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Jeminy some news; but it occurred to him that it was no more than a rumor. Finally he said: "There's a new school-ma'am over to North Adams." He cocked his head sidewise to look at the schoolmaster. "She knows more than you, Jeminy," he said. Mr. Jeminy sat bowed and still, his hands folded in his lap.
Jeminy, on the other hand, often went to call at the little house at the edge of the village. The young widow, who had no other callers, felt that one friend was enough when he talked as much as Mr. Jeminy. While he laid open before her the great books of the past, illuminating their pages with his knowledge and reflections, she listened with an air of tranquil pleasure.
Jeminy; "no, Anna won't forget him in a hurry. That is as it should be, William. She believes that she has suffered. And if she fools herself a little, I, for one, would be inclined to forgive her." "She won't fool herself any," said Mr. Tomkins; "not Anna. Wait and see." The shadows of late afternoon stretched half across the field when Mr. Jeminy laid down his fork, and started to return home.
But when she did, at last, lay hands on him, it was not in the way she looked for, as she sat rocking up and down, waiting for him to come home again. Mr. Jeminy came slowly out of the post-office, and turned up the road leading to his house. In one hand, crumpled in his pocket, he held his dismissal from Hillsboro school: "On account of age," it said.
And once again he relapsed into silence. In the evening he drove the cows in. High up on Hemlock, Aaron, among his slow, thin tunes, thought to himself: "There go the cows. Mr. Jeminy understands me; he's a traveled man." And he played his flute harder than ever, because Mr.
Juliet followed him without interest. It was apparent that she was disappointed. "Where's the parlor?" she demanded. "Must there be a parlor?" asked Mr. Jeminy, in surprise. "What do you think?" said Juliet. "I have to have a place for Anna to keep company in." Anna was the youngest of her three dolls; that is to say, Anna was smaller than either Sara or Margaret.
Jeminy retired to his den. This little room, from whose windows it was possible to see the sky above Barly Hill, blue as a cornflower, boasted a desk, an old leather chair, and several shelves of books, among them volumes of history and travel, a King James' Bible, Arrian's Epictetus, Sabatier's life of Saint Francis, the Meditations of Antoninus, bound in paper, and a Jervas translation of Don Quixote.
Jeminy gravely, "I have come a good distance." Aaron Bade gave his wife a look which said plainly, "There, you see, mother." "Where is your home, old man?" asked Mrs. Bade kindly. "I have no home," said Mr. Jeminy. Aaron Bade cleared his throat. "Are you bound anywhere in particular?" he asked. "No," said Mr. Jeminy.
Nothing ever suits them until they're in mischief; and then it's up to their elders to pull them out again. I know, for I've seen it, father and son." "It is the old," said Mr. Jeminy, "who get the young into trouble." "Is it, indeed?" said Mrs. Ploughman. "Well, I don't believe it." And she gave Mr. Jeminy a bright, peaked look.
"And now for Masie's idea, Mr. Kling." "Oh, dere is someting else, eh? I tought dere vould be ven you puts your two noddles togedder Vell, vot is dot all about, eh?" "She is to have a birthday. She will be eleven years old next Saturday." "By Jeminy, yes, dot's so! I forgot dot, Masie. Yes, it comes on de tventy-fust. Vy you don't tell me before, little Beesvings?"
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