Jasper County Democrat, Volume 4, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 February 1902 — Aunt Hulda's Good Time [ARTICLE]

Aunt Hulda's Good Time

<r» UNT HULDA Hat under the of the apple tree paring the ****fruit that had fallen from the gnarled, overladen branches. She was dressed in a faded blue calico gown and a checked apron, and wore a home made Bunbonnet upon her gray head. At her right was the roadway leading from the barn to the turnpike in front of the house. A few feet to the left was her back doorstep. Lt was a warm afternoon, and the shade of the tree had tempted her from the hot kitchen, as It often did. Aunt Hulda’s meditations were not worthy of record. She was a simple old body, living a simple, circumscribed life and thinking simple, unimportant things. For instance, she was about to make applesauce, and she knew her sauce was highly praised by the farm era’ wives who now and then dropped In for a visit and some tea. These were memorable occasions with her. She reflected upon the evident enjoyment Mrs. Worrell had displayed only last week, when she ate two full saucers of Aunt Hulda’s applesauce. From the same tree, too. It was a good tree; she had used Its fruit In sauce for many years; thirty—maybe forty. It was hard to remember the exact time. Probably it would keep on bearing these rosy-cheeked apples as long as her days lasted, and then—. Then she looked up and saw the boy. He had Just ridden up the turnpike on his bicycle, and glancing over the fence perceived Aunt Hulda seated under her tree. He could not have said what made him pause, dismount and regard the homely picture thoughtfully as lie leaned upon his wheel. When he saw that she observed him he took off his cap and bowed to her, and she returned the salutation composedly. Then, after a hesitating glance up the road, he trundled his wheel through the open gates and came to where the woman was sitting. “Good afternoon,” ho said, pleasantly. “Will you let me lie here and rest a bit?” She nodded. She liked boys; and this one was fresh and manly and good to look upon. He wore a modest gray suit and cap, and stockings of brown worsted. There was nothing “flashy” In his appearance, which could not be truthfully said of all the bicyclers Aunt Hulda had seen spinning along the smooth turnpike. The boy leaned his wheel against the tree, reclined gracefully upon the grass, and resting bls bead upon bis elbow, watched the deft fingers that busily continued to pare and quarter the apples. “Tired?” she asked, in a motherly tone. She had never been blessed with children, but had all a mother's tenderness for youth still fresh in her old heart. “Not very," he answered; “but it looked cool and pleasant here, and—and I thought l*d like to talk with you.”

Rhe nodded again. “You see, I am not limited as to time," he continued, lazily stroking the kitten that had crept to his side, “for I am taking a cross-country trip on my wheel as part of my vacation. I never know where I shall stop at night; that is sue of the delights of the trip. When dark overtakes me, or I grow tired, I stop at the nearest village." “The nlghest place to here Is Millbank.” remarked Aunt Hukla. “There’s a circus there to-dajy.” “A circus? Why, that’s jolly! There’s nothing I love better than to attend a country circus. Not for the sake of the bareback riders and clowns, you understand; but to watch the people and enjoy their enjoyment." “Martin Is there now.” she said. “Martin?” “My man. It’s his year. We take turns, you know; he goes one year, and Igo the next. Martin went early this afternoon, so as to see the animals fed; but he won’t see the show till the evening performance. It’s always better evenings. He took his supper in Uls pocket" “But why don’t you go together?" asked the boy, sitting up. “It costs too much,” she replied frankly. “We really can’t afford It at all. now times are so hard; but we’re two old folks, living all by ourselves, •nd we thought as we’d divide up, and take iu the circus every year. When I go, I tell Martin all about it; and Vfhen he goes he tells me. It gives us something to talk about when we’re alone In the evenings, and It’s almost as good as going yourself to hear Martin describe it” The boy lay back and looked at her curiously. He did not laugh, it seemed to him he was nearer tears than laughter, although ho could see well enough the comedy of it. “How far is the town?” he asked. “Two miles.” “Have you a horse?” “Yes, indeed. Old Piebald Is in the bam now. Martin never takes him to the circus; no more do I. We walk. Piebald gets scart at the steam piano, and it costs a quarter to put him up in the hotel barn.” “Let’s go,” said the boy. suddenly. “Where?’’ demanded Aunt Hulda, dropping her knife in amazement. “To the circus. Be my guest. I’ve plenty of money—more than I shall know how to spend on my trip, and I’d like to take you to the circus. We’li

see it all—sideshows and everything—and we’ll have a real jolly time!” She stared at him stupidly a while. The audacity of the proposition almost took her breath away. She saw’ he was in earnest, however, and she glanced from her coarse blue gown to his neat gray suit with a puzzled air. Strangers bad been polite to her before, but none had ever offered to take her to a circus; nor, indeed, anywhere else. But this was a boy; a nice boy, too. He had risen to his feet and was standing before her, cap in hand. "Do let’s 90!” be pleaded. “I—l can’t,” she answered; “I’ve got to make the applesauce.” “Let it wait,” he said, with a wave of the hand; “the circus only comes once a year.” “There's the supper.” “I'll help you get it—and eat it, also. And I’ll help do the dishes.” “There’s the stock to be fed,” she continued. Her tone was growing more Irresolute, and he noted It. “Two of us can feed the stock in no time," be declared; “so come, please; let’s get to work at once.” "I—l don’t know what Martin’ll think,” she protested, as a last resort. But she rose from her chair, nevertheless, and stood with the pan of apples under her arm, a look of pleased anticipation spreading over her wrinkled face.. He took the pan from her and carried it into the kitchen. “We'll surprise Martin,” he said, easily; “but it will be easy to explain the matter. I’m sure be won't object to your having a good time.” “Oh, no! Martin's real good to me," she answered. The next hour was a bright and happy one to them both. Aunt Hulda’s heart was not nearly so withered as her face, and there was a charm about this youngster, who had taken direction of her affairs in such a masterful way, that delighted her beyond measure. She was almost like a girl. Her laugh came freely and as sweetly as if she had been eighteen Instead of fifty, and she answered his Jokes with full appreciation of their fun. The boy was enjoying himself, also. Ha filled the kettle, helped set the table. cut the bread and talked continually. Then when the simple meal was ready, and the apples wefe simmering on the stove, they sat down opposite oue another at the rude table and feasted merrily. He afterward tied a checkered apron around his waist and wiped the dishes while Aunt Hulda washed them. “We must hurry,” he said, “for I don't want to miss a bit of the fun. Now for the stqek?” Ha carried water, climbed the loft to throw the hay, fed the pigs and the chickens, and did it all so handily and quickly that Aunt Hulda was amazed. Next he Led out old Piebald, harnessed him to the wagon, and had the equipage waiting beside the apple tree before the woman had finished putting on her “best dress" and smoothing her hair. “I guess everything’s ’tended to,” she said, as she climbed to a seat beside him. “I put your wheel In the kitchen, and left the apples to slowbile, and put the lamp handy for use when we come back, and fed the kittens." “So there’s nothing on your mind to keep you from having a good time,” he commented. They drove through the dusk to the village, where the boy promptly put up old Piebald at the hotel stable. Then he walked with Aunt Hulda dowa to the tents, where they first visited the sideshows and saw the fat lady and the snake charmer and the living skeleton and all the other wondera. There was a tremendous crowd. Every farmer and farmer’s wife for miles around seemed to be there; and now and then Aunt Hulda would nod proudly and happily to an acquaintance, and delight In the curious looks that were directed upon her escort. They were all country people-all but the boy. His appearance rendered him wholly unlike the others; but he did not seem, to know it. He chatted gayly with Aunt Hulda, and called her attention to everything he thought would interest her. Then they visited the animals, nnd he told her many wonderful things about them that were both strange and edifying to the simple old woman. But the band was now playing fiercely in the big tent where the circus performance was held. Indeed, nearly every one had already entered, and they found themselves alone with a few stragglers. “I believe the grand procession's going to start,” she whispered, nervously. “AH right; let's go in,” he replied, and led her to the entrance. The big tent was literally lined with people, from the canvas roof to the seats at the very ringside. It seemed Impossible that it could hold another person. The boy looked anxiously around. On each side of the band stand he discovered that a small box had been built, with a flowing red canopy over It and cushioned seats. One of these boxes had b'een taken by a party from Squire Meldrum’s house—the “big man” of the village—and a merry group of young and old people occupied It. But the other box was vacant; for who beside the squire had money enough to pay a dollar a seat at the circus?

The boy stopped an usher, and after a whispered conversation was escorted, with,Aunt Hulda.i behind the tiers of seats and through a narrow passage into the box. Their appearance cans-' ed a murmur of surprise from the surrounding benches. Many knew the old lady’s pleasant, homely face, and marveled at seeing her thus occupying the position of houor opposite Squire Meldrum himself. Martin was seated away down near L the but he looked up with the others, and his astonishment was Intense when he saw Aunt Hulda framed by the crimson curtains and canopy, and a strange youth beside her who was paying her’devoted attention. All during the circus the poor man divided his gaze between this remarkable vision of his wife and the antics of the clowns and Jugglers. He saw her drink fug red lemonade with her companion, and that her lap was loaded down with peanuts and candy apd popcorn; for the boy would do nothing by halves, and bought everything that was offered for sale. Martin shook his head, and sighed, and looked again. It was certainly Aunt Hulda, but how she came there was a mystery he could not fathom. He waited outside the tent while they heard the concert, after the circus Itself was over. Martin was not given to solving problems; time would explain everything, he thought. He knew when they were coming by her laugh, and such a laugh he could not remember hearing from Aunt Hulda since the happy days when they were first wed. He put out his hand aud touched her, almost diffidently, as they followed the crowd from the entrance. “Hukly!” he said. “Good gracious!” she cried; “If it Isn’t Martin! We’ve been looking for you everywhere, for the boy wanted you to stay with us to the concert It’s his fault, Martin,” she added, more soberly. “He would have me corneas his company, you know—and I couldn’t well say no.” “I’m glad you had the chance," said Martin, simply. Then he plucked her sleeve. "Who is he?” he whispered. "I don’t know,” she answered, behind her hand; “but, O Martin, he’s been so good to me!” “Well, are we ready for home?” broke in the boy. “I expect old Piebald Is anxious to get back and munch his hay. Shall we go?” They drove home almost in silence, with Martin sitting in the back of the wagon box and the boy driving. Only once did Aunt Hulda speak, and that was to say, with a contented sigh, “I dont’ think we missed a single thing!” While Martin put up the horse the hoy got his wheel from the kitchen. “I shall sleep at Mlllbank to-night,” he said, brightly; “for the hotel there seems like a comfortable place; but before I go I want to thank you for a very happy evening.” Aunt Hulda leaned down, and taking his round face between her hands, kissed him tenderly. “What made you do It?” she whispered. “Why were you so good to an old woman like me?” The boy stood looking Into the night for a moment before he answered. “Mother and I,” he said at last, softly, “were always good comrades, and had many Jolly times together; and when I saw you sitting under the tree this afternoon, my heart grew hungry for some one to go with me, as she used to do, and have a happy time. She’s dead now, you know.” His voice broke with a the woman gathered him into her arms and held him close to her for a while. Then she kissed him again, with a sweet, motherly caress. “Good night,” he said. The next moment he had mounted his wheel and disappeared down the road; but she stood looking long after his figure had faded into the darkness, and listened until the last muffled sound had died away upon the soft night air.—Youth’s Companion.