Democratic Sentinel, Volume 5, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 August 1881 — BUTTER, [ARTICLE]

BUTTER,

“I ain’t one o’ that kind, now I tell ye ! Es a thing’s to say, I say it square out; but Philindy Beers, she keeps a-butterin’ and a-butterin’ add smootliin’ down an’ strokin’ over. Why, there she is J” Miss Nancy Tryon was tall and gaunt and lean ; scant gray hair was brushed back from her angular forehead and twisted into a tight knot behind, severely fastened with a yellow horn comb ; her chin protruded "a little, her black eyes stared and snapped, and generally expressed themselves in a pungent way ; and her tongue—oh, her tongue ! it was as untiring, as restless, as noisy, but by no means as useful, as a nail machine. She had very little patience and very little charity, but, under her snappy way, her rapid judgments, her curt decision, lay a thoroughly honest and kind heart, which she was ashamed to show. “ Well, now, Nancy,” said her companion, Mrs. Bunnell, who had stepped in for a neighborly visit. “You know you’re kinder arbitrary, you always was, and you do like to speak in meetin’ whether there’s a congregation or not, you always did; but I will say for’t, your bark’s worse’n your bite, I—” Here Mrs. Beers knocked at the door. “ Come in !” shouted Miss Nancy, never stirring from her chair—a flagrant violation of Strafford etiquette. “Good-day, good-day! Why, Mis’ Bunnell, how be you ? I haven’t seen you for quite a spell; and how do you get along, Miss Nancy ?” “So’s to be craAvliu’,” snapped the spinster, glaring straight at the round, placid, smiling little figure of the WidoAv Beers, who sat down in the nearest rocker, and put a pretty little basket on the floor’by her side. “Well, you do look real spry; I’m glad to see ye so Aveil. And yor’-e usually well, I see, Mis’ Bunnell. I fetched around a feAV apples off’n my Astrykan tree to Sophrony Jones; she’s real miser’ble. ” “Serves her right,” broke in Miss Nancy. “What did she go’n’marry a shif’less, low-lived feller like ’Lislr Jones for.? She might ha’ knoAvn that them that makes bnerbeds for themselves ha» to lie on thorns. ” “Well, she seems to think considerable of hftn; I guess lie’s pretty good to her s’fur as he knows how to be.” “ H’m ! his goodness won’t go no fura hen-hop,” sniffed Miss Nancy. “And, seein’ I was a-comin’ this way,” placidly went on Mrs. Beers, “I thought I’d fetch a few on ’em to you. I rek’iect you set by apples a good deal. ” “I’m obleeged to ye,” said Miss Nancy, still curt and decisive, but not quite so fierce. “Hadn’t you better set’em into the buttery, Nancy?” suggested Mrs. Bunnell, looking unconscious of a pun, but Miss Nancy glared at her with honest wrath. Mrs. Beers began again in her mild fray. “They do say, up to the Centre, that Parson Styles is laid up Avitli a dreadful spell o’ quinsy.” “ I guess he caught cold over to the Ma’sh Aveddin’,” suggested Mrs. Bunnell. “It did pour clown; I come over to-day half to see how you stood it, Nancy.” “Stood what?” “ Why, gettin’ home from Mis’ Ma’sh’s house a-Tuesday evenin’; the wedtlin’, ye know.” “ I hain’t been to no weddin’; lies Desiali Ma’sh made a goose o’ herself to her time o’ life ?”

“ Why, no! mercy sakes, no! Why, I expected you knowed it; ’twas Janey— Janey Tryon an’ Sam Phelps. I s’posed, of course, seein’ you was her aunt, you’d fetch around to see her married.” Miss Nancy was crimson with rage. “Jane Tryon an’ Sam Phelps 1 I guess not! I told her a year back es I ever heerd of one o’ them Phelps boys a-sliin-in’ up to her she needn’t never look to me for no settin’ out. Sam Phelps ! of all created critters, I b’lieve them Phelpses is the meanest.” “ You didn’t always think so, did ye ?” sarcastically inquired Mrs. Bunnell, who knew very well what old hurt and wrong had set Miss Nancy against the Phelps family; how Sam Phelps’ uncle had “ courted ” pretty Nancy, and then run away with Jason Swift’s daughter, the richest girl in Strafford, and left Nancy to make the best of it. The taurt made poor Nancy speechless ; she looked at Mrs. Bunnell, as that peace-breaking woman afterward expressed it, “jest like the unicorn on a needle-paper a-staxin’ at the lion. I really looked to hev her rise up an’ paw round and run her tongue out at me.” But good Mrs. Beers said in her gentle way before Miss Nancy could speak, “ Bike enough she writ to ye, an’ somehow the letter went astray ; I’ve know’d it so to be. ” “ Talk! do talk!” shrieked Miss Nancy. “She hain’t! I know she liain’t! she knowed I wouldn’t never go to no Phelps’ weddin’ ; she done it a-purpose, the minx !” “ Oh, I guess not,” purred Mrs. Beer?. Janey’s a good girl; she’s real feelin’. I know Miss Ma’sh has set by her like an own darter since she’s hired out there.” “She hadn’t no need to go there, anyway!” broke in the exasperated aunt. “She could ha’ lived here till the day after never, if she’d hev give (hat teUef the mitten, and hed what

I’ve got to leave when I’m dead and gone.” “And you’re good for 95, Nancy 1 ” laughed provoking Mrs. Bunnell. “ Didn’t happen to come to ye, I s’pose, that she’d maybe rather live long o’ Bam Phelps, in a house of her own, than be a hangin’ on to yonr skirts, so to speak, till she was an old maid herself ? Well, what’s done’s done. Pm sorry to see ye so riled about it, but I must be a goin’; I sot sponge this mornin’, and I shouldn’t wonder if ’twas clean over the pan by this. Folks has got to have bread’s well’s butter,” and with a nod of farewell Mrs. Bunnell rustled ont of the room, her stiff calico seeming to hisg in echo to her derisive words as she swept through the Harrow door. “ There aiu’t no butter about her ! ” growled Miss Nancy. “Sophi’ Bunnell’s prickly as a thistle, an’ allers was.” “Well, folks is made different,” said Mrs. Beers, gently.' “We ain’t all jest alike, and it’s quite a mercy we ain’t; all sugar or all salt would be as good as tasteless, I guess. Mis' Bunnell’s real good to the sick, I’ve always heerd tell, and she’s smart as a whip, besides.” “ Yes, ’n a whip with a stinger, too,” was the curt answer. “Well, now,” went on Mrs. Beers, “I feel real hurt for ye, Miss Nancy, about Janey, but I’m certain sure she never meant nothin’ less than not to have ye to her weddin’; why, I know hefThal well; she’s as sweet as cream, naturally. Depend on’t, ’twas all a mistake.” “You no need to butter me up, Philandy Beers ! I guess I know when I’m thro wed over well’s the next one. Jane hes gone an’ done ’xactly what I said she shouldn’t never do, and she knows it. I’ve got means to live on, an’ more. I ain’t no poor, despicable old maid. I’ve got money in the bank and a good farm, and I’ll go in to Har’ford to-mor-rer if I’m spared and make my will to a lawyer’s, and I’ll will every cent to furrin missions. I’ll do it, sure’s you’ie born.” “ Oh, now, don’t ye do nothin’ hs*ty, Miss Nancy ! Let’s see about it, now do; tlie’s a’most always two sides to tilings, and ye know the scriptur’ recommends for us to be slow to wrath ; it’s real easy to talk, but ye can’t untalk, ye know.” “Nor I don’t want to f” was the irate answer.

“Well, I must say good-day. I’ve got to see to our folkses dinner some. Bar’ Ann can do the most on’t, but she ain’t very mighty, ’nd toother’s laid up with rheumatiz.” And Mrs. Beers slid away quietly, leaving Miss Nancy alone. Words are words only, we say sometimes, >ut how they can hurt or heal! Miss Nancy was grieved to the heart Avith Janey’s conduct, and,*Avhen Mrs. Bunnell exasperated her with sharp comment and keen taunt, she was ready in her rage to believe she would never speak to her niece again ; but the WidoAv Beers’ gentle suggestions fell on her soul like dew, and against her will, oilier consciousness, soothed her excited temper and wounded spirit. She was by no means ready to forgive Janey; but as she sat alone there and reviewed all the past, thought of the girl’s bright, loving patience,her thoughtful care of her aunt and her likeness to the dear dead brother, and then—being a just woman, for all her temper and testy obstinacy—went back to the love of her own youth for an elder Sam Phelps, and the agony of loss and mortification she endured then, she began to see Avliat Janey had escaped, and what she had found, and to look “also upon the tilings of others.” She would have resented sharply any Intimation that “Philindy” Beers had mollified her with the “butter” of her kindly, loving nature and speech, but there Avas no one by to make such intimation, and when the sun set that, niglit and tlie lonely old Avoman Avatched it from her doorsteps sinking in all tlie splendor of red and gold behind tlie hills, she felt that it was going doAvn upon her wrath—and was reluctantly, but honestly, disturbed by the consciousness. Meantime, Mrs. Beers, having helped “ Sar’ Ann ” —a poor old cousin to whom she gave a home—get the dinner and clear it aAvay, and then made her mother comfortable for an afternoon nap, tied on her bonnet and set out for Janey Phelps’ house, some two miles from hexown in the opposite direction from Miss Nancy’s ; she found Janey looking like a wild rose as she sat seAving on the east door-step, enjoying the calm warmth of the late September day ; everything about her exquisitely neat, her Avliite apron and pink calico drags setting out with their clear tints her bright dark liair and eyes and colorless but healthj complexion, through whose smooth surface emotion always sent the very blush of a rosy daAvn. She flushed beautifully noAv when she saw Mrs. Beers come smiling down the road, and ran to open the little gate for this first guest of her lew home.

Friendly greetings followed, and at last Mrs. Beers slid into the purpose of her visit. “ You kinder took us all by surprise ’bout your weddin’,' Janey. I was beat to hear on’t, I must say.” “ Well, Mis’ Beers, we couldn’t afford to have much of a weddin’. Sam’s folks live over to Hartland, most of them, an’ Mis’ Marsh hadn’t really room to ’commodate them, and I haven’t got anybody but Aunt Nancy, and she didn’t come; she feels hard towards Sam,” and here the bright eyes clouded. “Didn’t send no answer to ye ?” queried Mrs. Beers, diplomatically. “No; I txdd Tommy Marsh to wait for it, so’s to make sure; and he said she said there wasn’t any answer.” “ My land ! ” ejaculated Mrs. Beers. “Now, Janey, Miss Nancy never got no note from ye at all, and didn’t never have an idee that you was a goin’ to be married; she feels reel riled about i^ f ; she feels hurt, an’ you can’t no way blame her. She done well by ye jest so far forth as she knowed, 1 "' while you stayed; you know she hed reason accordin’ to the natur’ of women-folks not to like the Phelpses; es she had knowed your Sam, she’d hev liked him, she couldn’t help it; but you see she kep’ a mixin’ him up with her Saur:, the uncle, who wan’t no more like him than chalk’s like cheese ; and ye know Miss Nancy’s real sot in her way, but she’s good as gold when ye get down to it.” Janey’s eyes filled. “My senses! if I could get hold of Tommy Marsh—-and there he is, sure’s you live.” “Set still! set still!” purred Mrs. Beers. “Let me deal with the cretur; he’s fetchin’ suthin’ to ye; but he’s slipprier ’n an eel; es he gits an idee you know ’bout it, he’ll cut ’n run.” Janey took up her apron and went on with the button-hole, and Tommy, 0 freckled, green-eyed, impudent urchin, bobbed his head at her and held out a basket. “Ma sent ye over suthin’ for to put inter the pantry,” he said, in the monotonous tone of a repeated lesson. Janey uncovered the basket. “Why, just look here, Mis’ Beers ! she has sent me four jars of jell; ain’t she good ? ” “Surely!” ejaculated Mrs. Beers. “Tommy, don’t you want a pep’mint ? ” The unwary boy snapped at the offer. “ Guess there’s one in my pocket,” smiled the old lady, and began to pull out one by one the contents of that goodly repository. “I guess, Tommy, you haven’t got near so many things in your pocket as there be in mine,” she said. ‘‘ l bet I have ! ” answered Thomas, and, quite forgetful of anything but emulation, he began to unload the stores of his own pouches, As he did so, eagerly P 3 oaretedily, * tell on the

steps just at Mrs. Beers’ side; she reached out for it. Tommy saw the nanoeuvre, grabbed ineffectually at the document and fled; it was the lost note to Miss Nancy. “ Seems as though there was a Providence in it,” remarked Mrs. Beers, but Janey did not hear, for she was running after Tommy with the emptied basket she had just brought out; suddenly she stepped on a stone, twisted her ankle and fell. It was hard for Mrs. Beers to get her into the house and on to her bed, but Janey was not the fainting sort of woman, and between her courage and her Adsitor’s patience it was managed. Mrs. Beers stayed and got the supper for Sam, and then trotted home, sending Mrs. Marsh back to take her place as she passed the house. Early the next momiug she went over to Miss Nancy Tryon’s. “ Good mornin’,” she said, beaming on that stiff old lady Avith the sunny homely countenance of a pumpkin in a cornfield. “ Say, Miss Nancy, I’ve ketched a nice feller a-meddlin’, betwixt you and Janey. I’ve got the note she Avrit to ye out o’ Tommy Ma’sh’s pocket; I guess he went fishin’ or somethin’ an’ forgot it an’ lied about it; anyway, here ’tis.” Miss Nancy/grimly opened it, and it ran thus: DeaK Aunty : I have finally made up my mind to marry Sam : I think a great deal of him, and he does of me, I expect, and it seems as if there wasn’t any real good reason why I shouldn’t, save and except that you don’t like him, but I know you will after a Avhile, and he thinks ever so much of you ; he just hates his Uncle Sam. „ „ Dear Aunty, you’re all the people I have got, since father died, and you know how he set by you, and looked for you to be a mother to his baby, and so you was. I’m real sorry I vexed you about Sam, but I couldn’t help it; please forgive me and come over to Mrs. Marsh’s to-morrow night and see me married. Do, do! Sam says do, too. Your loving janey. “Dreadful sweet! most's good as honey,” growled Miss Nancy, in a voice half-moved, half incredulous ; but wliy did she Avipe her spectacles? Mrs. Beers went on in her soft voice :

“ I was doAvn there las’ night an’ she kinder turned her ankle a-runnin’ after that boy ; I fixed her onto the bed an’ got supper, but she can’t step ; she was a-comin’ right up here but for that, and cried real bad about it. “ I think’twould set her up dreadfully es so be you could feel to forgive her fur enough to step around and help her a. mite. I know it’s dreadful hard to get over sech things, and she knows it, and is- a-grievin’ over it a sight; but I said, says I, ‘ Don’t ye take on, J aney ; your aunt’s jest as good as gold When you git down to’t; she’s one o' them that’s better’n they’re willin’ to show ; any way I’ll tell her to-morrer, and she’ll do jest as she’s a mind ter.’ ” “ Ibat!s so I” said Miss Nancy, grim- ; ly, and Mrs. Beers, Avise in her harmleasness, went home. Whether it was the note with its honest honey or Mrs. Beers’ “ butter ” who can tell? A mixture of both, no doubt, but Miss Nancy, left to her own heart and conscience, softened at once, and, locking up her tiny house, set off to Janey’s with a sachel in her hand. Never had she received such a welcome; even Sam’s hearty handshake and frank smile were accepted as they were meant; and till Janey’s ankle whs thoroughly well the work and the nursing Avere done, as Miss Nancy did everything, as well as hands, head and heart could do them. The very day she Avent back to her own house Mrs. Bunnell sailed in. “ Well said !” ffhe exclaimed, “ you’ve got over your huff, ha’n’t ye ? Philindy Beqjrs hes buttor d ye up good; well, you’re the last woman I ever expected would be smoothed over this way !” “Look a here, Sophi’ Bunnell!” snapped Miss Nancy, with alacrity and fire, “it tells in Scriptur’about eatin’ butter an’ honey so’s to know how to choose betwixt evil an’ good ; well, I’ve eet ’em, and I’ve found out butter’s a sight better’n briers be, anyhow !” “Dear reader, don’t Ave agree with her ?” Youth’s Companion.