A Wife For Mr. Hobson

Taranaki Daily News, 18 December 1929, Page 2 (Supplement)

A Wife For Mr. Hobson

(By

Cicely Wiley)

(First Prize Short Story.) Ceasing for a moment in her tidying up ■ of the counter of the Rangi Ruru store, Mrs. Merriweather allowed her blue eyes, to glance affectionately at her fall son, as'he piled high the new biscuit tins for her in their appointed places. / • ' ; ’ .. .r.i’ .. ' «lf : only "you could'see him, mother,” the ? 'youhg man U-as' saying seriously, jnes.sing ..-round in that kitchen with his pots and £/•'■’jans, you’d surely—” > “Find him a wife!” his mother finished, ',' her eyes twinkling. . The boy smiled, reflecting her good humtour, which somehow was always infectious. . .. ■ ’ “Yes; it’s a shame, you know; he has no comforts in the place, no one to look after . him or anything. He should get married.” “Well, if ever a man needs a wife,”• Mrs. ■ ■’■■'•‘Merriweather chatted on, flitting here and ’■? there .behind the counter, -‘a farmer does. • . .There’s., so much to do on the land, without ■having to bother with cooking and house- : ' " work. I’ll have to see what I can do.” , Meanwhile, out on his farm some .two - miles distant, old Ebenezer Hobson—the man . ’- ’ Tihder discussion at the Rangi Ruru store—- ’ -’ was “messing about with’his pbts and pans,” . : ’;:i. folio wing .'h is solitary ' evening ’ meal. ” ’ Then / after; 'giving -his tousled ’sandy head "ft rub . 'with the brush, he donned eddt and ’old faded . ./ hat before taking his customary ’ two-milo ; evening walk ’ down to the store - for a'glass >of “the nearest-to-it,” which, in his language, . . ''stood for the locally made pale ale, of which ho was very fond. : “And better for you, too, Mr. Hobson,” -.’•’•■ ; Mrs. Merriweather would remark with her happy /twinkle, as she poured the non-intoxi-cant into his glass. J"'. Old Eb. looked forward to his evening’s (relaxation at the Rangi Ruru store. Especial.■i' ly did he look forward to a chat with its ; buxom owner. Since John Merriweather had ; ; '’'come to work for him, he had somehow ac- ;; '• quired the habit of spending a part of his ' ..'/' evenings thus. - To-night Mrs. Merriweather was at her brightest. A damp wind, which each customer admitted into the cheery little shop. with the opening of the door, had curled her fair ’••■ hair into what Old Eb. termed “fetching” little ringlets, framing a plump, rosy face. 'She was a comfortable-looking woman, always warm.- A swOet homely perfume emanated from her—'Something fresh and warm, like new bread.' Her hands, unlike her pink . ■ checks, were snowy white, soft, wide and .jlump. Her age was in the region of the ./••./middle forties, but she looked younger. ", 1 , Without preliminary, she came to the question she and her son had been discussing earlier.

“You ought to get married, Mr. Hobson,” she teased, watching . him. toss ■ ~pff .. his second glass. “Nothing like .’yoiu' (know, for keeping a man young. ( Besides you. need someone to look after you.* She was glad to see that her .remark (had/caused no offence. . ' j. (“Well, an’.l dunno as how yer right, Mrs. Merriweather,” Old Eb. replied, contemplatively scratching his sandy head behind his (huge red ear, “but no one would have me.” . • Mrs. Merriweather waved aside that remark with a sweep of her plump, white arm. “Rubbish, Mr. Hobson, there are lots who would be only too willing.” For reply he gave a self-conscious little laugh, watching meanwhile : hcr swift fingers remove glass and empty bottle from the counter- ; “No; but seriously, Mr.- Hobson, why not?” the widow went-on. “it’s too lonely for a man living all alone, as you are. A nice wife would 1 be just the thing for you now. Someone bright and cheerful and really domesticated.” “Perhaps yer right, Mrs. Merriweather,” was all he would say. “Perhaps yer right.” Decisively Mrs. Merriweather leaned her rounded arms upon the counter and surveyed this solemn, weather-beaten face thoughtfully. “I know I’m right!” she emphasised. “How about that Miss Lake now ? She’s very nice.”

“No, yer don’t,” Old Eb. returned, with more. vehemence than usual. “Know. her too (s well—before you ever came here—before you * was born even.”' ' • At ihis' unconscious compliment—for- well • ®he- knew that ' her. own year’s exceeded those ofctlie lady under discussion—she gave, a surireptitious glance :,< at' herself in the tiny mir--101; at the end.of the counter, and patted her fair hair a .trifle self-consciously. “Well, and why not advertise?” she suggested, turning to him again. “Lot’s do,'you know. I’ll tell you what —we’ll put an advertisement in to-morrow’s paper, then pick y out> the likely ones.” But it took nearly an hour of Mrs. Merriweather’s persuasions before Old Eb. would agree, and then only by her promising to allow him to remain anonymous in the meantime.

Eventually several, enterprising spinsters of'Rangi Kura repi.ed io -tne advertisement for a “middle-aged lady, with a view to matrimony.” Together Old Eb. and Mrs. Merriweather went through their appealing letters. Mr. Hobson was inclined to favour a Miss Harkness, a delicate, lonely little woman, living near his farm. But Mrs. Merriweather thought her much too frail for a farmer’s wife. “She’d be no comfort, Mr. Hobson,” she objected. “All the fuss’d have to.be on your side.” As always when Old Eb. wanted to express an opinion and found it difficult, he tilted forward liis hat and scratched his head again behind that big, red ear. “Well, perhaps yer right, Mrs. Merriweather,” he said at length, “Perhaps yer right!” . - Mrs.- Merriweather nodded approval. “I know I’m right, Mr. Hobson. How about this Miss Sparrow”—turning over the. letters—“she’s the sort.” But Old Eb. shook his rough head, and pushed his hat back into place. „ “No,” ho said, emphatically. “She won’t • do! She’s my-r-”. ■ - But Mrs. Merriweather waved that aside also. ' ■■ “You’re ; too pernickety,” she ’ scolded, “She’s a very, nice lady, '-I’m- sure»”- . • “Yes—but—” ■' \ • • Again the plump white- arm was rals- , cd. - - -4 • ’ ■ ■ • “An’ would yet really, like to sec me married to her?” he drawled, closely scrutinizing his listener’s bright face. For a moment Mrs. Merriweather was silent. Although conscious of that searching look, she was at a loss to understand it. Would she like to see him married? Of course »he would!.,Certainly she would miss

liis coining into her store of an evening, and sue was a lonely woman. Still, having started this matrimonial line of action, she intended to go on'with it. Besides, the man needed a wife. i> ■ ■■■■ 1 . “You’re only to'look at him,” she reflected tenderly now. His frayed cuffs beneath his rough eoat were badly ill need of A stitch; his collar was 'shockingly ironed, and his tie, well, the less said about that the better. Old Eb. repeating his question aroused her from her thoughts. ' • j “Er^ycs—certainly I Would,” She declared; but somehow her tone lacked conviction. “Well, then, I reckon I’ll go along and see the lady to-morrer night,” he drawled. But as he turned to leave the store, Mrs. Merriweather caught an inexplicable gleam of amusement in his usually sombre eyes. True to his word, the following evening Old Eb. —looking very new and uncomfortable in his “best” suit —called at the store for his usual beverage, before paying -the proposed visit to the lady of their choice. Mrs. Merriweather had spent a somewhat quiet day and her blue eyes brightened at his entrance. It had been the Rangi Ruru school picnic, and she had missed the children’s coming in for their pennies-worth of sweets and marbles. She was glad wheh at last evening came, bringing with it Old Eb. Hobson. The man, however,' seemed’ restless and would not stay long. ' He purchased sbirie tobacco, drank off his pale ale, remarked briefly upbn the' beauty of the early autumn evening, and was gone. With a sigh, the widow picked up her discarded novel and tried to make herself comfortable behind the counter; but her thoughts would wander from the printed pages. : She half regretted now having pushed Old Eb. into Cupid’s path at all. If only he’d waited for a little yarn instead of rushing off like that. She wondered at his sudden enthusiasm, after having been content to'remain in single harness all those years. She gave herself a little shake. “I’m a silly old woman,” she exclaimed impatiently

•'l’ll - keep open a bit later to-night,” she told herself presently. "He might call in on his way home.” But when half past ten came, appeared no Mr. Hobson, and Mrs. Merriweather was yawning terribly. “He won’t be in now,” she murmured, disappointed, and prepared to put up the shutters. She felt a little aggrieved. He might have come in and reported progress. Next morning she was surprised to see enter her shop little Miss Sparrow, who wanted half a pound of tea. It was the first time the spinster had patronised the Rangi Ruru ■store, and as its owner tied up her purchase, she thought, "This matrimonial agency of mine is bringing in custom—if nothing else.” • , ' '

“It must be lonely here by yourself, Mrs. Merriweather,” Miss Sparrow remarked timidly, waiting for her change. . .

Mrs.- Merriweather was somewhat startled. It was exactly what she had been trying to say to Miss Sparrow ever since her entry. '’Oh,. I don’t know,” she returned evasively, ringing the till. “I have the dhop and my son is home occasionally.” With downcast eyes she passed the change across her snowy counter. “But what about you, Miss Sparrow ? Don’t you find it lonely down there by yourself all day?” “Yes; it is lonely sometimes,” the little spinster sighed. Mrs.' Merriweather felt a pang of pity for her. She certainly looked a lonely soul. She had an "unmarried look/’ Mrs. Merriweather thought. Few lines were written upon her pale face, but if she had had none of the sorrows which marriage sometimes brings, none of its deeper joys were written there.

Nevertheless, Mrs. Merriweather liked the look of her, and in spite of her loneliness of last night, was glad she was chosen for the future Mrs. Hobson. For a second or so she found it hard to say what she had in mind. At last she framed the words. “You should get married, Miss Sparrow” —and to herself she thought, “I hope -she won’t think me too presumptuous.”

“Oh,. I’ve had my chances, Mrs. Merriweather,” the little spinster declared, warming 0 the ot'her’p interest. “Yes, I’ve had my chances —but none of the gentlemen appealed to me. Still, you never know!” “Now!” whispered Mrs. Merriweather’s other self. "Here’s your chance. Bring out your Mr. Hobson!” Aloud she said warmly, “No you never do! As I often say to Mr. Hobson—you kpow him, of course —I say, ‘lt’s too lonely living by yourself. You should get married,. Mr. Hobson, No man should live alorie!’”

She felt 'that she had very effectively introduced to the shy lady her future swain. “He’s very nice, isn’t he?” Miss Sparrow remarked, falling right into her hands.

"One of the best!” Mrs. Merriweather agreed, delighted to be gaining ground. "He’s so upright, so gentle and so—well, quite well-to-do, you know.” She suspected from Miss Sparrow’s appearance that she had little of this world’s goods. The spinster chatted on. “Yes; I’ve always admired him. I’ve known him all my life. Of course, he’s my —” But the noisy entrance of another Customer put an end for that day to their interesting little talk. Calling in for his usual refreshment the same evening, Old Eb. for some unaccountable reason, seemed reluctant to discuss progress in his matrimonial venture. All Mrs. Merriweather could get out of him was that; he was on his way to Miss Sparrow’s for a sec--ond visit.

"Think I'd better take the lady some sweets,” he ventured, emptying his glass, of “the nearest-to-it.”

Mrs. Merriweather’s eyes sparkled. “He’s coming on,” she thought.; This courtship was bringing business; a pound of chocolates now and a packet of tea that morning.”-

The following day and on many other days little Miss Spatrow came to the store for her provisions. ’ Indeed, they were not of a large order —sometimes a few clothes pegs, a tin of polish or some eggs, but at each visit Mrs. Merriweather felt that she was making the stony path of courtship a little smoother for Old Eb.

As the weeks flew by, however, and the autumn nights were growing chilly with the sharp tang, of frost not far off, she could not help but notice that whereas Miss Sparrow was overbrimming with eagerness to discuss Old Eb. and his numerous good qualities, the man himself was disinclined to discuss the little spinster. AH the same, a bag of the *’l‘ > » J- ■ - • • - -

best chocolates was passed over the counter as regularly now as his bottle of pale ale. “She’ll be getting bilious,” Mrs. Merriweather thought, as she weighed out his favourite mixture, and aloud she said: “You’re not making much headway, are you? You’ll want to ( get things fixed up before the winter, surely?” For a moment Old Eb. did not reply, but characteristically scratched his sandy head. “Mabbe 1 am;’ he drawled presently, “and mabbe I aren’t!”

“Why—surely, Mr. Hobson —” “Well, mabbe I am,” he mumbled again, “and mabbe—” but the remainder was drowned in -the folds of his crumpled waistcoat,. as ho turped abruptly and left the shop. The following .evening while young John Merriweather was strolling along the quiet street =bh. tiis way to the bi-weekly performance of “tho pictures,” he saw ahead of him the tali, awkward figure of Ebenezer Hobson, making his way towards the house of little Miss Sparrow. A moment later, however, ha was surprised to see Old Eb. slip surreptitiously past - the gate • and into a right-of-way which led back circuitously to the main road. "That’s strange!” the boy thought, remembering having seen the man buying his usual sweets a little earlier.

Strange or not, Old Eb. was not going a-courting to-night.

Mrs. Merriweather was even more surprised when John told her about it' next morning. When Mr. Hobson had departed with his sweets a few evenings later, she was determined to find out for herself '“what was what,”, so calling her son to. mind the shop, she prilled on a wrap and followed at some distance the unsuspecting figure. Then, “sure enough,” she told John later, “he hurried right past her gate .and into the alley way, without even stopping.” ■■■._,■ Strange! He was not courting that night either.

Mrs. Merriweather decided to tax Old Eb. with his duplicity. “How was Miss Sn,n>Tow last night when you called?” she asked, hating herself for her su’btc

Only ror' a second did Old Eb. hesitate. Then, “I . rtfnT _S^ e -3 cP >- c °nfessed, marking a pattern on the counter with his big •roughened forciuger. <- Mrs. Merriweather was taken aback. Somehow she had expected him to lie. “Why, surely Mr. Hobson —after all your trouble to advertise—the sweets —and everything—” “Well, I aren’t going to be bustled,” was all he would say. The idea of trying to bustle Old Eb. into anything —particularly, matrimony —caused a smile to flit across Mrs. Merriweather’s puzzled face. StiP he was a good old sort and deserved a wife, and she would help him if she could. Besides, it wasn’t fair to the lady “to cool off” after arousing her expectations. And the way Miss Sparrow admired him—it wasn’t fair! '

“Oh, Mr. Ho-bson, how could you?” she exclaimed. “Why, the poor little woman does nothing but ’ praise you from morning till night., Strn’ll t-? - that; disappointed.” “Oh, no. she won’t,?’ was Old Eb.’s astonishing r'yly-

For a' ' — At Mrs. A yr i weather’s surprise rend.-ml Jsr spcefijess. “Yes; but —” she managed to stammer. “She will, really., -.pe la.uxs you’re so good. She knows all your good qualities and —” The man ceased his pattern-making and gazed earnestly into the woman’s bewildered face. And that slow old head was thinking, “Yes; an’ it’s a very nice face, too.” .

Mrs. Merriweather, embarrassed by his close scrutiny, burst out again, “Yes; but—” “She knows my good qualities,” Old Eb. interrupted gently, “but do you?” Mrs. Merriweather’s blue eyes registered their amazement.

“Why, of course, Mr. Hobson. But what’s that got to do with your getting married?” “Well, everything I guess, Mrs. Merriweather. Y’ see its you I’ll be marryin’—if you’ll have me!”

He leaned across and took her hand, •which was soft and warm and rather sticky. With his free hand he raised her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. No longer did she find them the quiet eyes she knew so well. A fire seemed now to; slumber in their depths. “But what .about Miss Sparrow, the sweets and everything?” she whispered, shaking her chin free, but allowing her hand to remain in his. Old Eb. gave'her one'of his rare smiles. “The sweets are quite safe, m’ dear —up at the farm for you. And Miss Sparrow-well,’-all -I'ken'say about her : is that she’s ‘a pretty poor hand at helpin’ with a . man’s courtin’, seein’ he has to tell the lady himself that he loVes her!”’ ' : " - The blushing Mrs. Merriweather , made one more attempt' to see daylight, but. Old Eb. was behind the counter by this time and Was taking her neat figure into his arms. -; “It’s all right, m’ dear,” he murmured in a voice Mrs. Merriweather had never heard before. “You seej she’s been helpin’ me. .We’re —er —really first cousins, yer know!”