Harvest Home

Then, as I lay there on the steaming earth, out of the shambles of the night the women fell upon me.

30

It’s too lovely a day”-raising the window-”to keep it outside the house. Feel that glorious spring breeze.”

“Mother-your dress!”

“Like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I thought perhaps-”

“No, it’s just perfect.”

“I’m glad.” She went from the bacchante room to the kitchen, leaving behind the scent of the lilacs she had arranged on the sideboard.

“What about dessert?”

“In the refrigerator, darling.”

The refrigerator door opened. “Chocolate mousse. How many?”

“Six. Two for Maggie and Robert, two for you and Jim, one for me, one for the Widow. Open the window over the sink, Kate, would you?”

The window slid in its frame and, as though in response, beyond the hedge Robert’s sun-porch window was raised.

“Morning, Robert.”

“It’s Maggie, Beth. Marvelous day for a picnic. How’s it coming?”

“In a jiffy.”

“I think you’re crazy, always doing the whole thing yourself.”

“I want to. Got the martinis?”

“Iced and ready. Here’s Robert-”

“Morning, Beth. Spring at last, hey?”

“Oh, yes. I thought it would never come.”

It was true. After the long winter, the balmy caressing air already had a hint of summer in it. And where it slipped under the window of the bacchante room it mixed with and circulated the perfume of the lilacs. From window to window, they discussed the yellow bird in the locust tree.

“I told you,” Robert said. “It comes back every year.”

The Invisible Voice began:

“‘Though certainly I don’t know why you should,’ said Dora-’And I am sure no one’ — ’Jip, you naughty boy, come — ’ I don’t know how I did it. I did it in a moment. I intercepted Jip. I had Dora in my arms. I was full of eloquence. I never stopped for a word. I told her how I loved her. I told her I should die without her. I told her that I idolized and worshiped her. Jip barked madly all the time.

“When Dora hung her head and” cried, and trembled…”

“We’re having chocolate mousse,” Kate called over to Robert’s window; Robert replied briefly over the sound of the Invisible Voice.

“Well, well! Dora and I were sitting on the sofa by and by, quiet enough, and Jip was lying in her lap, winking peacefully at me. It was off my mind. I was in a state of perfect rapture. Dora and I were engaged…”

Presently, down the drive came the clop of a horse’s hoofs, and the creak of wooden wheels sounded under the bacchante room window. Beth’s light step carried her to the sink. “Good morning.”

“Springish, ain’t it? Where’s Kate, now? Kate, come out and see what I have for you.”

Scrambling noises in the kitchen, the back door opening, feet clattering down the steps.

“Mother-come see what the Widow’s brought!”

Beth hurried out to join the others. “Oh, just look at them,” she crooned.

“For me?” Kate asked.

“Aye. If your mother says,” came the reply amid myriad cheepings. “If you’re goin’ to have eggs, you got to raise hens. These here now are real Easter chicks.”

A car honked out on the street, a door slammed.

“Here’s Jim Minerva.”

“Congratulations, Harvest Lord.”

“Morning, everybody. Morning, Kate.”

“You’re lookin’ spruce for Spring Festival. How’ll it feel to be crowned? Here, take these creatures out to the hen house and put ‘em in the brooder.”

Kate’s and Jim’s voices trailed away as they went off to the studio. Beth said, “What are you giving Jimmy today?”

“I sewed him a new shirt.”

“I picked out cuff links.”

“Just the thing.”

“That you, Widow?” came a voice from the house beyond the hedge.

“Mornin”, Robert. Fine day for Maypoling.”

“The Eternal Return.”

“Chapter Twenty-four. My Aunt Astonishes Me. I wrote to Agnes as soon as Dora and I were engaged. I wrote her a long letter, in which I tried to make her comprehend how blest I was, and what a darling Dora was. I entreated Agnes…”

“Dickens,” said Robert.

“Ayuh, Dickens.”

Presently Kate and Jimmy came back up the drive, laughing and talking in low, significant tones. “You’re lucky you’ve got that skylight,” Jim said. “But if you expect those hens to lay at night, we’re going to have to put in electric lights.”

“Listen to Jim, Kate,” the Widow said. “He’s one o’ the best hen-raisers in the village. Eggs galore, eh, Jim?”

“Eggs galore, Widow.” His voice, though bright and cheery, seemed to have taken on an air of depth and solidity.

“Mother, Jimmy says it’s all right with him if I drive his car.”

“If it’s all right with you, Mrs. Constantine.”

“Kate, darling, you’re bound to have your driver’s license, aren’t you? Determined girl.”

“It’s the Greek in her,” the Widow observed.

“Half Greek, don’t forget,” Kate laughed.

They made their goodbyes, and when the car had driven away the Widow said, “A handsome pair, aren’t they? Makes me think of when Clem would take me to Spring Festival durin’ our courtin’ days.” A pause, then: “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if-”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Beth drew a tremulous sigh.

“She’d make a lovely Corn Maiden, no doubt of it.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when my daughter would be going into the poultry business. The way those two have worked cleaning out that studio.”

“Good for each other,” the Widow replied succinctly. “Like I say, a handsome pair if ever there was. Pretty dress you’re wearin’.”

“If anyone ever told me I’d be wearing maternity clothes again-”

“Are you takin’ your elixir?”

“Yes, and I can feel him kicking stronger every day. Missy thinks a ‘J.’”

“‘J’? John?”

“She says it’s got to be six letters. I thought ‘Joshua.’”