Name/Title
Three Janes, Short Story by Mary Alicia OwenEntry/Object ID
AM2013.3.69Scope and Content
Three Janes, Short Story by Mary Alicia Owen. About Jane Robidoux; Jane Tolin, Squire Hall's niece, and Jane Mays, sister of George Smith.12 pages. Typewritten.
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The Three Janes
The "Lucy", Captain F. B. Kercheval, commanding, had discharged her cargo of freight, human and commercial. "Uncle" Joe Robidoux, after a casual glance at his share and a few tart words to his two draymen, had gone scolding back to his store, leaving the delivery of the goods to his son Felix.
"Who is that little girl holding Felix' hand?" inquired Mrs. Burr of Mrs. William Taylor, whose guest she was. "I am sure I never saw her before."
"No more did I", answered Mrs. Taylor, who, like everyone else had hastened to the levee at the sound of the whistle to see the steamboat land, "but I can make sure wager that it's Jane Robidoux from St. Louis come to visit round among her kin for awhile. That big red-and-white cow-skin trunk with brass hinges that's just been heaved up onto the dray must be hers; like-all-wise, the green carpet-bag with the parrot on the front side of it."
Mrs. Burr nodded, "Mrs. Postal told me she was coming, but I had forgotten. Also, I'd forgotten about the girl that was to visit the Halls. I noticed Squire Hall come hurrying down in the rockaway, see her over the heads of the other ladies and have her and her bandbox and rose-flowered carpet-bag handed into the front seat, a trunk it must have taken a red steer's hide to cover strapped on behind, hop up himself and start the horses for home before you could count a hundred."
"Uh, huh, I know. That's Jane Tolin, from Kentucky. She's Miz Hall's niece. She wrote her aunt that she'd dreamed three night hand-runnin' that her her fortune was waitin' for her here, that it was handed to her in a little box like jewelers keep finger rings in, by the handsomest young man she ever saw, and her aunt wrote back for pity's sake come on and get it, so here she is, all the way from Louisville by boat, in the care of Captain Tevis and Captain Kercheval. They're giving a party come sundown to make her acquainted with the young folks. That's why Miz Hall couldn't spare the time to come down here with the squire. She's got the cakes all baked but they aint frosted yet, and she was set back by Liz, the cook's helper, breaking a couple of duck eggs along with the hen eggs for the frosting. Anyone alive knows that the whites of duck eggs wont beat up good and stiff. Besides that, Jincy, the other yellow girl, that was set to tend the prairie-chicken legs that was to be boiled with dumplings when the breast were roasting, ;et 'em scourch, and Miz Hall's hands in the flour so she couldn't ease her feeling by smackin' the wench's jaw!"
"It wasn't much loss", commented Mrs. Burr. "When I first came out here, I was crazy about wild meat, but now, I hate it."
"Just lie Miz Hall", said Mrs. Taylor. "That's why she aint dependin' on vengince, nor antelope, nor birds to go with the cake and biled custard. She's goin' to have roast pig, and that reminds me: Jim Jerrollum aint got an invite to the party. When the squire was handin' 'em round, he says, 'Looky hyur, Aquire, you aint aimin' to fergit me, air you?' and Squire answers right back, quick as wink, 'No, I aint never aimin' to fergit how I let you have them shoats and how the corn you paid for 'em, when, finally, you did pay, was musty. I own', he goes on, 'that the religion in the Hall fam'ly is mostly in my wife's name, but I got the opinion there's such a thing as tamperin' too bold with the Ten Commandments and you've done it. Bein' a sinful man'- I reckon he was thinkin' of some of his hiss-trades- like as the preacher says, I don't intend to cast a stone at you, thought at one time I was a good mind to lick you till your hind wouldn't hold shucks, but like-all-wise I don't plan to have you eat roast pig of mu raisin', this evenin',' and with that he walked off leaving Jim all struck of a heap."
"Small wonder", said Mrs. Burr.
"Don't ever tell I told you" warned Mrs. Taylor. "I sure would hate to get the name of being gossipy, there's nothing I despise worse than tittle-tattle."
"I'm the same way:, said Mrs. Burr.
"It has just come over me", mused Mrs. Traylor, :that I promised Mrs. Hall I would lend her some of my China cups. She broke three of hers and cracked two more as she was gittin' 'em down offen the top shelf of the cupboard. I told her she was lucky she broke them three, for when you break one piece of tableware you are bound to keep on till you break three, and it is best to do it at once and stop frettin' as to what will go next."
"Very true", said Mrs. Burr. "When I break something, I go right on and smash two old, cracked pieces that I've saved for the purpose. That makes me safe from spoiling something I value."
"I'll remember that and practice it", declared Mrs. Taylor, admiringly, "you do think of the smartest ways of chasing the Old Bad Man round the stump, and it must say, Miz Hall does too. She never did like that set with the blue flowers that Squire Hall surprised her with last Christmas, she said when he began to take it out of the straw she felt like flingin' her apron over head and bustin' right out crying, she'd so wanted gilt-band like mine. Now, she means to march him down to the Curd store, first thing in the morning and git the gilt-band."
"I don't see", said Mrs. Burr.
"It's this way", explained Mrs. Taylor, "Squire had flung his powder-horn up there and the cord had got tangles round a pile of them extra pieces she don't use every day, not the cups she dropped when she was standin' on the back of the hair and reach in' up, of course. She's goin' to show him the powder-horn and the busted cups and ask him what does he think of that. She wouldn't tell him a story, but if he wants to tell himself one, why let him! It'll be good for him anyway for he's generally as cross as two sticks if anything git broke."
"I see", said Mrs. Burr.
"Speakin' of people bein' cross", continued Mrs. Taylor, "did you notice how cross Felix Robidoux was? I don't blame him, neither. He is plumb distracted about Jane Mays. She is the half-sister of George Smith, who owns the big store up at Savannah. He is going to move his stock down here, and he's allowing Jane and Maria to visit here for two reasons, to git acquainted and to keep his clerks the Tootle boys and Billy Fairleight, from neglectin' business to run after them. They come down here, I noticed, with Mary Reeves, Louis Martin, the Riddle girls and some others to see the steamboat, and yonder they all go with Lawrence Archer, Cullen and Sam Kercheval, Rush Martin and some more of the boys, while Felix is racin' his little cousin home so fast that the new feller that come off the boat when she did had to run to ketch up. His name is Angel, though he don't look it."
"His mother ought to have been ashamed to give him a name all the boys would tease him about", said Mrs. Burr.
"His father did it", explained Mrs. Taylor. "His full name if John Angel. I heard Jane tell her uncle so."
"What was wrong with them that Felix did not join his crowd and take them along?"
"Jist his plain case of the simples", chuckled Mrs. Taylor. "The Robidoux boys are all alike about nit bein' willing to tote anything. They'd rather do without what they need than tote it home. You didn't notice, but I did, that when Felix set her bandbox and guitar-case on the dray she snatched them off and Uncle Joe made Felix take 'em."
"Serve him right if his foolishness makes him lose out on all his girl's dances", said Mrs. Burr. "Every one may be taken by the time he gets a chance to speak to her."
"There'll be no dancin', said Mrs. Taylor, panting, for they were going up the slope, towards the dirt road named "Francis Street." "Miz Hall is too strict a Methodist for dancin'. She'll only allow palyin' clap-in-an'-clap out, King William an' the other kissin' games."
"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Burr.
They stopped to rest a moment when they reached the level ground and beheld, coming towards them two exceedingly picturesque young men, clad alike in blue jeans breeches, fringed buckskin huntin-shirts, scarlet neck-kerchiefs and coonskins caps with the plumy tails hanging down between their shoulders. One was dark and rather short, the other was tall and blonde, but they bore themselves with the same air of thinking very well of themselves and of the world at large.
Mrs. Taylor greeted them with an air of pretending surprised. "Well, Fred Smith! Well, Jack Redmond!" she exclaimed, "somebody must have had you locked up."
"Why that suspicion" inquired the dark one.
"Because that is the only way to account for your not being on hand when two pretty girls land from a steamboat", answered Mrs. Taylor.
"We've been up on the Nodaway, hunting. We had a bet with the Edgars that we could get as many woodcock on the Nodaway as they could bad down at Agency Ford", explained Fred.
"Don't tell me you've been trampin' Nodaway wet land in them new beaded moccasins", cried Mrs. Taylor.
"No, Mrs. Taylor, we certainly have not", said the tall man. "We left our boots, guns and game-bags at Uncle Joe's store, and meant to fit ourselves out with those fine French-calf shoes he has bragging he would have when the boat came, but, as it happens, the boat is not the Lucy, it is the Julia which arrives tomorrow."
"Uncle Joe must have used some language he'll have to see the priest about", commented Mrs. Taylor, "an it wouldn't surprise me to hear that you boys are in the same fix on account of your trip, Honest Injun, what have you got in them game-bags?"
"Not much", owned the tall man. "We saw plenty of woodcock but you know how the little beggars are, they skip along so fast that you have to shoot in front of them and let them run up and catch the shot. We were a little too slow and only contrived to tear up a few leaves behind them in most cases."
"My gracious!" said Mrs. Burr.
:Slow is no name for the pair of you", Mrs. Taylor said. "You don't know yourselves how slow you are. Here's a party jist about to begin and all your crown invited 'cept you an' you don't even know where it's at, nor the name of the pretty girl it's for. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
"I am ashamed if I've missed a chance at meeting a pretty girl and attending a party, at one and the same hour. Where are the two of them to be found, good lady?" inquired Fred Smith, as he dug his knuckles into his eyes.
"At Squire Hall's, you lunatic", giggled Mrs. Taylor, vainly endeavoring to look severe.
"Let us dry our tears and run. We may slip in with the fiddlers", cried Fred. "Come on, Jack."
"There aint goin' to be any fiddlers", Mrs. Taylor screamed but they were already to far up the street to hear her.
"What are we up to, now?" inquired Jack Redmond, as they paused at the crooked path which crossed the street.
"First thing, er are going to take 'Poleon Trudeau's gun away from him", replied Fred Smith. " There is not time to go after our own. Bon Jour, Poly."
"Bon Jour to you", answered Poleon, amiably, as he paused in the path.
"Poly, lend me your gun, will you? I'll bring it back to-night. If you will, Poly", he hurried on when the other seemed to hesitate, I'll never day 'black hog' to you again, and I'll promise to lick anyone else that does."
"Poleon handed over his gun without a word.
"It's a sin the way we have teased 'Poleon about shooting Miller's old black sow for a bear as she wandered around among the oak stumps, when it was almost dark", mused Fred. "Well! we are going to quit."
"What else are we going to do?" quired Jack.
"Attend the party by special invitation."
"I don't see-"
"Come on. You will."
When the two came near to the new white house with the long gallery across the front, whereon were congregated the most eligible of the young men of St. Joseph, Fred said,
"Now , you see."
"I do not, but I wish I had a white shirt and black coat."
Fred did not answer. He was endeavoring to catch the squire's eye as he strolled past the open gate. Failing, he called,
"Hullo, squire! Having a political caucus this early in the season?"
"Why, no, Fred, no", answered the squire, stepping towards him from the gallery. "I wouldn't say though that I'm not holding court-of a sort. This is a party for our niece. Come join us, you and Jack."
"We had started out hunting-" began Fred.
"Uh, huh", agreed the squire wisely, "with one gun and no shot-pouch or powder horn and at sundown. Come on in, both of you, and the least said, soonest mended. Felix said you were out hunting butterflies, or bumblebees, or something, or you'd have had your invite. Step up, for Ma'll bawl that supper's ready by the time you haul off your caps and hand 'em on a nail on the gallery post."
Ma did.
When Squire Hall led the way into the long "sitting" for this occasion, dinning-room, with the young men, Fred Smith, as a matter-of-course in the lead, eagerly following, a tall girl in a white dress and silken sash of blue entered by the door opposite. She was carrying a plate heaped high with cup-cakes, but, as she glanced beyond the squire, her light burden dropped from her hands and would have fallen to the floor, had her companion, a girl of her own age, cleverly caught it in her beruffled apron.
"What the-" began the squire, but left the question unfinished to turn at a gasp behind him and behold irrepressible Fred slowly paling as did the girl in white into whose eyes he was glazing.
"Boys, let me make you acquainted with my niece", stuttered the squire, "and that little girl, tother side of Lizzie Willis, who caught the cakes Jane Tolin tried to throw away, the one with a rose in her hair and a green dress on, is Jane Robidoux, Uncle Joe's niece. I reckon you know the rest of the girls, even to the one in pink, the visitor from Savannah, Jane Mays, though it's scarcely worth while to mention a name likely so soon to be changed."
"Thank you, Squire", said Felix Robidoux, hastening to the side of the blushing Jane Mays and paying no heed to the other fair maids who came crowding in from the back room.
"Thank your own good luck", said the squire. "Now, young folks", he continued, "as Ma is still busy in the kitchen and has made me the umpire of this eating-match, so to speak, I wish you'd begin. I know the spread must be good, for Ma has given the day to it, doling me out only cold scraps and gizzards. Furthermore, I warn you, like time and tide I'll wait for no man."
Everybody laughed and everybody ate with the zest of the young and vigorous-except two. Fred the insouciant and Jane the debonair toyed with their food and contributed nothing to the gayety.
No one knew anything about Jane Tolin except that she was good to look upon and no one noticed Fred Smith's unusual taciturnity until the feast was eaten, the dished carried out and the great gate-legged table, with drooped leaves, was shoved against the wall.
"The cat got your tongue, Fred?" inquired the girl in the red calico dress and white apron,
"Fred grinned fatuously, but did not speak. He had stationed himself without conscious volition beside the chair some one had placed for Jane Tolin next the corner in which sat Felix Robidoux and Jane Mays. The squire observed them with obvious discontent. For this he had two reasons: Jane Tolin was in the position of hostess and should be suggesting and directing the amusements instead of pholandering with such a fickle beau as Fred Smith and, manifestly, the majority of the guests were growing ill-at-ease and might overwhelm him in a rush of farewells any minute. He hurriedly appealed to Ma in the kitchen,
"Let the niggers finish, Ma, and if they break any borrowed dishes, I'll replace 'em with better ones. You come 'tend to the party. I'd hate to call your sister a liar but if you want to see how much there was to what she wrote about Jane being the life of every company, you just step into the front room."
Ma surveyed the scene, took charge with her usual efficiency and, in no time, had her party rescued from untimely frost. Well did she recall first aids to merriment. Games and forfeits set her young friends to laughing. As nine o' clock, the hour when all good mothers expect to have their daughter under the parental rook, approached, some one proposed a final game of the pioneer stand-by "Clap-in-and-clap-out". The girls were seated in a row, the three visitors in the middle of the row; the men were congregated on the gallery, awaiting a call to enter and hazard a guess as to what fair one had sent for him.
"John Angell", announced a girl who had volunteered to stand at the door.
John Angell, excessively embarrassed, entered and gave evidence of not knowing at all what to do next.
"Bow to the wittest", prompted the doorkeeper.
He made her a ceremonious boy.
"Kneel to the prettiest and kiss the one you love best", she added, as she handed him a cushion.
Here was qunadary. How kneel before Jane Robidoux and kiss her little hand without affronting the other lovely ladies? He went forward and paused uncertainly, as it happened, unluckily, in front of his young hostess for further enlightenment.
A rough hand seized him by the collar and jerked him around, a rough voice threatened him, "If you dare to kiss my girl I'll brain you!"
Fred Smith has been unfairly peeping and jealousy prompted his onslaughts.
Felix Robidoux and Jack Redmond had followed so swiftly that they had him by the arms before the stranger could make an effort to free himself.
"A noble gentleman, you, heinh?" said Felix, "making the esclandre in the house of a friend. Will you understand, imbecile, that he met and loved my cousin on the boat, this so fine little gentleman who stopped on his way to Fort Benton to entreat my father that he might pay her his court."
"You darn lunatic, have you had a spider in your dumpling?" growled Jack Raymond. "You ought to be trounced with a board".
Felix had settles matters and Fred was apologizing with a return of the genial manner which was a greater charm than his good looks, when the Squire hurried in and called out,
"Where's that Smith? I don't care if he is company, I'm going to pitch him out the window."
"Oh, uncle, don't", wailed a voice at his elbow, "That is the beautiful man of my dream".
"Gee-whillikens!" ejaculated the squire, as he dropped into a chair.
"Well! it's over", sighed Ma Hall, after the guests had departed and she had brought Jane Tolin in off the gallery where she had been telling her Fred an endless number of good nights, and had seen her safely to bed, "and, take it all in all, it was a great success."
"So it was", agreed the squire, "but it was the end as well as the beginning of things. I meant to have a fish-fry on the island, a duck-roast down at Lake Contrary and no end of nutting picnics out along the One-Hundred-and-Two River. These young folks are too brisk for me, Why, I courted you for six months before you would look at me, and carried you my weight in lollipops and flowers."
"Time makes no difference. Marriages are made in heaven", said Ma Hall.
"Shucks" said the squire.
Mary Alicia Owen.Lexicon
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