The Man Who Stole A Meeting-House | Page 9

and put that farm through a course of improvement it would have done your eyes good to see. The children were sent to school, and Mrs. Jedwort had all the money she wanted now to clothe them, and to provide the house with comforts, without stealing her own butter. Jedwort was a burden; but, in spite of him, that was just about the happiest family, for the next four years, that ever lived on this planet.
"Jedwort soon got his bodily health, but I don't think he knew one of us again after his hurt. As near as I could get at his state of mind, he thought he had been changed into some sort of animal. He seemed inclined to take me for a master, and for four years he followed me around like a dog. During that time he never spoke, but only whined and growled. When I said, 'Lie down,' he'd lie down; and when I whistled he'd come.
"I used sometimes to make him work; and certain simple things he would do very well, as long as I was by. One day I had a jag of hay to get in; and, as the boys were away, I thought I'd have him load it. I pitched it on to the wagon about where it ought to lie, and looked to him only to pack it down. There turned out to be a bigger load than I had expected, and the higher it got, the worse the shape of it, till finally, as I was starting it toward the barn, off it rolled, and the old man with it, head foremost.
"He struck a stone heap, and for a moment I thought he was killed. But he jumped up and spoke for the first time. 'I'll blow it,' says he, finishing the sentence he had begun four years before, when he called for the horn to be passed up to him.
"I couldn't have been much more astonished if one of the horses had spoken. But I saw at once that there was an expression in Jedwort's face that hadn't been there since his tumble in the belfry; and I knew that, as his wits had been knocked out of him by one blow on the head, so another blow had knocked 'em in again.
"'Where's Bob?' says he, looking all round.
"'Bob?' says I, not thinking at first who he meant. Oh, Bob is dead--he has been dead these three years.'
"Without noticing my reply, he exclaimed: 'Where did all that hay come from? Where's the old meetin'-house?'
"'Don't you know?' says I. 'Some rogues set fire to it the night after you got hurt, and burnt it up.'
"He seemed then just beginning to realize that something extraordinary had happened.
"'Stark,' says he, 'what's the matter with ye? You're changed.'
"'Yes,' say I, 'I wear my beard now, and I've grown older!'
"'Dumbed if 'ta'n't odd!' says he. 'Stark, what in thunder's the matter with me?
"'You've had meeting-house on the brain for the past four years,' says I; 'that's what's the matter.'
"It was some time before I could make him understand that he had been out of his head, and that so long a time had been a blank to him.
"Then he said, 'Is this my farm?'
"'Don't you know it?' says I.
"'It looks more slicked up than ever it used to,' says he.
"'Yes,' says I; 'and you'll find everything else on the place slicked up in about the same way.'
"'Where's Dave?' says he.
"'Dave has gone to town to see about selling the wool.'
"'Where's Dan?'
"'Dan's in college. He takes a great notion to medicine; and we're going to make a doctor of him.'
"'Whose house is that?' says he, as I was taking him home.
"'No wonder you don't know it,' says I. 'It has been painted, and shingled, and had new blinds put on; the gates and fences are all in prime condition; and that's a new barn we put up a couple of years ago.'
"'Where does the money come from, to make all these improvements?'
"'It comes off the place,' says I. 'We haven't run in debt the first cent for anything, but we've made the farm more profitable than it ever was before.'
"'That my house?' he repeated wonderingly, as we approached it. 'What sound is that?'
"'That's Lottie practicing her lesson on the piano.'
"'A pianer in my house?' he muttered. 'I can't stand that!' He listened. 'It sounds pooty, though!'
"'Yes, it does sound pretty, and I guess you'll like it How does the place suit you?'
"'It looks pooty.' He started. 'What young lady is that?'
"It was Lottie, who had left her music and stood by the window.
"'My dahter! ye don't say! Dumbed if she a'n't a mighty nice gal.'
"'Yes,' says I; 'she takes after her mother.'
"Just then Susie, who heard talking, ran to the door.
"'Who's that agin?' says Jedwort.
"I