Harriet Stowe - Sam Lawson's Oldtown Fireside Stories

“Wal, the upshot on’t was, they fussed and fuzzled and wuzzled till they’d drinked up all the tea in the teapot; and then they went down and called on the parson, and wuzzled him all up talkin’ about this, that, and t’other that wanted lookin’ to, and that it was no way to leave every thing to a young chit like Huldy, and that he ought to be lookin’ about for an experienced woman. The parson he thanked ‘em kindly, and said he believed their motives was good, but he didn’t go no further. He didn’t ask Mis’ Pipperidge to come and stay there and help him, nor nothin’ o’ that kind; but he said he’d attend to matters himself. The fact was, the parson had got such a likin’ for havin’ Huldy ‘round, that he couldn’t think o’ such a thing as swappin’ her off for the Widder Pipperidge.

“But he thought to himself, ‘Huldy is a good girl; but I oughtn’t to be a leavin’ every thing to her, – it’s too hard on her. I ought to be instructin’ and guidin’ and helpin’ of her; ’cause ‘tain’t everybody could be expected to know and do what Mis’ Carryl did;’ and so at it he went; and Lordy massy! didn’t Huldy hev a time on’t when the minister began to come out of his study, and want to tew ‘round and see to things? Huldy, you see, thought all the world of the minister, and she was ‘most afraid to laugh; but she told me she couldn’t, for the life of her, help it when his back was turned, for he wuzzled things up in the most singular way. But Huldy she’d jest say ‘Yes, sir,’ and get him off into his study, and go on her own way.

“‘Huldy,’ says the minister one day, ‘you ain’t experienced out doors; and, when you want to know any thing, you must come to me.’

“‘Yes, sir,’ says Huldy.

“‘Now, Huldy,’ says the parson,’ you must be sure to save the turkey-eggs, so that we can have a lot of turkeys for Thanksgiving.’

“‘Yes, sir,’ says Huldy; and she opened the pantry-door, and showed him a nice dishful she’d been a savin’ up. Wal, the very next day the parson’s hen-turkey was found killed up to old Jim Scroggs’s barn. Folks said Scroggs killed it; though Scroggs, he stood to it he didn’t: at any rate, the Scroggses, they made a meal on’t; and Huldy, she felt bad about it ‘cause she’d set her heart on raisin’ the turkeys; and says she, ‘Oh, dear! I don’t know what I shall do. I was just ready to set her.’

“‘Do, Huldy?’ says the parson: ‘why, there’s the other turkey, out there by the door; and a fine bird, too, he is.’

“Sure enough, there was the old tom-turkey a struttin’ and a sidlin’ and a quitterin,’ and a floutin’ his tail-feathers in the sun, like a lively young widower, all ready to begin life over agin.

“‘But,’ says Huldy, ‘you know he can’t set on eggs.’

“‘He can’t? I’d like to know why,’ says the parson. ‘He shall set on eggs, and hatch ‘em too.’

“‘O doctor!’ says Huldy, all in a tremble; ’cause, you know, she didn’t want to contradict the minister, and she was afraid she should laugh, – ‘I never heard that a tom-turkey would set on eggs.’

“‘Why, they ought to,’ said the parson, getting quite ‘arnest: ‘what else be they good for? you just bring out the eggs, now, and put ‘em in the nest, and I ‘ll make him set on ‘em.’

“So Huldy she thought there wern’t no way to convince him but to let him try: so she took the eggs out, and fixed ‘em all nice in the nest; and then she come back and found old Tom a skirmishin’ with the parson pretty lively, I tell ye. Ye see, old Tom he didn’t take the idee at all; and he flopped and gobbled, and fit the parson; and the parson’s wig got ‘round so that his cue stuck straight out over his ear, but he’d got his blood up. Ye see, the old doctor was used to carryin’ his p’ints o’ doctrine; and he hadn’t fit the Arminians and Socinians to be beat by a tom-turkey; so finally he made a dive, and ketched him by the neck in spite o’ his floppin’, and stroked him down, and put Huldy’s apron ‘round him.

“‘There, Huldy,’ he says, quite red in the face, ‘we’ve got him now;’ and he travelled off to the barn with him as lively as a cricket.

“Huldy came behind jist chokin’ with laugh, and afraid the minister would look ‘round and see her.

“‘Now, Huldy, we ‘ll crook his legs, and set him down,’ says the parson, when they got him to the nest: ‘you see he is getting quiet, and he ‘ll set there all right.’

“And the parson, he sot him down; and old Tom he sot there solemn enough, and held his head down all droopin’, lookin’ like a rail pious old cock, as long as the parson sot by him.

“‘There: you see how still he sets,’ says the parson to Huldy.

“Huldy was ‘most dyin’ for fear she should laugh, ‘I’m afraid he ‘ll get up,’ says she, ‘when you do.’

“‘Oh, no, he won’t!’ says the parson, quite confident. ‘There, there,’ says he, layin’ his hands on him, as if pronouncin’ a blessin’. But when the parson riz up, old Tom he riz up too, and began to march over the eggs.

“‘Stop, now!’ says the parson. ‘I ‘ll make him get down agin: hand me that corn-basket; we ‘ll put that over him.’

“So he crooked old Tom’s legs, and got him down agin; and they put the corn-basket over him, and then they both stood and waited.

“‘That ‘ll do the thing, Huldy,’ said the parson.

“‘I don’t know about it,’ says Huldy.

“‘Oh, yes, it will, child! I understand,’ says he.

“Just as he spoke, the basket riz right up and stood, and they could see old Tom’s long legs.

“‘I ‘ll make him stay down, confound him,’ says the parson; for, ye see, parsons is men, like the rest on us, and the doctor had got his spunk up.

“‘You jist hold him a minute, and I ‘ll get something that ‘ll make him stay, I guess;’ and out he went to the fence, and brought in a long, thin, flat stone, and laid it on old Tom’s back.

“Old Tom he wilted down considerable under this, and looked railly as if he was goin’ to give in. He staid still there a good long spell, and the minister and Huldy left him there and come up to the house; but they hadn’t more than got in the door before they see old Tom a hippin’ along, as high-steppin’ as ever, say in’ ‘Talk! talk! and quitter! quitter!’ and struttin’ and gobblin’ as if he’d come through the Red Sea, and got the victory.

“‘Oh, my eggs!’ says Huldy. ‘I’m afraid he’s smashed ‘em!’

“And sure enough, there they was, smashed flat enough under the stone.

“‘I ‘ll have him killed,’ said the parson: ‘we won’t have such a critter ‘round.’

“But the parson, he slep’ on’t, and then didn’t do it: he only come out next Sunday with a tip-top sermon on the ‘’Riginal Cuss’ that was pronounced on things in gineral, when Adam fell, and showed how every thing was allowed to go contrary ever since. There was pig-weed, and pusley, and Canady thistles, cut-worms, and bag-worms, and canker-worms, to say nothin’ of rattlesnakes. The doctor made it very impressive and sort o’ improvin’; but Huldy, she told me, goin’ home, that she hardly could keep from laughin’ two or three times in the sermon when she thought of old Tom a standin’ up with the corn-basket on his back.

“Wal, next week Huldy she jist borrowed the minister’s horse and side-saddle, and rode over to South Parish to her Aunt Bascome’s, – Widder Bascome’s, you know, that lives there by the trout-brook, – and got a lot o’ turkey-eggs o’ her, and come back and set a hen on ‘em, and said nothin’; and in good time there was as nice a lot o’ turkey-chicks as ever ye see.