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Updated: May 7, 2025
Tip was not usually abroad so early, but in his travelling bandanna and solemn face, as he leaned on his elbows and smoked and smoked, I saw his reason for getting out with the sun. He was taking flight. The annual Pulsifer tragedy had occurred; the head of the house had tied together his few goods, and, vowing never to trouble his wife again, had set his face toward the mountain.
"Perhaps he has deserted his wife," I said, seeing at last a possible solution of the mystery. "That's what Arnold Arker suggested just a few days ago," returned Tim; "but Tip Pulsifer allowed that no fellow would have to come so far to desert his wife." "Tip ought to know," said I, "for he deserts his once a year, regularly." "He always comes back the next day," retorted Tim stoutly.
She comes back after a while, springs a nervous little laugh, and announces that it was only the glass in one of the hotbed frames. "Some stupid person taking a short cut across the grounds, I suppose," says she. Didn't sound very convincin' to me; but Pulsifer had got started on another boyhood anecdote, and he let it pass. I had a hunch, though, that Mrs. Pulsifer hadn't told all.
He'd made his grand roarin' lion play, which had always scared the tar out of his folks, and he'd responded to an encore. Yet here was this mild-eyed young gent with the pale hair and the square jaw not even wabbly in the knees from it. "Come, Edna," says Gilkey, holdin' out a hand to her. "Let's go into the dining-room." "But but see here!" gasps Pa Pulsifer, makin' a final effort.
That was it, and from Ferdie's description I gathered that old Adam K. was a reg'lar domestic tornado, once he got started. Maybe you know the brand? And it seems Pa Pulsifer was the limit.
"I I think it must have been something in the kitchen, Dear," says Mrs. Pulsifer. "Don't mind." "But I do mind," says he. "In the first place, it wasn't in the kitchen at all, and if you'll all excuse me, I'll just see for myself." Meanwhile Edna has turned pale, Marjorie has almost choked herself with a bread stick, and Ferdie has let his fork clatter to the floor.
"I suppose you would like to hop-skip-and-jump down to the altar?" "Why not?" asks Mr. Robert. "Don't be absurd, Robert," says she. "You'll be married quite respectably and sanely, as other people are. Anyway, you'll just have to. Mrs. Pulsifer and I are managing the affair, remember." "Are you?" says Mr. Robert, lettin' out the first growl I'd heard from him in over a week.
Then, when there comes a lull, he remarks casual: "If that is all, Sir, I wish to say to you that Edna and I are engaged, and that I intend to marry her early next week." Wow! That's the cue for another explosion. It starts in just as fierce as the first; but it don't last so long, and towards the end Pa Pulsifer is talkin' husky and puffing hard. "Go!" he winds up.
"Now see what you've done with your argyin', Tip Pulsifer," cried the old woman, running to me. "Poor thing ain't the Miracle workin'?" "I guess it is, but that's an awful bad spot that's right, Widow, powwow it." For ten long days more Mrs. Tip Pulsifer chopped her own wood, Cevery went undandled, and Earl and Pearl and Alice Eliza carried the water that half mile from the spring.
Bolum fails you, Mark, write to me," Tim answered. "When you see signs of her neglecting you, drop me a line and I'll be home in three days." "I may have to appeal to you to save me from my friends," I said, "if Tip Pulsifer goes digging gold and Nanny Pulsifer gets religion and old Mrs. Bolum belies her nature and forgets me.
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