Neighbor Anne

L Neighbor Anne By JESSIE MILLER ROBINSON fAN' sakes, Seth! There you set, an now Bat's gobbled up my bread rolls!" ex- claimed Anne Tompkins in de- spairing reproach. Her husband, absorbed in his mail order journal, had failed to note the entrance of the ravenous pup. "Didn't see the brute," he drawled. "Reg'lar boa-constrictor, ain't he?" "I must have left the door to the lean-to open as I went out, an' he was in that quick an' got 'em off the chair near the range. Hurry, Seth, an' give him a dose of medi- cine before those rolls begin to swell. Oh, what will we do if anything happens to Miranda's white bull terrier?" Once again ensconced in his easy rocker by the kitchen window, Seth grumbled: "Don't see why you had to take the whole Hunt menagerie. That blame parrot of hers wakes me at 6 a. m. with its Til tell the world!' That dog chewed up one of my best boots — and you spend hours night and morning feeding the animals." "Why, Seth Tompkins!" said Anne, vigorously kneading anoth- er batch of rolls. "You know I always take care of Miranda Hunt's pets when she goes away. She pays, for their feed, so we shouldn't complain. Of course there is a lot of 'em, — the magpie, Poll the parrot, Silverlegs the cat and Battling Nelson the dog." "Hain't you forgotten some? And — is it appreciated? No, the more we do for folks, the less they do for us." Seth never failed to include himself in Anne's neigh- borly deeds. "Now, Seth," soothed his wife, "you know we don't do any more than we should." OETH'S mouth tight- ened as he bent over his magazine. For the thirty years of their mar- ried life everyone ill or in trouble in the small mining town had come to Anne for comfort or help. "Lan' sakes, Seth!" Still, whenever Seth looked at Anne he grudgingly admitted that, somehow, >his wife had thrived upon her neighbors' imposition. Though she was nearing fifty, no silver threads were visible in her soft brown hair. Her small body was plump and straight; her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes bright. At that very minute, she was hum- ming a gay little tune. Well, wo- men had to have someone to fuss over. Things might have been different if their boy had lived — then, Anne wouldn't have found time for those pesky neighbors and their pets. But, bless her heart, Anne was the best woman in the world. She loved neighbors, an- imals and flowers, and — wonder of wonders — she loved Seth Tompkins, who was no beauty nor saint nor great success. He was just a big, fat, bald-headed old man, often grouchy, and perfectly satisfied with his clerkship in a small town grocery and general merchandise store. The next day, Anne hung out an unusually large washing for there had been boarding visitors that week. At luncheon, even Seth noted the weary look of the little woman seated beside him. "Now, Anne, you just lay down for a spell, and I'll do the dishes before I go to the store," he said, as he arose and filled the teakettle. "No, Seth, thank you — there's only a few. I won't have you putterin' around." Anne was a fussy housekeeper and Seth never did wipe the dishes clean. Slipping on a ki- mono, she was preparing to take Seth's advice and rest for awhile, when through the white-curtained window she saw the angular figure of her neighbor down the street climbing the wooden stairway that led to the Tompkins' cottage. Like all the houses of the mining town, it was perched perilously on the slope of the steep hillside. Anne was tempted not to an- swer the knock, but Mrs. Bench bounced in, barely tapping the door, feeling certain that Anne was at home. "You're so handy, Mrs. Tomp- kins," she said breathlessly, as she began to unwrap the package she held in one hand. "I jest come to see if you could help me cut out this dress for Matilda. I guess I got a five yard pattern for four yards of cloth." Anne belted herself in with an apron, put on her glasses, and pro- ceeded to puzzle out how to make the scant cloth do what was ex- pected of it. She finally cut the pattern to their mutual approval, but Jane Bench was in no hurry to go. "You don't mind, Mrs. Tomp- kins, if I stay and use your ma- chine? Your machine's new, and there's so much noise to home — seems as if I could get more done here than there." Hardly waiting for Anne's assent, she was soon treadling with energy. She talked and talked, her voice rising stri- dently above the whir of the sew- ing machine. Oi 'UT of doors in the slanting square that the Tomp- kins' called their front yard, Bat the pup began to bark without in- termission. His banquet of bread

The Improvement Era for October, 1930 797 rolls the day before did not lessen his loud hatred of strangers. "Well, I do declare if that ain't Rosa Cappolini coming here!" shouted Mrs. Bench, peering out of the window. Anne heaved an inward sigh. Her head ached and the last pros- pect of an afternoon nap had fled. 'Yes, I wonder if she's got an- other hand painted pillow top she wants to raffle off, or maybe she'd like an old hat or suit for one of the little Cappolinis. Well, If Rosa only knew it, talking to Bat makes him bark the more. Guess I'll have to go call him." Anne shortly ushered in the stout, dark-faced woman who was quite out of breath from trying to evade the dog and climb the steep stairs at the same time. Before her departure, Anne had rum- maged through closet and rag bag and given her a large bundle of old clothing. A few moments later, the tele- phone bell trilled faintly above the din of the sewing machine. "Hello — hello—. Yes, Aman- da, I'll take him. All right, bring him over tomorrow at two o'clock." 'You don't mean to say you're goin' to take care of that Treweek youngster!" Jane Bench still screamed, though she had quit sewing for a moment. "Why, he's the crossest and most colicky baby in town!" 'Yes, he ain't very strong, bless his heart! You know I helped bring! him into the world, an' Amanda hasn't any folks she can leave him with — an' she does need to get out to a movie once in a while — poor young thing!" "Well, I give you up, Anne Tompkins, catch me bein' so ac- commodatin' to anyone that never done me a good turn." She evi- dently did not include herself in this category. talker— soon he had taken orders for his wares from the two wo- Ai XTHOUGH this time Bat failed to announce an ar- rival, again there was a summons at the door. Anne opened it to a tall youth, well dressed in tweeds. He was selling aluminum cooking utensils. The bull-terrier, usually the arch enemy of canvassers, was nuzzling his soft black nose in the young man's hand. This aston- ishing fact as well as his appear- ance appealed to Anne, and she al- lowed him to come in. A good men. "I guess I've climbed miles to- day," he half -sighed, as he packed his pots and pans. "I'm glad all the towns aren't built like this one. "Do let me make you a glass of lemonade," urged Anne. "It'll rest you." 'Thank you, madam, I believe it would," he replied and reseated himself. "By the way," he remarked to Mrs. Bench after Anne left the room, could you tell me the name of Mrs. Tompkins' next door neighbor?" "Oh, there ain't much use callin' on Mirandy Hunt," shouted Jane Bench who had resumed her sew- ing. "She'll shut the door in your face like as not. She's always sayin' that the more she sees of men the better she likes dogs." The boy laughed. "A sort of hermit woman, eh? But why is she so hard on us men?" Ai lNNE coming in with the liquid, answered him. "Well, Mrs. Hunt hain't had good luck with men-folks. Her hus- band never made a livin,' so she come out here from Boston and kept a miners' boardin' house. Then after Mr. Hunt died some of the mining shares he'd bought with her money turned out fine an' left her well off. An' before that, her only nephew who she raised an' set great store by run away, an' she hain't heard from him since. Guess she was pretty strict with him, still she can't help feelin' he was very ungrateful. But I mustn't talk about folks behind their backs — she's out o' town. Miranda has a good, warm heart, an' she shows it by her kindness to animals — this is her dog, Bat. She named him Battling Nelson, 'cause he's such a scrapper." "Yes," added Mrs. Bench, "she sure has enough pets, just a mag- pie, a parrot, a cat an' dog — that's all." "Well, she can't be lonely," said the young man. "Did you say her name was Miranda Hunt? I should like to meet her — but I must be going. That was deli- cious, Mrs. Tompkins. I thank you for your kindness. If I am unable to deliver your goods per- sonally, they will be sent collect by parcel post from the factory. Will Mrs. Hunt be at home soon?" "No," replied Anne," not for several days. Anyhow, there's no use callin' on her, young man, even if you are a good talker." "Well, it's a feather in my cap when I can sell to people like her." There was a determined ring to his words. Anne watched him as he went down the steep wooden steps, car- rying his heavy suitcase of samples. Strong and handsom* — a fine lad making his way in the world with- out any help. Little Seth would have been just his age — she brushed her hand across her eyes, and closed the door. 'You shouldn't have told him Mirandy wasn't to home," said Mrs. Bench. "Lots of these ped- dlers are jest burglars in disguise. He seemed so curious, too, about Mirandy. And it was kind of suspicious the way he made friends with her dog." "I know that young man is all right," firmly declared Anne. H) SlLVERLEGS AND POLL tER neighbor stayed all afternoon. Anne hoped that Mrs. Bench would leave before Seth came home for she knew he thoroughly disliked this gossip- loving woman. But when he ar- rived, Mrs. Bench was still there. She needed no urging to stay to the evening meal. As the three were seated at the table and Mrs. Bench was praising Anne's pineapple marmalade, an unearthly sound rent the air. "Gracious, what's that?" ejac- ulated Mrs. Bench. "Oh, that's Silverlegs, Miran- (Continued on page 842)