THE COMPLETE NOVELS OF MARK TWAIN - 12 Books in One Edition. Марк Твен

I am glad of it — I’m glad of it. I never cared anything for him anyway!”

      And then, with small consistency, she cried a little, and patted her foot more indignantly than ever.

      CHAPTER XI.

      Table of Contents

      Two months had gone by and the Hawkins family were domiciled in Hawkeye. Washington was at work in the real estate office again, and was alternately in paradise or the other place just as it happened that Louise was gracious to him or seemingly indifferent — because indifference or preoccupation could mean nothing else than that she was thinking of some other young person. Col. Sellers had asked him several times, to dine with him, when he first returned to Hawkeye, but Washington, for no particular reason, had not accepted. No particular reason except one which he preferred to keep to himself — viz. that he could not bear to be away from Louise. It occurred to him, now, that the Colonel had not invited him lately — could he be offended? He resolved to go that very day, and give the Colonel a pleasant surprise. It was a good idea; especially as Louise had absented herself from breakfast that morning, and torn his heart; he would tear hers, now, and let her see how it felt.

      The Sellers family were just starting to dinner when Washington burst upon them with his surprise. For an instant the Colonel looked nonplussed, and just a bit uncomfortable; and Mrs. Sellers looked actually distressed; but the next moment the head of the house was himself again, and exclaimed:

      “All right, my boy, all right — always glad to see you — always glad to hear your voice and take you by the hand. Don’t wait for special invitations — that’s all nonsense among friends. Just come whenever you can, and come as often as you can — the oftener the better. You can’t please us any better than that, Washington; the little woman will tell you so herself. We don’t pretend to style. Plain folks, you know — plain folks. Just a plain family dinner, but such as it is, our friends are always welcome, I reckon you know that yourself, Washington. Run along, children, run along; Lafayette, — [**In those old days the average man called his children after his most revered literary and historical idols; consequently there was hardly a family, at least in the West, but had a Washington in it — and also a Lafayette, a Franklin, and six or eight sounding names from Byron, Scott, and the Bible, if the offspring held out. To visit such a family, was to find one’s self confronted by a congress made up of representatives of the imperial myths and the majestic dead of all the ages. There was something thrilling about it, to a stranger, not to say awe inspiring.] — stand off the cat’s tail, child, can’t you see what you’re doing? — Come, come, come, Roderick Dhu, it isn’t nice for little boys to hang onto young gentlemen’s coat tails — but never mind him, Washington, he’s full of spirits and don’t mean any harm. Children will be children, you know. Take the chair next to Mrs. Sellers, Washington — tut, tut, Marie Antoinette, let your brother have the fork if he wants it, you are bigger than he is.”

      Washington contemplated the banquet, and wondered if he were in his right mind. Was this the plain family dinner? And was it all present? It was soon apparent that this was indeed the dinner: it was all on the table: it consisted of abundance of clear, fresh water, and a basin of raw turnips — nothing more.

      Washington stole a glance at Mrs. Sellers’s face, and would have given the world, the next moment, if he could have spared her that. The poor woman’s face was crimson, and the tears stood in her eyes. Washington did not know what to do. He wished he had never come there and spied out this cruel poverty and brought pain to that poor little lady’s heart and shame to her cheek; but he was there, and there was no escape. Col. Sellers hitched back his coat sleeves airily from his wrists as who should say “Now for solid enjoyment!” seized a fork, flourished it and began to harpoon turnips and deposit them in the plates before him “Let me help you, Washington — Lafayette, pass this plate to Washington — ah, well, well, my boy, things are looking pretty bright, now, I tell you. Speculation — my! the whole atmosphere’s full of money. I would’nt take three fortunes for one little operation I’ve got on hand now — have anything from the casters? No? Well, you’re right, you’re right. Some people like mustard with turnips, but — now there was Baron Poniatowski — Lord, but that man did know how to live! — true Russian you know, Russian to the back bone; I say to my wife, give me a Russian every time, for a table comrade. The Baron used to say, ‘Take mustard, Sellers, try the mustard, — a man can’t know what turnips are in perfection without, mustard,’ but I always said, ‘No, Baron, I’m a plain man and I want my food plain — none of your embellishments for Beriah Sellers — no made dishes for me! And it’s the best way — high living kills more than it cures in this world, you can rest assured of that. — Yes indeed, Washington, I’ve got one little operation on hand that — take some more water — help yourself, won’t you? — help yourself, there’s plenty of it. — You’ll find it pretty good, I guess. How does that fruit strike you?”

      Washington said he did not know that he had ever tasted better. He did not add that he detested turnips even when they were cooked — loathed them in their natural state. No, he kept this to himself, and praised the turnips to the peril of his soul.

      “I thought you’d like them. Examine them — examine them — they’ll bear it. See how perfectly firm and juicy they are — they can’t start any like them in this part of the country, I can tell you. These are from New Jersey — I imported them myself. They cost like sin, too; but lord bless me, I go in for having the best of a thing, even if it does cost a little more — it’s the best economy, in the long run. These are the Early Malcolm — it’s a turnip that can’t be produced except in just one orchard, and the supply never is up to the demand. Take some more water, Washington — you can’t drink too much water with fruit — all the doctors say that. The plague can’t come where this article is, my boy!”

      “Plague? What plague?”

      “What plague, indeed? Why the Asiatic plague that nearly depopulated London a couple of centuries ago.”

      “But how does that concern us? There is no plague here, I reckon.”

      “Sh! I’ve let it out! Well, never mind — just keep it to yourself. Perhaps I oughtn’t said anything, but its bound to come out sooner or later, so what is the odds? Old McDowells wouldn’t like me to — to — bother it all, I’ll jest tell the whole thing and let it go. You see, I’ve been down to St. Louis, and I happened to run across old Dr. McDowells — thinks the world of me, does the doctor. He’s a man that keeps himself to himself, and well he may, for he knows that he’s got a reputation that covers the whole earth — he won’t condescend to open himself out to many people, but lord bless you, he and I are just like brothers; he won’t let me go to a hotel when I’m in the city — says I’m the only man that’s company to him, and I don’t know but there’s some truth in it, too, because although I never like to glorify myself and make a great to-do over what I am or what I can do or what I know, I don’t mind saying here among friends that I am better read up in most sciences, maybe, than the general run of professional men in these days. Well, the other day he let me into a little secret, strictly on the quiet, about this matter of the plague.

      “You see it’s booming right along in our direction — follows the Gulf Stream, you know, just as all those epidemics do, and within three months it will be just waltzing through this land like a whirlwind! And whoever it touches can make his will and contract for the funeral. Well you can’t cure it, you know, but you can prevent it. How? Turnips! that’s it! Turnips and water! Nothing like it in the world, old McDowells says, just fill yourself up two or three times a day, and you can snap your fingers at the plague. Sh! — keep mum, but just you confine yourself to that diet and you’re all right. I wouldn’t have old McDowells know that I told about it for anything — he never would speak to me again. Take some more water, Washington — the more water you drink, the better. Here, let me give you some more of the turnips. No, no, no, now, I insist. There, now. Absorb those. They’re, mighty sustaining — brim full of nutriment — all the medical books say