Democratic Sentinel, Volume 13, Number 32, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 August 1889 — DELAYED PERMISSION. [ARTICLE]

DELAYED PERMISSION.

I came upon the sod-house about dusk one evening as I was traveling “cross country” through Western Kansas. It was rough, low, mean and dirty, but never the less was the abode cf a lively family, the Doddsworths, as I found out later. I could go no further and so stopped, asked for lodgings, put out my horse and sat down to talk with my host. “You may hafter sleep out ter the barn part o’ the night,” he volunteered. “Why,” I asked. “Wa’al, young Bemis is cornin’ over hyar pretty reg’lar to spark Marv, an’ ” “Oh, pa! how can you talk so!” chimed in the buxom daughter of the family, immediately flouncing out of the kitchen into the best room. “So he is stuck on Mary ?“ I suggested. “You bet he is. He’s over here reg’lar. He’s a nice fellow, Bemis is.” “What does he do?” “Oh. he farms ’Squire Lewis’ land on shares. He ain’t got much money, that’s the only thing; but I don’t care. ay they’re big enough to marry when mey’re old enough and old enough when they’re big enough, money or no money.” “Does Mary like him?” “Yes, tolerable. She says he’s kinder bashful—not near so peart as the schoolmaster that’s shinin’ up to Tilly Marks; but I say she shall have Bemis as srire as my name’s Doddsworth.” “Well,” I put in, “you had better let ’em go and marry.” “That’s what I say; but, you see, Sally, my wife, is dead again’ it. She’s awful opinionated, Sally is, and don’t use good sense. Now, fer me, -when I see I’m wrong, I always admit it and let it go; but she won’t. She just sticks and hangs an’ won’t gin’ up. You want to be careful of gitting in an argyment with her.” I said I would and remembered the caution when Doddsworth had gone out to milk the cows, she approached me and began to talk about Mary and Bemis. I remembered what he had said.

“I ain’t got nothin’ against Bemis,” she admitted. “He’s a good enough boy; rather bashful, of course, but Mary likes him.” “Is your husband opposed to the match?” I suggested, to see what she ■would say. “Of course, I don’t like to talk much about it, but he’s kinder offish about it. He’s awful set, Doddsworth is. Sometimes I think he don’t use good sense. Now, when I see I’m wrong I’m willing to admit it and drop the matter; but he won’t. He just sticks an’ hangs an’ won’t give up. He don’t exactly like Bemis an’ he won’t give up that Mary can marry him.” Here, thought I, is a grand chance to bring two clashing natures together and make them work for Mary’s happiness. Mary was already entertaining her lover in the “best room,” which was the only other room in the house but the kitchen, in which we sat, and I concluded I’d, please the pair as well as surprise them, so when the husband came in, I addressed him: “I was just talking to your wife, Mr. Doddsworth, and she seemed perfectly willing to have young Bemis for a son-in-law. Now, you expressed the same opinion to me a while ago, and as you are both very liberal in your views, why not unite on this question ?” “Is that so, Sally?” exclaimed the husband. “Be you willin’ ?” “Well, I ” she began, when she caught my eye and frankly admitted. “Yes, I ain’t got nothin’ against him, but you was always so obstinate that “No, Sally, it was you that was set in your ” “See here,” I put in, “no quarreling now. You are agreed in this matter. Let’s break the news to the young folks.” They had no opportunity of demurring before I opened the door leading to the “best room.” There was a sudden shuffling of chairs and feet as we entered, as though the lass and lover had moved rapidly apart. “Mary,” said I, for I rather enjoyed the theatrical aspect of the case, “your folks are willing that you should marry this young man if you want to. I hope you will be happy and prosperous.” “Say, you city dude,” drawled the young man in question, “whose funeral is this, anyhow? Do you run this household now ? Mary and I don’t care fer yer blessin’. We was. married by Squire Quinn last night when the folks thought we was at the dance.” “The folks,” who had been standing in the back ground, somewhat awed by my officiousness, and myself, beat a precipitate retreat. Our kindness had come too late. I rode on the next morning and have not seen Bemis or the Doddsworths since.— C. M. Harger, in Detroit Free Press.