Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 December 1874 — THE ANCIENT GOOSE. [ARTICLE]

THE ANCIENT GOOSE.

BY CHARLES BARNARD.

That’s what they said of him. His mustache was gray, he was past thirtynine, and, not being married, was considered solitary. It mattered little to him. The care of his patients kept him bright and active. His profession was sufficient for his wants. He was the loved and respected physician for half the families in the place, and he never wanted for company and friendship. Why he had never married had been the speculation of the village. The subject was now threadbare, and they had ceased to talk of it. He saw much of female society, for he was one of those fine, rare natures that make “brothers to girls.” His genial good nature, and, above all, his ability to keep secrets, made him in deed the brother to half the girls in Wauchusetta. They came to him with their little pains and ills and their little heart-breakings and love sorrows. For the one he had pills and advice; for the other a ready ear, counsel, help and confidence. No wonder Sally Depford came tearful and angry to " him in her little difficulty with Sam Barrett. A small rage made her the more attractive. As the doctor heard her woful tale he could hardly fail to study her face with admiration. Young, twenty years his junior, rather pretty, reasonably well educated, sensible, and quite ready for a joke at any time, she preferred the bright side of everything. Hence her present sorrow. She did not wish to be “ bothered," as she expressed it, with a serious love affair. It was a trouble, a vexation, an interference with her pleasure, and—- “ Well, there! It’s entirely dreadful, and I don’t want it, nor him. Just as I was fairly out of school and preparing to have a splendid time with the girls then this thing comes along, and I don’t like it.” She tried to cry, but could not. It was not worth crying about, So she brushed back the black hair from behind her ears, looked the venerable doctor straight in the eye, and said: “ That is so, Doctor. Is it not?” The doctor had no immediate reply to make. He would consider the case—and her. There was something peculiarly attractive about her fafce, and it wan small wonder that Sam Barrett, the last beau left in the village, was desperately in love with her. • She frowned. He was too slow “ Come, sir, parade your wisdom. I can pay for advice, and I want it.” “ Go to bed early, get up late, and sleep it off.” “ That’s very good for him. Tell him that, please. As for me, it does not help a bit. There it stands. He will pursue me with attentions. I don’t Want ” “ Snub him.” “He’s not snubable. Snubbing falls harmless on his good-natured temperament. I’ve tried it, and it don’t work. He took it like a lamb.” “Tell him you’re not at home.” “Then he leaves his card and says he will call again. And he is sure to do so.” “ Poor boy! He has it very bad this time. The symptoms are alarming.” “ They are, .Doctor, they are. andl don’t like it. It’s a nuisance, and a bother, and I hate him. There!” “Feel better, my dear?” “ Yes; for I’m getting mad. I feel like breaking things, and ” “ You do. You do it all the time. Poor boy! I’m not surprised! Here you go about the place, being as attractive as possible, and then you break all our hearts, and scold us for it. What do you expect?” “ It’s not my fault. I didn’t make myself.” “ Well—no—not exactly- ” “ For Heaven’s sake, Doctor, why don’t you do something? Advise me.” “Gat married!” “ Doctor, you are too hateful.” “I presume so; doctors always are. But that’s my advice. Get married; then he can no longer trouble you.” “{now you’re silly, Doctor, and I sha’n’t tell you any more. Yon don’t care a straw for my troubles, after all, and ” Here she began to be teary, and threatened to have “a good cry.” *My dear, my advice is not so bad. You must admit that if you were engaged he would leave you at once." “ I suppose so.” “ Yes. Then get engaged; or, if you don’t care to go %o far, arrange with some young man to be engaged to him temporarily. Then your Sam ” - “ He’s not my Sam, thank Heaven! n * -h \ ■ * “ Then your Sam will take unto himself another wife, and when all is secure you can break your engagement, and all will be serene again.” “ What an absurd idea! Jump into

the water for the sake of escaping from drowning. I tell you I don’t want anybody’s attention. It would be a dreadful trial to be engaged at all, even in self-defense.’’ “ Not if the other party would agree to keep himself away, and simply lend a diamond ring for a while, and play the part of the distant intended?” “ I don’t know, Doctor; it is a desperate measure. But it would be effectual.” “ Of course.” “It would be rather amusing to go home and announce that I was engaged. I should have to tell mother how it really stood, and father would be, of course, let into the secret. The rest need not know. Goodness! what a scattering there would be, and how all the, old ladies would talk.” ' • r “ You need not care. It would he easy to act your part, and in a few weeks all would he comfortably over and everything would be serene again.” “ I declare, Doctor, the more I think of it, the more amusing it seems. It is very wicked, no doubt, but, then, the case is a hard one ” “ And demands heroic remedies.” “Precisely. Now the next step is to get up a good lover. I shall not expect much. Any straw man that’s convenient will answer. Do you know of one, Doctor—a good one? He must be nice, and all that, or I couldn’t endure it.” “ Well—no—l cannot think of one just now. There are none living near that are available. Perhaps we might import one.” “Doctor, I’ve an idea.” “ How startling! Bring it forth, that I may admire it.” T _ “ Y ou be the lover.” “ All right. I’m willing.” “ Then we’re engaged.” “ Yes—for the present.” “ In fun, you know.” “Oh! of course. Till Sam gets married, or till you wish to break it,” “Where’s the ring?” “Oh! I have one up-stairs—an old one. I suppose it will answer to cover our little arrangement.” “ How splendid of you, Doctor!” “ Now you must go. Old Mrs. Davis is coming soon with her neuralgia. Shall I tell her?” “ Tell her what?” “ Of the engagement.” “ Yes. Just hint it, and before night the town will know it.” =—

And they did. How they snatched up the stray morsel of gossip and stirred it into their tea with the sugar. Fortunate circumstance. It soured on their stomachs—the news, not the tea. Even the sugar and the good Bohea did not save them from expressing, with beautiful freedom, just what they thought about it. “Such an old goose to be taken in by that designing Sally Depford! The minx! the little contriving—artful ” Such language! It is not pretty. History like this cannot stoop to report all that was said concerningthelast new engagement, As for Sam Barrett, he faded beautifully away, and actually disappeared. He suddenly found “ a tip-top chance for business, you know, in New York. Ought to go right on and fix it up.” His parting with Sally was not particularly'affecting. She wouldn’t allow it. That curious, antique, diamond ring flashed in his astonished eyes, apd his affection melted softly away into nothing, like the cloud of white steam under which he escaped in the 3:40 p. m. express. The whistle echoed among the Wauchusetta hills, and the gentle Sally heard it without a sigh. Some of the other girls could hardly forgive her for driving away the only available young man in the place, but they soothed their lacerated feelings with the sweet hope that, as the summer vacation was near at hand, a new importation of city visitors from Boston and New York might “ make it gay again,” and spread wide once more the matrimonial horizon.

The suddenness and complete success of the victory rather surprised the victor. She had succeeded beyond her expectations. Now that it was all over she would return the ring, and—well, no, perhaps she might keep it just one more night. Cousin Mary lsepford was coming to spend the night, and it would be rather amusing to wear the ring a little longer and to let her into tne secret She would return the ring in the morning. Pleased with this unspoken plan she set the ring firmer on her finger and prepared to receive her “company.” Cousin Mary Depford was charmed with the ring and was profuse in her congratulations. Sally took them quietly enough. ~ “ It's all a joke, you know, dear.” “A joke!” “ Yes, dear, a little—well—game, if I may so speak:”’" Cousin Mary was properly shocked. In the retirement of her own room she expressed her mind fully, and declared she would not wear the ring another moment. It was a pretense, and—a shame to do such a thing, Sally was startled and pleaded the dreadful necessity of the case. “He was such a bore, you know, and, really —what could I do? It was all in fun. There’s nothing serious. I mean to return the ring to-morrow.” “ l wouldn’t wear it another minute if I were you, Sally Depford.” Sally laughed and still retained the ring. She would return it to-morrow. She would wear it one more night —for it was, really, such a handsome ring. The doctor behaved 3 beau ifully. He only called once, and didn’t even ask her to ride or walk. “ He walks so fast —and as for that old chaise, you know how it creaks.” It was a very proper engagement. Rather cool, perhaps. What could you expect? He was past forty, if a day, they said. * She did not re,turn the ring the next day. It rained. She sent a note to the doctor the following day, asking him to call for it He was away—wouldn’t be back tilljMonday. Of course she must wear the ring one more Sunday: and she did—in spite of Cousin Mary Depford’s remonstrance. / On Monday she carried the ring* still

on her huger, to the doctor. He vu just starting off on a professional tour when she came, and he was so merry, and there were so many things to talk about, that she quite forgot the ring. Besides, there stood the Widow Bigelow in the next yard pretending to hang out her clean clothes on the line and watching with both eyes. Cousin Mary Depford was harassing. They had a little “ tiff,” after the manner of girls, and made it up on the strength of a promise from Sally that she would certainly return the ring tomorrow. - : ——-—— On the morrow she started, ring on finger, to duly return it. He was not at home. She went again just before tea time. He was at tea and pressed her to stay and take supper with his good old housekeeper and himself. She hesitated a moment—then accepted. She could quietly hand him the ring after supper, and in the meanwhile she might as well “ have a good time." The fine old house, the elegant dining-room, and the cosy table, set for three, were charming. The doctor was a good talker, and cultivated and refined in his manners. She had been obliged to bear much wretched gossip for the last week ortwof. It was quite proper she should stay to tea. It would be rather amusing to see just how it seemed to be engaged. She might as well have a good time, for it would soon be over. She would return the ring as soon as the housekeeper retired. The housekeeper did nothing of the kind. As soon as tea was over she took her knitting and sat down by the open window in the parlor, where she could see everything that happened both in the house and in the garden. The doctor acted his part to perfection. He was not too attentive, to attract attention from the housekeeper, nor did he forget for a moment to be watchful of his guest’s happiness. At 10:30 p. m. Sally returned to her own room, looking wonderfully serene and happy. Cousin Mary Depford was silent and watchful. Presently she saw something, and said; “O Sally!” ' _ “Well, dear?”

“ Where’s the ring?” “O my love! I quite forgot all about it; I did, indeed. I’ll take it right back to-morrow.” As for the doctor, he sat up half the night pacing his room alone and in the dark. At midnight he was called out to see some distant patient. He was glad to go. The cool ride through the solemn dark gave him a chance to think. The next day Sally boldly started for the doctor’s to return the ring. He was not at home. Of course she could not leave it with the housekeeper . Besides, why should aha-take the trouble to carry, it to him? It was not her place. He should ask for it. . Cousin Mary fairly raged. For the first time Sally was really unhappy over the matter, and in a little passion she pulled off the ring and threw it in a drawer. “I’ll return it by mail, Mary! Now leave me in peace!” There was no peace. Without a thought she walked up alone to the Postoffice through the village street to get the evening mail. It did seem as if the whole town were waiting for their letters. It was too warm for gloves, and in her haste to get her letters she forgot the absent ring. Such a lilting of eyebrows and whispering! Flushed and angry with herself, she darted out of the letter office only to almost run into the doctor’s arms. She hid her hand in the folds of her dress, and with a forced smile bade him good evening. He spoke pleasantly, smiled, and passed on. In a moment Sally heard his footsteps behind her as she walked rapidly home. She would not turn nor speak to him on the public road—and that would only make matters ten times worse. What was she to do? It was dreadful! How she wished she had never touched the ring! To her surprise he overtook her, and quietly and firmly put her arm in his. For a moment she experienced a sense of unutterable relief and satisfaction. She leaned upon him for support, and was gratified as he seemed to draw her closer. How good in him to come to her rescue! “ The curtain has not been rung down yet, Miss Depford.” „ - The curtain! Oh! he was only carrying out the joke! With a forced laugh she took the hint, and in a moment was as merry and chatty as ever. Once the doctor looked at her in a questioning way, and once he was silent for a whole minute. •' . ,-v 1 .

They walked on arm-in-arm up the village street, and at the sight half the town was dumb with astonishment, and the other half whispered the dreadful news about the missing ring. Little did they care. They walked on and on, and almost before Sally was aware of it they arrived at the doctor’s gate. The doctor opened the wicket, and with a smile held it wide for her to enter. She paused. Was it right? Was she not carrying the joke altogether too far? The blood mounted to her temples, and she was silent. “ Will you not come in, Miss Depford, and make us a little call?” “ No—l—thank you. Not—now.” She put out her hand to sustain herself, and laid her ungloved fingers on the top of the gate-post. She felt ready to faint with mortification, shame and disappointment. This was the end. It was only a joke—a pretense —and “ Miss Depford,” said the doctor, in a low voice, “where is my ring? She snatched her hand away, and, hiding it in her dress, turned away to hide her face “ Pardon me, pardon me, Doctor; I am much to blame. I didn’t mean any harm, and I Sated—hated —” “ Hated whom?” ' “ That—Sam Barrett; and I was so g.ad to escape from him that I am afraid I’ve done very wrong—very wrong indeed.” “How so?” 1 “In carrying but this dreadful, dread-' ful joke, as you call it. lam well pun-

idled for my folly. I took the ring off because I must—return it to you.” “ But—Sally—l do not wish you to return it.” She turned around amazed. What did he mean? One glance was sufficient. “ Come in—please—my love.” She took his arm again without a word, and they walked slowly up the graveled path toward the old mansion. The housekeeper came out and bade them welcome m a grand and impressive manner. The evening shadows fell on the lawn. The crickets began to chirp in the grass. The air seemed laden with tin perfume of summer flowers. The ancient ivy seemed to even vaguely hint a! autumn as it hung in motionless festoons from the walls. There was a sober air about the place, far different from her girlhood’s home. The doctor offered her an arm-chair on the wide piazza. How courtly and dignified his manners. His hair was gray—with honorable toil. He leaned over her and whispered: “It is an old-fashioned place, and I am such an ancient, solitary” “Hush! it’s home —our home.” The housekeeper turned proudly away from such childish nonsense, and furtively wiped a tear for the lamented, solitary goose. —American Homes.