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How The Widow Won The Deacon · Classic Humorous Short Stories from America

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Speaker 1: Story seventeen of the Best American Humorous short Stories by
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Speaker 1: Alexander Jessop editor. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
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Speaker 1: Story seventeen How the Widow Won the Deacon nineteen eleven
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Speaker 1: by William James Lampton from Harper's Bazaar, April nineteen eleven,
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Speaker 1: copyright nineteen eleven by Harper and Brothers. Republished by permission.
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Speaker 1: Of course, the widow Stimpson never tried to win Deacon Hawkins,
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Speaker 1: nor any other man for that matter. A widow doesn't
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Speaker 1: have to try to win a man. She wins without trying. Still,
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Speaker 1: the widow Stimson sometimes wondered why the Deacon was so
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Speaker 1: blind as not to see how her fine farm, adjoining
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Speaker 1: his equally fine place on the outskirts of the town,
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Speaker 1: might not be brought under one management with mutual benefit
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Speaker 1: to both parties at interest. Which one that management might
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Speaker 1: become was a matter of future detail. The widow knew
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Speaker 1: how to run a farm successfully, and a large farm
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Speaker 1: is not much more difficult to run than one of
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Speaker 1: half the size. She had also had one husband, and
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Speaker 1: knew something more than running a farm successfully, of all
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Speaker 1: of which the Deacon was perfectly well aware, and still,
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Speaker 1: he had not been moved by the merging spirit of
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Speaker 1: the age to propose consolidation. This interesting situation was up
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Speaker 1: for discussion at the Wednesday afternoon meeting of the Sister's
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Speaker 1: Sewing Society. For my part, Sister Susan Spicer, wife of
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Speaker 1: the Methodist minister, remarked as she took another tuck in
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Speaker 1: a fourteen year old girl's skirt for a ten year old.
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Speaker 1: For my part, I can't see why Deacon Hawkins and
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Speaker 1: Kate Stimpston don't see the error of their ways and
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Speaker 1: depart from them. I rather guess she has smiled Sister Poteit,
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Speaker 1: the grocer's better have who had taken an afternoon off
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Speaker 1: from the store in order to be present, or is
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Speaker 1: willing to added Sister Maria Cartridge, a spinster still possessing faith,
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Speaker 1: hope and charity, notwithstanding she had been on the waiting
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Speaker 1: list a long time. Really now, exclaimed little Sister Green,
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Speaker 1: the doctor's wife. Do you think it is the deacon
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Speaker 1: who needs urging? It looks that way to me, Sister
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Speaker 1: Poteit did not hesitate to affirm. Well. I heard Sister
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Speaker 1: Clark say that she had heard him call her giddy
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Speaker 1: one night when they were eating ice cream at the
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Speaker 1: Might Society. Sister Candish, the Druggist's wife, added to the
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Speaker 1: fund of reliable information on hand. Kitty indeed, protested Sister Spicer.
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Speaker 1: The idea of anybody calling Kate Stimson kitty. The Deacon
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Speaker 1: will talk that way to most any woman. But if
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Speaker 1: she let him say it to her more than once,
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Speaker 1: she must be getting mighty anxious. I think, oh, Sister
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Speaker 1: Candish hastened to explain, Sister Clark didn't say she had
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Speaker 1: heard him say it twice. Well, I don't think she
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Speaker 1: heard him say it once, Sister Spicer asserted, with confidence.
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Speaker 1: I don't know about that. Sister Poteet argued, from all
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Speaker 1: I can see and hear, I think Kate Stimson wouldn't
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Speaker 1: object to most anything the Deacon would say to her,
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Speaker 1: knowing as she does that he ain't going to say
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Speaker 1: anything he shouldn't say, and isn't saying what he should,
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Speaker 1: added Sister Green with a sly snicker, which went around
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Speaker 1: the room softly. But as I was saying, Sister Spicer
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Speaker 1: began when Sister Potet, whose rocker near the window, commanded
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Speaker 1: a view of the front gate, interrupted with a warning
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Speaker 1: sh why shouldn't I say what I wanted to when
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Speaker 1: Sister Spicer began there she comes now, explained Sister Potit.
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Speaker 1: And as I live, the Deacon drove her here in
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Speaker 1: his sleigh, and he's waiting while she comes in. I
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Speaker 1: wonder what next. And Sister Potit, in conjunction with the
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Speaker 1: entire society, gasped and held their eager breaths awaiting the
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Speaker 1: entrance of the subject of conversation. Sister Spicer went to
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Speaker 1: the front door to let her in, and she was
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Speaker 1: greeted with the greatest cordiality by everybody. We were just
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Speaker 1: talking about you and wondering why you were so late coming,
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Speaker 1: cried Sister Poteit. Now take off your things and make
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Speaker 1: up for lost time. There's a pair of pants over
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Speaker 1: there to be cut down to fit that poor little
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Speaker 1: Snithers boy. The excitement and curiosity of the society were
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Speaker 1: almost more or than could be born. But never a
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Speaker 1: sister let on that she knew the deacon was at
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Speaker 1: the gate waiting. Indeed, as far as the widow could discover,
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Speaker 1: there was not the slightest indication that anybody had ever
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Speaker 1: heard there was such a person as the Deacon in existence, Oh,
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Speaker 1: she chirruped in the liveliest of humors. You will have
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Speaker 1: to excuse me, for to day, Deacon Hawkins overtook me
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Speaker 1: on the way here and here, said I had simply
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Speaker 1: got to go sleigh riding with him. He's waiting out
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Speaker 1: at the gate. Now is that so? Exclaimed the society unanimously,
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Speaker 1: and rushed to the window to see if it were
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Speaker 1: really true. Well did you ever, commented sister Potit generally hardly, ever,
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Speaker 1: laughed the widow good naturedly. And I don't want to
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Speaker 1: lose the chance. You know, Deacon Hawkins isn't asking somebody
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Speaker 1: every day to go slaying with him. I told him
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Speaker 1: i'd go if he would bring me around here to
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Speaker 1: let you know what had become of me, And so
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Speaker 1: he did. Now, good bye, and I'll be sure to
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Speaker 1: be present at the next meeting. I have to hurry
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Speaker 1: because he'll get fidgety. The widow ran away like a
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Speaker 1: lively schoolgirl. All the sisters watched her get into the
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Speaker 1: sleigh with the deacon and resumed the previous discussion with
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Speaker 1: greatly increased interest. But little wrecked the widow, and less
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Speaker 1: wrecked the deacon. He had bought a new horse, and
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Speaker 1: he wanted the widow's opinion of it, For the widow
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Speaker 1: Stimson was a competent judge of fine horseflesh. If Deacon
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Speaker 1: Hawkins had one insatiable ambition, it was to own a
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Speaker 1: horse which could fling its heels in the face of
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Speaker 1: the best that Squire Hopkins drove. In his early manhood.
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Speaker 1: The deacon was no deacon by a great deal, but
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Speaker 1: as the years gathered in behind him, he put off
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Speaker 1: most of the frivolities of youth and held now only
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Speaker 1: to the one of driving a fast horse. No other
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Speaker 1: man in the county drove anything faster except Squire Hopkins
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Speaker 1: and him. The deacon had not been able to throw
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Speaker 1: the dust over. The deacon could get good ones, but
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Speaker 1: somehow never could he find one that the Squire didn't
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Speaker 1: get a better. The squire had also, in the early days,
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Speaker 1: beaten the Deacon in the race for a certain pretty
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Speaker 1: girl he dreamed about. But the girl and the squire
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Speaker 1: had lived happily ever after, and the deacon, being a philosopher,
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Speaker 1: might have forgotten the squire's superiority had it been manifested
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Speaker 1: in this one regard only, but in horses too, that
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Speaker 1: graveled the deacon. How much did you give for him?
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Speaker 1: Was the widow's first query, after they had reached a
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Speaker 1: stretch of road that was good going, and the Deacon
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Speaker 1: had let him out for a length or two. Well,
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Speaker 1: what do you suppose you're a judge more than I
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Speaker 1: would give? I'll bet a cooky not if you was
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Speaker 1: as anxious as I am to show Hopkins that he
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Speaker 1: can't drive by everything on the pike. I thought you
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Speaker 1: loved a good horse because he was a good horse,
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Speaker 1: said the widow rather disapprovingly. I do, but I could
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Speaker 1: love him a good deal harder if he would stay
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Speaker 1: in front of Hopkins's best Does he know you've got
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Speaker 1: this one? Yes, and he's been blowing round town that
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Speaker 1: he is waiting to pick me up on the road
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Speaker 1: some day and make my five hundred dollars look like
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Speaker 1: a pewter quarter. So you gave five hundred dollars for him?
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Speaker 1: Did you? Laughed the widow? Is it too much? M
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Speaker 1: hesitated the widow, glancing along the graceful lines of the
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Speaker 1: powerful trotter. I suppose not. If you can beat the
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Speaker 1: squire right, you are crowed the deacon, and I'll show
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Speaker 1: him a thing or two in getting over the ground,
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Speaker 1: he added, with swelling pride. Well, I hope he won't
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Speaker 1: be out looking for you to day with me and
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Speaker 1: your sleigh, said the widow, almost apprehensively, Because you know, Deacon,
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Speaker 1: I have always wanted you to beat Squire Hopkins. The
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Speaker 1: Deacon looked at her sharply. There was a softness in
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Speaker 1: her tones that appealed to him, even if she had
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Speaker 1: not expressed such agreeable sentiments. Just what the Deacon might
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Speaker 1: have said or done after the impulse had been set
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Speaker 1: going must remain unknown, for at the crucial moment, a
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Speaker 1: sound of militant bells, bells of defiance, jangled up behind them,
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Speaker 1: disturbing their personal absorption, and they looked around simultaneously. Behind
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Speaker 1: the bells was the Squire in his sleigh, drawn by
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Speaker 1: his fastest stepper, and he was alone, as the Deacon
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Speaker 1: was not. The It weighed one hundred and sixty pounds net,
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Speaker 1: which is weighing a horse in a race, rather more
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Speaker 1: than the law allows. But the Deacon never thought of that,
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Speaker 1: forgetting everything except his cherished ambition, he braced himself for
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Speaker 1: the contest, took a twist hold on the lines, sent
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Speaker 1: a sharp, quick call to his horse and let him
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Speaker 1: out for all that was in him. The squire followed
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Speaker 1: suit and the deacon. The road was wide, and the
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Speaker 1: snow was worn down smooth. The track couldn't have been
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Speaker 1: in better condition. The Hopkins collars were not five rods
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Speaker 1: behind the Hopkins collars. As they got away. For half
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Speaker 1: a mile it was nip and tuck, the deacon encouraging
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Speaker 1: his horse, and the widow encouraging the deacon, And then
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Speaker 1: the squire began creeping up. The Deacon's horse was a
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Speaker 1: good one, but he was not accustomed to hauling freight
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Speaker 1: in a race. A half mile of it was as
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Speaker 1: much much as he could stand, and he weakened under
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Speaker 1: the strain, not handicapped. The Squire's horse forged ahead, and
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Speaker 1: as his nose pushed up to the dashboard of the
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Speaker 1: Deacon's sleigh, that good man groaned in agonized disappointment and
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Speaker 1: bitterness of spirit. The widow was mad all over that
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Speaker 1: Squire Hopkins should take such a mean advantage of his rival.
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Speaker 1: Why didn't he wait till another time when the deacon
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Speaker 1: was alone as he was. If she had her way,
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Speaker 1: she would never speak to Squire Hopkins again, nor to
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Speaker 1: his wife either, but her resentment was not helping the
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Speaker 1: deacon's horse to win. Slowly, the squire pulled closer to
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Speaker 1: the front. The deacon's horse, realizing what it meant to
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Speaker 1: his master and to him, spurted bravely, but struggle as
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Speaker 1: gamely as he might, the odds were too many for him,
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Speaker 1: and he dropped to the rear. The squire shouted in
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Speaker 1: trying ymph as he drew past the deacon, and the
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Speaker 1: dejected Hawkins shriveled into a heap on the seat, with
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Speaker 1: only his hands sufficiently alive to hold the lines. He
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Speaker 1: had been beaten again, humiliated before a woman, and that
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Speaker 1: too with the best horse that he could hope to
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Speaker 1: put against the ever conquering squire. Here sank his fondest hopes.
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Speaker 1: Here ended his ambition. From this on he would drive
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Speaker 1: a mule or an automobile. The fruit of his desire
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Speaker 1: had turned to ashes in his mouth. But no what
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Speaker 1: of the widow. She realized if the deacon did not
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Speaker 1: that she not. The squire's horse had beaten the Deacons,
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Speaker 1: and she was ready to make what atonement she could.
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Speaker 1: As the squire passed ahead of the deacon, she was
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Speaker 1: stirred by a noble resolve. A deep bed of drifted
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Speaker 1: snow lay close by the side of the road, not
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Speaker 1: far in front. It was soft and safe, and she
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Speaker 1: smiled as she looked at it, as though waiting for her.
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Speaker 1: Without a hint of her purpose or a sign to
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Speaker 1: disturb the deacon in his final throes, she rose as
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Speaker 1: the sleigh ran near its edge, and with a spring
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Speaker 1: which had many a time, sent her lightly from the
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Speaker 1: ground to the bare back of a horse in the meadow.
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Speaker 1: She cleared the robes and lit plump in the drift.
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Speaker 1: The deacon's horse knew before the deacon did that something
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Speaker 1: had happened in his favor, and was quick to respond
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Speaker 1: with his first jump of relief. The deacon suddenly revived
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Speaker 1: his hopes, came fast again, his blood retingled, he gathered himself,
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Speaker 1: and cracking his lines, he shot forward, and three minutes
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Speaker 1: later he had passed the squire as though he were
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Speaker 1: hitched to the fence for a quarter of a mile.
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Speaker 1: The squire made heroic efforts to recover his vanished prestige,
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Speaker 1: but effort was useless, and finally, concluding that he was
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Speaker 1: practically left standing, he veered off from the main road
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Speaker 1: down a farm lane to find some spot in which
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Speaker 1: to hide the humiliation of his defeat. The deacon, still
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Speaker 1: going at a clipping gait, had one eye over his shoulder,
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Speaker 1: as werry drivers always have on such occasions, and when
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Speaker 1: he saw the squire was off the track, he slowed
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Speaker 1: down and jogged along, with the apparent intention of continuing indefinitely. Presently,
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Speaker 1: an idea struck him, and he looked around for the widow.
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Speaker 1: She was not where he had seen her last. Where
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Speaker 1: was she. In the enthusiasm of victory, he had forgotten her.
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Speaker 1: He was so dejected at the moment she had leaped
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Speaker 1: that he did not realize what she had done, And
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Speaker 1: two minutes later he was so elated that shame on him,
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Speaker 1: he did not care. With her, all was lost. Without her,
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Speaker 1: all was won, and the deacon's greatest ambition was to win.
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Speaker 1: But now with victory perched on his horse collar, success
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Speaker 1: his at last he thought of the widow, and he
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Speaker 1: did care. He cared so much that he almost threw
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Speaker 1: his horse off his feet by the abrupt turn he
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Speaker 1: gave him, and back down the pike he flew as
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Speaker 1: if a legion of squires were after him. He did
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Speaker 1: not know what injury she might have sustained, she might
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Speaker 1: have been seriously hurt, if not actually killed, and why
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Speaker 1: simply to make it possible for him to win. The
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Speaker 1: deacon shivered as he thought of it, and urged his
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Speaker 1: horse to greater speed. The squire down the lane saw
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Speaker 1: him whizzing along and accepted it profanely as an exhibition
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Speaker 1: for his essay special benefit. The deacon now had forgotten
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Speaker 1: the squire, as he had only so shortly before forgotten
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Speaker 1: the widow. Two hundred yards from the drift into which
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Speaker 1: she had jumped, there was a turn in the road
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Speaker 1: where some trees shut off the sight, and the deacon's
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Speaker 1: anxiety increased momentarily until he reached this point. From here
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Speaker 1: he could see a head, and down there in the
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Speaker 1: middle of the road stood the widow, waving her shawl
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Speaker 1: as a banner of triumph, though she could only guess
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Speaker 1: at results. The deacon came on with a rush and
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Speaker 1: pulled up alongside of her, in a condition of nervousness
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Speaker 1: he didn't think possible to him. Hooray, hooray, shouted the widow,
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Speaker 1: tossing her shawl into the air. You beat him. I
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Speaker 1: know you did, didn't you. I saw you pulling ahead
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Speaker 1: at the turn. Yonder, Where is he and his old plug?
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Speaker 1: Oh bother, take him and his horse and the race
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Speaker 1: and everything. Are you you hurt? Gasped the deacon, jumping out,
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Speaker 1: but mindful to keep the lines in his hand. Are
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Speaker 1: you hurt, he repeated anxiously, though she looked anything but
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Speaker 1: a hurt woman. If I am, she chirped cheerily, I'm
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Speaker 1: not hurt half as bad as I would have been
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Speaker 1: if the squire had beat you. Deacon. Now, don't you
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Speaker 1: worry about me. Let's hurry back to town so the
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Speaker 1: squire won't get another chance. With no place for me
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Speaker 1: to jump, and the deacon well well, with the lines
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Speaker 1: in the crook of his elbow, the deacon held out
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Speaker 1: his arms to the widow and uh. The sisters at
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Speaker 1: the next meeting of the Sewing Society were unanimously of
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Speaker 1: the opinion that any woman who would risk her life
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Speaker 1: like that for a husband was mighty anxious. End of
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Speaker 1: story seventeen