"A Man May Not Marry His Grandmother" Chapters IV-VI [pp. 126-137]

"A MAN MAY NOT MARRY HIS GRANDMOTHER."
tion to his guests. "Have ye introjuced our
frind, Susanna?"
"Yes, father, and he expresses himself as
very happy to make their acquaintance." The
sudden assumption of Devons's society gravity
was accompanied by a twinkle which repaid the
young gentleman for the apparent loss of dignity
which he might be supposed to suffer. He
laughed with the rest, and the general merri ment of the room was as hearty as it was un reasonable. Billy took his fiddle again, happy
whenever he could flourish it, and without more
ceremony the little company was spinning about
the little room, or executing little jigs, half impromptu, but always in keeping with the unwearied fiddle. It can not be said that Devons was
a very skillful dancer; he had never valued the
little accomplishments of that kind which he had
been taught, but then he never had found dancing much more than a languid accompaniment
to feeble wits. Here he was with dancers who
danced for the fun of it, and he caught some of
the inspiration which possessed them. Even his
faux has added to the general stock of,pleasure.
"0 Richard, Richard!" exclaimed Susanna
at one point, "where did ye learn that step?
Is it the literary step ye are showing us? Much
learning has not made you a dancer."
"0 Susanna, Susanna!" he retorted gayly,
"your father's fiddle is bewitched, or it never
would have led me into such a scrape as this.
I've not danced for a year, I believe." He looked
on with admiration not unmixed with envy as he
saw the lusty Thomas perform a muscular pas
sezul with an energy which was exhilarating even
if not supremely graceful. Kathleen, too, danced
well, but all yielded the palm to Susanna, who,
entering into the fun with an honest abandon,
threw so much roguish mirth into face and action
that Devons entirely forgot himself and the company in his enthusiasm for the captivating dancer.
Susanna herself was overflowing with frolicsomeness. Her bright hair fell over her eyes, and she
tossed it back or peeped through it with a brightness of glance which bewitched Devons as it fell
on him. The dance broke up with a childish
merry-go-round, to the briskest tune that Billy
could play, and as they flew apart into the four
comers at the sudden peremptory scrape of the
bow, Billy himself jumped up, and there was a
lively game of puss in the corner. Romp succeeded romp until they were all really too overcome with laughter and fatigue to go any further. Thomas and Kathleen retreated tumultuously, but Devons lingered to take a final taste
of his pleasure.
"Do you always have such jolly evenings?"
he asked.
"That depends on our company. We don't
often have an author to spend the evening with
us."
"Nonsense, Susanna! How much of the
author have you seen in me this evening?"
"Why, I thought all along it was the author
that was jolly," she persisted. "But I'll take it
back if ye like, and say that Richard Devons
made merry, and Mr. Devons, the author of the
dear knows what, was in the doleful dumps."
"Ye have not towld us what worrk it is that
ye have written," said Shakespeare, who had laid
aside his fiddle and stood in a dignified attitude
before the two.
"Susanna only calls me an author to tease
me," said Devons.
"And pray who told me you was an author? " she asked. " It was yourself, and I've
not forgotten that ye have written about-but
we'll not name him, or ye'll say he was an author, too."
"Well, was he not?"
"Not a bit of it. He was just a great man,
and the dramas and the poems came out from
him as me words come from me lips; d'ye think
he stopped to pick them up, and put them in
order, and pat them, and rub out this, and stick
in that, and make a book, and go round like a
loony and wander whether folks were reading his
plays?" Devons winced a little as he recalled
his own petty delight in his own work, but he
was not to be put down.
" No, for plays were not made into books
then till they had been tried on the stage.
Shakespeare published his plays when he set
them at the Globe, and I warrant he was glad
when Ben Jonson praised them. Nobody can
help liking to have his work liked. Come, honestly, Susanna, you like to talk, don't you?"
"I'll not be questioned in the dark," said she,
warily.
"And you like to dance, for you dance well."
"Manny thanks to such a master of dancing,"
she said, rising and making a courtesy.
"Well, now, I don't believe but you like to
have me like your talk, just as Shakespeare liked
to have his plays crowded, and as I like-"
" Tut, tut!" said she, closing his mouth.
"Shakespeare and you, indade, in one breath!"
"And you," he gurgled, laughing and extricating himself.
"That's a great name, yoong man," said
Shakespeare himself, who had been looking on
and dimly apprehending the dispute; "ye must
say it varry sariously."
"Ay, that ye must," said Susanna. "For
Shakespeare made men, and ye write a book
about Shakespeare, and pray is some one to tell
fibs about you?"
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