Jimtown's Bride [pp. 374-386]

JIMTOWN'S BRIDE.
the proprietor of Jimtown's most popular
resort and the founder of Jimtown itself,
that had. been appointed to do the honors
of the occasion. Smilingly, graciously,
Jack Claycomb's bride lent the charms
of her personality to the incongruous
company that surrounded her.
"I'11 tell yer what't is, Ma'am," began Bill Morrison bravely,-" 1'11 tell yer
what't is. Jimtown's all fired proud o'
herself tonight. Mebbe you don't know
it, but, by Jinks, we boys sort o' think
we wuz the means o' gittin' you here.
O' course Jack there, hed somethin' ter
say'bout who she'd be, but we hed it all
reckoned up afore we ever hearn o' you
thet a woman wuz a goin' ter be imported
inter Jimtown; not the sort we've got
here already, you sabe, but a lady, the
genuine article and no mistake. Jim
here," with a significant nudge in McHale's direction and'a wicked wink at the
rest of the committee, " wuz a prospectin' a little on his own account, and calklated she might hev some cousins er
sisters, er some old school friends, seein'
gals do sometimes, thet would be comin'
ter see her once'n a while, and might,
efter meetin' Jim sort er accidental, you
know, kinder conclude they'd like ter
stay in Jimtown. Well, we did n't know
jest how we wuz goin' ter produce her,
but we sorter calklated on Jack there,
helpin' us out. So one night, after we'd
appointed him mayor o' Jimtown, we
rose in a body and informed him thet it
wuz the opinion o' the votin' fraternity
o' this ere community, thet a lady wuz
needed in Jimtown, and the desire o' this
ere town wuz thet he settle the bizness
by gittin' spliced forthwith. He said thet
he wuz inclined ter the same opinion himself, and wuz willin' ter accede ter the
wishes o' Jimtown in this ez in all other
questions. So we rushed this ere house
up in great shape, perty house, ain't
it? and then we hustled him off ter
New York efter you."
In the height of Bill's protracted delivery, a door leading into the hall from the
side of the reception parlor opened slowly, timidly, and as if with great reluctance, and in the crack appeared a face,
pallid, tear-stained, desperate. It was
the face of neither child nor woman, but
with a strange blending of both, each
seemed to be lost; a woman's expression
on a child's features, a child's timidity
combined with a woman's abandon. Another instant, and the face had disappeared and the door closed quietly. Jack
Claycomb turned a startled face to his
wife. She was smiling serenely, absorbed in Morrison's labored oratory. A
glance around the-room showed him a
like indifference on the faces of his
guests. Apparently, by a strange fatality, he had been the only observer. But
with the sense of relief that came with
that knowledge, he felt rising within him
an awful fear that the scene might be reenacted. Nervously he turned to the
door. It was merely closed, not latched.
"It's a mighty cool day when Jimtown
gits left on her chice o' a woman, eh,
Boss?" And Claycomb was aroused by
a heavy slap on his shoulder.
He joined weakly in the laugh that followed; then with an effort turned quietly to his wife, "You will pardon me if I
leave you a moment, dear?"
With the faintest surprise in her eyes,
she assented and placidly renewed her
conversation with Morrison. Bowing
apologetically to the questioning looks of
his company, Claycomb hurriedly left
the room.
Crouching in the hall, close to the
door she had just opened, sobbing, listening between the sobs, was the childwoman; and in her arms an infant so
tiny as to gain its individuality only by
the heavy rolls that encircled it. Claycomb grasped her almost roughly by the
arm, and with an unmistakable sign for
silence, urged her through the hall to a
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