Miss Mehetabels Son | Page 6

fluttering about the fruit-trees
under the window: so I have singing birds all the year round. I take it
very easy here, I can tell you, summer and winter. Not much society.
Tobias is not, perhaps, what one would term a great intellectual force,
but he means well. He 's a realist--believes in coming down to what he
calls 'the hard pan;' but his heart is in the right place, and he 's very kind

to me. The wisest thing I ever did in my life was to sell out my grain
business over at K------, thirteen years ago, and settle down at the
Corners. When a man has made a competency, what does he want more?
Besides, at that time an event occurred which destroyed any ambition I
may have had. Mehetabel died." "The lady you were engaged to?" "N-o,
not precisely engaged. I think it was quite understood between us,
though nothing had been said on the subject. Typhoid," added Mr.
Jaffrey, in a low voice.
For several minutes he smoked in silence, a vague, troubled look
playing over his countenance. Presently this passed away, and he fixed
his gray eyes speculatively upon my face.
"If I had married Mehetabel," said Mr. Jaffrey, slowly, and then he
hesitated. I blew a ring of smoke into the air, and, resting my pipe on
my knee, dropped into an attitude of attention. "If I had married
Mehetabel, you know, we should have had--ahem!--a family."
"Very likely," I assented, vastly amused at this unexpected turn.
"A Boy!" exclaimed Mr. Jaffrey, explosively.
"By all means, certainly, a son."
"Great trouble about naming the boy. Mehetabel's family want him
named Elkanah Elkins, after her grandfather; I want him named
Andrew Jackson. We compromise by christening him Elkanah Elkins
Andrew Jackson Jaffrey. Rather a long name for such a short little
fellow," said Mr. Jaffrey, musingly.
"Andy is n't a bad nickname," I suggested.
"Not at all. We call him Andy, in the family. Somewhat fractious at
first--colic and things. I suppose it is right, or it would n't be so; but the
usefulness of measles, mumps, croup, whooping-cough, scarlatina, and
fits is not clear to the parental eye. I wish Andy would be a model
infant, and dodge the whole lot."

This supposititious child, born within the last few minutes, was plainly
assuming the proportions of a reality to Mr. Jaffrey. I began to feel a
little uncomfortable. I am, as I have said, a civil engineer, and it is not
strictly in my line to assist at the births of infants, imaginary or
otherwise. I pulled away vigorously at the pipe, and said nothing.
"What large blue eyes he has," resumed Mr. Jaffrey, after a pause; "just
like Hetty's; and the fair hair, too, like hers. How oddly certain
distinctive features are handed down in families! Sometimes a mouth,
sometimes a turn of the eyebrow. Wicked little boys over at K------
have now and then derisively advised me to follow my nose. It would
be an interesting thing to do. I should find my nose flying about the
world, turning up unexpectedly here and there, dodging this branch of
the family and re-appearing in that, now jumping over one
greatgrandchild to fasten itself upon another, and never losing its
individuality. Look at Andy. There 's Elkanah Elkins's chin to the life.
Andy's chin is probably older than the Pyramids. Poor little thing," he
cried, with sudden indescribable tenderness, "to lose his mother so
early!" And Mr. Jaf-frey's head sunk upon his breast, and his shoulders
slanted forward, as if he were actually bending over the cradle of the
child. The whole gesture and attitude was so natural that it startled me.
The pipe slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.
"Hush!" whispered Mr. Jaffrey, with a deprecating motion of his hand.
"Andy's asleep!"
He rose softly from the chair and, walking across the room on tiptoe,
drew down the shade at the window through which the moonlight was
streaming. Then he returned to his seat, and remained gazing with
half-closed eyes into the dropping embers.
I refilled my pipe and smoked in profound silence, wondering what
would come next.
But nothing came next. Mr. Jaffrey had fallen into so brown a study
that, a quarter of an hour afterwards, when I wished him good-night
and withdrew, I do not think he noticed my departure.

I am not what is called a man of imagination; it is my habit to exclude
most things not capable of mathematical demonstration; but I am not
without a certain psychological insight, and I think I understood Mr.
Jaffrey's case. I could easily understand how a man with an unhealthy,
sensitive nature, overwhelmed by sudden calamity, might take refuge
in some forlorn place like this old tavern, and dream