Stories of a Western Town | Page 4

light and artless costume of a quilted petticoat and a
red flannel sack.
"Oh, gracious goodness! Mrs. Lieders!" cried she.
Thekla Lieders rather staggered than walked into the room and fell
back on the black haircloth sofa.
"There, there, there," said the young woman while she patted the broad
shoulders heaving between sobs and short breath, "what is it? The
house aint afire?"
"Oh, no, oh, Mrs. Olsen, he has done it again!" She wailed in sobs, like
a child.
"Done it? Done what?" exclaimed Mrs. Olsen, then her face paled. "Oh,
my gracious, you DON'T mean he's killed himself ------"
"Yes, he's killed himself, again."
"And he's dead?" asked the other in an awed tone.
Mrs. Lieders gulped down her tears. "Oh, not so bad as that, I cut him

down, he was up in the garret and I sus--suspected him and I run up
and--oh, he was there, a choking, and he was so mad! He swore at me
and--he kicked me when I--I says: 'Kurt, what are you doing of? Hold
on till I git a knife,' I says--for his hands was just dangling at his side;
and he says nottings cause he couldn't, he was most gone, and I knowed
I wouldn't have time to git no knife but I saw it was a rope was pretty
bad worn and so-- so I just run and jumped and ketched it in my hands,
and being I'm so fleshy it couldn't stand no more and it broke! And, oh!
he-- he kicked me when I was try to come near to git the rope off his
neck; and so soon like he could git his breath he swore at me ----"
"And you a helping of him! Just listen to that!" cried the hearer
indignantly.
"So I come here for to git you and Mr. Olsen to help me git him down
stairs, 'cause he is too heavy for me to lift, and he is so mad he won't
walk down himself."
"Yes, yes, of course. I'll call Carl. Carl! dost thou hear? come! But did
you dare to leave him Mrs. Lieders?" Part of the time she spoke in
English, part of the time in her own tongue, gliding from one to another,
and neither party observing the transition.
Mrs. Lieders wiped her eyes, saying: "Oh, yes, Danke schon, I aint
afraid 'cause I tied him with the rope, righd good, so he don't got no
chance to move. He was make faces at me all the time I tied him." At
the remembrance, the tears welled anew.
Mrs. Olsen, a little bright tinted woman with a nose too small for her
big blue eyes and chubby cheeks, quivered with indignant sympathy.
"Well, I did nefer hear of sooch a mean acting man!" seemed to her the
most natural expression; but the wife fired, at once.
"No, he is not a mean man," she cried, "no, Freda Olsen, he is not a
mean man at all! There aint nowhere a better man than my man; and
Carl Olsen, he knows that. Kurt, he always buys a whole ham and a
whole barrel of flour, and never less than a dollar of sugar at a time!

And he never gits drunk nor he never gives me any bad talk. It was
only he got this wanting to kill himself on him, sometimes."
"Well, I guess I'll go put on my things," said Mrs. Olsen, wisely
declining to defend her position. "You set right still and warm yourself,
and we'll be back in a minute."
Indeed, it was hardly more than that time before both Carl Olsen, who
worked in the same furniture factory as Kurt Lieders, and was a comely
and after-witted giant, appeared with Mrs. Olsen ready for the street.
He nodded at Mrs. Lieders and made a gurgling noise in his throat,
expected to convey sympathy. Then, he coughed and said that he was
ready, and they started.
Feeling further expression demanded, Mrs. Olsen asked: "How many
times has he done it, Mrs. Lieders?"
Mrs. Lieders was trotting along, her anxious eyes on the house in the
distance, especially on the garret windows. "Three times," she
answered, not removing her eyes; "onct he tooked Rough on Rats and I
found it out and I put some apple butter in the place of it, and he kept
wondering and wondering how he didn't feel notings, and after awhile I
got him off the notion, that time. He wasn't mad at me; he just said:
'Well, I do it some other time. You see!' but he promised to wait till I
got the spring house cleaning over, so he could shake the carpets for me;
and by and by he got feeling better. He was mad at the boss