates upside down before she 
 washes dishes, and if nothing falls out sez they re clean." 
 
 " Oh, well," laughed Nancy, " we mustn t expect too 
 much. You know she s only the second generation ! "
 
 IV 
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 
 
 No flock is without a cosset, and why should Kani 
 Natupski think to produce a family containing no failure ? 
 Yet he was disgruntled because Stepan grew crooked 
 where Stanislarni and Wajeiceh were straight weak 
 as they were strong. 
 
 That Stepan started handicapped was not considered. 
 West Holly women squealed when it was told that the 
 Natupskis had a baby whose wrist barely rilled a ringer 
 ring. Kani Natupski took heroic measures. When snow 
 fell he would throw Stepan into drifts from a second 
 story window, so that he might do his share of shoveling. 
 You see, Stepan must dig himself out or remain until 
 the February thaw. Papa laughed sometimes to see the 
 panting boy digging himself out. Papa supposed he was 
 making Stepan tough and hardy. He was giving him 
 inflammatory rheumatism. 
 
 Stepan lived through his seventh winter, which was 
 the one in which his brother Stanislarni prepared for col 
 lege, a parcel, done up in cotton wool and camphorated 
 oil. When they undid him he was crooked. And then 
 there was no use trying to make anything of him. The 
 Natupski elders practically abandoned Stepan. Believing 
 him ruined forever, they let the district school and the 
 neighbors do their worst. 
 
 Stepan was never taken anywhere. He knew his 
 
 220
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 221 
 
 father s farm, Abner Slocumb s home lot, and the sandy 
 road to the schoolhouse. It is to be feared he had a small 
 mind. When the flag broke out on the tall staff before 
 District Seven his heart throbbed with painful delight. 
 
 Stepan would probably have liked to be a flag, so 
 high up, so straight. 
 
 It was the flags in the picture that held him hours in 
 front of the old corn-barn, which Kani Natupski had 
 allowed circus men to cover with posters the May after 
 Statia s marriage. The corn-barn attracted children 
 from all about. 
 
 Stepan had eyes for only the great cages bearing on 
 the corner flags flags of all kinds. They were pictured 
 in the highest of high winds and as large as was pos 
 sible if anything else was to be visible in the street below. 
 
 Stepan believed it all because he had never been out 
 in the world and knew nothing of the world s disappoint 
 ments. He was familiar only with West Holly, which 
 was never disappointing. The schoolhouse flag looked 
 as one would have it, and was as large as it was. 
 
 Besides money to pay for the use of the corn-barn, the 
 circus man had left passes. So the Natupskis would go 
 to their first circus. That is, papa would go; and a good 
 many of the children. Little else but circus was talked 
 in West Holly. Abner Slocumb was going in memory 
 of the days when he tried to crawl under the tent. 
 Blanchard Bowes was going because he expected com 
 pany from Boston. Stepan, of course, would not go. 
 
 The great day was "Saturday, but Miss Olive Greene 
 intended to let school out anyway. She had to go because 
 if she didn t her beau would go with another girl. 
 
 Confusion reigns in most large families when a merry-
 
 222 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 making impends, and confusion reigned in the Natupski 
 home, which was now nearly redeemed from the unusual 
 outburst of chairs, tables, rugs, and sash curtains for 
 which Statia had been responsible the previous summer. 
 It was not a delightful confusion. The Natupskis never 
 had enough of anything to go around, and Wajeiceh 
 would get mad because Marinka had taken his fancy 
 arm-garters for quite another purpose. 
 
 " You shut up, whole caboodle of you," bawled Kani. 
 " Les me lick you to stay to home, ev ry dam one. 
 Wajeiceh can come early away and milk. Maybe me stay 
 in and get drunk. Not often your papa enjoys him 
 self." 
 
 But Wajeiceh was already gone, cross lots. So Kani 
 stuck his teeth together and tried authority with his 
 daughters. 
 
 " Some one is got to leave early," he announced. 
 " Pigs there is, remember. And old setting turkey may 
 hatch. Yes, she will hatch. One is got to leave early." 
 
 " Poh for turkey," snorted Marinka, prospective 
 pleasure having gone to her head. " Miss Turkey knows 
 how to tend her young ones, I guess. How d turkeys do 
 fore they belonged to folks? " 
 
 Then she climbed over the wheel, settled the pick of the 
 female headgear on her frizzes, and said, " Stepan can 
 feed em, for once." 
 
 Of course Stepan had wanted to go to the circus. It 
 had seemed as if he must go, because of the flags. He 
 could shut his eyes and see the great tent and all the 
 little ones, like mushrooms circled round a toadstool in 
 Slocumb s pasture after a rain. To the music of some 
 thing called a band lovely ladies rode an incredible num-
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 223 
 
 her of horses, kissing hands. Above it all, flags. From 
 each tent a flag, and others strung on lines from peak to 
 peak of the largest. 
 
 He had made a very truthful circus, this Stepan who 
 never saw one. He was used to finding happiness in 
 dreams, but in spite of this dream of flags, the day seemed 
 flat after his father, brothers, and sisters had gone. He 
 listened to the waning sounds of chatter. 
 
 " Oh, Rinka, they say the ringmaster s so handsome. 
 A girl at Holly Centre went to Lansing last year and 
 seen him. When he cracks his whip it goes all through 
 you like a shiver. Say, papa, mayn t I have ten cents 
 for some Woolworth earrings?" 
 
 The last sound was Yadna s piping voice, wanting to 
 know, " Say, Rinka, do the lady in pink not wear no 
 dress but wings ? And is hoopla Polish, papa ? It comes 
 out her mouth in the picture, hoopla just like that. Well, 
 if it ain t Polish, whose talk is it? " 
 
 What a come-down to realize one was left in West 
 Holly, where it was so still the cows made a big noise 
 eating in the hill pasture. 
 
 Stepan felt this was not a disappointment for one day. 
 It was his life in all the years to come. He would never 
 go to the circus. Anger rose and ruled him for the first 
 time. He rolled in the dirt and bit the turf, with howls. 
 He had seen Marinka do this when papa refused her a 
 peek-a-boo waist. He had thought it foolish in a big 
 girl, but now he knew how she had felt. 
 
 By and by he came back to himself, a sad little boy. 
 His eyes smarted, his mouth was filled with mud. Both 
 legs ached and with every sob he shivered. Perhaps he 
 was going to die. He hoped so. He would lie down and
 
 224 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 die and when papa and the girls came home they would 
 be sorry. They would say, " Stepan, he died because we 
 didn t take him to the circus. Poor Stepan ! " 
 
 As one cannot lie in the dirt all day, even though one 
 is about to die, Stepan got up and went into the house. 
 It would be dull there, but he had to go somewhere. Only 
 mamma would be at home, and the baby. Mamma was 
 always at home, and there was usually a baby. 
 
 Right where the gate would have been only for Natup- 
 ski thrift using the gate for firewood seven years before 
 Stepan was born, he found a ticket for the circus. It 
 stuck up in the wheel-track as if saying " Come, make 
 the most of me." Some of the circus party had let it 
 fall. He had only to get to Mifflin Grove and this would 
 admit him to the sights and wonders. He needn t die 
 now. He need only get to Mifflin Grove. 
 
 Over in Abner Slocumb s kitchen discussion ran high. 
 Nancy declared once and for all she would not be caught 
 dead going to the circus. She declared it a great many 
 times. " Abner Slocumb," she remarked, " I would be a 
 fool. I d spend fifty cents good money, with the interest 
 due and all, going to a wicked performance that the 
 Methodist Church never countenanced. Offers free 
 tickets to clergymen ! Don t tell me. Of course it offers 
 free tickets to clergymen because no clergymen ever take 
 em." 
 
 " Aw, don t make such a clack," said Abner, obnox 
 iously shaving himself a day ahead. " Ain t nothing im 
 moral in seeing the elephant h isting a wisp o straw in 
 his trunk and putting it on his back, nor in watching the 
 great polar bear everlastingly walk round the chunk of 
 ice in his cage. Educational and improving, Nance. So
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 225 
 
 it says on Natupski s barn. G long over and read it for 
 yourself." 
 
 " I will not," she replied, nipping in her lips, " and you 
 men folks might been better employed than hanging 
 round there. Great polar bear indeed ! It s my opinion 
 all you men considered was that scandalous young woman 
 in short skirts a-straddle of eight horses in full gallop. 
 Not that you can make me believe there s any such 
 thing." 
 
 1 " Nance," whispered Abner, advancing razor in hand 
 and making motions that must have looked murderous 
 to the robin in the apple tree by the north window, 
 " there s two little fellers has atted me to go to the circus. 
 Guess who they be?" 
 
 " Can t," she returned. 
 
 " Two little fellers," Abner went on, sweeping the 
 lather from his cheeks with a rasp as of saw-filing, and 
 wiping his razor on a square of newspaper. " One s the 
 one I used to be, who never had fifty cents to call his 
 own. T other s the one we might have had. We d both 
 have gone and tooken him. You d not have stood out, 
 Nance, when twas our little chap wanted to see the 
 clown and the wonderful bearded lady ? " 
 
 " No," said Nancy, softened to that extent that she 
 cut a doughnut man with her ready knife instead of 
 sticking to the five-fingered variety, " I s pose I wouldn t. 
 But you know well enough, Abner, he never was nor 
 wanted. But if twas any young one you was a-going 
 to pleasure I wouldn t say a word. It s only that it looks 
 so foolish for you, a gre t grown man, to be going. Just 
 as if I was taking to doll babies." 
 
 " Any young one," said Abner, his eye ranging the
 
 226 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 landscape. " Any young one a-tall. Well, here goes. 
 There s a Natupski young one left to home." 
 
 In this way there fell at Stepan s feet a marvelous 
 chance. 
 
 While Mr. Slocumb harnessed, Stepan went into the 
 house, biting his fingers to be sure he did not dream 
 asleep. He would see the animals and the flying people 
 on little swings. He would see the flags. 
 
 He climbed to the room where his mother lay in bed 
 with the new baby. Well, it was not a very new baby, 
 being all of a week old, and named Zinzic, but mamma 
 never got out of bed now inside of ten days. 
 
 " Such a chance, mamma," said Stepan. " You think 
 I will stay to home, and papa thinks I will stay to home. 
 But I won t. Such a chance." 
 
 Mrs. Natupski turned toward Stepan. Perhaps be 
 cause there was none other to look at the sleeping baby 
 didn t count she saw Stepan as if she had never seen 
 him before, learned the wistful beauty of his eyes, the 
 crisp curling of his abundant hair, the healthful glow 
 of his face. She hadn t thought of it in the past years, 
 but she loved Stepan. 
 
 " Dearest one," she murmured in her native language, 
 and drawing him near gave him a long kiss. 
 
 From next door came the sound of Abner Slocumb 
 harnessing, which meant abrupt " stand overs " and drop 
 pings of thills at vexatious periods. 
 
 * Such a chance," whispered Stepan, his voice muf 
 fled by the fuzzy neck ruffle of mamma s nightgown, in 
 which his lips were buried. " Such a chance." 
 
 Ten minutes later Abner Slocumb stepped carefully 
 over the rotten boards of the Natupski piazza, called
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 227 
 
 aloud several times, and knocked with his whip stock, 
 with no response. There stood the door, wide open; 
 there walked the hens, in and out; there sat the cat on 
 the table, cleaning her whiskers ; it was just as it always 
 was; but for the first time in seventeen years nothing 
 human was in sight. 
 
 " Don t look nat ral," he reported to Nancy, " no man 
 beating nobody, no young ones bawling. Rinka ain t 
 fussing up a fancy bunnet. I don t know the place. 
 Keep an eye on it, Nance. I ll go along. Probably I ll 
 pick up the boy down the road a piece." 
 
 The buggy spun away under the nooning sun, but no 
 boy was picked up. Abner forgot his disappointment 
 when he got to Mifflin Grove, indulged himself in a real 
 good oyster stew twenty cents a bowl, our most ex 
 pensive dish and secured a place under the big top full 
 early. After all, it was the boy s loss, not hisn. Just 
 then a chap came along with a trick nose that he could 
 make four feet long without winking, and nothing was 
 worth thinking of but laughter. 
 
 The Natupskis were there in a row, a trifle less happy 
 than Abner Slocumb, because the circus makes its 
 strongest appeal to the Yankee character. Kani looked 
 darkly down the line. Only for its being a holiday he 
 should not think he was having such a fine time. He 
 guessed he would go and get drunk when it was over. 
 His eyes went again down the line, which began with 
 sleepy Yan, leaning against him, and ended with the 
 smartly dressed Statia and her husband, Tommy 
 Donahue. All his, all acquired since he came to America, 
 alone and poor. He ought to be having a fine time. Per 
 haps he would have had one could Marinki have left her
 
 228 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 bed and come along. Only that would have left Stepan 
 alone. 
 
 But why leave Stepan ? 
 
 " Say, Statia," he called, interrupting a good joke 
 of the head clown, to disgust of surrounding mobs, 
 " Stepan would have liked it here." 
 
 " True for you, papa," Statia shrilled, for she was 
 quick and had caught the joke, so to the dickens with 
 all slowpokes in the back seats. " Me and Tommy said 
 so all along, didn t we, Tommy ? Stepan gets a big boy 
 now and deserves some fun. Miss Greene tells me he 
 does splendid in school. Likely he makes a somebody, 
 if he is crooked." 
 
 After the performance the Natupski family met Abner 
 Slocumb in front of the " September Morn " ballyhoo. 
 Abner was trying to muster courage to go in and be 
 fooled; the Natupskis were doing all the looking possible 
 for nothing. 
 
 " Hello," said Abner. " When you folks laying out to 
 go home ? I d know but it s all right, and I d know as 
 tis all right, but I was over there this forenoon and 
 couldn t raise hide nor hair o nobody. Thought I d 
 fetch the little lame feller to the doings, but he never 
 answered, though I hollered my fool head off." 
 
 A moment s pause and not a Natupski was in sight. 
 The entire family had been thrust on to an already over 
 loaded trolley car bound for Holly. 
 
 " By chowder," soliloquized Abner, " he does think 
 they is something wrong," and added himself to the 
 human freight. At Holly, teams were redeemed from 
 the public rack, and the route taken up around the moun 
 tain. Natupski drove as if animated by seven devils and
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 229 
 
 his evident fright spread to Abner Slocumb. Natupski 
 reached home first in spite of his heavy wagonload. 
 There was a dead silence about the place. An old hen 
 was looking out of the garret window. That was pretty 
 bold for a hen, even at Natupski s. The fowls seldom 
 went upstairs now. The girls didn t seem to like em 
 around the bedrooms. 
 
 Kani ran hither and thither, in response to chaotic 
 ideas of danger. Had Stepan fallen down the holes in 
 the upper barn, where the hay came through to the man 
 gers ? Or was it the savage bull in the pasture that had 
 tossed him? Go, Wajeiceh, quick, and holler down the 
 well. Sometimes little boys fall down wells. The bucket 
 goes too fast, and the chain drags them in. The girls 
 thought of other dangerous places and examined the 
 rickety cellar stairs, the ell room with the missing floor 
 boards, the teetery barnyard wharfing. 
 
 " Stepan," every one was calling. " Oi, Stepan. 
 Come quick. If you is a-hiding come out quick. See 
 what we got for you. Lots of pretty things. Oi, 
 Stepan." 
 
 Never before had there been a home-coming when the 
 little crooked boy, gentlest of all the flock, was not smil 
 ing shyly at the door or window, expecting nothing but a 
 story of adventures in which he had not shared. Simul 
 taneously, a sense of their own selfishness came over the 
 family. It was more than the gentle regret that had half 
 spoiled the circus, though perhaps it was rooted in that. 
 The girls began to cry. They were tired, hot, nervous. 
 Worry overbalanced dignity, even Statia and Rinka 
 bawled like peevish babies. 
 
 " You shut up," snarled Kani. " Shut up or me lick
 
 2 3 o OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 every one together. What good is it me look every place 
 while you make such a noise? Go find some place to 
 look in." 
 
 " We ve looked every place. He ain t nowhere," 
 wailed Rinka. 
 
 Kani threw himself on the step in stony despair. He 
 began to regret every failure in loving duty to the lost 
 child. There were a great many. It was wrong not to 
 have taken him to the circus. He could see that now. 
 And last winter he should have had a warm blanket to 
 sleep under, instead of sacking and bits of old carpet. 
 Shoes, too it had not been right to send him the long 
 frosty walk to school in October without shoes. And 
 the circus. Of course he should have gone to the 
 circus. 
 
 Wajeiceh was to blame! Kani decided Wajeiceh was 
 to blame, because if he could not blame and lick some 
 body he should go mad. Wajeiceh should have said, 
 " Tatulo, take Stepan." What if he did get beaten for 
 not minding his own business? If the little boy had been 
 at the circus he would not have been lost. And now it 
 grew dark and he could not be found. Nor even looked 
 for, unless there was oil in the lantern, and there never 
 was now Statia was married. Lazy girls, you go fill 
 the lantern and find your brother. Find for me my little 
 Stepan. He was dearer than any of you. He never 
 asked for a nickel. He never went no place where he 
 could spend a nickel. He never went to the circus. 
 Would we had gone alone, just me and him, and left you 
 home, ungrateful wretches. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Slocumb were, in the meanwhile, acting 
 the part of good neighbors, and investigating their own
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 231 
 
 premises thoroughly, continuing the search after Kani 
 Natupski gave up to sit down and wail. Nancy, emerg 
 ing from a third going over the hog barn recesses, was 
 about to tell Abner she d " raked every hideaway place 
 with a fine-tooth comb," when she thought she saw two 
 dusky forms stealing under the garden fence. As she 
 looked they were lost in the raspberry canes. It gave her 
 such a turn she had to go into the house and take a swal 
 low of the strong green tea which had been brewing an 
 hour on the back of the stove. 
 
 Mrs. Slocumb s eyes had not deceived her. The larger 
 of the two sneaked up the Natupski back stairs, the little 
 crooked one came softly around the house and said to 
 his bewildered father, "Was you calling to me, papa? 
 Did you want me for anything? " 
 
 " Stepan ! Little Stepan ! " cried Kani Natupski, and 
 grabbed the child, while his bony figure was convulsed 
 with sobs. " Yes, me wants you for something. Me 
 wants you wants you to take to the circus tonight." 
 
 Stepan slipped to his feet and put one hand on his 
 father s cheek, while he answered, " Oh, but I wouldn t 
 want to go. Honest, I wouldn t care to go. It s after 
 sundown, so I wouldn t care." 
 
 Kani looked aghast for a moment, and then shook his 
 head sadly. He thought the boy was afraid of the dark 
 ness, having never been away in the night. To think that 
 he had never been shown what the street lights made of 
 Mifflin Grove! 
 
 Marinka and the rest crowded up with gifts. It had 
 been a wonderful day and no one had forgotten Stepan 
 at all. 
 
 But the most wonderful part could be told only by
 
 232 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 secret glances between mamma s eyes and his. Here 
 after he and his mother would have things to tell each 
 other. Yet to think how near he had been, that forenoon, 
 to losing the chance such a chance ! 
 
 Only for a thought it would have been lost. The 
 thought came while he lay against mamma s shoulder, 
 as she said " Dearest one." It was the thought that 
 mamma would be alone. And she would be more un 
 happy than he had been, because he had had mamma, 
 but she would not have Stepan. And if he had never 
 seen the circus, she had never seen anything but the barn 
 across the road. 
 
 Stepan did not consider that she had come from 
 Poland in the long ago. 
 
 Mamma had never seen the school flag. 
 
 Why should not mamma see the school flag? 
 
 " Oh, mamma," he cried, in her own tongue, " get up 
 and come with me. I will show you something beauti 
 ful. Such a chance ! " 
 
 Mrs. Natupski bared all her teeth and a few places 
 where teeth should have been. " You never tell," she 
 commanded, " and I will get up. Such a chance ! " 
 
 As on previous occasions of voluntary detention, Mrs. 
 Natupski was weary of pretending to be a fine lady and 
 resting her feet. 
 
 She wrapped herself in an old waterproof of Statia s 
 and into the sweet spring noon they stole she and 
 Stepan. The little baby lay on her arm. He would be 
 no trouble. Little Natupski babies never were. Abner 
 Slocumb was approaching the front of the house, out 
 of the back the woman and the boy slipped, to patter 
 over the crisp new grass, past the trees where fluffs of
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 233 
 
 yellow feathers were fussing with tags of string and 
 horse hair. First she must look at the corn barn. 
 
 " See," said Stepan, pointing to this flag and that, and 
 " See," he cried in a louder tone, when his ringer reached 
 the great one pictured at the apex of the tent. 
 
 Mamma pointed out a tiny one, with such a look one 
 would think she was eating something that didn t taste 
 good. " Russ! " she said, way up in "her nose. Stepan 
 understood. That flag had kept Poland from being free, 
 so papa and mamma had been obliged to come to America. 
 He was glad they had come to America, but he was 
 quite willing to insult the Russian flag. So he con 
 demned it. 
 
 " Ain t straight," he said of the imperial eagle. Then, 
 putting a hand tenderly on the big flag of all, he looked at 
 mamma. 
 
 " Straight ! " she said approvingly of the thirteen 
 stripes, and Stepan glowed. Mamma knew of what he 
 was always thinking. She had never been told, but she 
 knew. 
 
 Her feet itching, they went on so quietly that nothing 
 in the hedgerow was disturbed. Violets kept peeping at 
 the sun, robins continued flinging trills into the air, and 
 what little snakes had ventured forth to bask kept on 
 basking. Usually Mrs. Natupski was death on snakes, 
 but this was not an ordinary day. 
 
 At the schoolhouse she was glad to rest and put the 
 baby to bed in the grass. It would have killed any 
 American baby, of course, to sleep on the ground in May 
 after a shower, but it would not injure Zinzic Natupski. 
 
 Now came the triumphant moment Stepan was to show 
 the flag. He went to the locker which had been arranged
 
 234 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 on the outside of the building, so that the firstcomer 
 might hoist it on school-days without waiting for the 
 schoolhouse to be unlocked. Trembling with pleasure 
 Stepan slipped the flag on the rope and began to pull. 
 It was hard work and his hands were cut, but he would 
 not mind if only mamma would look. She leaned against 
 the bank with her eyes shut. Had she gone to sleep ? He 
 remembered the sad evening when she went to sleep 
 while Yadna was showing how to weave paper mats 
 kindergarten way. Yadna had cried and said she would 
 never, never again try to treat mamma as other girls 
 treated their mammas. But that had been in the house, 
 in winter, by the hot stove, after mamma had shoveled 
 all day. 
 
 " See, mamma, it floats out," he cried. 
 
 To his great joy she opened her bead-like eyes, and 
 began making her head go from side to side, as the flag 
 fluttered, while she chanted, " Straight, straight, 
 straight," to a sort of tune. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, sing," he begged, and she sang, trolling 
 out something she and Kani had used to hum when they 
 went to the woods before America was even a dream. 
 
 It was a pretty song, with flowers in it. She knew 
 another, with wolves, but she did not sing that. She did 
 not believe Stepan would like it. Besides, there were no 
 wolves in America. 
 
 Although there was nothing to eat but ends of bleached 
 grass blades, they were obliged to stay to salute the flag 
 at sunset. Stepan had set his heart on that. 
 
 Luckily the sun disappeared early from West Holly, 
 on account of the mountain, so Stepan s ceremony was 
 over long before official sundown. Mrs. Natupski stood
 
 SUCH A CHANCE 235 
 
 and raised her hand as he told her even the baby s 
 hand was held up. To Stepan belonged the thrilling ex 
 perience of bringing down the flag, and feeling himself 
 for a moment enveloped in its folds. 
 
 Then Mrs. Natupski peered through the windows at 
 the place where her children were being made into 
 Americans, and felt ready to go home for another ten 
 years. 
 
 There is probably nothing pleasanter than to go home- 
 along in the gloaming when the air is perfumery and a 
 gentle fatigue tells of the garnering of pretty memories. 
 So Mrs. Natupski and Stepan went home on the great 
 circus day. 
 
 With all the chores impending the family was galvan 
 ized into action just after Kani put his son down, half 
 suffocated with the hugging that alone seemed adequate 
 expression of a great relief. In ten seconds milk pails 
 clashed, cows rattled into stanchions, and much pro 
 fanity, English and Polish, was heard in the vicinity of 
 the pig-pen. 
 
 Stepan meant to help all he could, in small ways, and 
 the ways were not always so small because, like most 
 crooked boys, he was handy-fingered. When he col 
 lided with one of the others he would put a shy question 
 about the circus. Was it as nice as the pictures on the 
 corn-barn ? 
 
 Kazia thought the ringmaster was nicer, indeed, quite 
 as handsome as the Holly Depot station-agent, but not 
 so satisfactory. He was grand and awful, but one 
 could never know him, and the station-agent lifted his 
 cap whenever he saw her, just as if she was a grown 
 lady.
 
 236 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 To Yadna Stepan ventured a question about flags. 
 Did she see any? 
 
 " Sure," said Yadna. " They was sugary ones. A 
 ole lady in a sunbunnet sold em fi cents a bag. Only 
 I didn t have no fi cents." 
 
 Stepan joined Novia in laughing at the little girl, 
 and then Wajeiceh came in with a dish of milk froth 
 for the cat and emptied his pocket of a pungent hand 
 ful of those very sweeties. " You missed it, kid," he 
 said. " You ought to have called papa s bluff and made 
 him take you this evening. Another year another 
 year s a long while. And the acrobats were sure great. 
 A big fellow took a little fellow and threw him right 
 over the heads of everybody. He d have been smashed 
 to jelly only for the net." 
 
 Stepan, who had never forgotten being flung from the 
 upper window into the snow, was rather glad he would 
 not see that. He had the day with mamma to remember; 
 it was enough to find one open heart. Mamma might 
 scold by and by, and even beat him, because she would 
 be mamma, but she had seen the flag, and she had known 
 why he loved it. When he had said nothing, she had 
 said "Straight." 
 
 " Papa," said Yadna, " circus comes every year, don t 
 it?" 
 
 Yah. Nex time you stay all home. Stepan goes." 
 
 Well, perhaps. But not in the night. Stepan had said 
 not in the night, and papa had felt glad because he was 
 tired, and there were all the barn cattle to feed. Papa 
 did not know Stepan would not go in the night because, 
 of course, at sunset all the flags were hauled down!
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 
 
 " Now we ve got em," said Arthur Slocumb, " now 
 we ve frothed and foamed to get em, I wonder what 
 good they are to us ? " 
 
 He referred to the documents showing that Arthur 
 Slocumb and Stanislarni Natupski had obtained degrees 
 at Harvard. 
 
 Stanislarni, before answering Arthur s question, re 
 moved a flaring pipe from his mouth in order to grin. 
 
 " Frothed and foamed in truth," he observed. " Get 
 ting that has knocked my one last illusion on the head. 
 I found most things were not what I expected them to 
 be, but I did cling to the idea that a dignitary would 
 so far put himself out as to personally hand me a sheep 
 skin. The great day s over. We chased round in the rear 
 of processions and didn t get a smell of the alumni. After 
 I ve lost you a few dozen times I think I ll go away where 
 I can be quiet, when I see you hot-footing from some 
 where and you say Got your sheepskin ? And of course 
 I S ay " 
 
 " Of course you say Search me. 
 
 " Exactly. And you tell me to go over there, into the 
 basement, and a fellow ll give me it. And I do. And 
 he does. And it isn t a sheepskin ! In a basement ! " 
 
 " Now we ve got em," said Arthur, " I wonder what 
 
 good " 
 
 237
 
 23 8 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Shut up ! You said it once. It ll do you good all 
 right all right, because two or three years from now you 
 may be diving into another basement and getting another. 
 That is, if you stick to law school. Two or three years 
 from now. What ll I be at two or three years from 
 
 now 
 
 " Something worth while, wherever you are," answered 
 Arthur, stoutly. " No fellow could put up the fight 
 you have to make good, and make good, without being 
 the big noise afterward." 
 
 " Ah," observed Stanislarni, pushing a pound of fist 
 through his hair. " There, my dear Arthur, you touch 
 me on the raw. If there s one thing above all others I m 
 anxious not to be, it s the big noise. That job is griev 
 ously over-filled by too many Americans whose birth, like 
 mine, keeps em from running for president on the ticket 
 of Personal Exploitation. We write of our childhood, 
 and when we describe our birthplace as furnished entirely 
 with a bread bin and religious symbols, and tell how we 
 slept in the bin on the grub, some nice hygienic woman s 
 club writes us a letter and offers to listen if we will de 
 liver it a lecture. So we stand up and give our opinion 
 of the Declaration of Independence, and wonder audibly 
 how it is that it s waited all these years for us to ap 
 preciate it, implying that no one else has ever noticed it 
 at all. Then we re interviewed, and come out under a 
 caption calling attenticfa to Debt America Owes Aliens. 
 Debt! Poppycock!" 
 
 " And so," commented Arthur, taking this so apathet 
 ically that one imagines he had heard it before, " you 
 don t want to be a big noise ? " 
 
 " I want," said Stanislarni, " to be an ordinary citizen,
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 239 
 
 living quietly, decently, and without being pointed at as a 
 curiosity in the town of Holly." 
 
 " Get out! " bleated Arthur, now really startled. " You 
 aren t going into the country? Why not accept that 
 business offer and lose yourself in New York? " 
 
 " Begin at the ground up and learn the ins and outs 
 from the top down," Stanislarni read from a good-look 
 ing typewritten letter. " Well, I ll admit a desire to get 
 after the concern s written English. But I think I ll pass 
 it up. I don t think I want to spend my life buying 
 something and trying to sell it again. Too many of us 
 do that. And it s a very inadequate return for what our 
 fathers suffered in getting us over here. One may prob 
 ably buy and sell in the older countries. It s up to us 
 to make better use of what America offers." 
 
 " You talk like a blooming Chautauqua course your 
 self," sneered Arthur. " And you ll find your illusions 
 bu sted, as sure as you got your diploma in a basement 
 instead of from dignitaries in rows. But, of all places, 
 why Holly?" 
 
 " It happens to be my home." 
 
 " Yes," said Arthur, excited almost to tears, " and 
 that home will drag you down and sit on you. To a few, 
 like my old Uncle Abner, you ll be a fine fellow, a Polish 
 boy who went to college, but they won t understand you 
 in the least for all that. Your brothers and sisters will 
 expect you to aid em in all sorts of impossible ways. 
 And the town itself! Darn little self-satisfied, narrow- 
 minded, minister and doctor proud village." 
 
 " Perfectly good description," said Stanislarni, " hint 
 ing at several reasons why I m going." 
 
 " Oh, all right," returned Arthur, through clinched
 
 2 4 o OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 teeth. " Your haste to be off tells me that in spite of 
 your ultra-modest protestations, you are really intending 
 to take up he-dressmaking in your near-native dale. Tell 
 me one thing, which you going to make over first 
 Natupski family or town ? " 
 
 Stanislarni made the kiddish reply of a sofa pillow, 
 but as a fact the question troubled him on the train, and 
 he got into the smoker to think. 
 
 He wouldn t try to make over his father and mother, 
 because he knew they didn t want to be made over. Since 
 Statia s marriage papa had been only anxious to reduce 
 the new furniture to kindling wood, and start a cold 
 frame in the parlor. No, the Natupskis didn t relish 
 being reformed. Stanislarni, from his own indepen 
 dence, knew why they didn t relish it. He had never let 
 anybody but Arthur try it on him, and Arthur s power 
 extended nowhere beyond haberdashery. 
 
 Thinking of Arthur in that connection brought to mind 
 the first time his cicerone had taken him out to 
 buy things. Left alone Stanislarni would have gravi 
 tated to the gaudy stores with the cheap and nifty dis 
 play. 
 
 " Nix," said Arthur, " the places with the best shirts 
 have the modest shop windows." 
 
 That s it for my wares today," Stanislarni told 
 himself, " I ll put em in a modest shop window." 
 
 It was very late when Stanislarni left the train. That 
 is, it was very late for Holly. About half -past nine 
 o clock. Holly waited up until this train whistled its 
 way out of town, then called it a day, and extinguished 
 the lights. As the young man shouldered his luggage 
 and started to walk round the mountain the post-office
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 241 
 
 was bolted with a noise as of jails in furious grand 
 opera. 
 
 The grocery store did not follow suit. 
 
 Stanislarni felt that he must stop and learn the reason, 
 and was told that it was because several of the men were 
 inside kicking Dick Perkins awake. 
 
 " How d ye mean awake ? " 
 
 " Why, the fool took a contract to deliver a thousand 
 cords of wood at Mifflin Grove for a thousand dollars. 
 You know Dick of course, his folks live in West Holly. 
 Dick s married not to suit his mother, and he wanted 
 this thousand the worst way. Mortgage on his place 
 just going to be foreclosed, but he was let draw five 
 hundred in advance, and settled that. He s got to work 
 off the dead horse now, you see. Been on the job six 
 weeks and all in. Can t keep a man to spell him for 
 what he can afford to pay, and hasn t had a proper rest 
 for a month." 
 
 Stanislarni s entrance into the business life of Holly 
 was rather more abrupt than he had planned. Cast 
 ing his young trunk to the ground, he demanded 
 of the youth before him, " Hell ! Can t you drive a 
 span ? " 
 
 "Can I?" 
 
 " Well, why re you standing round liked a damned 
 stoughton bottle for? Why don t you take the load to 
 Mifflin?" 
 
 " Huh? How d I look butting in? His funeral. Not 
 mine. Nor yourn. Besides, he only offers a dollar and 
 a quarter a day." 
 
 Stanislarni took one glance at the interior of the store, 
 where the half -crazed Perkins was whimpering to be let
 
 242 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 alone, even while he spurred his will to prop his eyelids 
 up. 
 
 " Knock that poor devil down and leave him lay," 
 shouted Stanislarni, heaving in his baggage. " In the 
 morning I ll call for the valise and let him know he s 
 hired me to drive for a dollar and a quarter." 
 
 Stanislarni " spelled " his employer for a week, driving 
 every other load. He found Dick Perkins just as he 
 remembered him in District Seven, good-natured and 
 quite devoid of forethought. He was exactly the sort of 
 a chap who would agree to deliver one thousand cords of 
 wood for one thousand dollars, and see only the thousand 
 dollars. Stanislarni, on his trips, saw only the thousand 
 trips. If the trips could be managed right, the money 
 would be partly velvet. Not all, as poor Dick Perkins 
 had fatuously believed, but partly. Stanislarni covered 
 the ends of ties with figures proving the number of miles 
 to be traveled, and calculations of the depreciation in 
 horseflesh. 
 
 The last was the principal handicap. Stanislarni came 
 down into the Perkins kitchen one morning. (He 
 boarded with the young people so as to be near the 
 job.) Dick was groaning into his own clasped arms. 
 One of the second span was trembling on the legs, quite 
 unable to stand, let alone draw a load. 
 
 " Condition powder," advised Stanislarni. 
 
 " No use. I ve been keeping the creatures up with 
 them for some time. The last trip was made with a shot 
 of strychnine." 
 
 Stanislarni was struck with horror for as much as 
 fifteen seconds. This was Dick Perkins, whose mother 
 had introduced the S.P.C.T.A. in West Holly! The
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 243 
 
 very wagon drawn by the tortured beast bore a " Kind 
 ness to Animals " sign. 
 
 Dick Perkins proceeded to curse his luck, also his 
 young wife, who stood sniffing in the pantry door. 
 
 " And what s eating those horses," he went on, " God 
 only knows. Don t seem to me any job for two of em 
 to draw a load to Mifflin and haul the wagon back empty. 
 But down they lie and croak just to be vexatious. I 
 wish father d put me in the Navy, as he threatened." 
 
 Stanislarni stood like a young tower in the small 
 kitchen, a shoe in each hand. To think it was simple as 
 that, and he had missed it. Figured all over the ends of 
 ties, and then had missed it. And so simple! Well, all 
 great discoveries were stuck in front of noses, but people 
 didn t see em for centuries. Then along came some 
 genius and told em what to do with the squeal of the 
 pig or a similar waste product, and presto a fortune. 
 
 As his hired man continued to stand stock-still, Dick 
 Perkins stopped fuming after a time, and asked, sar 
 castically, " I say, Natupski, had you any idea of going 
 to Mifflin today?" 
 
 "Not in the least," said Stanislarni; " it ll need 
 twenty-four hours consideration." 
 
 " Is this a job at a dollar and a quarter a day," asked 
 Perkins, " or is it a darn debating society? " 
 
 " It s a school," said Stanislarni. " I want to take a 
 recess to learn the answer in." 
 
 " I suppose you mean the day off," said Perkins, 
 sulkily. 
 
 Stanislarni gave him a good look for the first time 
 since coming downstairs, and replied that he did. To 
 his surprise this seemed as much a matter for regret to
 
 244 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Perkins as the sick horse and the looming ruin of the 
 contract. He didn t know that some men seldom see 
 essentials because of trifles. 
 
 Stanislarni s business kept him until afternoon at 
 Mifflin Grove, and when he came back he made a detour 
 to Holly Centre, where the foundation was being dug for 
 a large new addition to the dormitory buildings on the 
 Academy campus. He did not near West Holly until 
 almost sunset. He thought he would strike up the old 
 road, by Solomon Russell s, turn in cross lots, and go to 
 see his folks. He had been too busy driving to Mifflin 
 and resting between trips for more than brief calls in 
 the past week. 
 
 As he wriggled through the barb wire that separated 
 Natupski from Slocumb land, which was like going from 
 a desert to an oasis, because Slocumb s fields were suc 
 cumbing to long continued neglect, while Natupski s 
 responded to sustained industry, he saw a man leading 
 a tottering horse. 
 
 " Why, it s father," Stanislarni told himself. " Hello, 
 father." 
 
 Kani Natupski raised a pair of disapproving eyes. 
 
 " You? " said his father. " Why ain t you working? 
 Loafing four years, a feller ought to get rested." 
 
 Kani insisted on thinking going to college was one 
 long, useless vacation. 
 
 Stanislarni was looking at the horse. It was the 
 wreck of a once fine animal, ruined by overwork and too 
 heavy drafts on his strength. He recognized it. He 
 could not help but recognize it. It was the horse Dick 
 Perkins had kept up with condition powders and finished 
 with a shot of strychnine. Stanislarni knew something
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 245 
 
 about horses, for he had driven a dray in Boston one 
 vacation during his college course. It was the summer 
 before his sophomore year. The next summer he drove 
 a taxicab. 
 
 "What are you going to do with it?" he asked his 
 father. " Put it out to grass ? Hasn t Perkins pas 
 turage of his own ? " 
 
 Kani Natupski assumed a look of elation. 
 
 " Bought him," he gleed. " Dam good bargain. 
 Dick Perkins pay one hundred dollar two month ago. 
 Sell to me for ten. Dam good bargain." 
 
 " Don t see it," persisted Stanislarni. " You ll have to 
 feed the creature up all summer, and then I doubt if it s 
 ever worth much. See how it shakes when I touch its 
 flank? Its spirit s broken and its nerve s gone. He 
 doped it." 
 
 Kani jumped up and down with the impatience of his 
 
 joy- 
 
 " Sure he give dope. Dam fine thing. He show me 
 how. Use horse through haying one week ten days. 
 Save half of hiring horse at two dollar day. Hay in 
 knock urn on head. Two dollar for carcass to glue 
 factory. And want get in big load to barn in hurry, 
 bunch burrs under tail. Dam fine bargain." 
 
 Stanislarni s answer was to draw from a pocket the 
 revolver he had secured a permit to carry when on the 
 long night rides. A moment later the abused animal 
 lay dead on the hillside. 
 
 Then his hand went back into his pocket and this time 
 came forth with a ten-dollar bill. It was the only money 
 he possessed. 
 
 " Take it," he said, and pressed it within the not un-
 
 246 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 willing hand of his father. Then he resumed his stride 
 to the house. After a moment s contemplation of the 
 dead bargain, the little man pattered by his side, taking 
 four steps to the son s one. Stanislarni was whistling, 
 having picked up this Yankee accomplishment from* 
 Arthur Slocumb. Kani was gnashing his teeth, crack 
 ing his finger joints, cursing and occasionally giving a 
 withering look at this huge marplot. 
 
 They reached the house without further incident. 
 Stanislarni, who had spent four years forgetting that such 
 obstacles were ever before doors, walked cleverly over the 
 hens and Zinzic and Yan on the step; Kani, who was 
 met by them many times a day, stumbled, and gave such a 
 vicious kick that it took half an hour to quiet the little 
 boys. After the noise subsided, Stanislarni went to the 
 piazza to speak to a few more brothers and sisters who 
 were assembled in an attractive and characteristic family 
 group. Rinka was mending a pair of gaudy stockings 
 with safety pins, Novia did nothing at all quite grace 
 fully, Wajeiceh hectored Tadcuse, and Yadna was chop 
 ping wood. Since Yadna was only seven years old this 
 was supposed to be most appropriate work for her, and 
 really she wielded the sharp little ax very well, while 
 splinters flew in a manner most deceptive to the chickens, 
 that always thought they would turn out to be eatable. 
 
 Stanislarni snatched the hatchet and turned to Wajei 
 ceh and Tadcuse. " You great big brutes," he remarked, 
 " sitting there and letting a little girl split wood ! " 
 
 He finished the job with stern expedition, while Yadna 
 sucked a ringer and criticized his manner of working. 
 It was plain she considered herself an adept at making 
 kindlings.
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 247 
 
 He went into the kitchen, washed his hands, dried them 
 by a few passes in the air, the roller towel being some 
 thing to shudder at, and joined the group on the piazza. 
 
 Novia slipped a dirty little hand into big brother s, 
 and crooked Stepan smiled from where he sat by mam 
 ma. He and mamma were great pals now, they were 
 bringing up baby Zinzic together. 
 
 Stanislarni made up his mind to consult his father 
 as to the plan which had been born in Dick Perkins s 
 kitchen, in the interest of which he had been to Mifflin 
 Grove and Holly -Centre that day. 
 
 " I suppose you know all about Dick Perkins s job," 
 he began. " One thousand cords of wood to be hauled 
 to Mifflin Grove for one thousand dollars. He didn t 
 reckon on all the bad features muddy roads, sick horses, 
 wear and tear of wheels, besides its taking so much time 
 he can t hoe his crops or get in his hay. If he gives up 
 he forfeits what he s already earned, and must pay over 
 the advance which he has put into his house." 
 
 " Yah," said Kani, with the cheer of a prosperous man 
 passing judgment on an unprosperous one. " Dam 
 fool." 
 
 " Well, listen, father. Here s a plan I ve got to make 
 the job a paying instead of a losing one. What d ye 
 think of it ? You see, the horses get worn out, and can t 
 carry more than two cords, anyhow. At that rate, leav 
 ing out Sundays and storms, he ll be two years com 
 pleting the contract. He ll have paid about six hundred 
 to me, or whoever helps him drive; will have lost his 
 own time for twenty-four months, and have bought 
 several hundred dollars worth of horse flesh." 
 
 " Sure," commented Kani. " Dam Merican fool."
 
 248 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Now for my plan. They re going to haul the bricks 
 and lumber for the new dormitory at the Academy from 
 Mifflin Grove. They ll use a motor truck. I ve got the 
 promise of the job to drive the truck. The pay is eighteen 
 dollars a week. Instead of sending the truck empty, I 
 have arranged to run it around the mountain, take on 
 four cords or so of wood, and drive them to Mifflin. 
 Bad, eh?" 
 
 Kani Natupski caught the idea even as his son pre 
 sented it. He might seem obtuse when a moral principle 
 was before him, but he could understand any plan that 
 involved making money. He jumped into the air, clapped 
 his hands, kicked Tadcuse playfully, and kissed Stanis- 
 larni with a loud smack. Then he handed his eldest 
 son his hat. 
 
 " Hurry up, quick," he said, " buy the job fore Per 
 kins sell to some one. He talk about giving bonus 
 horses, cow, wagon to one who take it from him. He 
 throw in for nothing what he already done. Hurry quick. 
 Novia, fetch slate and make figures. Eighteen dollar 
 week and one thousand for carrying wood. Multoplicate 
 and substract up. Then all come out is for hire of truck 
 round mountain and gasoline to Mifflin and back. Good, 
 Stanislarni. Fine, good. Rich you shall be. Dam rich." 
 
 " Not I," replied Stanislarni, leaning back and pulling 
 Van s ear. " I m to get the wages for driving. That s 
 fair and square. Perkins will have the money for carry 
 ing the wood the thousand dollars minus what the 
 extra truck load lets the building contractors in for. 
 And he can run his farm all the while his job is being 
 done." 
 
 At this untoward moment Novia presented the slate on
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 249 
 
 which her sum was done very neatly. Mr. Natupski 
 smashed the slate over the nearest head luckily that of 
 Wajeiceh, whose skull was reasonably thick. Then he 
 went out to the barn and raised hell for a couple of hours. 
 
 As it was by that time late even for West Holly, which 
 in the persons of the Natupskis kept hours that would 
 have scandalized Holly Depot, Stanislarni started for 
 his bed at Dick Perkins s. Right in the road he met 
 Perkins himself. Perkins was as angry as Kani Natupski 
 had been twice during the day, and he had a good many 
 more words to tell it in. 
 
 " Here s your bag," said he, slamming Stanislarni s 
 personal property at him. " You needn t come down to 
 the house for anything. Marion picked the things up. 
 They re all there. You re fired. Do you hear fired? 
 It s all over town, how you ve been snooping round to cut 
 under me. Run a truck round the mountain and carry off 
 my wood, while I m at home working like a nigger in the 
 hayfield or cradling oats. You riding round on an 
 auto, and me digging potatoes. Nice sitting down job 
 for Stanislarni Natupski, while Dick Perkins is breaking 
 his back ! Pretty soft for you. And I suppose you ex 
 pect me to pay you a dollar and a quarter a day for it." 
 
 " No," said Stanislarni, " I expect you to pay me 
 eighteen dollars a week." 
 
 " Well, you lose your guess. As I said, you re fired." 
 
 " Wait a minute listen ! " said Stanislarni, with the 
 good-natured tolerance that always gave him the air 
 of a massive St. Bernard dog smiling over a puppy 
 worrying a bone. And he carefully outlined the plan, as 
 he had outlined it to his father. Kani Natupski emerged 
 from the barn and stood in the semi-darkness, listening.
 
 250 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Instead of seeing the scheme in all its beauty, as Kani 
 Natupski, the supposedly stupid foreigner, had seen it, 
 Dick Perkins grew more unreasonably angry with every 
 explanation. He knew he was being done by this 
 Polander; each appeal to his judgment added to the as 
 surance of being done. He would not be done. He had 
 been enough of a laughing-stock all through the affair, 
 kicked awake at Holly Depot by men who d always tell 
 it against him, if, like his great grandfather, he lived to 
 be a hundred and one. 
 
 " Save your breath to cool your porridge," he said, 
 roughly, when the ever-patient Stanislarni would have 
 urged him again to consider. " It s come to put up or 
 shut up. Will you buy the contract for cash? No 
 promises, but hard cash every cent I ve actually 
 earned ? " 
 
 Stanislarni turned his pockets. 
 
 " You see," he said. " Not a red. And that would be 
 no way for you to do, anyhow. You d lose all your time, 
 and the worth of the worn-out horse. Don t spite your 
 self." 
 
 " Money talks," sneered young Mr. Perkins. " Your 
 chance has come and gone. If you had any faith in your 
 own crazy scheme you d be willing to take a risk. But 
 you don t catch me. I ll turn the contract over tomorrow 
 to the first cash offer. G night." 
 
 So Stanislarni slept under his father s roof. 
 
 The next day his father treated him like one of the 
 family, told him twice to " shut up " at breakfast, and 
 set him a task repairing fence in a distant pasture. Stan 
 islarni good-naturedly shouldered an ax and went to the 
 work.
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 251 
 
 When Stanislarni returned to the house, hungry for 
 a much better supper than it would afford, his father 
 sat on the piazza, emptying sand and gravel from his 
 shoes. A white paper blotched with red seals lay on the 
 dirty boards. Kani shoved it toward his son and said 
 nothing. Stanislarni took it and read. 
 
 " Why, father," he said. " Why, father! " 
 
 It was a bill of sale, properly witnessed and drawn 
 up by Blanchard Bowes, J. P., wherein Solomon Russell 
 took from Richard Perkins all right and title to a certain 
 hauling contract, the consideration being pay at one dollar 
 per cord for the amount carried to date. 
 
 " Turn her," said Kani, and Stanislarni did. There 
 were two transfers, one from Solomon Russell to Kani 
 Natupski, and one from Kani Natupski to Stanislarni 
 of the same name. 
 
 The young man breathed hard. At five o clock that 
 day he hadn t been worth a penny, and he was very much 
 afraid he would not secure the trucking job without the 
 inducement of the backward haul. Now he was worth, 
 in prospect, a substantial sum. And his father had 
 brought it all about. His little shrunken father, only 
 half awakened from his alien ways, whom he had con 
 demned as having no interest in him, no sympathy for 
 him. 
 
 Father and son did not speak, they were as silent as a 
 couple of New Englanders might have been over an 
 affair of the heart, but Stanislarni took his father s boot 
 and groped inside for a stone lodged near the toe, and 
 Kani grunted when he got it back. 
 
 Just then Abner Slocumb strolled over for a con 
 fab.
 
 252 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " How d ye like it, boy," he asked, " being the big noise 
 of Holly?" 
 
 " I hope my truck won t be such a nuisance as all that," 
 was Stanislarni s comeback. 
 
 " Get out ! You know well enough what I mean. Say, 
 come over to our house to supper. She s making a short 
 cake and won t take no for an answer. Bring some the 
 others say Novy and Yadna and the little lame feller. 
 I d give you all a bid only we ain t got but half a dozen 
 of any kind of plates. We never laid out for a big 
 family." 
 
 Stanislarni would have remained beside his newly 
 discovered father, but the scurry of excitement among 
 the children was not to be withstood. Mrs. Slocumb s 
 food, however frequently sampled, was something of 
 which one never got quite enough. 
 
 Abner slouched back to tell " her " to put a leaf in the 
 table, while he sat and snickered at young Natupski 
 thinking he could do any gum-shoeing in Holly. 
 
 Over at Natupski s Stanislarni was unstrapping his 
 young trunk to get out a clean shirt and the other khaki 
 trousers. He also combed Novia s hair and buttoned 
 her dress, since it appeared that otherwise she would go 
 out to tea with neither attended to. And he took Yadna 
 to the sink and washed her quite thoroughly; with which 
 example Stepan turned himself out shining with soap. 
 So extraordinary was the result of all this preparation 
 that Nancy Slocumb would by and by say to Abner, 
 "Did you ever see such an improvement? It paid to 
 have him go to college. Those young ones haven t looked 
 so slick since Statia became Mrs. Donahue." 
 
 But just now there is one more scene with Kani, who
 
 MODEST SHOP WINDOWS 253 
 
 draws Stanislarni back, as he is marshaling the little 
 crowd Slocumbward. 
 
 " It was in Poland," said Kani. " Dam long time 
 ago. You was born. Today. Dam long time ago. So 
 me make you gift. Because me never did yet." 
 
 He handed Stanislarni two dollars. The boy took it 
 wondering. 
 
 " Thank you, father. So it is my birthday, but I don t 
 really deserve money, when you have given me all the 
 paper represents a much greater present." He showed 
 the bill of sale. Kani waved it away as mere dross and 
 beamed at the two dollars. 
 
 " A gift," he repeated, " for your birthday. Jus a 
 gift" 
 
 Stanislarni went into the Slocumbs dining-room with 
 a heart mushy as the berries Mrs. Slocumb was lavishly 
 spreading on the cake. He did not know that this sum, 
 so sentimentally bestowed as a birthday gift, was actually 
 his due considering the ten dollars he had paid his father 
 on account of shooting the horse. Kani had done more 
 business that day than purchase the transfer of Dick 
 Perkins s contract. He had sold a horse s carcass to the 
 glue factory. The price paid was two dollars.
 
 VI 
 
 / 
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 
 
 " LOAFER ! " shrieked Kani Natupski, using the goad 
 to lick himself into a real good frenzy. " Lazy picshure ! 
 What lets you always to sit down? Mamma, what does 
 she do? Kicks the horse, that s what she do. And 
 Wajeiceh the cow. Novia run after the chickens, awful 
 fast. And Yadna smash wood and the barn under for 
 the hen s eggs. And what do you? Wash yourself. 
 Wash yourself! Hell!" 
 
 He addressed Marinka, of whom he had lately realized 
 the truth that she had never earned her salt. Now she 
 was sixteen he planned putting her on the hay rake. It 
 was work warranted to displace most female internal 
 organs in a season. 
 
 There being no grass down, Kani thrust a bucket of 
 swill into Marinka s hold, and escorted her to the shack, 
 where dwelt a magnificent sow and thirteen piglets. 
 
 " Stop ! " he bawled, when Marinka was for dumping 
 the odorous liquid into the noisome trough. " One who 
 washes herself should know more better. In with you." 
 
 Sobbing with disgust, Marinka leaped into the slime 
 and battled against muck. After feeding began Kani 
 scratched the sow s spine and read his daughter a moral 
 lecture. 
 
 " See you. How useful she is. Three times each year 
 she pigs and thirteen at a lick. Even her diversions is 
 
 854
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 255 
 
 profitable. For a dollar each they sell without fattening. 
 Years she does this, then to the butcher s for a fine sum. 
 Clothes she wears none. Does she wash herself ? Never ! 
 Take shame that of you I am less proud." 
 
 Marinka s underlip fell. 
 
 Down the road and into a kitchen prismatic with soap 
 she sped, coming to a halt with the cry, " Lo, Mrs. Tom 
 my Donahue. I ve come to ask you what next?" 
 
 Anastasia turned up her nose at the smell of pig and 
 with her first words touched on the chief cause of trouble. 
 
 " Marinka Natupski, why don t you wash yourself ! " 
 
 Marinka sank to the calico-covered lounge and whim 
 pered. " That s just it. Papa says I sha n t. He wants 
 I should clean the pen." 
 
 Statia stopped polishing the tea-kettle and gave her 
 sister a good look over, then spoke oracularly. " There, 
 just like I bet Tommy twould be when you done school. 
 Now why don t you do like I did, Rinka? Buy your 
 self swell clothes and go places. Sure enough, hanging 
 round papa s feeding pigs won t never get you nowhere." 
 
 " Swell clothes is nice," smiled Marinka. " Pink ones. 
 And feather hats. And I love riding on trolley-car front 
 seats when they go fast over railroad bridges. But 
 where ll I get the cash-money?" 
 
 " Didn t I say do like I did ? Get a job o work to 
 some nice lady s." 
 
 Marinka sighed. Of course Mrs. Slocumb and Statia 
 couldn t sympathize; they didn t have it so hard, they 
 had men to give them money, they were married 
 
 Married that was it ! Marinka saw a way out. 
 
 " Say, Statia," she observed, casually, " no old job 
 o work for me. I m going to get married."
 
 256 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Whereat Statia insulted her by giggling and asking 
 "Who s the feller?" 
 
 Marinka had no answer right ready, but just then 
 there came from the barn a sound as of fifteen tin cans 
 falling on to three iron stoves and bringing down seven 
 ice tongs in their fall. At this Marinka followed the lead 
 ing of the gods, and said " Oh him! " 
 
 "Him?" Statia was quite incredulous. "Jeff 
 Browne?" 
 
 " Uh-uh. A Merican beau. I guess papa can t kick 
 bout a girl washing herself when she s a Merican 
 beau." 
 
 " Good enough when she got one," said Statia. 
 " You don t know him. Bet yer yer don t." 
 
 Marinka wanted to depart in pride, but her need of 
 Statia s help kept her meek. 
 
 " If I had swell clothes," she said, " he d know me." 
 
 She hoped for the loan of a dress, but Statia was 
 firmly set against spending her Tommy s small pay on 
 papa s big family. 
 
 " G long home," she counseled, " and cry a whole 
 lot. Maybe papa notices it and gives you some cash- 
 money." 
 
 It actually turned out that way. Kani, satiated with 
 sobs, threatened to use the goad unless told the cause 
 of the trouble. When he learned it was fifteen dollars 
 he looked at the weapon and handed over five. At the 
 same time he mused anent Marinka s younger sisters. 
 In Poland one married a girl for no more ! 
 
 Statia helped with patterns and sewing-machine and 
 Marinka thus became equipped for the subjugation of 
 Jeff Browne.
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 257 
 
 To West Holly Jefferson was only a devilish noise 
 coming along the road. Being the milk collector, inter 
 mediary between cow-keeping and monthly checks, no 
 one could complain. 
 
 To little Marinka he was now become a King 
 Cophetua. ffsflu 
 
 At home Jeff was the family runt, of consequence only 
 to his maiden sister Ruth, who loved him as a child 
 cherishes the ugliest doll in the playhouse. 
 
 Ruth was the kind of girl who, when asked to take a 
 buggy drive, went; but when the young man swore 
 because the horse got its tail over the rein she plumped 
 down on her knees then and there and began to pray. 
 Still, the milk customers liked her because she kept the 
 books intelligently, and had a little way of appending 
 clever jingles to receipted bills. 
 
 Marinka reckoned without Ruth. Indeed, the Natup- 
 ski girl did not realize that Jefferson was not the head 
 and front of the milk business, in which the Browne 
 family was doing well. That dignity was really old 
 George Washington Browne s, whose hirsute face was 
 well known as that of chairman of the board of select 
 men, collector of Indian relics, and the only man in town 
 who subscribed to the Atlantic Monthly. The active 
 management, moreover, centered in W. Henry Harrison 
 Browne, the third son, a plump bachelor of forty, who 
 might be seen at any time between two and eight a.m., 
 slumbering in a milk cart on the streets of Mifflin Grove. 
 All that town took milk " off " Browne s, and it was 
 presumed the horse delivered the bottles, as no one ever 
 saw W. Henry Harrison awake. 
 
 The oldest son was town clerk of Holly, the next was
 
 258 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 assessor; there was a daughter older than Ruth who had 
 become a school teacher and ultimately married advan 
 tageously. 
 
 What Marinka knew of this made her endow Jefferson 
 with all the virtues, civic and private, of his brothers and 
 sisters. 
 
 Jefferson and Marinka might have met at the barn, 
 chaperoned by milk cans, but it had been more romantic 
 ally arranged. 
 
 Marinka had probably been always about in the 
 Natupski crowd, but barelegged and elf-locked. So, 
 when Jefferson saw her at Silver Lake Trolley Park it 
 was as Statia had predicted. He didn t know her at 
 all. 
 
 " Lo, Jeff Browne," she called, as he swaggered by 
 with a crowd of young fellows, all roystering, and all up 
 a tree for some real excitement. 
 
 Jefferson did not hear, and Marinka s lip drooped. 
 
 One of the boys, noticing, inquired, " Say, Jeff, who s 
 the skirt turning on waterworks for you ? " 
 
 "Huh?" asked Jefferson. 
 
 " Dam fine girl you icy-mitted. G long back n shout 
 her to a soda." 
 
 Jefferson reversed, gave Marinka what he would term 
 the onceover, and slouched to her side. 
 
 " S cuse," he muttered, almost taking off his hat. 
 " Didn t see yer before. Have a soda ? " 
 
 " No, thanks," said Marinka, lifting her eyes, and then 
 dropping the lids as one might curtains when the sun 
 shone too dazzlingly. 
 
 Jefferson came nearer and took his hands out of his 
 pockets.
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 259 
 
 " Awful glad to see yer here," he continued. " Come 
 on. Le s have a dish ice-cream." 
 
 " I guess not." Business of eyes repeated. 
 
 " Gee, it was lonesome fore I seen yer. Say, won t 
 you join me in a hot dog? " 
 
 " I don t care much about em." 
 
 Again the eyes. 
 
 Jefferson grasped her by the arm and propelled her 
 through the crowd to the evil-smelling baby wharf where 
 one might secure leaky boats at twenty-five cents an hour. 
 He did not ask her if she wanted a row, but put her 
 masterfully into the blue " Water Lily," removed his 
 coat, waistcoat, collar, cuffs, hat, and tie, tied his sus 
 penders about his waist, turned up his trousers, and 
 shoved off. 
 
 All this time he had no idea she was a Natupski. 
 
 By the time he learned her family connections he had 
 bought her a pound of good chocolates, a red, white, and 
 blue cane having a fluff of pink tissue paper on one end, 
 a hunk of popcorn, an ice-cream cone, and a dinner in the 
 Epworth League tent. Also he had had his tintype 
 taken with her. 
 
 After this Marinka felt she rightfully hailed him as 
 her knight and her ultimate rescuer whenever he came to 
 get her father s milk cans. 
 
 Jefferson never entered the Natupski home, having 
 imbibed the opinion of Ruth that it was an abode of 
 disease and vermin. Not that he feared either so awfully, 
 but what he saw through open doors of lamp-lighted 
 interiors never seemed attractive. Mrs. Donahue thought 
 little of her sister s conquest. 
 
 "What kind a beau is it you got?" she asked with
 
 26o OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 scorn. " A young feller driving a milk team so he can t 
 go out nights." 
 
 " Jeff s a nice feller," pouted Marinka. " He brings 
 me candy-bag most every Sunday." 
 
 " Poh eating stuff. That ain t nothing. Did he give 
 you anything nice for wear ? Silk stockings, maybe, or a 
 gold chain-locket? Tommy bringed me a chain-locket 
 the second time he come." 
 
 " Oh, Tommy Donahue ain t so much," cried Marinka. 
 " Only a Polisher if he did get him a Merican name. 
 Old Mr. Browne s folks been round here two-three hun- 
 der years. He is always Merican. Rich, too. Me 
 I sha n t live no little small house like this." 
 
 " Well," said Statia, briskly, " I only hope you have 
 it half so nice. All same, don t take up with Jeff Browne 
 because his papa so rich. He got lots brothers and sisters. 
 Sides, me n Tommy looked in tax book, and he not so 
 rich as our tatulo, after all, and you know what he do 
 for you." 
 
 Marinka clenched her hands in anger. Papa had 
 ordered her that very day into the blackberry canes. She 
 determined to go and spy out the land. 
 
 The next day she managed to annex her two sisters, 
 there being a temporary lull in blackberries, and a walk 
 of four miles cross lots brought them to a part of town 
 where the younger Natupskis never went. Coming up a 
 pleasant crooked lane Marinka skipped into the road 
 at a place where several wood-colored houses clustered 
 about a white school. Bewildered, she gaped. Not 
 another dwelling was in sight. 
 
 " Always I heard of the big Browne place," she told 
 the others. " Over this way. Which is it ? "
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 261 
 
 " Ask the man," said Yadna, who had positively no 
 modesty in her make-up. " Hi, mister ! .Where s Mr. 
 Selectman Browne s house?" 
 
 The passerby pointed with his thumb to the ugliest of 
 the lot. 
 
 " That ! " cried Yadna. " Why, tain t better n papa s." 
 
 Indeed, it was not so attractive, the Judson Buckland 
 place having been a fine mansion in its day and satisfac 
 tory in its ruin as a once beautiful woman is satisfactory 
 in old age. This building stood up, too tall for its 
 width, half clapboarded, unblinded, with no steps to the 
 front door, no supports to the piazza roof. It was like 
 a house some one had forgotten when partly built. Life 
 there could be no better than Statia s, if as good. 
 Marinka murmured, " I most as lieves feed pigs." 
 
 " Le s go home long the road," said Novia. 
 
 Marinka agreed, in listless chagrin. At a quarter of a 
 mile distant the highway jerked itself around a sand 
 bank shoulder, and the girls descried something well 
 worth observation. This mansion had retired from the 
 tumult, as sufficient unto itself, and demanding a home 
 lot of ten acres to breathe in. All alone it stood, mid 
 a wide expanse of flower studded lawn, from which an 
 occasional vase-shaped elm cropped up to cast beautiful 
 flowing shadows away from the sunset. The third story, 
 out- jutting, was supported by great pillars; the garret 
 window was a work of art surrounded by a laurel 
 wreath. Every window was hung with a muslin curtain 
 of immaculate whiteness; on the piazza, was a bevy of 
 lounging chairs and rustic tables. At the rear huge 
 barns and silos hinted at the means whereby this grandeur 
 was supported. It needed not the painted legend " G.
 
 262 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 W. Browne Stock Farm " on the biggest and reddest of 
 the barns to reassure Marinka. 
 
 " There tis," she said serenely, and gloated. 
 
 " Whew ! " breathed Yadna. " Guess they must be the 
 rich persons. When it s yours will you give me one them 
 curtains to make me a dress-up dress?" 
 
 Marinka gaped her fill, picturing herself lounging on 
 the piazza in gold-heeled shoes. She guessed Tommy 
 Donahue would never give Statia anything the bigness 
 of that. 
 
 Now up to this period young Jefferson s courtship had 
 been of the passive kind. He had allowed Marinka 
 to climb into his wagon and had kissed her whenever his 
 wide mouth wasn t busy voicing brags of his prowess 
 at games of chance, wrestling, or getting the better of his 
 sister Ruth. Shortly thereafter circumstances induced 
 him to apparent increased initiative. She who had been 
 Esther Browne, now Mrs. James A. Hoppin, arrived 
 for her annual visit, and the Browne mansion assumed a 
 fortnight s aspect of peculiar animation. Mrs. Hoppin 
 lived in Yonkers, which almost implied New York. She 
 said she " always shopped at Macy s," and it sounded 
 very fashionable to those who knew not Fifth Avenue. 
 
 Esther had been the family beauty. Ruth resembled 
 her as a blurred copy resembles the real thing. Before 
 her calm gaze Ruth trembled, W. Henry Harrison woke 
 up, G. W. reminded himself that he was chairman of 
 the board of selectmen, and Jefferson ran away. 
 
 This year he had Marinka to run to. It was squalor, 
 but Jeff preferred it to the present home atmosphere, 
 where Esther was putting the whole family through a 
 catechism to which one never guessed the right answers.
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 263 
 
 " Why don t you have some ambition and go to the 
 Academy and save your money and keep out of bad com 
 pany and cut the hair on the back of your neck and sit 
 up straight and eat with your fork and make your ears 
 lie flat and use less profanity ? " 
 
 Good Lord, didn t old Es want a fellow to have any 
 fun? Ruth fussed, but after all she could always be 
 kept pleased if you remembered to whop the pious cal 
 endar she d put foot of the bed. 
 
 Jefferson had a pretty good time at Natupski s, being 
 foul-mouthed to his heart s content and smoking more 
 than was good for him. Marinka sat very close and on 
 the last evening of the fourteen her father referred to 
 Jefferson as " Your boy " in a way that made the girl 
 think she was formally engaged. 
 
 Then Esther went back to Yonkers and Jefferson told 
 Marinka it was too far to walk and he was going home to 
 pound his ear. It seemed to him a good enough excuse, 
 but he was not dealing with an American father. The 
 very next evening Kani Natupski invited him down from 
 the driver s seat and the following conversation took 
 place : 
 
 " You like Marinka ? Yes. Marinka think you one 
 grand boy? Sure. Marinka and you both get married 
 each together ? Say when." 
 
 Jefferson gasped like a fish suddenly taken from its 
 native element, and muttered, " Oh yes she s one dam 
 fine girl but I can t get married now. I ain t old 
 enough. And my folks only give me a dollar a week and 
 it goes for fine-cut. So I ain t fixed to get married. 
 Honest, Mr. Natupski, I ain t." 
 
 " Tha s all right," beamed Natupski. " Marinka one
 
 264 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 dam girl. Sure." (He was perchance musing on a 
 recent stormy scene wherein his daughter had declared 
 with great spirit that she wouldn t husk corn if she died 
 alive; and her father had sworn, with equal fervor, that 
 she would either husk corn or see her father kill himself 
 making her. Whereat marriage had been suggested as a 
 compromise.) " How," Natupski went on, "next week 
 Wednesday? " 
 
 " I can t," moaned the distressed youth. " Father 
 wouldn t let me. And I ain t no new suit." 
 
 " Mebbe Saturday better. Sunday day off." 
 
 " Hell ! " roared Jefferson. " I say it can t be 
 done." 
 
 " Goo by," said Mr. Natupski, turning toward the 
 house. " Me tell Marinka. She real tickled. * 
 
 Jefferson whipped the horse away. He almost made 
 up his mind to go braking. Still, Marinka s vision had 
 power. 
 
 Saturday he went early on the route. By nine o clock 
 he was stepping softly across the fields to the secret 
 solemnizing of his own nuptials. 
 
 With the Donahues they drove to Mifflin Grove, where 
 they were made one. Afterward a delightful supper of 
 ice-cream, cake, and lager beer was enjoyed at a Polish 
 restaurant. Then came the drive home. Everybody was 
 pretty gay everybody but Jefferson. He began to 
 wonder what Ruth would do if she didn t find him in 
 bed as Henry drove to the barn at eight. Putting the 
 sleepy Marinka forcibly into the arms of the drowsy 
 Statia he mumbled, " See you tomorrow," slid over the 
 wheel, and was lost in the darkness. 
 
 " Darn his pictur," said Tommy Donahue, and then
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 265 
 
 began to laugh. " Anyhow, kid, you got your marriage 
 lines?" 
 
 :t You bet you," whispered Marinka, and clasped them 
 in hands which she felt were now in no danger of grow 
 ing callous at a cruel father s bidding. 
 
 Incredible as it may seem, Jefferson actually turned 
 over his paltry dollar a week to his wife, depending on 
 wheedlings of Ruth for his own pocket money! All 
 would have gone well if the minx had promptly given this 
 to papa, it being more than adequate for any board 
 obtainable under his roof, but she must needs squander it 
 for silk hosiery and a hat trimmed with most marabou. 
 
 One October afternoon Kani Natupski looked about 
 and found the single drone in his hive of industry, sitting 
 indoors, warming herself by a fire. The rest warmed 
 themselves with work, Marinka must make a fire. To 
 be sure it was only corncobs, of which bushels littered 
 the yard, but it was contrary to any Natupski principle 
 to have an October fire when you weren t cooking any 
 thing. He entered abruptly. Marinka had elevated her 
 feet to the back of a chair, the better to admire pink 
 silk legs. Kani gave a jerk both to that chair and the 
 broken one in which his daughter sat. Abruptly she as 
 sumed a perpendicular position. 
 
 " Up and cook supper while she burns ! " he shouted. 
 
 " It ain t only three," said Marinka. " We never eats 
 till seven." 
 
 " What for if we don t? Cook it while a fire you got. 
 There ll be no more." 
 
 He flung the cobs, basket and all, down the cellarway. 
 
 Marinka began to cry. 
 
 " Shut up! " snarled her father.
 
 266 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Tatulo, I m cold." 
 
 Kani Natupski liked to be addressed by the Polish 
 term for father, but now he was beyond wheedling. 
 
 "Where s some money?" he demanded. "He give 
 you some last night." 
 
 " Only a dollar. I sent it in a envelope-letter." 
 
 "What after?" 
 
 " A a real imitation diamond hair comb," she blub 
 bered. 
 
 Kani falling into greater rage, Marinka got right up, 
 packed her small wedding fineries, and departed while 
 still a wisp of smoke hung over the chimney. 
 
 Now imagine the scene in that Colonial mansion when 
 Marinka neared the south door. It was late afternoon, 
 the sun was westering and lay in long rays on the tessel- 
 ated hall, thence streaming into the small room where 
 Ruth Browne sat making out milk bills. There was oil 
 cloth on the floor, giving shining evidence of being 
 washed daily with milk and water. On the south wall 
 ticked a banjo clock. Under it, in a Windsor chair, 
 slumbered old Tom, with nine years and thirty-two toes 
 to his credit. Ruth wore a plain dress of blue serge 
 covered by a gingham apron. Her hair was smoothly 
 braided and wound about her head. On her feet were 
 ribbed stockings and ugly, expensive shoes minus heels. 
 Jefferson was at the barn collecting cans, W. Henry Har 
 rison slept in bed, and G. W. greased the delivery cart. 
 
 A poor outlook for a bride in search of leisure. Ruth 
 looked up when a shadow fell across the ledger. Marinka 
 had walked right in, as a son s wife should. 
 
 " Me and Jeff was married six weeks ago," she said. 
 " I m come to stay."
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 267 
 
 Ruth marked the moment by the one ledger blot of her 
 existence, and went upstairs to wake W. Henry Harrison. 
 
 That somnolent individual being the prime mover in 
 the family, he decided that the young couple must be set 
 up housekeeping say in father s old house and given 
 enough to live on say, ten dollars a week. Only Jef 
 ferson must work for the money. No more sleeping 
 until eight o mornings. 
 
 It is difficult to tell the feelings of Marinka when she 
 found herself installed in the very doorstepless house that 
 had roused her scorn. 
 
 Jefferson was grateful for the matter-of-fact way in 
 which his escapade was regarded, and for the first time 
 in his life felt respect for W. Henry Harrison and senti 
 ment for Ruth. 
 
 " Guess this is bad," he would chuckle, grabbing Ma 
 rinka by the waist and chucking her to the ceiling a couple 
 of times, such boisterousness being his idea of making 
 love. 
 
 Marinka could not cook, of course, and she would not, 
 even after Statia came over and showed her how. They 
 lived largely on those convenient foods which come in 
 cardboard packages with a waxed paper inner wrapping. 
 
 If, as often at first, she dressed up and made a visit 
 to the big house, longing to play fine lady in the red- 
 carpeted parlor, she was sure to find it a day on which 
 they thought she should be at home. 
 
 " What your washing out so early ? You are 
 smart ! " observed Ruth the first time, which was Mon 
 day. Ruth was up to the elbows in suds, and set Marinka 
 to stirring starch over the hot stove. The next visit 
 was Saturday, when she was supposed to be baking, and
 
 268 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 even Thursday was sacred to mending in the Browne 
 calendar. 
 
 Jefferson became obsessed by the idea, too. " Shall 
 I help you mix bread? " he would ask, like a boy with a 
 new toy, so anxious was he to screw the mixer to the 
 table edge. Ruth would have welcomed such domesticity, 
 but Marinka did wish he could let her alone. She had 
 planned to patronize the baker s cart when it passed next 
 day. It was from that cart she obtained the sponge cakes 
 which the deluded Jefferson supposed were his Rinka s 
 own productions. And, oh, the subterfuges she was 
 put to when he asked for them on days that the baker 
 wasn t due! 
 
 One afternoon Jefferson, going from his father s house 
 to his home, met the baker. 
 
 " Here s the order your wife was in such a stew about," 
 said that worthy. " F you ll take it twill save me driv 
 ing that fur." 
 
 Jeff accepted the loosely-wrapped parcel, and walked 
 on. A November wind fluttered the paper, and he saw 
 what he was carrying. A sponge cake ! He banged it 
 so hard on the kitchen table that it fell in crumbs. 
 
 " They all said I d married a slack-twisted runagate," 
 he muttered, bitterly, " but I didn t know you was a liar 
 as well. And me around bragging that even if you 
 couldn t boil water without burning it, you could make 
 sponge cake! I can stand a good deal, but, by God, I 
 won t stand being made a fool of." 
 
 And, turning, he went supperless to his evening task 
 of milk collecting. 
 
 Marinka had imagined she did not feel very well that 
 day, but she was able to pack her clothes and the best
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 269 
 
 of the spoons, and get to Statia s before dark. The 
 Donahues were but slightly sympathetic, and evidently 
 anxious to avoid responsibility. Tommy hitched up and 
 drove her to the Natupski house at once. Statia gave 
 advice. 
 
 " If he is like you say, and scare you, then tell papa 
 straight off no shinnaniganing. Have papa get a lawyer 
 and sue for separate s port." 
 
 " What s that? " asked Marinka. 
 
 When they told her she cheered up. " I get a set 
 furs," gleed the deserting wife. She was forever for 
 getting her cruel father s cruelty, but Kani had not for 
 given that October blaze set for the warming of pink 
 silk stockings. He met her at the door, inserted her 
 violently into the family circle now kitchen assembled, 
 and roared, " Mamma, give Rinka tato sack apron. She 
 in just time to cut sausage meat." 
 
 The place reeked with raw pork, which Kani was 
 having prepared for a profitable market. Poor Marinka, 
 then she ought to have regretted the too hasty leaving of 
 her new kitchen and dainty bedroom. At any rate, the 
 sight and smell of so much blood made her deathly sick 
 and she fell into that same broken rocker in a faint. 
 Kani, suspecting malingering, caught her roughly by the 
 shoulder, but his experienced wife motioned him away 
 with a grin. He was but a fool man, she said. Could 
 he not see he was in a way to become a grandfather? 
 
 " Dam ! " bleated Mr. Natupski and staggered out. 
 He supposed now she must be left to her mother. 
 
 So there came a fine day in June, which Kani wel 
 comed largely because it brought an end to Marinka s 
 immunity from toil.
 
 270 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 In the meantime she made a terrible fuss. Even 
 Statia, who followed the American fashion of no baby, 
 agreed to that. Marinka moaned and implored the 
 family to " kill whatever it was quick " for so long that 
 a doctor was called the first time one had been at Natup- 
 ski s for childbirth. He declared the girl had gone flabby 
 and must be made to exercise. Statia and Mrs. Natupski 
 walked her up and down till they were worn out. Kani, 
 herding the little children downstairs, felt a slight vindi 
 cation. He knew she had refused to move many a time 
 just to anger him. 
 
 " Supper ready, M rinka," he had growled, and she 
 had drawled back, " Oh, I m too miserable to come down. 
 Let the kids bring me something nice up." Well, she 
 was paying for it paying with much suffering, if he 
 was a judge. 
 
 Statia finally lost her temper. " For goodness," she 
 said, " don t be so howlful. Think of all the little babies 
 mamma borned." 
 
 " I am a-thinking," sobbed Marinka. " It makes me 
 the worse every one I think of." 
 
 Finally the crisis passed and Marinka lay on the 
 (reasonably) white pillows, the mother of twins both 
 boys. Even Kani was interested. 
 
 " You never done nothing so much," he grinned at 
 grandmother Marinki. 
 
 It being necessary to feed and clothe twins, Jefferson 
 Browne was called into court and ordered to give half his 
 earnings to his wife. Lest Jefferson forget his duties, 
 W. Henry Harrison Browne sent the sum weekly to the 
 Natupski home. And naughty Marinka waited till she 
 had accumulated eighteen dollars and bought a lace
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 271 
 
 dress and a green parasol. Unwise Marinka. Her 
 parent, having learned the way to the county seat, 
 stormed over so imperiously that the selectmen of Holly, 
 headed by G. W. Browne himself, drove to Natupski s 
 and removed the twins. 
 
 " The father 11 take care of em," said G. W., after 
 learning that his daughter-in-law was exhibiting her 
 finery at Silver Lake. 
 
 The babies had already been christened Josef and 
 Alexander, the elder Natupskis considering these a neat 
 balance of claims between old Poland and new America. 
 On the Sunday following their removal to the Browne 
 mansion they were taken to the West Holly Methodist 
 meeting-house and came forth Woodrow Wilson 
 Browne and Grover Cleveland Browne. The Natupskis 
 were angry, Kani principally because he hadn t thought 
 of naming after presidents. 
 
 Jefferson looked with an awful fear at the two pink 
 objects of his creation, but it was Ruth who snuggled 
 the little ones, fed them according to wired advice from 
 experienced mothers, sat up nights with them, washed 
 their linen when she was so tired she wanted to cry. 
 Sleeping at opposite ends of an oval clothes basket, 
 propped on chairs beside Ruth, they gurgled aid in 
 making out milk bills, and clients noted an unusual 
 output of joyous poesy on the part of the maiden aunt. 
 Still her cares were greatly increased by the existence 
 of the marplots, she being of those who know not sub 
 stitution when duties are concerned, but only addi 
 tion. 
 
 In the meantime Mr. Natupski was too worried for 
 discussing a daughter s affairs. The great sow threat-
 
 272 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 ened a litter, and that was something worth sitting up 
 nights and hiring a vet. for. 
 
 She outdid herself, and Mr. Natupski found himself 
 the proud possessor of twenty-two little pigs. He wouldn t 
 have taken off his hat that day to President Wilson, 
 Paderewski, or Blanchard Bowes himself. 
 
 All very gleeful, but how were twenty-two infants to 
 be fed at a maternal breast with accommodations for 
 thirteen? Kani Natupski burst into a room where his 
 daughter Marinka sat entirely surrounded by pink mus 
 lin. Her occupation appeared to be earnest contem 
 plation of one sleeve, which her sister Statia had com 
 pleted and pinned to the wall as proof that the paper 
 pattern was practicable. 
 
 " Now sit and look at it till you know how to 
 make the mate," Statia had said, and gone home. 
 There was every indication that Marinka would 
 take her at her word, if she sat there until next 
 spring. 
 
 "Hey, Rinka, you got some bottle?" demanded her 
 excited papa. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Some bottle. Baby bottle. Hurry pretty dam 
 quick." 
 
 " Certainly not," said Marinka, and fell to idly pleat 
 ing a rosy selvage. 
 
 " Well, where is he ? Two I buyed you. Where he 
 gone?" 
 
 " You mean the twinses bottles ? Why, Father 
 Browne took them with little Alec and Joe. You re 
 member that day I was to the Park." 
 
 Marinka was ostentatiously American with her
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 273 
 
 " Father Browne," even if equally alert to call her babies 
 only by the results of their Polish naming. 
 
 Her languid elegance received a shock the next mo 
 ment. She found herself whirled downstairs and de 
 posited in the Natupski buggy, to which Wajeiceh was 
 busily attaching the fastest Natupski horse. Soon 
 Wajeiceh was in the driver s seat, fretting like a jockey 
 before the shot. 
 
 " Like hell," was the father s direction to the boy. 
 To Marinka he hissed, " At Browne s you talk up. Get 
 what is yours." 
 
 Then, as Mr. Chick once advised, he went to see if 
 something temporary couldn t be done with a teapot. 
 
 Thus Marinka made a second descent upon the G. W. 
 Browne Stock Farm, but no blot ensued, for Ruth was 
 not making out bills, only feeding the twins. It was 
 fussy business, for one took a patent food, the other a 
 diluted condensed milk. The maiden aunt presided over 
 a large tray of droppers and shining bottles. She was 
 better prepared for shocks than she had been; the ad 
 vent of Marinka, still trailing a breadth of rosy muslin, 
 only caused her to say " Sh ! " and beckon the young 
 mother into the next room, where G. W. gloated over a 
 new relic. 
 
 "What?" said the old man, peevishly returning to 
 the present from an entertaining past in which he had 
 already been much disturbed by infantile wails. " She 
 wants her property ? Well, let her take it and go." 
 
 Two baskets were put into the buggy by the astonished 
 Ruth. One jingled all the way and its glassy rattle joyed 
 the heart of Kani Natupski. Here were whole dozens of 
 feeding bottles. Already he seemed to see rows of super-
 
 274 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 numerary piggies waxing fat. It would never have oc 
 curred to any but an American grandfather to buy out a 
 drugstore, but Poland for once blessed New-World ex 
 travagance. 
 
 " Good. Good Rinka," he gleed, giving the girl praise 
 for the first time in her small life. Then, " Other basket 
 what ? More bottle ? " 
 
 The other basket just then waked to sound, and it be 
 came evident that Marinka had of a verity fetched back 
 all her property. Alexander Woodrow Wilson bawled 
 and Josef Grover Cleveland kicked. Kani Natupski 
 looked from the twenty-two pigs to the two babies, from 
 the matronly sow to the flippant Marinka. The latter, 
 well frightened at the unexpected end to the adventure, 
 fell to her knees in the muck and begged tatulo not to 
 strike her. 
 
 " I didn t go to do it, deed I didn t," she sobbed, with 
 truth, for the food-sodden little ones never peeped, and 
 she had had no idea what she was bringing home. 
 
 Her father helped her up with boot and hand. He 
 took that strip of rose-hued fabric, tore it into eleven 
 ribbons, attached a length to each twin, and with the 
 other bits adorned the tails of nine tiny pigs. 
 
 " So you know em," he snickered. " G long off. Get 
 on to youse job." 
 
 And Marinka did! A boy s young life had been 
 marred, a lonely woman was left more lonely, an ex 
 asperated court would presently refuse to interfere fur 
 ther in Polish-American matters, but there was this 
 noble result Marinka worked! From infant to infant 
 of the eleven she skipped, whenever as generally each 
 squealed for the contents of its bottle at the instant every
 
 A MERICAN MARRIAGE 275 
 
 other one was seized with hunger-pangs. Only once 
 came a hint at flagging, when Mr. Natupski revived his 
 daughter by a serene kick, a reminder that she had 
 brought it on herself, and these sweeter words, " I say 
 wrong long go, Rinka. I say of you than ole sow I was 
 less proud. Nie, nie! For ole sow, this instant minute, 
 she but tend thirteen. And none with shirt. Hist, 
 Rinka, a runt lose hold. Nie, foolisher, not snub nose, 
 snout. Member, Rinka, when all holler snub nose be 
 put off, never snout. Snout bring cash-money soon. 
 Snub nose be t ree-four year fore he pick up tato. Me 
 you hear, Rinka! " 
 
 Marinka heard. Marinka did as she was told. The 
 Old World triumphed.
 
 VII 
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 
 
 " PAPA," said Kazia, " would you be willing I should 
 ask you to give me anything I want ? " 
 
 " No," bawled her father, and kept right on with 
 what he was doing. He always said no to any request 
 made by a female member of the family so automatically 
 that he often declined an invitation to his own supper. 
 And he never looked up, because he knew they were 
 going to cry. 
 
 Kazia was at it now. He could hear a piteous sniff- 
 sniff above all the noise he was making by aiming a 
 rack at the ox-cart and failing to hit the mark. It was 
 terrible the effect this America had on womankind. 
 Sometimes Kani almost wished he had stopped in 
 Poland. 
 
 When Kazia had cried out what tears she could squeeze 
 she rubbed her nose on the top of her stocking and said, 
 as if in sudden discovery, " I m going on sixteen/ 
 
 r< You shut up, you," bleated Kani, and resumed the 
 rack. 
 
 Kazia had now a bright idea. She took hold of the 
 other side and with her strong young arms guided the 
 clumsy concern over the stakes. Kani was overcome with 
 admiration and expressed it quite naturally. 
 
 " Dam hellion, stand there all day and don t move. 
 
 276
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 277 
 
 Good mind to lick you for not doing so to help your 
 papa before. Well, what d ye want ? " 
 
 Now what Kazia did want was a wedding outfit, for, 
 not frightened at Rinka s stormy career, Kazia had em 
 barked on her own romance, and only lack of a home 
 and wherewithal to support it separated her from the 
 lad of her heart. She felt her moral right to a few 
 clothes and agateware pans, but dare she ask for what 
 she wanted when she had gone through all three Hollys 
 and Mifflin Grove, and pinned her young affections on 
 Nicholas Kovinski, Jr.? 
 
 Wonderful schemes were woven by the young couple, 
 snuggling in fence corners on summer nights. They 
 would pretend to be in need of funds for some noble 
 purpose, then elope " and get the old folks goats fine and 
 dandy," said Nick. 
 
 Here was Kazia, asked by her father what she wanted, 
 and with no more impressive manner of answering than 
 stammering " I I want some cash-money to " 
 
 Kani yanked a chain across the rack and said, " Cash- 
 money it always is. For clothes always for dresses and 
 silk stockings. Well, it sha n t be. For clothes, no. 
 For something else, maybe." 
 
 " Oh, I don t want things to wear," cried Kazia, 
 blindly following any leading. " No. Never nothing 
 like that." 
 
 "Well, what?" 
 
 " I I want," she stuttered, looking for inspiration in 
 the sky above and the mud below, " I I want to go to 
 some place away from here. I want not to live here 
 always. I m going on sixteen." 
 
 Kani looked gloomy. " Bet yer," he exclaimed.
 
 278 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Bet yer that was how it would be when you made that 
 grand graduation. Mr. Bowes say the same. You bet 
 yer, Natupski, he say, such a fine girl she is won t stay 
 long to West Holly. Well, all ri . Go it. Go to Mr. 
 Farrar s right now. Give name and ask what cash 
 money is for carrying to trolley. Tell him your papa do 
 it for twenty-five cent less. You can walk most times." 
 
 This needs explanation. Holly maintained no High 
 School, but " farmed out " its scholars at Mifflin Grove. 
 Kani Natupski proposed to underbid the price allowed by 
 the town for taking a pupil from home to the trolley, and 
 then to make that pupil walk. 
 
 Kazia understood this, but what struck special horror 
 to her soul was the ghastly fact that he was going to 
 send her to High School! 
 
 At a tryst with Nick she sobbed the awful news into his 
 mercerized shirt sleeve, which was embroidered with a 
 pink silk " N," for Olka Kovinski was right up to date 
 in dressing her son. Perhaps that was one reason why 
 Kazia loved him so dreadfully. Nifty clothes even 
 ordinarily clean ones had an amazing attraction for any 
 young person condemned to the Natupski way of living. 
 
 " Oh, Nicky," she wailed, " he s going to send me to 
 High School. I wish I was dead this minute." 
 
 Nick said, " Suffering mush, that balls things up." 
 
 " Don t it? I told him I didn t want to live forever in 
 West Holly, and he told me I could go to High School 
 quicker n anything. I d never have believed it. No 
 body never would. He licked everybody when Stanis- 
 larni went to college so we couldn t lie down easy for a 
 week. And it takes four years to get through it. Oh, 
 Nicky, I shall die."
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 279 
 
 " If I had ten dollars we d go to Boston," said the 
 valiant Nick, " and let em rave. If I had five dollars 
 we d go to Lansing." 
 
 "How much have you got?" asked the practical 
 Kazia. 
 
 He had forty cents, which wasn t much toward house 
 keeping. So he planned to meet her the next day quite 
 accidentally at a movie show in Mifflin Grove. Kazia 
 got there while her papa supposed she was still being 
 interrogated by the school board, and they were able to 
 enjoy an ecstatic period of hand-holding throughout the 
 " Perils of Pauline." She sadly related the particulars of 
 the interview with Mr. Committeeman Farrar. 
 
 " He said he was awful glad cause West Holly hadn t 
 had a High Schooler for as much as years. Said I was a 
 good shame on American girls. And he gave me a paper 
 so I needn t be examined. And I was hoping I d be 
 thrown out. Oh, I shall die." 
 
 " When you re dead it s a long time," said Nick. " I 
 got a plan." 
 
 She thought it was for eloping on the spot, but it was 
 nothing more thrilling than this he too would go to 
 High School! 
 
 In the meantime the fact that Kazia Natupski was 
 going to High School set West Holly into a ferment. 
 Some said it was a direct result of Stanislarni s going to 
 college. Others put it down to worthy initiative on the 
 part of the girl, in the face of home opposition. Mrs. 
 Sabrina Perkins thought it a triumph for suffrage. Mrs. 
 Blanchard Bowes consulted Mrs. Abner Slocumb as to 
 whether the girl had anything to wear. 
 
 bo " This is what I d suggest, Kazy dear," said the
 
 28o OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 kindly Nancy, emphasizing each item by a thimble tap 
 on the fence dividing Natupski s barren dooryard from 
 Slocumb s mossy lawn, " half a dozen middies, at perhaps 
 ninety-eight cents each, and you can wash em yourself 
 come Saturday. No starch, which is a terrible advantage 
 with a meddlesome baby underfoot, as there always is to 
 your house. Many a child I ve known thrown into con 
 vulsions through drinking hot starch for pudden. A 
 plain serge skirt to accommodate em all. Whenever 
 your pa feels free to give you the money I ll have Mr. 
 Slocumb hitch up and drive us to the car. I can go with 
 you well s not, and if I couldn t I d take the time because 
 I want to see you started right. You re a smart girl, 
 Kazy, and we re all bound to be proud of you yet, I 
 guess." 
 
 And Kazia murmured " Yes m," with despair in her 
 heart. 
 
 Mr. Natupski glowered, but in time reconciled himself 
 to the extent of passing out a few dollars. The subse 
 quent orgy of shopping had no joy for Kazia. What 
 were the fabrics of Mifflin to one who lived only with 
 her cheek snuggled against a Waterbury watch in the 
 pocket of a fancy waistcoat? If it might have been a 
 wedding dress, now 
 
 The things were displayed on a clean sheet spread over 
 the Natupskis kitchen table. Mrs. Natupski grinned. 
 This was her girl ; she was tickled that Kani was doing 
 for Kazia more than he had done for Statia, the other 
 woman s child. Rinka thought they were pretty, but 
 " Not so fancy. Why didn t you get something fancier, 
 with nearsilk stockings? But I s pose Mrs. Slocumb 
 wouldn t let you. Not that she s got any taste. Always
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 281 
 
 looks like the back of a hack, she does." Novia wist 
 fully fingered the soft lisle and said, " You re awful 
 happy, ain t you, Kazia?" And Kazia gave Novia a 
 push and replied, " I wish they was all at the bottom of 
 the river. And I wish I was dead." 
 
 Nevertheless there was compensation when she made 
 her trolley debut on a crisp September day, wearing the 
 blouse with red hip lacings and tie. This was very be 
 coming to the brown complexion resultant from a sum 
 mer at berry-picking. Nick whispered, " Say, you re a 
 picture, you are." 
 
 After a month the fact that young Nick Kovinski 
 was attending school in Mifflin leaked into West Holly. 
 
 " Too bad," said Kani. " Me you hear, Kazik. If 
 he dares look to you spit his way." 
 
 His daughter was that instant thrilling in memory of 
 the hand squeeze exchanged when Nick helped her off 
 the car. It was safe enough to let him do this, because 
 no Natupski horse was ever driven all the way to meet 
 Kazia. 
 
 " The very devil s in it," Kazia told herself, in the 
 augmented vocabulary acquired from associating with 
 real nice girls in a Greek Letter sorority. " Never tried 
 half a try and here I am class secretary and in line for 
 Gawd knows what." 
 
 " That was a clever little girl you sent to us from 
 West Holly," the assistant principal of the Mifflin High 
 School said to the head of the Holly school board. " If 
 you have any more such district school products we ll 
 give them welcome." 
 
 The school board head said he heard from the West 
 Holly teacher that few could equal Kazia Natupski.
 
 282 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " It s ambition, sheer ambition, that has made that girl 
 what she is," he continued. " You know how keen the 
 bright ones among those foreigners are to get away from 
 their environment." 
 
 In the meantime Kazia certainly felt drawn away 
 from her school environment, even while she sat at her 
 desk and answered (quite correctly) the questions fired 
 at her by well-dressed and refined teachers. This Kazia 
 Natupski was a strange girl. The real Kazia ought to be 
 bargaining for her husband s tobacco in a Polish grocery 
 down by the jute mill. 
 
 "Why, Kazia, where are all your neat clothes?" 
 asked Mrs. Bowes, nipping into the Natupski yard a few 
 weeks after school ended. She was accompanied by a 
 stern female, a stranger to West Holly, but well known 
 in Holly Centre as the-woman-who-comes-here-summers. 
 
 Kazia had gleefully shucked all evidences of High 
 School life, and was clad in shapeless garments of sack 
 ing. 
 
 " Whatever you may think," said Mrs. Bowes in a 
 rapid aside, " she s a smart scholar and will well repay 
 any effort made to help her. Nothing flighty about her, 
 either, as there was about her two elder sisters. Both 
 went boy-crazy when they were her age, and married. 
 That s Marinka s twin she s tending now." Then turn 
 ing to Kazia, " My dear girl," she cooed, " your faithful 
 industry at school has not been unnoticed. Now you are 
 to have a reward. Mr. Farrar has told your father, and 
 he consents. This lady, Mrs. Tweed, lives in Eastfield. 
 You are going to live with her and go to Normal." 
 
 Kazia put up a hand as if to defend herself from a 
 blow.
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 283 
 
 " Dazed with joy," one lady told another. " Let us 
 leave it to sink in. See you again, dear girl." 
 
 Behold Miss Kazia Natupski sitting down to her 
 first meal in the home of Professor and Mrs. Tweed at 
 Eastfield. Having arrived the night before the meal is 
 breakfast. The Tweeds are poor and have furnished 
 their house entirely with books and old china. Kazia 
 had laid her head, for the first time, on a pillow slip of 
 smooth linen. Rising she had been confronted by a real 
 bathroom. So met she did something not always cus 
 tomary with her, and washed behind her ears. Later, 
 when she learned what was really expected of one in a 
 bathroom, she would run the water with loud splashings ; 
 and toward February she might venture on an occasional 
 bath. 
 
 This morning Mrs. Tweed brought in the breakfast, 
 which consisted wholly of a dish of mush. Kazia Natup 
 ski thought it a very good breakfast, and was much sur 
 prised when an omelette followed, with toast and coffee. 
 She wondered if this was the way the Kovinskis lived, 
 with butter-spreaders at each plate, and clean napkins. 
 Her Nick ordered the waiter girls about in so lordly a 
 manner when he took her to the Mifflin ice-cream parlors 
 that Kazia could not believe any refinement of life beyond 
 him. Perhaps living with the Tweeds would pay, in 
 making her more worthy of Nick. Only why was it 
 necessary to fuss with the Normal School? 
 
 Her ideals improved, working from the outside in. 
 She didn t know they were ideals, she thought they were 
 Kovinski requirements. She shuddered when she remem 
 bered how she had attended the Mifflin High clean 
 blouse and skirt outside, and rags sewed on for the winter
 
 284 UR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 underneath. In time she changed as often as Mrs. Tweed 
 herself, and cheerfully employed her Saturdays doing out 
 her things in Mrs. Tweed s prim kitchen. Her future 
 home, too, underwent metamorphoses, as her taste im 
 proved. When she had been in Eastfield a year she was 
 picturing herself in a gingham gown and long white 
 apron, looking out of a casement in a frame of scrim 
 " Dutch cut " above a row of scarlet geraniums eternally 
 in full bloom. Nick was coming up the path at 
 the sunset hour, with a bit of a new moon over 
 his shoulder. 
 
 And now came the great day when Kazia sent Nick 
 a postal card bearing words " The Same." It meant 
 she would stand at the corner of Walnut and Greenock 
 Streets, in front of the Baltimore Lunch, at 2 130 p.m. 
 the following Saturday. 
 
 Alighting from the Eastfield car Kazia took her stand 
 at the trysting place. She was rather too early, and in a 
 few moments became aware that her situation was not 
 a happy one. Rude people stared and jostled. 
 
 A flash youth drew near. He had bad shoes and a 
 hat like an unkempt green plush kitten. Kazia had a 
 moment in which to realize his necktie yellow hand 
 crochet, she made it herself in High School when he 
 stopped and exploded, " Well, kiddo, how s tricks ? " 
 
 It was Nick, with the charm of voice and lazy grace 
 that first won Kazia. They still had power. She forgot 
 the possibility of meeting Eastfield people, allowed him to 
 take her elbow in a masterful grasp and steer her into a 
 restaurant. 
 
 Nick ordered dinner a la carte, when he didn t mean 
 that at all, but it cost a quarter and included pie and
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 285 
 
 coffee, so it must be worth the money. The napkins were 
 the color of the beverage and inscribed " Stole from the 
 Welton Lunch " in red chain stitch. Nick stole his and 
 informed Kazia it made up a dozen " for going to house- 
 keep with." 
 
 " There," said he, " now we ve fed our faces, where 
 next?" 
 
 Kazia suggested a walk in the park. It was the sunset 
 hour, the sky was flecked with tiny pink clouds like rosy 
 feathers shed from the wings of cupids. 
 
 " Nix," said Nick. " I ve just been marking time. I 
 got a dandy plan. Listen! I m going to take you home. 
 You and mamma got to be pals." 
 
 Kazia s heart stopped beating. " Does your mamma 
 suspect? " she gasped. She should have put on her best 
 underclothing! Only the moral support of a handmade 
 camisole with real Mechlin edgings could brace one for a 
 thing like this. 
 
 " Sure. I told her. That is, I told her I was going to 
 be married. When she begins talking about Mamie Top- 
 floor I says I has a steady. Didn t say your monaker was 
 Natupski. Twasn t necessary." 
 
 The Kovinskis now lived in Mifflin Grove, not far from 
 the mill, where father and son worked, but too far for 
 any confusion with tenements on the corporation. 
 
 The vestibule was done in a kind of fancy oilcloth that 
 imitated marble, and Mrs. Kovinski had ever a damp 
 cloth ready to wipe off the indecent scribblings of neigh 
 borhood youngsters. Kazia was allowed but a moment to 
 take in this grandeur. Nick used a latchkey and she 
 was left to tremble in the parlor while he sought his 
 mother in another part of the flat
 
 286 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 How beautiful she would have thought it had she been 
 debouched therein direct from papa s house in West 
 Holly. The carpet was red, with a border. The walls 
 were blue, with a cut-out frieze. Nobody could count 
 the colors in the glass dome over the electric light. Under 
 it the center table displayed so realistic a leather scarf that 
 one could trace the shape of the denuded calf s legs in the 
 dangling corners. There were books in the room, too: 
 all of Laura Jean Libbey and much of Albert Ross. 
 The concertina, once constant companion of the elder 
 Nick Kovinski, had been replaced by a Victrola. The 
 Kovinskis were right up to date. 
 
 Mrs. Kovinski Olka, who had considered herself a 
 Natupski simpered into the room, bringing an impres 
 sion of hair dye and tight corsets. Kazia saw her nails. 
 They were black. 
 
 Throwing herself at a platform rocker in crushed 
 plush, she began to tilt and talk. 
 
 " Nicky, darling, go open some beer. How do you 
 do? I was sure surprised when Nicky tells me and his 
 papa he is got a steady. We was thinking of a Miss 
 Leary, top floor. But of course he has it like he wants, 
 same s he always has. It s on the fire escape, Nicky. 
 Push the cat off careful if she is put her kitten in a 
 empty. That little cat, she gets all places. Would you 
 believe it, my dear, Nicky s papa can t cut off a slice 
 cheese sometimes because she must have it for a bed? 
 Nicky, the opener is in the dish towel drawer, or maybe 
 it ain t. Well, my dear, Nicky don t tell me nothing 
 about you. Do you work out? " 
 
 Kazia did not need to reply, because Nick entered, bear 
 ing perspiring bottles, also three red and white tumblers
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 287 
 
 which he carried neatly with his fingers thrust down 
 their insides. 
 
 " Have some, my dear. Oh, have some. My Nicky 
 never drinks nothing else. I say it is strong enough for 
 young folks. The little cat will lap it, too. You ought 
 to die laughing to see her take it from a spoon. Well, 
 Nicky, you tell her about the grocery ? " 
 
 " Nix, ma, left explanation stuff for you." 
 
 " Well, Nicky don t take to the mill, so he thinks he 
 like to keep a grocery. There ain t nothing like a good 
 little grocery to make a couple young folks happy. Get 
 a basement place, bundle wood round the door, can stuff 
 on shelves, cash register, and penny candy case. Your 
 papa, Nicky, know where to get those signs awful cheap 
 for most nothing." 
 
 " No Trust No Bust," nodded Nick, " and No Change 
 Penny Short." 
 
 " And a nicer one Trust in God but Sell for Cash. 
 For American customers. Goes great. Ain t no reason, 
 is there, Kazy Nick tells me you is called Kazy why 
 Armenies should have all grocery snaps?" 
 
 " It ll be a dandy," said Nick, ardently banging his 
 check knee against Kazia s blue serge one. " We ll live in 
 back, and have a buzzer on the door so you can step out 
 and see what s wanted. Course I shall have to be going 
 down the line a lot with cracker drummers." 
 
 " Nicky say shove that dead soldier out the way, 
 Nicky, and open me a new one that you ain t got 
 nothing to help make a start, but that s all right. Nicky 
 likes you and we always gives him what he s after. 
 His papa stocks up and pays a month rent in advance. 
 And I get you some clothes better than what you is got.
 
 288 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Something bright you should wear and a rat under your 
 hair. Men likes to see their womens dressed up. Hey, 
 Nicky?" 
 
 Kazia saw something beautiful in all this, though her 
 year s growth of good taste was offended. Nick s mother, 
 by her bland glances of absolute confidence, showed the 
 perfect feeling of oneness that existed between herself 
 and son. 
 
 Mrs. Kovinski arose with difficulty, owing to tight 
 clothes and a ballast of beer, tottered across the room, 
 lovingly twitched her boy s necktie crooked, and left 
 the lovers to talk over their good fortune. 
 
 Nick, who had been so dull under the sunset sky, 
 could make love comfortably in this garish parlor. He 
 matched Kazia s fingers against his own, and regretted 
 that they couldn t hire a hall for the wedding, owing to 
 her father s hatred of the Kovinskis. It was an awful 
 shame, because, while a hall let you in for one hundred 
 dollars, what you took in presents and for the bride s 
 dancing privilege more than made it up. 
 
 Of course Kazia did not enjoy this! Oh, but she 
 did enjoy it. Trifling offenses against refinement were 
 overlooked. Habits of girlhood resumed power. She 
 thought it was dear of Nick to be wearing the dreadful 
 necktie, because she had made it. Besides, it was not so 
 very dreadful. 
 
 Dutch curtains or compressed yeast signs what mat 
 tered it which decorated the window when through it 
 one s love was to be seen ? 
 
 There was nothing fluid about Kazia, though Mrs. 
 Tweed would have thought there was. She had stuck to 
 her original determination, which was to marry Nick
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 289 
 
 Kovinski, through a year at High School and another in 
 the Normal. Her first wish had been to bring herself 
 up to the Kovinski standard. She had gone a little 
 beyond, but it was easy enough to drop back. 
 
 Memory, Nick s kisses, girlish curiosity, all had power 
 over Kazia. The idea of marrying Nick was bound up 
 with her life; it could not be eradicated without havoc 
 such as is made when a blossoming vine is torn from a 
 tree. And she knew there must be compensations in 
 married life, or so many would not scheme for it. Even 
 Mamma Natupski, with all her hard work and many 
 babies, seemed perfectly happy, though papa touched her 
 up with the goad. 
 
 It grew late, and Kazia must get the car for Holly, 
 since some of the family would drive to meet it. A well- 
 kissed Kazia she was, and after a year in the Tweed 
 atmosphere a kiss was to her what one cocktail is to an 
 unbrandied stomach. 
 
 " Mamma," bawled Nick, shaking the portieres until 
 their brass rings jangled, " Kazik got to go." 
 
 Too bad," said Mrs. Kovinski, rubbing her rouged 
 cheeks to apparent erysipelas. " You shouldn t told 
 nobody to meet you. Nick s girl could stay here nice as 
 not. A spare room we don t fix, but just so good a 
 bed is the bath tub as anybody wants." 
 
 Proudly she displayed it. A feather tick filled the tub. 
 At one end lay two pillows in lace-edged slips. The 
 faucets had been plugged with putty. There was no 
 slightest danger that any one in the Kovinski household 
 would take a bath. 
 
 Mrs. Kovinski felt great pride in thus utilizing an 
 otherwise wasted room.
 
 290 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 But Kazia had to go, and went, escorted by Nick and 
 followed by an adjuration to walk round by Alder Street 
 and see the basement. It was one of those places ap 
 proached by three downward steps, and having a third 
 of a window above ground. Alder Street was the center 
 of a Polish settlement. Kazia could almost see herself, a 
 few years hence, in the youngish women sitting on curb 
 stones thereabouts. She longed to stop fussing over her 
 physical self, and to just sit round feeling in her arms 
 a warm lump of fat which she had made. 
 
 At papa s house in West Holly, where a parlor fur 
 nished with celery boxes was presented as an apartment 
 of perfect propriety, Kazia was not very contented, but 
 that made her the more enamored of Nick. Only love 
 could make up for the loss of what Eastfield represented. 
 
 Kazia awoke at the end of a week feeling out of sorts. 
 Three days later she stopped eating, and lived only on 
 what nourishment might be found in chicory. The 
 cause was not papa s uninviting table, because she could 
 not eat when Mrs. Bowes invited her to tea, though 
 Mrs. Bowes offered flaky biscuits, orange pekoe infusion, 
 and the chocolate layer cake which Kazia had once de 
 scribed as " my favorite vegetable." 
 
 Sleep next deserted Kazia in the cluttered room which 
 she shared with Yadna. 
 
 "What s matter of you?" Statia asked. "You got 
 no life and your face is pasty-faced. Mamma thinks you 
 is too stuck-up to eat the grub. I don t blame you there, 
 but why can t you rustle up some raspb rys for your 
 self? You used to be pretty good at such doings. I 
 s pose you ll get so much as nine dollars a week teach 
 ing school?"
 
 LATHER AND FLOWERS 291 
 
 Kazia had her lips open to cry out that she would never 
 teach school, even though there had come a letter from 
 Mrs. Tweed saying she had better come back at once and 
 hasten the time of graduation by entering the summer 
 session. She lacked energy for the argument that would 
 follow announcement of her real intentions. 
 
 Believing herself sick for a sight of Nick she went 
 boldly to Mifflin Grove one afternoon, but the experience 
 was ghastly. His kisses had lost savor. Mrs. Kovinski 
 expressed concern at her appearance. 
 
 " Looks like a sickness was coming on you," she said. 
 " I bet you your papa s house ain t no place to be nursed 
 up in. So if you want to come here I and Nicky would 
 get you good steak and onions and fried oysters and 
 bakeshop bread. The nice little bed in the bathtub is 
 ready." 
 
 When Kazia shivered awake that night, back in West 
 Holly, Mrs. Kovinski s words were right before her, in 
 front of a silly old moon. " Nice little bed in the bath 
 tub." Half horrible they were, half tempting. She was 
 repeating them to herself later when out in the road she 
 met Susy Perkins. Susy was now in High School, 
 and she wanted Kazia to come and help her in a 
 " theme." 
 
 Once it would have meant something revolutionary 
 for a Natupski to enter the Perkins house by any but the 
 back door, but Kazia was now considered to have lived 
 down her family. 
 
 " Subject s fierce," said Susy. " This new poetry 
 that don t jingle. Ma got me a book to study. Listen 
 to this for a title 4 The Bath. Wouldn t that jar you ? " 
 
 She read, as prose:
 
 292 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " The sunshine pours in at the bathroom window 
 and bores through the water in the bath tub in lather 
 and flowers of greenish white. It cleaves the water 
 into flaws like a jewel and cracks it into bright 
 light." 
 
 " What ? " cried Kazia, in a briskness foreign to her 
 tone since rounding Holly Mountain. 
 In conscientious monotone Susy repeated : 
 
 " The sunshine pours in at the bathroom window 
 and bores through the water in the bath tub in lather 
 and flowers of greenish white. It cleaves the water 
 into flaws like a jewel and cracks it into bright 
 light." 
 
 " Oh, excuse me," said Kazia, " I can t stop any 
 longer." 
 
 " And she went," asserted Susy, " as if she had seen 
 a germ! When I hustled to the door and asked when 
 she d be back she said, Probably never. I m going to 
 Eastfield to be a school teacher. Just as if everyone 
 didn t know that ! "
 
 VIII 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 
 
 IN the sweet springtime of that year in which Kazia 
 Natupski discovered the imagists Kani Natupski sat at 
 breakfast grumping over his chicory infusion. 
 
 Taking account of stock he saw that daughters had not 
 gone well. Anastasia had made a fool of herself marry 
 ing American fashion. Rinka had put herself out at 
 interest and returned with dividends, the twins. This 
 was not doing badly, still little boys must be carried at a 
 loss a long time in this country. Kazia was away at 
 school he had never thought much of Kazia, because 
 she was not pretty. Novia followed. He decided some 
 thing might be done with Novia. Plus a dowry, Novia 
 should marry rich. Novia should be made blissfully 
 rich if he had to beat her into it. 
 
 As a fit prelude he ordered her into the field to drop 
 potatoes. He was feeling very independent this spring, 
 for Stanislarni had gone west to buy new auto trucks. 
 When the dormitory on the campus was finished, and the 
 last of the thousand cords of wood had been delivered in 
 Mifflin, Stanislarni found himself established in a busi 
 ness. All the Hollys wondered how they ever got along 
 without an auto express, and West Holly began to grow 
 prosperous because of securing what it had hitherto 
 lacked, a market for its products. So, though the " busi 
 ness " was not one he would have chosen, Stanislarni 
 
 293
 
 294 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 proceeded to develop it. Just now Wajeiceh was in 
 charge, and Kani could not deny a feeling of freedom in 
 the absence of his big eldest son. 
 
 One afternoon, at about this time, the Natupski family 
 was under discussion at a meeting of the Woman s 
 Club in Mrs. Bowes s parlor. A social worker, who had 
 been imported, at considerable expense, to give a talk on 
 " The Needs of the Rural Sections," seemed to enjoy 
 being side-tracked into consideration of the Natupskis. 
 
 " The fascinating problem, as I see it," said she, with 
 her settlement center, high-salaried brightness, " is how 
 to lay hold of and influence this man. He has been with 
 in your gates for many years and still remains an alien. 
 Is it not so?" 
 
 The Woman s Club nodded one head. 
 
 " In my opinion the best bait is daughters." She 
 spoke with emphasis. There was a Minotauress-like 
 gleam in her eye. "He has daughters?" 
 
 Oh, yes, the Club replied; he had daughters. But it 
 was well known that he had never been open to their 
 influence. 
 
 " You see," explained Mrs. Bowes, " Mr. Natupski is a 
 Polander. Perhaps Polanders daughters your ex 
 perience, Miss Nettleton, has been with " 
 
 " Russian Jews and Italians. Oh, certainly. And our 
 invariable rule, which always works, is to bait with 
 daughters." She leaned back in her chair and beamed, 
 then went on, in fuller development, " We aim to touch 
 the sweet sentiment which exists in every nature, how 
 ever outwardly crabbed. We find a daughter and intrust 
 her with seeds. She plants them. The father takes in 
 terest. Whence came these blooms, my daughter? A
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 295 
 
 kind lady gave me the seeds, instructed me in their cul 
 ture. She shows me so many improving things, papa. May 
 I not adopt them in the home? The father, softened, lets 
 gratitude go out to those who have helped his child. It 
 is the little leaven, you know." She beamed again. 
 
 The Woman s Club considered until Mrs. Perkins ex 
 claimed " Piffle ! The little leaven, if twas that number 
 female Natupskis, couldn t do so much. His oldest girl 
 went to her home from my house with every intention of 
 becoming a ministering angel, but got sick of her job and 
 married the first chance she got. And no wonder. 
 Imagine that man saying to any of them, Whence come 
 these blooms, my daughter? I pass the house often 
 and I know what he says to em." 
 
 Miss Nettleton s jaw set for an argument, but just then 
 the auto came to take her to the station, and the next ten 
 minutes passed in tea and twaddle. Her words gained 
 weight only when she was gone. 
 
 " After all, it s her job," said Mrs. Bowes. " She must 
 be a dab at it if she gets that salary. Suppose we offer 
 the young people of West Holly free seeds and promise a 
 prize for the best posy bed tended by a girl ? My Helen 
 and your Susy can go into it, Mrs. Perkins, to take the 
 curse off. I thought I had made some impression on that 
 Natupski man when I got him to acting so docile over 
 Kazia s being sent to school, but ever since April he s 
 been a regular savage. Glares at me whenever I go by 
 as if I d done him a mortal injury. And there s Rinka 
 becoming a perfect drudge; while little Novia can t be 
 rescued in Kazia s fashion, because Miss Greene reports 
 she s just a sweet, pretty little dunce." 
 
 Mrs. Perkins didn t think much of the plan, but the
 
 296 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 West Holly habit of deferring to any Blanchard Bowes 
 opinion had infected even the Woman s Club. On her 
 way home Sabrina paused before the barb wire behind 
 which a cross section of Natupskis dropped potatoes. 
 But the glittering prospect of perhaps winning a five- 
 dollar gold piece for skill in floriculture made no appeal. 
 Yadna s comment was a roar. 
 
 " Nix, marm, nix. Nothing doing for little Yadna. 
 No thank you, marm. I m out for stuff, I be, an you 
 may please put that in your ole gray bonnet. Quarter 
 acre papa is give me for my own and into onion she goes. 
 Good moneys in onions. But honest, Misses Perkins, you 
 wouldn t believe what a hell of a time I had to find 
 manure." 
 
 Mrs. Perkins wished Miss Nettleton was there to hear. 
 Yadna went on to further explain her plan. 
 
 " With onion money I gets me a little small pig. Swill 
 I save for it right now. Is you got any you ain t using to 
 your house, Mrs. Perkins?" 
 
 Feeling that as usual she had run against a stone wall 
 in trying to improve a Natupski, Mrs. Perkins was about 
 to go on, when an unkempt head upreared itself from a 
 bushy corner, to be assaulted with stones and rough 
 words. 
 
 " Wake up, Miss Stick-in-the-Mud. Novia shirk, will 
 not work." 
 
 Mrs. Perkins looked with special interest on the 
 " sweet, pretty little dunce " of District Seven, and saw 
 that since she had last observed her carefully the girl had 
 indeed grown in beauty, though she seemed neither clean 
 nor energetic. She rubbed her eyes with dirt encrusted 
 fingers, to the demoralization of all the hygiene she had
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 297 
 
 been taught by Miss Olive Greene. Then she smiled 
 shyly and let the vigorous Yadna shoulder her against 
 the barb wire. 
 
 " Ouch, your finger s torn ! " cried Mrs. Perkins, winc 
 ing in sympathy, but Mr. Natupski, from his position in 
 listening distance, said " It s a never mind " in a tone that 
 augured small possession of that " sweet sentiment " 
 which, according to Miss Nettleton, existed in every 
 nature, " however outwardly crabbed." 
 
 Before leaving the Bowes mansion Mrs. Perkins had 
 provided herself with the gaudiest of seed catalogues. 
 This she handed to Novia. 
 
 " See how pretty," she said, pointing to a pictured 
 parterre in which violets, zinnias, asters, and chrysanthe 
 mums mingled to a fine disarrangement of seasons. 
 
 Mr. Natupski made a long arm and snatched the book 
 from his daughter. 
 
 " Huh! " he said to page after page, ruffling it rapidly 
 from cover to cover, and then holding it out. Mrs. 
 Perkins reached, but so mincingly, for the Natupski barbs 
 were sharp and the Natupski hands were dirty, that the 
 book fell to the ground. As it was on his side Mr. 
 Natupski stooped to pick it up and appeared to get fixed 
 in that position. He stooped so long that Mrs. Perkins 
 stepped nearer and peered through the fence. Then he 
 straightened and began to question. Could his girl truly 
 have seeds, just what she wanted, and as many as she 
 liked? 
 
 Mrs. Perkins nodded assent. 
 
 " All ri , Novia," he exclaimed. " Don t you see 
 the lady s got a hurry? Speak quick. What you 
 like?"
 
 298 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " S sunflowers," jerked out Novia, choosing thus be 
 cause she had a dim idea papa would be pleased at some 
 thing hens would eat. 
 
 Mrs. Perkins laughed, the sunflower having no aesthetic 
 value in West Holly. For this, or some other reason, 
 Mr. Natupski voiced a veto. 
 
 " Wait minute," he said, sweetly, to Mrs. Perkins. 
 " Excuse, please, while I speaks Polish. Poppies, 
 daughter, poppies." 
 
 "Poppies, tatulo (father)?" 
 
 " Yes. Tell the ugly old woman poppy seeds. For 
 an acre." 
 
 Not knowing Mr. Natupski s description of her, Mrs. 
 Perkins spent the time pitying the poor alien. He was 
 perhaps homesick for whatever posy he had loved in 
 Poland. It might be the bluebell. She remembered 
 something of bluebells in Sienkiewicz. 
 
 Novia again opened her pretty lips. 
 
 " Please, marm," she lisped, " it is poppies I would 
 like. An acre." 
 
 " An acre of poppies ! " Mrs. Perkins was startled, even 
 while glad the flower selected was one that would prob 
 ably succeed in West Holly soil. 
 
 " I give her ground for so much," said Mr. Natupski, 
 taking off his hat with a tardy politeness. " It shall 
 be nice. So far as looking, this way, that way, 
 poppy." 
 
 Mrs. Perkins was delighted. " Get the ground ready 
 at once," she said, as she started toward home. " I 
 promise you all the seed Novia can want." 
 
 The next day, while gleefully giving each member of 
 the Woman s Club a separate description of the inter-
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 299 
 
 view over the phone, Mrs. Perkins was interrupted by 
 her daughter Susy, who remarked, " Say, ma, one of 
 those nasty Natupskis was here and left this." 
 
 " Susan, your language is more objectionable than its 
 subject. What did the child want?" 
 
 " She was not a child. She was Novia and she s as old 
 as I am. And whatever she wants, she needs a tub. It 
 strikes me funny, ma, that after you ve raised me fussy, 
 so I m expected to wash any time I ve no other pressing 
 avocation, you haven t one-half the interest in me that 
 you have in those Polish impossibles. Here s the mes 
 sage. I call it too degenerate for firewood." 
 
 Miss Susy flounced out, rejoicing in having gotten 
 three large words and a good measure of home truth 
 into a single speech. 
 
 Mrs. Perkins gazed at the shingle, on which appeared 
 a printed word. By reference to a botanical encyclopedia 
 she discovered it was the name of a certain variety of the 
 poppy family. She understood but wasn t that Natup- 
 ski man cleverer than one might think ? 
 
 Or was it the sort of poppy that grew in Poland, which, 
 in West Holly, was to rouse the best sentiments in the 
 hitherto flinty Kani Natupski? She believed it was. 
 Over the growing of these poppies he would find grow 
 ing in his heart a love for his home. Never again on 
 barren ground would fall the West Holly ladies advice, 
 so often repeated, to effect that it wasn t wise to beat 
 one s daughters or starve one s family now in the cause 
 of a future fortune, or expect virtue and moral beauty to 
 thrive in dirt and neglect. 
 
 The poppy seed came, after a trifling delay (the ware 
 house explained that it was a rather large order), and
 
 300 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Mrs. Perkins took keen interest in seeing Novia s slender 
 form always bending over the black earth. Mr. Natupski 
 certainly was doing the thing splendidly. This poppy 
 field seemed better fertilized than any other in his domain. 
 She tried to establish friendly relations with Novia, but 
 the girl did not like to talk. At times she did not under 
 stand what was said to her. 
 
 You love this work, don t you, Novia ? " Mrs. Per 
 kins remarked one hot June day. " My Susy says she 
 sees you out here in the very earliest morning, when she 
 is doing her barefoot dew stunts." 
 
 " No m," murmured Novia. 
 
 You mean, of course, that you are just looking for 
 ward to seeing it in blossom. It will certainly be lovely. 
 You won t regret any of the back-aching then." 
 
 " Yes m," said Novia. 
 
 " What ? Oh, well, I see. And your father excuses 
 you from the farm work so that you may be a little lady 
 gardener. It is kind of him, is it not, Novia? " 
 
 " No m," came again from Novia s close-pressed lips. 
 Mrs. Perkins walked off. Poor girl, she was either stupid 
 or sulky. Probably the former, as she gave all the 
 wrong answers. 
 
 When the poppies bloomed it was a sight for sore 
 eyes in West Holly. An acre of poppies, glowing as 
 bits broken from sundowns and dawns, trembling on their 
 slender stems in response to the tiniest of breezes, inviting 
 bee-kisses from miles around. Whatever Mr. Natupski 
 had planned for his daughter s poppy field, it attained 
 fame. Fanny Atwood, who reported the town for the 
 Hamson Chronotype, cut herself short in a most impor 
 tant item beginning " This week there are not many week-
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 301 
 
 end visitors who are spending any of the week in West 
 Holly," and wrote a long " piece " about poppies which 
 was part Edison s Encyclopedia and part the Natupski 
 field, and which came out with a hanging indentation head 
 on the first page. Madella Magee, who clerked in the 
 Post Office and eked out a living by snapshots, crochet 
 edging and shirtwaists made to your own measure, took 
 a photograph of the field, and by and by it came back on 
 a mendacious post card, claiming, despite the war, to be 
 " Printed in Germany," with all the colors wrong, and 
 sold like hot cakes. Abner Slocumb and the rest of the 
 farming fraternity scratched their heads and allowed 
 twas queerer n Dick s hat to see such a lot of land given 
 up by Natupski to a crop of positively no use. 
 
 Novia had answered Mrs. Perkins in perfect truth. 
 She hated poppies. Because of poppies she worked a 
 great deal harder than any previous year. 
 
 To a man working with Novia s advantage in view, the 
 behavior of Novia was exasperating. Sometimes her 
 father felt she would be no good unless she felt the lash 
 stinging about her legs. He might have to give her a 
 beating later on, when work was not pressing unless 
 the poppies were tended faithfully, and each capsule 
 pricked at the proper time. 
 
 This gave added reason for hating poppies, and Novia 
 crouched in the field, hating with all her feeble might, one 
 afternoon when a man on a piebald pony trotted from 
 the cross roads and paused to admire. 
 
 " Well, of all things," he said, gravely, speaking to the 
 pony (since Novia he could not see). "An acre of 
 poppies. Beats creation." 
 
 He leaned over the wall and plucked a handful.
 
 302 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " H m. Sliced already. Lots of heads cut. Bangs the 
 bush!" 
 
 When Novia heard the bush mentioned she stirred, 
 thinking herself seen, so that he did see her, and took off 
 a larky looking felt hat that was the reason for a line 
 separating peach-blow from bronze across a Roman nose. 
 
 "The Natupski poppies?" he queried, brusquely. 
 Novia was cuddled among the flowers, he took her for 
 half her age. She nodded wearily. Another to want 
 to know all sorts of things, she supposed. Papa would 
 be angry. He was always angry, because whatever she 
 said was never the right answer. She would say nothing 
 to this one. Still it was disappointing when he simply 
 remarked " Sposh ! " and rode away. However, the 
 road he took led only to Jackson s Summer Boarders 
 Accommodated and in an hour he rode back and stopped 
 for another look. 
 
 Novia had improved her time. She had gone home 
 and washed her face. She did not stop to convince her 
 self there was any need of doing so, she just washed it. 
 
 He took off his hat immediately, because he saw Novia 
 was a girl, not a little girl. He spoke as one well es 
 tablished in friendly relations. 
 
 " You think they re dreadful handsome," he affirmed. 
 " I m told you re out here every day and all day." 
 
 Novia nodded " yes " to the second statement. 
 
 " I bet there s a hundred shades of color," he went on. 
 " Bet there s twenty-five reds and yellows. As to count 
 ing em old Rockefeller can try it when he s practised 
 counting his dollars. Miss Natupski, you are one won 
 derful girl to have done all this. I guess no one in the 
 neighborhood has your love for posies."
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 303 
 
 " I hate em," she said briefly and let it go at that. If 
 he wanted to stay and talk to her and very much she 
 wanted him to want to stay and talk he must under 
 stand the truth. Despite her hatred of them, Novia 
 hadn t lived among poppies all summer without learning 
 a good deal about them, and while the pony s mas 
 ter was mentally staggering under her blow she 
 poked about until she found a certain specially beauti 
 ful blossom. It was rose red, and no mere onlooker 
 could have seen it, modestly hidden among flaunting 
 blooms. 
 
 " For me? " he asked. " Oh, thank you. It s a top- 
 notcher, it is. You ought to seal the seed up separate 
 and put it on the market with the title Miss What s-your- 
 name Natupski." 
 
 " Novia, I m called." 
 
 " Oh, Novia Natupski. Say, that s a slick name, with 
 apt alliteration s artful aid, as we used to recite. I m 
 Bert Sears. And I ll keep this posy " 
 
 He was about to name some lengthy period, as a couple 
 of eternities, when the pony saved him any possible 
 prevarication by eating the poppy and then trotting away 
 in roguish fear. 
 
 " Oh sposh ! " Mr. Sears was compelled to shout and 
 cut down the road. 
 
 Novia called that evening on her eldest sister and 
 borrowed a pair of corsets. Furthermore she appro 
 priated the pink silk stockings that alone remained of 
 Marinka s sensational trousseau. With Kazia s shoes 
 hiding the ragged feet and Yadna s white dress pinch 
 ing the stays Novia took up her customary watch. Des 
 pite her glory Bert Sears knew her as far off as he could
 
 304 
 
 see, and removed his hat that far, too. And held it in his 
 hand during a two hours dawdling talk. 
 
 " The pony s out to grass," he began. " I couldn t risk 
 his appetite on any more gifts." 
 
 Feeling the moral support of her sisters clothes, Novia 
 smiled. She was very pretty when she smiled. She had 
 been smiling when her father first got the idea she would 
 be worth earning a dowry for. Sears vaulted to the 
 wall ! his neat tan shoes and white thread socks dangled 
 beside the pink silk and shabby canvas. Novia knew he 
 was the finest man she would ever see. 
 
 " We look pretty gay this A. M.," said he, perhaps re 
 ferring to finery and perhaps to poppies. Novia chose 
 to think poppies. 
 
 " I m dead sick of poppies," she whispered. " I m only 
 sixteen. They ought to be gay. They ve got all my 
 summer." 
 
 Sears seemed to understand. " Poor kid," he said, 
 " I don t blame you." He took her hand and patted it 
 softly. Then, " Why in tunket," he inquired, " did you 
 set out such a monstrous garden for? " 
 
 " Tatulo, he told me I should." 
 
 "Tatulo?" 
 
 " Papa Mr. Natupski." 
 
 " Oh ! Your pa is powerful fond of flowers, I guess." 
 
 " He ain t. He throws out always the geranium slips 
 we has in tin cans winters. And a lady told me Mrs. 
 Slocumb it was when my papa bought the farm there 
 was piazza vines and bushes with roses on, and he pulled 
 em up quick before even mamma should get here from 
 Poland." 
 
 A queer smile curled about Sears s mouth, as if he had
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 305 
 
 never believed the Polander was raising poppies for 
 fun. 
 
 Then he supposed seed was to be saved for sale. 
 
 " I suppose it will be slathers of work keeping the 
 colors separate." 
 
 " How? " asked Novia, bewildered. " Oh, no, mister, 
 I won t have to sort out no colors. I guess I would be 
 crazy if I must do that. A funny man buys the poppy 
 juice off papa. He had a hair braid, but he talked good 
 as you and me. I guess he is what they call a Chink." 
 
 " I guess you re right, Miss Novia Natupski," said 
 Mr. Sears. 
 
 Then he laid her hand on the sun-warm wall and 
 deliberately rolled a cigarette, which he just as deliber 
 ately did not smoke, but deposited carefully in a waist 
 coat pocket. He also said " Sposh ! " It was not an 
 exclamation, but a question, fired into the universe. 
 
 Then he stopped harping on poppies and spoke to 
 Novia of herself. He learned about her career at school, 
 and her gentle regrets that she need go no more, being 
 " over age." She told of girlish plans, which proved 
 girldom to be girldom, in whatever nationality bred. 
 Perhaps that was why he kissed her when he went away. 
 Perhaps that was why he no more than kissed her. 
 
 Novia watched him Jacksonward, then threw herself 
 among the poppies, crushing their brightness on her lips 
 as if to absorb each hue. 
 
 Her father, coming out to gloat, thought her sleep 
 ing, and was about to enforce his " Up, lazy loafer," in 
 the usual way when Novia sprang to her feet and looked 
 at him with such transfiguration of beauty that the little 
 stunted man felt stunned.
 
 306 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Darling poppies," cried the girl, " I love you. Awful 
 much I love you." 
 
 Turning suddenly on her father she flung her arms 
 about his grimy neck, sobbing, " And, darling papa, I 
 love you, too. Awful much I love you." 
 
 Kani hardly knew his daughter and could only gasp, 
 " What s doing? What s tickling you, Novia? " 
 
 " Oh, I feel so good. This is awful nice farm, and 
 you awful nice papa." 
 
 "Huh?" 
 
 " Yes. Why, papa, I even love that biggest pig. She 
 awful nice pig." 
 
 Mr. Natupski would have inquired more fully into the 
 cause of Novia s glee, but for being distracted by the sud 
 den entrance on the scene of practically half West Holly. 
 Talking, too. 
 
 " Say, Natupski, you didn t ought to have did so, you 
 know. Giving the neighborhood a bad name." This 
 from Hiram Farrar. 
 
 " The devil, Natupski, you shouldn t branch out into 
 big biz thout consulting somebody r other. I d a told 
 you what for," came from Abner Slocumb. 
 
 Mrs. Bowes screamed, hysterically, " We give you up 
 from now on. The Woman s Club gives you up." 
 
 Mrs. Perkins was there wringing her hands and her 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Grand argument for anti-suffrage," piped Solomon 
 Russell. " Let the females keep to tacking bluebirds on 
 barn doors, while we men folks run things good like we 
 always done." 
 
 Mrs. Perkins flounced off. Slocumb tried to explain to 
 Natupski his near-crime.
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 307 
 
 You see," he said, " all those pieces in the paper 
 called attention to that poppy field. And a fellow has 
 been snooping round some time Sears, he s called. 
 Boards with the Jacksons. I surmise he s some sort of a 
 detective. A few minutes ago he called Mifflin Grove on 
 the phone, and told what he d worked out that you was 
 selling poppy juice to a Chinaman. And the Chink 
 he d got the name is under suspicion of some unlawful 
 dealings in opium. Ain t much doubt what your poppies 
 was going to-turn into." 
 
 " Sears was durn careless," put in Farrar. " Never 
 realized, I s pose, how all the receivers goes down when 
 ever any one commences to talk on our line. The women 
 started a clack, and we thought we d come up and warn 
 you, since you don t seem to have delivered the goods." 
 
 " Plow your poppies in to once and plants turnips on 
 their graves," advised Slocumb. 
 
 Bowes offered to lend his sulky plow, the only one in 
 town. Every one was sorry for the little ignorant Po- 
 lander, blenching under the dirt. 
 
 They could not know he was blenching with anger and 
 not fear. He had been quite well aware that selling 
 poppy juice to make opium was not exactly safe. His 
 had been a shrewd scheme to amass a small fortune. 
 Natupski stupid? He was not in the least stupid. He 
 was so clever that after living beside these neighbors 
 for twenty years he could fool them by feigning stupidity 
 when such feigning might get him out of a scrape. He 
 wished the men and women would go away so he could 
 curse in peace over the unlucky outcome of the brilliant 
 plan born in his mind as he saw the poppy page in the 
 seed catalogue Mrs. Perkins had let fall that spring
 
 3o8 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 afternoon. It seemed a gift from heaven, the idea, com 
 ing just when he wanted money for Novia s dowry. 
 With the Woman s Club and Novia concerned it had 
 seemed to him the poppy field would pass as a girl s 
 garden. 
 
 Even now he wondered how that detective man had 
 learned so much. Only Novia knew of the Chinaman s 
 visit. She had been in the field when he came to look at 
 it, and to explain just how he wanted the juice collected, 
 with clever fingers, at the hour of dawn. 
 
 Susy Perkins gave the required information in a side 
 sneer for Novia s benefit. " I guess that was pretty bad," 
 she sputtered. " Bert Sears sitting on walls holding 
 hands. Swell beau, Miss Novia, laying plans to get your 
 pa arrested." 
 
 Novia was of? in a flash, when the dreadful truth was 
 told. To the poppy field she fled, her heart as surely 
 wounded as if the drip of blood stained Anastasia s 
 corsets. It had meant nothing that she had thought it 
 meant his speaking softly, listening eagerly, pressing 
 his lips to hers. Where the poison had been sucked in 
 Novia tried to burn it out. She bruised her lips against 
 the wall. She fell in the dirt between masses of poppies. 
 She thought she would never rise. Life had been beauti 
 ful, now it was ugly. She wanted no more of it. 
 
 Yet one hint of her father s goad brought her to her 
 knees. 
 
 " Blab mouth," hissed Kani. " Take shame for your 
 self, vile girl. All the neighbors seen you lovemaking, 
 when me, me believed you worked. Up and take what s 
 coming." 
 
 Novia s kind and loving father, so keenly disappointed
 
 WHENCE COME THESE BLOOMS? 309 
 
 in his beautiful plan to give the speculation s proceeds to 
 his daughter for a marriage portion, whirled her about. 
 He sought the most attractive spot for an opening blow. 
 Novia closed her eyes and longed for the sting that 
 might bring forgetfulness of a shameful memory, when 
 lying lips sought hers and found them, oh, so willing! 
 
 Trit-trot ! came a pony. " Sposh ! " said a voice in tone 
 of thunder. 
 
 il You, mister," snorted Natupski, " wait till this girl 
 is got licked and I do you the same." 
 
 Instantly Novia felt herself plucked from her father s 
 grasp and deposited on the pony s back. Mr. Sears then 
 removed his coat and bared a pair of muscular arms. 
 
 " Say, that program ain t quite correct. You got to 
 take me first." 
 
 Mr. Natupski stared at six feet and muttered. 
 
 " No show, eh ? And let me tell you, no reason. I d 
 stand with hands tied and let myself be beat up if you 
 had a reason. But I fixed it so you got warned in time, 
 and for your flyer in opium you re the worse for nothing 
 but a scare. Mr. Natupski, give me your hand and call 
 it half settled." 
 
 Natupski let fall the goad. 
 
 " Give me Novia and call it all settled." 
 
 Natupski grinned. After all, a poppy field would be 
 Novia s marriage portion.
 
 IX 
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 
 
 MRS NATUPSKI sat alone in the house. It is hard to 
 believe, but she was quite alone. Everything from 
 Novia down was in District Seven, making it possible for 
 Miss Olive Greene to keep her job. 
 
 The committee faced the situation bravely. When the 
 last Natupski finished the ninth grade District Seven 
 would be no more. To give Miss Greene something to 
 do a kindergarten class had been formed, in which 
 Zinzic and Rinka s twins burst into comprehension every 
 forenoon. Mrs. Natupski did not like being alone. 
 
 She felt afraid, as if something unpleasant was going 
 to happen. It did. Stanislarni arrived. Mrs. Natupski 
 looked with awe at her handsome eldest son. 
 
 He came in, kissed his mother, and sat down patiently 
 by her side. 
 
 " I met father tatulo and Rinka," he said, speak 
 ing in the slow and careful manner which exasperated 
 his mother so that she wished he was reduced to the size 
 for beating. " He said he was going to the courthouse." 
 
 Mrs. Natupski shook her head in pretended doubt. 
 She remembered a time when she had waited for a ship 
 and taught a boy an English greeting. It was never 
 this boy. That other s mechanical " Hell-o, pa-pa," 
 after many years, was more real than anything said today 
 by the well-dressed giant sitting beside her. He and 
 
 310
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 311 
 
 Kani seemed to have much to talk about, but she under 
 stood nothing of their plans. She was only good to 
 tend babies, and the babies had stopped. Once she had 
 hoped to keep Stepan, but now they were saying he must 
 be sent to High School. That was the end. When they 
 went to High School they were lost. 
 
 After a while Stanislarni got tired of sitting still. He 
 went out of doors and inspected the swelling buds on 
 the pear trees. Then he disappeared round the house 
 and came in through the shed. 
 
 " Father tatulo has moved the fence," he observed. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski looked up and tried to read her son with 
 eyes that were very like the seeds to come later on the 
 hedge of tiger lilies that changed owners when the fence 
 went back. He looked too shrewd to win her confidence. 
 
 " If he wants to sell he better let it all go, and not dis 
 pose of it in this piecemeal fashion," Stanislarni went on, 
 musing aloud. " Father d buy, and the money in the 
 lump would be worth something to the Slocumbs." 
 
 Mrs. Natupski clinched her fists under her apron of 
 cracked black oilcloth. This was how he spoke of the 
 Slocumbs, whose chickens and cream had preserved his 
 father the time Tadcuse was the baby. Since Stanislarni 
 was now too large to beat she wished she had beaten him 
 oftener when he was small. She would give Yan and 
 Zinzic beatings when they returned from school. Per 
 haps twenty years from now they would bring her 
 sorrow. 
 
 Once more Stanislarni went out. Wandering aim 
 lessly, he came under a Slocumb window and saw an 
 awful sight Nancy Slocumb in tears. When Nancy felt 
 emotion she screwed her features into resemblance of
 
 312 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 some terrifying gargoyle. She had been weeping for an 
 hour, and it would take days for her face to smooth 
 out. 
 
 Hurrying home, he found his mother had gone into the 
 front room, where she could see the newly located fence. 
 Her shoulders were shaking, and great crystal drops 
 rolled down her bulbous nose and fell off her leathery 
 chin. Stanislarni hadn t been so puzzled since his first 
 encounter with oyster forks, butter-spreaders, and finger- 
 bowls. 
 
 At the barn door he waited his father s coming. 
 
 "Mamma is crying," he began. " What s she sad 
 about? Has anything happened to any of us?" 
 
 Kani s face expressed exhilaration and guilt. 
 
 It was still possible to obtain information from Kani 
 Natupski by walking-match methods, and Stanislarni 
 always wore easy shoes when he went home. Today they 
 paced a mile to the woods and followed the new fence 
 back. They trotted in other directions to look at winter 
 rye and plowed fields. Finally Kani vaulted the new 
 fence and crashed through undergrowth, until he 
 emerged on a high cliff which overlooked all the Natupski, 
 Slocumb, and Pinkney domains, as well as much of the 
 Bowes and Perkins property. Stanislarni followed and 
 was glad to sit and rest on the mossy carpet topping the 
 huge ledge. 
 
 " Sunrise Rock " it had been for over a century, and 
 the initials of wandering students from Holly Academy 
 were healing over on all nearby trees. The students 
 made the place an object of their Mayflower and Chest 
 nut walks, and quarreled as to the legend connected there 
 with. Of course it was the scene of an Indian maiden s
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 313 
 
 death, and she had thrown herself over the precipice. 
 But was she escaping from a cruel Englishman, or did 
 she die of sorrow because deserted by a lover of her own 
 people? At any rate, she had thrown herself over the 
 precipice. Stanislarni went to the edge and looked down. 
 It would be a terrible fall, but now the valley below was 
 filled with trees, the tops of which were but a little way 
 below the rock. 
 
 :< Yes," said Kani, as if a question had been asked, 
 " good lumber it is. Around here better couldn t be 
 found with a candle. And when it gets cut down you 
 shall make a fine thing hauling it, Stanislarni." 
 
 Stanislarni was startled. " Is Mr. Slocumb going to 
 sell the timber?" he asked. 
 
 Kani suddenly jumped to his feet and spoke as if 
 defending himself, though no accusation had been made. 
 " One hundred acre he had," he cried, " long fore me and 
 mamma comes here from Poland. And always a mort 
 gage. By and by into a bank the mortgage gets. Ei, 
 Stanislarni, if you must mortgage, never to a bank. M s 
 Buckland have a heart to a bank, ole she-devil she is ! So 
 me take mortgage. To oblige. Jus to oblige. Interest 
 due, take land, move fence. M s Slocumb cry, mamma 
 cry. Bimeby me take woodland, right here, give door- 
 yard. Move fence back. M s Slocumb ask to supper. 
 Mamma sing Oi ta dada. You like that, Stanislarni ? " 
 
 Stanislarni leaned against a big tree that was to other 
 pines what he was to his father. For a while he did not 
 speak, then he asked, " Why didn t you take the wood 
 land in the first place ? " 
 
 Kani kicked a couple of stones over the cliff and 
 seemed to enjoy hearing them crash through the trees.
 
 314 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Slocumb fool," remarked Kani. " Not farm good. 
 Always buy things for wife. Water squirt in yard. 
 Dam fool." 
 
 Stanislarni did not repeat his question. He thought 
 he knew the answer. Mr. Slocumb had probably refused 
 to sell the Sunrise Rock woodland. He had often refused 
 to sell it in past years. 
 
 How exactly like Kani Natupski was this sudden 
 moving of the dooryard fence; this reckoning on the 
 tears of two women to give him what he meant to have. 
 Yet who could say it was not absolutely just that Abner 
 Slocumb should pay what he owed? 
 
 Stanislarni rushed by Slocumb s without so much as a 
 nod to Mr. Slocumb, whereat Abner was really hurt. He 
 went into the barn and told the horse. 
 
 In the house Nancy was elaborately busy ignoring eyes 
 like boiled gooseberries. 
 
 " That the oldest Natupski boy went by?" she pres 
 ently asked. 
 
 " Yep." 
 
 " Stop to pass the time of day? " 
 
 " Well, no. But I cal ate he was in a hurry." 
 
 " Nothing the sort. His father s had him up on Sun 
 rise Rock, and back and forth they walked like nothing 
 on earth so much s them two in the New Testament that 
 went into a High Place and One was tempted." 
 
 " Sh ! That s sacrilegious, Nance." 
 
 " Well, I don t feel perticular meek, and I don t be 
 lieve a word of that promise about their inheriting the 
 earth. G long out and do the chores. I ll have supper 
 in half an hour." 
 
 Abner went, knowing she needed fifteen minutes for
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 315 
 
 another cry. Poor Nance, she was taking it hard. It was 
 the first time he had ever stood out against her, in all 
 their married life. She wouldn t have shed a tear if he d 
 let the woodlot go; it was the shame of that fence under 
 the sitting room window that was breaking her heart. 
 
 " Darn it all," he said, harking back a couple of de 
 cades, " why couldn t the town have bought of Mrs. 
 Judson Buckland for a pest house? " 
 
 Abner Slocumb just wouldn t acknowledge that his 
 predicament was due to the easy and procrastinating 
 habits of the Slocumbs. 
 
 Others wouldn t acknowledge it, either. 
 
 Halfway to the depot Solomon Russell, driving a new 
 little chunk, offered Stanislarni a lift. 
 
 " Git in," said Solomon, to Stanislarni, and then " Git 
 down " he said to the brown dog that was occupying half 
 his seat. For a good many years Solomon had won the 
 derision of West Holly by letting himself be bossed round 
 by a series of dogs, of which this was the third. Like 
 Mrs. Natupski, Solomon stood somewhat in awe of 
 Stanislarni, so " Git down where you belong, sir, on the 
 bottom the buggy," he repeated to the animal, adding 
 " I m going to bring this one up right. The others kind 
 o got round me, but you see I hadn t any experience with 
 the first feller, and I cosseted the second cause I was feel 
 ing so bad the other had to die. But this one ll toe the 
 mark. I m learning him manners. He was just setting 
 up here now as a reward for being good and riding 
 where he belonged yesterday." 
 
 Stanislarni laughed, and sat down on several million 
 dog hairs. " You think dogs have fine memories, Mr. 
 Russell," he observed.
 
 316 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Solomon also laughed. " You won t believe it, for 
 young men nowadays don t believe nothing, but the 
 average dog s got twicet the memory of the average 
 man." 
 
 " That doesn t apply to West Holly men," said Stanis- 
 larni. " I m told that meetings of the committee in 
 charge of that great celebration we re going to have when 
 the town s 250 years old can t get down to business be 
 cause the West Holly contingent reminisces so much." 
 
 " I wonder," said Solomon Russell, with the excessively 
 simple air he admired to put on when he was about to say 
 something malicious, " if they ever tell that old 
 story about how your pa was like to been rid out on a 
 rail?" 
 
 "I wonder!" exclaimed Stanislarni. "Let me see, 
 that must have been when I was about " 
 
 " You was said to be four year old," put in Russell, 
 with the promptness of a man who is always pat with the 
 dates and details of other folks affairs. " Arterward 
 I believe a few years was added so s you could fool the 
 Mifflin Mills. But I guess you weren t more n five, any 
 how. It was right arter you ma got here from Poland, 
 fetching you and your brother the one that was such a 
 pickle till you took him in hand and steadied him down. 
 Folks round West Holly was kind o put out the way 
 your father deceived em. They was about ready to 
 make him git, bag and baggage, and I don t think their 
 methods would o been none too gentle, either. They was 
 all r iled up. Funny to think how things come out, ain t 
 it? I ve wondered a good deal, lately, if Abner 
 Slocumb d been quite so strenuous on the Natupski side 
 if he could have seen into the future."
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 317 
 
 "I wonder? " said Stanislarni again. " He put up a. 
 good fight for my father, didn t he ? " 
 
 " Sure he did. Right in Deestrict Seven School, with 
 Bowes in the chair and me on the dunces block. Going 
 to git off here ? Well, goo night." 
 
 Solomon drove away, helping the dog to scramble on 
 the seat, and happy in having given the Natupski boy 
 something to think about. 
 
 Stanislarni abruptly plunged into a field grown up to 
 young birch, and breasted the bushes until he was hidden 
 
 from the road. Then he took off his hat and let the wind 
 
 
 
 cool his forehead, which was in a glow from Solomon 
 Russell s story. Stanislarni had never heard it before, 
 though he had mendaciously encouraged Solomon by 
 pretending to know it well. 
 
 After the still spring evening had done its soothing 
 best Stanislarni resumed the road. The next day he 
 came out to West Holly again. Folks who saw him go 
 by were of the opinion that he was snooping round to 
 help his father in something nefarious which was prob 
 ably worthy of admiration because bound to be a financial 
 success. The set of his shoulders was said to indicate a 
 masterful disposition, and there was a good deal Daniel 
 Websterlike in his massive head. " Going to see your 
 folks again ? " they asked. " You don t usually visit 
 em two days running!" 
 
 " This time," smiled Stanislarni, " I m going to call on 
 a lady." 
 
 It was only Miss Juletta Pinkney, and that every one 
 knew. Returning to West Holly at twenty-one Stanis 
 larni had immediately started to cultivate affection for
 
 318 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Miss Pinkney, a brisk ninety. She had not, one observes, 
 kept her promise to her mother s picture. 
 
 Stanislarni went to the south door, raised the shining 
 knocker, and was admitted by the glum- faced house 
 keeper who sometimes changed her personality, because 
 West Holly was such a forsaken place to work out in, 
 but whose face was always glum. 
 
 Stanislarni took four steps up the long flight and 
 entered the north room. Julia Farrar was standing by 
 the window. She used to totter on her feet for hours, 
 talking to Juletta, and preserving the fiction that she was 
 going the next minute. 
 
 " My eye and Betty Martin," she said to Stanislarni, 
 " doesn t my sister hold her age? " 
 
 " I ve just found an example," said Juletta, " in 
 mother s family. We never used to speak of them, but 
 they were Hallowells, and their history has been put in a 
 volume. My double great grandmother has this on her 
 gravestone : 
 
 Sprightly I walked life s journey through 
 Till I arrived at ninety-two, 
 And then deferred my trip to heaven 
 Till all my years was one and seven. " 
 
 Julia Farrar nodded at Stanislarni. " See the stent 
 she s setting herself," said Julia, and disarranged her 
 teeth giggling, so that she had to totter across the hall 
 into her own domain. 
 
 Miss Pinkney and Stanislarni had discovered they were 
 affinities in the inconsequential way such affairs are usu 
 ally arranged. Stanislarni had looked nextdoor one day
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 319 
 
 and observed that there was the quaint old lady who used 
 to speak so sharply to the Natupski children if they ven 
 tured to pick anything over the fence. At the same mo 
 ment Miss Pinkney noticed what a great hulking youth 
 that oldest Natupski was. He removed his hat he was 
 wearing one of those cheap Panamas that you fold into 
 your pocket if it rains. She never forgot his hat. Then 
 he bowed and showed his white teeth in a wide smile. 
 
 " Come up and see me, young sir," called Juletta, in her 
 clear old voice, and " By all means," returned Stanislarni 
 in his youthful roar. There was a good deal of amaze 
 ment when he continued to go in and out of the South 
 door, but after a while it died down. As we know, West 
 Holly could get used to anything. 
 
 Stanislarni seemed to find all the feminine society he 
 wished in that North room. He often mused, loverlike, 
 over Miss Pinkney s fleece of white hair, and her soft 
 hand, on which sparkled a valuable diamond. Julia 
 Farrar had given her the diamond on her eightieth birth 
 day. Julia Farrar often gave her things like that, saying 
 she didn t see any need of swapping wash rags for 
 presents just because they were old. Youth had youth, 
 that was about enough. Let old age have the gim- 
 cracks. 
 
 The romantic affection Juletta had conserved when she 
 was very young and wooed by Hiram Farrar and others 
 she freely gave to Stanislarni. Perhaps it was hardly 
 worth while to keep it any longer. She listened for hours 
 to his plans, and told him plainly when she thought his 
 neckties were abominable, calling them cravats. 
 
 Stanislarni sat down in a wing chair and beamed at 
 Miss Pinkney in another. The windows were full of
 
 320 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 hyacinths and Juletta wore a hyacinth-colored gown and 
 a white crepe shawl. A slow fire smoldered behind the 
 brass fender. Sometimes the blue smoke came down the 
 chimney instead of going up; the smell of resinous wood 
 was then added to the perfume of flowers. 
 
 " You re not talking," said Juletta. 
 
 " I don t want to talk," said Stanislarni. 
 
 " Well, don t then, till you feel you want to," replied 
 Juletta, and added something to future years by taking a 
 nap. When she opened her eyes she was met by Stanis- 
 larni s smile. She always thrilled at that smile. It told 
 her that if anything happened to Hiram Farrar and Julia 
 and they were none so robust she would not be left 
 uncared for. 
 
 " I want you to tell me," said Stanislarni, " about the 
 three farms yours, my father s, and Mr. Slocumb s. 
 Who owned the land originally?" 
 
 " The Slocumbs came a little the first," Juletta ad 
 mitted, sadly. " The first Slocumb got it from the Injuns. 
 Then our ancestor, Primus Pinkney, took a grant from 
 the Mifflin settlers, who claimed everything in the Out 
 ward Commons, and he and the Slocumbs fixed up a 
 boundary." 
 
 " Land wasn t worth so much in those days," put in 
 Julia Farrar. " Twas about all they had. And trees 
 they burned em to get shut of em." 
 
 " And some time my father s farm was carved out? " 
 
 " Yes. A Buckland bought fifty acres from each, and 
 so it went down to Judson and Mrs. Judson. I ve heard 
 there was considerable feeling against the first Buckland. 
 He was from Canada and folks called him a foreigner." 
 
 " And then came my father from Poland a real
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 321 
 
 foreigner ! I learned yesterday how excited West Holly 
 got over his arrival." 
 
 " Mr. Abner Slocumb," Juletta went on, " was always 
 a friend to your folks." 
 
 " I remember a good many cakes and little kindnesses," 
 said Stanislarni. 
 
 There was probably other matters, too," said Ju 
 letta, " though I can t recall them. I had troubles of my 
 own about that time. But when it comes to settling ac 
 counts between the Natupskis and the Slocumbs you 
 mustn t let your father forget the debts he owes. On 
 this side, now, it s different. The Natupskis owe the 
 Pinkneys nothing " 
 
 Two pink luster saucers," came in sepulchral tones 
 from the next room. 
 
 "What?" roared Stanislarni, startled. 
 
 " I said, two pink luster saucers." 
 
 Juletta smiled and Julia Farrar rambled to the door 
 so she might be seen snickering. For some eighteen years 
 the tragedy of the saucers had served the ladies as a joke. 
 They used to wrap the cups in bulky parcels and present 
 them to each other Christmases. Juletta had found the 
 diamond ring inside one cup, the cup being in a sawdust 
 filled oyster keg. 
 
 Stanislarni put the story of the auction into that corner 
 of his mind where he kept the charming whimsicalities of 
 Miss Juletta, and went back to Holly, after a brief call 
 on his mother, whose cheeks were still salty. He was 
 hurrying to the trolley, when a woman tumped on a 
 parlor window and beckoned him to go round to the door. 
 The woman was Mrs. Judson Buckland, now so fleshy 
 that a calico pony would have been hard put to it to
 
 322 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 drag her about. So she stayed at home and made folks 
 come to her. She was still the free-and-easy sort. 
 
 " Here, young feller," said she, " I understand your 
 father s going to put the screws on Abner Slocumb and 
 squeeze him till he hollers for help. What I m going to 
 tell would make a sight of difference if you d any sense 
 of gratitude, but I s pose you ain t. And at that it may 
 be some use in showing what a fool Slocumb always 
 was. The first payment your father made after mov 
 ing in was three dollars too much. Slocumb found it 
 out and over he goes and gives your pa three dollars outen 
 his own pocket, pretending I d sent it by him. Your pa 
 told me about it next time I called, before I could open 
 my head to say a word. Now it s nothing against your 
 folks to say three dollars about then probably looked 
 as big as three thousand would about now. Don t set 
 there staring at the door. I ve had my say and it s off 
 my chest. S long." 
 
 Stanislarni had listened to the three revelations with 
 the unmoved front acquired when undergoing mental 
 hazing in early college days. They had really impressed 
 him deeply; and he could not believe they would not 
 impress his father. The next day he invited his father 
 to come up on Sunrise Rock and have a talk. Mrs. 
 Natupski watched them, through tears. She climbed into 
 the garret and peeped from a window festooned with 
 dead wasps and the carcasses of flies in spider webs. 
 
 They talked a long time. They pointed. Kani once 
 lashed several trees. Finally they shook hands, like a 
 couple of Americans. She stumbled downstairs, unable 
 to see for weeping. 
 
 The men were also watched from next door. Nancy
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 323 
 
 Slocumb had climbed to her garret to spy, only, of course, 
 she looked forth between festoons of red peppers and 
 green " yarbs." 
 
 Up on Sunrise Rock they were saying something like 
 this: 
 
 " What d ye think, father, of a man who don t pay 
 his just bills?" 
 
 Kani Natupski, seeing a connection with the Slocumb 
 mortgage, launched forth into a long description of what 
 he thought of such a man. He could not say all he 
 thought on the subject in English. He took refuge in the 
 speech of his native land. But he ended in good West 
 Holly, " Slocumb not pay me slap up me send um side 
 winder knock um slantindicular." 
 
 " What d ye think, father, of men who don t pay debts 
 of the kind money can t settle ? " 
 
 Then Kani Natupski got up and banged the trees. His 
 son was a fool. What if Mrs. Slocumb was always 
 putting pieces of pie over the fence? The Natupskis 
 didn t want her pie. He never ate pie, even when Statia 
 tried to make him. A money debt was the only debt. 
 
 Stanislarni made him pause and listen to a story of 
 the time when all West Holly had been on the point of 
 driving the Natupskis from town and Abner Slocumb 
 had stopped them. It did not impress Kani Natupski. 
 He lacked imagination to put himself back in those days, 
 just as he had lacked imagination to put himself back in 
 Poland by Marinki, when he married Olka. 
 
 Then Stanislarni told what his voice trembled to speak 
 of that pitiful little deception of the three dollars. But 
 Kani Natupski had known that long ago. And he 
 sneered when reminded of Mrs. Slocumb s kindnesses.
 
 324 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 All this vexed Kani. He knew what it meant. Stanis- 
 larni wanted him to be good to the old fellow. Probably 
 he wanted to take the mortgage into his own hands, and 
 be an easy creditor, like the one Slocumb had a long 
 time ago. 
 
 " Stroke the cat and go off with nothing, while me 
 pay M s Buckland slam bang up," grumbled the father. 
 
 " No," said Stanislarni, " I don t intend to try to buy 
 the mortgage, and I don t want you to make me a present 
 of it." 
 
 " Sure not ! " Kani was in a terrible hurry to avoid 
 being considered capable of such a foolish action. 
 
 " I want you, father," and Stanislarni spoke with as 
 much slow impressiveness as he used when trying Eng 
 lish on his mother, " I want you to go, of your own 
 accord because it s your debt, you know to Mr. Slo 
 cumb and tell him he s to help you move the fence back to 
 where it used to be, before the post holes get sodded 
 over." 
 
 " A right," said Kani. " He give me equal swap on 
 woodland here. Me got t have woodland." 
 
 " No, father, there is to be no bargain whatsoever. 
 Move the fence back, stop mamma and Mrs. Slocumb 
 crying, and let things go on as they will. I m going to 
 propose a new crop to Mr. Slocumb strawberries, and 
 take them every day to Mifflin in the auto. Miss Pink- 
 ney says all round here was what the Indians called Min- 
 nichogue berry land. I think you ll get your interest 
 yet." 
 
 " Dam ! " said Kani. " Interests to hell ! Me don t 
 want interest. Don t want dooryard. Want woodland 
 jus woodland."
 
 OLD BILLS TO PAY 325 
 
 " But what for ? You ve got all the wood we can 
 burn in a couple of lifetimes." 
 
 Kani thrust his head out and down in a way he had, 
 and looked as if doubtful whether to butt the person 
 vexing him or to dash his brains forth in a fury of 
 revenge. Finally he spoke. 
 
 " Me and Anton got plan. Keep awful still, so folks 
 sell cheap. Me got how you call it? option on woods 
 way to top mountain. Bowes sell he got lots more 
 Solomon Russell sell. Everybody sell, only Slocumb. 
 Slocumb must sell, so wood can be brought down this 
 way, over my land. Other ways too steep, too far." 
 
 " But father you wouldn t chop off the mountain? " 
 Stanislarni was not born in this country, but he felt all 
 the sentiment of West Holly, that chopping off the 
 mountain was a revolution. 
 
 "Ei? Make us rich. Big tree, growing long fore we 
 come from Poland. Growing for us." 
 
 Stanislarni put a protecting hand on the towering pine 
 by his side and wondered. Had these trees grown for 
 his father and Anton just as other trees had grown for 
 the first Slocumbs or Pinkneys ? They burned those not 
 needed for cabins and barns. His father would make 
 money with those falling to his share. Was there a 
 difference? 
 
 Yes, Stanislarni felt there was a difference, and he 
 must study it out. His father had found a country 
 ready made and had taken advantage of its offerings. 
 And first, at any rate, he must be forced to pay the 
 debt to Abner Slocumb. 
 
 " I think you re going to do what I suggest, father," 
 he said, " because because "
 
 326 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 " Because what for ? " 
 
 " Because " Stanislarni looked Pinkney way and 
 
 thought what Miss Juletta had told him, " because, 
 father, I learned yesterday of another debt you owe 
 a real money debt. You have been owing it many years. 
 But I intend to pay it, father, for you ! " 
 
 It was then Kani got up, self -accused of one knows 
 not what bewildering tangle with American finances in 
 his early West Holly days, and the watching women 
 saw hands shaken. 
 
 The fence was moved, Nancy Slocumb wiped her eyes 
 and entertained the juvenile Slocumbs at tea, while Abner 
 planned strawberries for another year for he had 
 always been best on planning. Stanislarni alone fell 
 down. 
 
 He went to Boston for the sole purpose of finding 
 two pink luster saucers, entered all the antique stores on 
 Boylston Street, and took part in the following conversa 
 tion: 
 
 " What would you want for two pink luster saucers to 
 match this cup? " 
 
 (He had filched one of the precious cups, with the con 
 nivance of Hiram Farrar. ) 
 
 " About ten dollars each " 
 
 " Here s the money " 
 
 " If I had any such. But I haven t." 
 
 So the cup was sneaked back to live out a saucerless 
 old age with its fellow. However Stanislarni trusted 
 he might yet be able to settle the debt in some other way.
 
 X 
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 
 
 " NIE," said Kani Natupski. " Me not go. Can t go. 
 Old sow, she threaten." 
 
 Stanislarni was urging him to take an interest in the 
 25oth anniversary of Holly s founding. 
 
 " Nie," persisted Kani. " Old sow, she threaten. Me 
 to home. You and Stepan ride in automobile machine." 
 
 There was special bitterness in this last direction. 
 Stepan and Stanislarni had written a poem which saw 
 light in the Hamson Chronotype, stirred West Holly to 
 its foundations, and drove Kani Natupski to a point 
 where he would have up stakes and returned to his 
 native land but for the great war and hope of cutting 
 off the mountain. 
 
 Stepan had presented it as a " theme " to Miss Olive 
 Greene, while conscientiously declaring, " I made the 
 words, but my brother told me the thoughts." 
 
 The last were the outcome of a lecture by one of 
 those of " alien birth " whose patronizing Stanislarni 
 deplored. 
 
 " Will all the immigrants before me stand up," said 
 the lady, and when some half-dozen arose out of an 
 audience of two hundred, " Oh," said she, scornfully, " I 
 see I am addressing the Lords of the Land," and lam 
 basted them unmercifully. 
 
 327
 
 328 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Stanislarni talked his feelings out in the presence of 
 Stepan, with this result : 
 
 An old New England theme, the Pilgrim Fathers came 
 To worship as they would, make others do the same. 
 They cleared the land of trees, began Thanksgiving Day; 
 They cleared the rattlers off, in safety made their hay; 
 They cleared the Redskins out, nor left a single stand; 
 The Hessians then cleared off, and they Lords of the 
 Land. 
 
 They d conquered ev ry foe, then to improve hard by 
 They slipped each man a vote, invented pumpkin pie, 
 Made poverty vamoose, taught ignorance to Hee, 
 And set a schoolhouse red where er a church might be. 
 The nice girls "service took," the men worked hand in 
 
 hand, 
 Yet each one for himself, and each Lord of the Land. 
 
 And then the Irish rushed from England s bulldog jaws, 
 As cops to carry out, as statesmen make, our laws; 
 Polanders came to learn, yet still evade the schools; 
 Italians longed to die unvexed by hygiene s rules. 
 And still they herd in slums, and will not understand 
 Ten in a room by night don t make Lords of the Land. 
 
 You were an alien folk who now are native sons, 
 Yet clung you to the old as do these other ones? 
 Nay, nay; tis writ that you oft cooked the Indian corn 
 In Indian ways before the first white child was born; 
 And no man whined for help who in cowhides could 
 
 stand 
 And work till he became a real Lord of the Land.
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 329 
 
 You would the stranger hordes, who make you question 
 
 "Why?" 
 Would cut the black bread out and learn New England 
 
 pie, 
 Your menus and your screens, your schools and bathtubs, 
 
 yea, 
 
 And to these stranger hordes just this you have to say 
 " New Pilgrim Fathers be, go cultivate their sand, 
 Then hence three hundred years you ll strut, Lords of the 
 
 Land." 
 
 Miss Olive Greene didn t know exactly what to make 
 of this, so she marked it with a double a, and said, " Go 
 cultivate their sand," wasn t a respectful manner of 
 speech about a Pilgrim Father. Then she showed it to 
 Miss Fanny Atwood of the Chronotype aforesaid. 
 
 Kani Natupski had clippings of the verses in all his 
 pockets. He would take them out and try to read them 
 and then go and beat a fence post. Telling him he must 
 stay three hundred years in this America before he would 
 be a Lord of the Land ! He, with an option on the timber 
 privilege of Holly Mountain. 
 
 This option was on the verge of being closed. The 
 logs would be snaked down to a pentway, as Abner 
 Slocumb had proved obdurate. It would result in cash 
 in the pockets of at least five men, and utter destruction 
 to Holly s chief beauty and principal source of water 
 supply. 
 
 " I say," said Abner Slocumb to Stanislarni, one June 
 evening, " would you like to take a walk with me begin 
 ning at Sunrise Rock and ending at Rattlesnake Peak ? " 
 
 " No," said Stanislarni, who shrank from any dis-
 
 330 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 cussion of his father these days. It was not seemly to 
 be always quarreling with one s father. 
 
 " Didn t suppose you would," said Abner ; " come 
 along." 
 
 They paused but a moment at Sunrise Rock, then 
 plunged into the forest, and over the carpet of brown 
 leaves, bordered with brakes and beautified by a pattern 
 of partridge vines, made their way upward. Perhaps 
 it was forest primeval, at any rate these were trees to 
 whose growth more than one century had contributed. 
 Pines, hemlocks, maples, with here and there a splendid 
 " paper birch " of ghostly white stem ; to walk among 
 them was like walking in a Hans Andersen story. 
 
 " We better enjoy it," said Abner, chewing sassafras 
 leaves. " It s the last time we ll want to come up here. 
 I never had any heart, myself, for a place that s been 
 cut off. Makes me think of what I imagine a battlefield 
 might be. Nature don t do her work so vi lent and 
 sudden. Course we can imitate nature and take out a 
 tree here and there year after year, but that ain t the 
 road to fortune." 
 
 " I wish you d shut up," said Stanislarni. 
 
 " I know you do," said Abner. " Did you ever see 
 anything prettier than the sunshine creeping down be 
 twixt those walnuts? And look at the white rabbits 
 whooping it up in that clearing mongst the everlast 
 ing blossoms ! Next year I suppose this won t be nothing 
 but stumps and raggedy sumachs and general destruc 
 tion." 
 
 " I can t bear to think of it," said Stanislarni. 
 
 " Of course you can t," returned Abner Slocumb. 
 " Yet after all why shouldn t it be chopped off and some
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 331 
 
 newcomers get the benefit? I d know as my folks was 
 particular considerate of the rights and wishes of those 
 that come afore em, back in the seventeenth century. 
 I presume the Injuns thought considerable of their 
 woods, where they d chased the well, whatever they 
 chased and made trail marks on the trees and camped 
 and been masters of all they surveyed. Yet they said 
 What cheer ? to Roger Williams down in Providence 
 Plantations after the Puritans had driv him out, and I 
 understand they sold to my ancestor for a jug o fire 
 water and a ole gun." 
 
 " They didn t see the future," said Stanislarni. 
 
 " No. And I wonder sometimes if we Americans saw 
 it. If we had we wouldn t have cut and slashed and 
 forgotten those that was to come after us, and dried up 
 the water courses and been generally me for myself and 
 the devil take the hindmost. Well, here we be on Rat 
 tlesnake Peak. I ain t got no posterity, so I ain t no 
 call to regret this one place can t be left for em. Climb 
 up the ladder into that topmost tree, Stanislarni. They 
 say you can see the dome of the state house to Hartford 
 from it." 
 
 " I don t care a hoorah in hell for the state house at 
 Hartford," said Stanislarni. 
 
 " Sure not. Well, then let s go home-along. And I 
 want to talk with you about your future, Stanislarni, 
 which is a darn sight more importance than any old pine 
 tree. I s pose you re perfectly satisfied to boss a motor 
 truck all your life? " 
 
 " No," said Stanislarni, " I m not. You know well 
 enough I m not, Mr. Slocumb. I just drifted into that, 
 because Holly, and especially West Holly, needed some
 
 332 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 way to reach a market, and no one else had thought of 
 risking an auto express. I m making money and giving 
 Holly something that was badly needed, but I m not 
 contented. Wajeiceh can run the business now; it seems 
 to me I ought to be doing something in which I would 
 use all the ability that is developed by education." 
 
 "Does it?" said Abner. "Well, it s too bad things 
 have turned out the way they has. And now good 
 night. I s pose I ll see you tomorrow in the parade." 
 
 The 250 years were up. Nature smiled, as it had not 
 smiled when the town was instituted. This took place, 
 said history, in a terrible storm. The first settlers 1 of 
 Holly met in the open, to praise the Lord and establish 
 town government; they were forced to adjourn to a 
 barn, and when the roof blew off they went elsewhere. 
 
 Now the town had an academy, a railroad, several 
 churches of warring denominations, three full grave 
 yards, a soldiers monument at Holly Centre, of atrocious 
 design; and the Natupskis. 
 
 Holly Centre spent itself on a parade. Winding under 
 the arched elms of the street, it was wonderfully im 
 pressive. First came the prominent townsmen, with 
 whom Kani Natupski would not walk; then an old-time 
 Master Buckland disciplining an early District Seven; 
 next Mrs. Sabrina Perkins churning in a chaise, as il 
 lustration of the way time used to be saved. 
 
 Next, the " Last Indian " on a float. 
 
 There he sat, before a wigwam hung round with pelts. 
 He was very old, one could see that, and longing for 
 the happy hunting ground. Holly history said this one 
 red man had lingered until the middle of the eighteenth 
 century and made his final stand on the mountain.
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 333 
 
 This was an unexpected part of the show and it made 
 an amazing appeal. Peanuts stopped on the way to 
 parted lips and jiggling children went for a moment un- 
 scolded. 
 
 " Who is the man ? " asked Mrs. Tweed, over from 
 Eastfield for the occasion. " He has gotten up the float 
 like an old painting, in subdued browns and dull reds, 
 in keeping with the sentiment. See the brown leaves 
 under foot the withered pine above the wigwam the 
 faded blanket? He is an artist. What is his name? 
 And how completely his face fulfils one s conception of 
 the Indian type." 
 
 " That s Stanislarni Natupski, ma am," said Abner 
 Slocumb, who was standing near. " And I tell you it s 
 taken work and thought to get up that living pictur. 
 That blanket it s hung outside my barn fading all 
 spring. Looks the spitting image of an Injun, don t he ? 
 I heard a fellow say in a lecture the American red man 
 favored a lot of nationalities, and I believed it when I 
 see Stan Natupski browned up." 
 
 Of course Kani Natupski did not approve of his son s 
 performances. Found at the close of day ostentatiously 
 hovering about the pig-pen, where nothing was happen 
 ing, he grunted, " Why you no take prize ? Six week you 
 spend painting tent and making bow arrow, then you no 
 take prize." 
 
 "Wasn t it noble of him?" burbled Yadna. "He 
 gave it up to The First Settlers float because there was 
 fifteen on that and they rehearsed so much. It was a ten- 
 dollar gold piece. I seen it with my own eyes. 
 
 Papa ran out his tongue at the wastrel and ordered 
 them both away. They were disturbing the sow.
 
 334 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 Holly Depot had its innings and then came West 
 Holly s day. Kani Natupski could keep none of his 
 brood at work, though all got up as early as he did in 
 order that the weatherbeaten house might burst forth 
 into bunting. Stanislarni and Stepan proudly surveyed 
 the huge flag which covered the front from garret to 
 foundation. 
 
 " Good enough," said Abner Slocumb, from the bay- 
 window roof, where he perched while nailing the date of 
 his ancestor s Indian grant. 
 
 Then he chuckled so he narrowly escaped sliding off 
 the roof. " Wonder if the Perkinses will show a still? " 
 he inquired of the universe. " Prohibitionist Sabrina s 
 folks was in the rum and brandy making line way back. 
 Sure, I m ready for breakfast, Nance, if it s ready for 
 me. West Holly is all diddled up and the doings can t 
 begin none too soon to suit us." 
 
 The first to issue from the Natupski house was Kazia, 
 who had kept close to Mrs. Tweed the two previous 
 days. That lady had gone back to Eastfield, and Kazia 
 walked in apprehension. It would seem impossible to 
 escape meeting Nick Kovinski in West Holly, should he 
 come. Kazia had wanted him to take it hard when she 
 wrote she could not fulfil her promise to him, but he 
 had taken it with bitter jauntiness. 
 
 " Yet he didn t marry Mamie Leary, yet," thought 
 Kazia, and wondered why. She was rather afraid to 
 meet him suddenly in the lush June country, where they 
 had become lovers. 
 
 Thinking thus, Kazia stalked along to the three corners. 
 Suddenly, from behind her, came pattering feet, and to 
 her spoke a hurried voice.
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 335 
 
 " Kazia, Kazik, did you see any one on a red motor 
 cycle with a car longside?" 
 
 It was Rinka escaping papa s espionage; Rinka in a 
 sport hat, a striped jacket, white skirt, and fancy shoes. 
 How she had gotten them no one knows, as it now took 
 all that Jefferson Browne paid for the support of the 
 twins to support them. 
 
 " I did not," said Kazia, sternly. Since she had lived 
 in Eastfield she had come to disapprove of Rinka in 
 thorough manner. Straight and calm she stood, look 
 ing rather unsisterly. Mrs. Tweed considered her a 
 model, with plain coiled hair under an untrimmed 
 Panama hat, and large feet in ground gripper shoes. 
 Mrs. Perkins told Susy that was the way a self-respecting 
 young woman should turn herself out. Still Kazia had 
 not Rinka s tricks of eyes and so would probably miss 
 some of life s zest. 
 
 " If you do see anybody like that," gasped Rinka, 
 " I ll be down by the church shed. We ve missed each 
 other somehow papa made me help him change the 
 sow s bedding, and I had to dress all over again. He 
 wears a cap backside to and yellow giglamps." 
 
 " Rinka," said her sister, sternly, " I should think 
 you d had enough of men to keep out of scrapes. You 
 stay right here beside me." 
 
 " Not much I won t," returned Rinka, swinging her 
 immaculate skirt skittishly. " You haven t been home, 
 Kazia, much, and you don t know what a hell of a life 
 papa leads me. He got it in for me always, and now he 
 expects likely I ll stick around and be his nigger slave 
 till I m old as next-door Miss Pinkney for my keep. 
 Well, I been looking for today. I m going to go for a
 
 336 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 ride over to Mifflin Grove. Then I m coming back and 
 I ll walk in on papa and say to him, G by, papa. Here s 
 where you get off. Just like that. Here s where you 
 get off. " 
 
 Kazia was amazed to faint speech. " What do you 
 mean what are you going to Mifflin for?" she whis 
 pered. 
 
 " To be married, you big goose. He don t care if 
 Jeff Browne did divorce me." 
 
 " Oh, Rinka," pleaded Kazia, " don t marry " 
 
 " Pooh for you ! You re an old maid, and like it, I 
 s pose. But I don t notice papa getting you to carry no 
 swill when you re round home. I m going to get married 
 and that s straight goods." 
 
 " I mean don t marry in this underhand way. 
 Stanislarni and I would arrange it in proper 
 fashion " 
 
 "Naw," said Rinka, " nothing doing. Papa ll be mad 
 enough to kill some one, and I want him to be, but I ain t 
 mean enough to get the rest of you in bad. I m just 
 going to break his heart all by myself. Listen ! I m 
 going to take the twins ! " 
 
 Just then they turned the corner by the church and 
 Kazia found herself caught in a snarl of her relations 
 Novia blushing beside Bert Sears, Wajeiceh proudly tell 
 ing Tadcuse how that the final clearing of this bit of land 
 as a green park on which to place the monument came 
 from the action of three boys who first leveled it and 
 threw off the large stones so they might play ball 
 there. 
 
 " Those boys," observed Wajeiceh, with the air of a 
 schoolmaster, " were named Wajeiceh Natupski, Frank
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 337 
 
 Bowes Seymour, and Shaum Kelly. The neighbors 
 often referred to them as pickles, which was not 
 polite." 
 
 " You ain t polite, either," said Tadcuse. " You said 
 yourself first. Lookit, what s Kazik making motions 
 for?" 
 
 The excited sister got Wajeiceh one side and told him 
 the awful tale. Marinka was going to elope. 
 
 " Good work ! " said Wajeiceh. 
 
 Kazia grasped him by the arm feverishly. " It must 
 be stopped," she declared. " No one knows who the 
 man is, or whether he ll support her and treat her well. 
 She s reckless. She was reckless before." 
 
 " Maybe so," said Wajeiceh, " though I ve got an idea 
 the first affair was done with father s full blessing. 
 Perhaps that s why the little devil thinks she can dis 
 pense with it this time. But you re wrong in one point. 
 The fellow ll support her. Hello, Stan!" 
 
 Kazia was turning to wring her hands for Stanislarni s 
 benefit, but Wajeiceh blurted out the news. 
 
 " Rinka s flew the coop." 
 
 " Good work ! " said Stanislarni. 
 
 This unanimity of masculine opinion brought Kazia to 
 despair. She burst into tears. " Brutes ! " she exclaimed, 
 " laughing while your sister rides to ruin on a motor 
 cycle " 
 
 " No, no, not so bad as that," said Stanislarni, " only 
 to a basement grocery store. She thinks she d rather 
 work there than in a pig-pen." 
 
 " I don t blame her," said Statia, calmly, as she joined 
 the group, without seeming to need any explanation of 
 the subject which was engaging them. Novia also came
 
 338 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 near. " We ve been down to see them off," she whis 
 pered, " Bert and me. Rinka let me kiss her." 
 
 " They ve made a getaway," added Yadna. " Round 
 the Hamson road. He d brung a motor bonnet and 
 duster for Rinka. You wouldn t know her from a hole 
 in the ground." 
 
 Kazia s indignation had dried her eyes. " If you are 
 all acquainted with the affair," she said, bitterly, " and 
 all think it so fine, why let it be a secret business? " 
 
 " Sposh," said Bert Sears, " little sister-in-law-to-be, 
 you don t seem to be wise." 
 
 " She ain t," grinned Wajeiceh, " she don t know 
 Rinka s marrying Nick Kovinski ! " 
 
 ; You remember who Nick Kovinski is, don t you, 
 Kazia?" asked Statia, but Kazia was saved from 
 replying ! 
 
 The West Holly monument had to be dedicated, whe 
 ther or not affairs were quiet in the Natupski family. 
 
 So, " Shush, there, girls," warned Mrs. Perkins, finger 
 up, " the exercises are about to begin." Yadna ran to 
 join the children on the bank, whose voices soon rose 
 more or less tunefully, but with all the freshness and 
 bravery of untried youth, asserting 
 
 My country, tis of thee, 
 Sweet land of liberty, 
 Of thee I sing. 
 
 They sang so loud of her that even Kani Natupski 
 heard it, and was drawn away from his pig-pen. Con 
 scious of dirty clothes, he slouched behind the graveyard 
 wall, and watched every man take off his hat as
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 339 
 
 Blanchard Bowes finished his brief oration, and the 
 monument was uncovered. Kani Natupski privately 
 thought it a pretty poor affair. Only a huge boulder, 
 with a simple plate of bronze bearing the names of two 
 dozen West Holly men who had gone to fight the South 
 in the 6o s, and of the few others who had carried 
 guns in the Revolution, the War of 1812, the French 
 and Indian war, and that of 98. Small and unimportant 
 as West Holly was, it had been represented in every 
 contest. Abner Slocumb noticed this and spoke of it 
 to Solomon Russell. 
 
 " Can t say West Holly ain t stuck its finger in every 
 national pie," he observed. " We may not figure large 
 in census returns, but we generally got some of every 
 thing that s going." 
 
 " Yes," said Russell, " I understand the sheriff s tank 
 ing up and there s liable to be murder tonight at Natup- 
 ski s. One of the girls has eloped with young Kovinski. 
 There s always been bad blood between them families." 
 
 " Shucks," said Abner. " Anything Mr. Natupski 
 does now has to measure up to his oldest son s ruling. 
 I guess Stanislarni Natupski will keep murder from 
 being did if he has to kill some one in the process. 
 He s strong, Stanislarni is, and dependable. Always 
 know where to find him. His mother never did a better 
 day s work than when she brung up here with him, all the 
 way from Poland." 
 
 And where was Mrs. Natupski all this time? Would 
 not she have enjoyed seeing her Kazia bravely walking 
 arm in arm with Susan Perkins, her Novia an object of 
 envy to most any West Holly damsel, her Wajeiceh 
 escorting dignitaries about ? She and Stepan could have
 
 340 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 exchanged looks of understanding, too, as the flag was 
 run up on the pole at one end of the new little park. 
 
 Mrs. Natupski was not there. Mrs. Natupski was 
 otherwise engaged. She had gone to the Mercy Hos 
 pital to have a baby ! Her having the baby was nothing, 
 but her going to the hospital was something to talk 
 about. The older children had insisted on it. Statia 
 made inquiries and arrangements, and Stanislarni drove 
 the car in which she went, accompanied by all her 
 daughters of adult size. It promised to make Mrs. 
 Natupski s place in society. No West Holly child had 
 ever been born in a hospital. 
 
 After they had left her Mrs. Natupski s mind reverted 
 to her other hospital experience. White tiling, men 
 doctors, nurses in starched clothes, and nothing to do, 
 nothing at all to do, for three weeks. They wouldn t let 
 you get up for three weeks. And the baby was taken 
 away to be trained. A nurse with polyglot linguistic 
 accomplishments took Mrs. Natupski to the nursery, 
 showed her the rows of cribs, and explained that the 
 ones crying were only taking their half -hour s allowance 
 of such exercise to develop their lungs. Every baby, 
 she remarked, had to cry half an hour for that purpose. 
 Mrs. Natupski thought it would take something extraor 
 dinary, like a sharp pin, to make one of her babies cry 
 that much. 
 
 Then she wanted to know how she could be sure al 
 ways of getting her own, and the kind nurse explained 
 about the adhesive plaster which was slapped on the 
 wrist as soon as an infant entered the world. Quite 
 contented, Mrs. Natupski let them etherize her, for 
 nothing was forbidden patients in this establishment
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 341 
 
 she might even have had something called twilight sleep, 
 only it would have seemed ridiculous for one who had 
 easily been the mother of ten. 
 
 Sunset came to West Holly, as usual, about half an 
 hour before it came anywhere else, on account of the 
 mountain. Abner Slocumb and Stanislarni Natupski 
 took down their flags. Stanislarni thought the old house 
 came out shabbier than ever after its one day of brave 
 apparel. He wondered how he could keep his self-made 
 agreement not to interfere in his father s affairs. All 
 these children and more growing up in filth and dis 
 order. A return of absolute ingratitude to all Holly s 
 opportunities in the cutting and slashing of the mountain. 
 There was mother to consider, too. He believed she 
 would return from the hospital longing for something 
 better than her home. He had caught her passing 
 an approving hand over enamelled paint in Statia s 
 kitchen. 
 
 Stanislarni turned and saw his father looking, also. 
 Kani spoke, then, with the bitterness of one who had 
 long chewed on the subject. 
 
 " My country of thee," said Kani, " thee I sing. 
 America. Hell with America. In America money, yes. 
 In Poland, not so much. In Poland fathers, mothers, 
 childrens, grandchildrens, all one. Me see you now. 
 There stand you. And you think you think white 
 paints, green blinds, fine chairs to rock over in, tin beds, 
 plates with pictures on. You think better mountain all 
 trees than copper money for me and Anton. You all 
 thinks so. You all thinks different from your papa. 
 Zinzic, c m here." 
 
 The little boy sidled up, finger in mouth. He sup-
 
 342 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 posed papa was going to lick him; he couldn t tell what 
 for. 
 
 " Zinzic, you like house made new, all paint like 
 Statia s, and iron crib and chair-rocker in parlor stead 
 celery? " 
 
 " You bet you ! " said the child. 
 
 " And you like Rattlesnake Peak all tree, like now, or 
 no tree but stump ? " 
 
 " Trees ! Trees ! " shouted Zinzic. " No trees there, 
 teacher can t take us on bird walks." 
 
 Kani Natupski turned away with a gesture of despair. 
 He had interrogated Zinzic as one apt to be least touched 
 by American notions. Six years only in America and 
 see what it had done to him! Kani felt himself alone 
 in the world. And the worst of it was that he was to 
 blame. He had chosen this for his home and for the 
 home of his revolting children. He was not even quite 
 sure, in his inmost heart, that he would like to be back 
 in Poland, if there was no awful war. He was all the 
 more strenuous for the old ways because he felt himself 
 weakening as their sole representative. 
 
 Abner Slocumb slouched over, seemingly for a confab, 
 but really to bring news, gathered by telephone. Nancy 
 came about six paces behind him, which was the way she 
 and Abner went anywhere together. The cat nipped 
 along as far behind her as she was behind Abner. 
 
 " At 2 136 p.m. this afternoon in Mifflin," Abner began, 
 as if reading it out of a newspaper, " Arthur Slocumb, 
 J. of the P., united Mr. Nicholas Kovinski, Jr., to Mrs. 
 Marinka Browne, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Kani Natup 
 ski of West Holly. Kindly omit flowers no, I don t 
 mean that ! "
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 343 
 
 For a moment Karri s eyes glittered ominously. 
 Twenty years ago he would have given Abner Slocumb 
 a whip cut, because that was the way one treated the 
 bringer of bad news. Ten years ago he would only have 
 beaten innocent members of the family. Now he stood 
 still and breathed hard. Yadna, who believed in having 
 it all out while the mood was on, put an addenda to the 
 notice. " And she says she s going to take the twins, 
 papa. Her new man is got a grocery store and little 
 boys is awful useful in a grocery." 
 
 " Never you mind that," said Abner Slocumb. " My 
 second piece of news ll make you forget grandchildren." 
 He resumed his mock reading. " At 2 136 p.m. this after 
 noon, in the Mercy Hospital, Mrs. Kani Natupski gave 
 birth to twins, both boys, and weighing fourteen pounds 
 in the lump, unsorted. Mother and children doing fine. 
 Mother kept by vi lent methods from shouldering 
 babies and footing it to West Holly to show em 
 off." 
 
 Every eye in that dooryard was fixed anxiously on 
 Kani Natupski. He might cry, he might kiss everybody 
 (Slocumb was looking out apprehensively for such a 
 demonstration), might kick Zinzic, might roll on the 
 ground and eat dirt. 
 
 He went into the house and put on his best clothes. 
 
 While he was gone, Abner Slocumb improved the 
 occasion. 
 
 " Well, altogether, you re some Natupskis," he re 
 marked. " Stanislarni stirred the artistic big bugs of 
 Holly, Rinka s provided something to talk about, 
 Statia s beans took the cake, she says " indicating 
 JNancy by a thumb " and now your ma has boosted the
 
 344 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 population about two hundred per cent. And Stepan 
 wrote a pome. Only that ain t true. 
 
 New Pilgrim Fathers be, go emulate their sand, 
 Then hence three hundred years you ll strut, Lords of the 
 Land. 
 
 It ain t three hundred years by a long shot, but you 
 come pretty nigh to lording it." 
 
 " Remember," smiled Stanislarni, giving Nancy Slo- 
 cumb the only decent seat on the piazza, " there was pro 
 vision made for getting there sooner. Perhaps we ve 
 learned New England pie from living next door to you." 
 
 " This house certainly needs a bathtub," said Kazia, 
 sententiously, rousing herself from a vision of Rinka 
 and Nick drinking beer in that gaudy Kovinski front 
 parlor. " I m glad you put that in your verses, Stepan. 
 though they don t scan very well." 
 
 " Screens, too," observed Statia. " I tried em once, 
 but the way papa propped the door back they only kept 
 flies in." 
 
 " Oh," cried Yadna, " here s papa." 
 
 He had put on Wajeiceh s glossy new hat for the 
 purpose of tossing it over the kitchen chimney. 
 
 " Frolic, my soul, with thy coat off," he shouted in 
 his native tongue, and then lapsed into English. " Me 
 mad at nobody. He happy. Goo by, Rinka. Some 
 time me buy flour sack off you, show no ill feeling. You 
 two ones " turning to Stanislarni and Statia " shut 
 up thinking white paints and tipover chairs. Go buy em. 
 Listen at me. Buy em." 
 
 If he expected his children would wait to be coaxed,
 
 LORDS OF THE LAND 345 
 
 he was disappointed. Statia instantly began to write out 
 a list at the suggestion of Mrs. Slocumb, Wajeiceh said 
 " sleeping porch," and Kazia (of course) " bathroom," 
 while even the little ones spoke for brass beds and fluffy 
 rugs that helped you to get up early by being so nice 
 to step into. From the advanced state of their plans it 
 was evident that all the Natupski family had been con 
 sidering the deficiencies of their home a long time. 
 
 Kani went away to his beloved pig-pen, but soon came 
 back and sat down as if, for once, he preferred the com 
 pany of human beings. The old sow had grievously dis 
 appointed him. The litter was small and " all runts." 
 He had wasted the day watching her. Better to have 
 heard the music and eaten a good dinner in the grove. 
 
 " Of wife me am more proud," he remarked, and 
 repeated it several times as an astonishing proposition. 
 Then he added, quite of his own accord, " Next celebra 
 tion, tell you what, me ll go ! " 
 
 A promise for redemption 250 years hence seemed to 
 demand no comment, but it had one from Zinzic, whose 
 brains sprouted slowly. " Nobody on this piazza ll be 
 here then," he observed, " unless maybe me." 
 
 Abner Slocumb and Stanislarni did not join in the 
 laugh. They had gone into the road to see what the 
 cornice of the old house would need before painting, 
 and Abner had drawn the young man into the moonlit 
 lane from which one could see the white face of Sunrise 
 Rock. 
 
 " One other piece of news," he said, " I kept for you. 
 Your father 11 know it soon enough, and however he 
 feels about it he can t help its happening. The state is 
 going to take over the whole of Holly Mountain for a
 
 346 OUR NATUPSKI NEIGHBORS 
 
 reservation. Everybody ll get paid a fair price, and not 
 a tree ll be cut cept as it s best for the others. And 
 Holly s to name the tree warden. How d the job appeal 
 to you, Stanislarni ? " 
 
 Stanislarni took a grip of something it turned out 
 to be Abner s hand and said it was exactly what would 
 appeal to him. But was he fitted for the position? 
 
 " No, you ain t," said Abner, " nor nobody in town 
 ain t, neither. But I understand there s some sort of a 
 Woodman Spare That Tree college where you can go and 
 learn. I ve talked it over with Bowes and old George 
 Washington Browne, and they re willing you should have 
 the appointment if you ll study up. Salary, I ll remark, 
 probably about half what the truck business brings you 
 in, but perhaps you ll sacrifice yourself for glory and 
 Holly." 
 
 " I will," said Stanislarni, and stammered out some 
 thing about a debt he owed the town. ... 
 
 " As to that," said Abner, " the town owes your pa 
 one. Only for his showing the danger we was in of 
 losing all the best o the mountain through private enter 
 prise I s pose we d never thought of petitioning the 
 legislature to save it." 
 
 Stanislarni stood like a young god of the trees, look 
 ing to the hills where lay his life work. Abner did not 
 feel called upon to tell him that he had bargained for the 
 appointment by promising to throw the Sunrise Rock 
 piece into the reservation. That was what he had done. 
 Long as they might live in West Holly, the Natupskis 
 would never get out of debt to the Slocumbs. 
 
 THE END
 
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