sunshine sketches of a little town-第24部分

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say　that　she　simply　hated　diamonds　wouldn't　wear　them；　despised　them；
wouldn't　give　a　thank　you　for　a　whole　tiara　of　them！　As　for　motor
cars　and　steam　yachts；well；　it　was　pretty　plain　that　that　sort　of
thing　had　no　chance　with　Zena　Pepperleigh。　Why；　she　had　told　Pupkin
one　night　in　the　canoe　that　she　would　only　marry　a　man　who　was　poor
and　had　his　way　to　make　and　would　hew　down　difficulties　for　her　sake。
And　when　Pupkin　couldn't　answer　the　argument　she　was　quite　cross　and
silent　all　the　way　home。

What　was　Peter　Pupkin　doing；　then；　at　eight　hundred　dollars　in　a　bank
in　Mariposa？　If　you　ask　that；　it　means　that　you　know　nothing　of　the
life　of　the　Maritime　Provinces　and　the　sturdy　temper　of　the　people。　I
suppose　there　are　no　people　in　the　world　who　hate　luxury　and
extravagance　and　that　sort　of　thing　quite　as　much　as　the　Maritime
Province　people；　and；　of　them；　no　one　hated　luxury　more　than　Pupkin
senior。

Don't　mistake　the　man。　He　wore　a　long　sealskin　coat　in　winter；　yes；
but　mark　you；　not　as　a　matter　of　luxury；　but　merely　as　a　question　of
his　lungs。　He　smoked；　I　admit　it；　a　thirty…five　cent　cigar；　not
because　he　preferred　it；　but　merely　through　a　delicacy　of　the　thorax
that　made　it　imperative。　He　drank　champagne　at　lunch；　I　concede　the
point；　not　in　the　least　from　the　enjoyment　of　it；　but　simply　on
account　of　a　peculiar　affection　of　the　tongue　and　lips　that
positively　dictated　it。　His　own　longingand　his　wife　shared　itwas
for　the　simple；　simple　lifean　island　somewhere；　with　birds　and
trees。　They　had　bought　three　or　four　islandsone　in　the　St。
Lawrence；　and　two　in　the　Gulf；　and　one　off　the　coast　of
Mainelooking　for　this　sort　of　thing。　Pupkin　senior　often　said　that
he　wanted　to　have　some　place　that　would　remind　him　of　the　little　old
farm　up　the　Aroostook　where　he　was　brought　up。　He　often　bought　little
old　farms；　just　to　try　them；　but　they　always　turned　out　to　be　so　near
a　city　that　he　cut　them　into　real　estate　lots；　without　even　having
had　time　to　look　at　them。

Butand　this　is　where　the　emphasis　layin　the　matter　of　luxury　for
his　only　son；　Peter；　Pupkin　senior　was　a　Maritime　Province　man　right
to　the　core；　with　all　the　hardihood　of　the　United　Empire　Loyalists
ingrained　in　him。　No　luxury　for　that　boy！　No；　sir！　From　his
childhood；　Pupkin　senior　had　undertaken；　at　the　least　sign　of　luxury；
to　〃tan　it　out　of　him；〃　after　the　fashion　still　in　vogue　in　the
provinces。　Then　he　sent　him　to　an　old…fashioned　school　to　get　it
〃thumped　out　of　him；〃　and　after　that　he　had　put　him　for　a　year　on　a
Nova　Scotia　schooner　to　get　it　〃knocked　out　of　him。〃　If；　after　all
that；　young　Pupkin；　even　when　he　came　to　Mariposa；　wore　cameo　pins
and　daffodil　blazers；　and　broke　out　into　ribbed　silk　saffron　ties　on
pay　day；　it　only　shows　that　the　old　Adam　still　needs　further　tanning
even　in　the　Maritime　Provinces。

Young　Pupkin；　of　course；　was　to　have　gone　into　law。　That　was　his
father's　cherished　dream　and　would　have　made　the　firm　Pupkin；　Pupkin；
Pupkin；　and　Pupkin；　as　it　ought　to　have　been。　But　young　Peter　was
kept　out　of　the　law　by　the　fool　system　of　examinations　devised　since
his　father's　time。　Hence　there　was　nothing　for　it　but　to　sling　him
into　a　bank；　〃sling　him〃　was；　I　think；　the　expression。　So　his　father
decided　that　if　Pupkin　was　to　be　slung；　he　should　be　slung　good　and
farclean　into　Canada　（you　know　the　way　they　use　that　word　in　the
Maritime　Provinces）。　And　to　sling　Pupkin　he　called　in　the　services　of
an　old　friend；　a　man　after　his　own　heart；　just　as　violent　as　himself；
who　used　to　be　at　the　law　school　in　the　city　with　Pupkin　senior
thirty　years　ago。　So　this　friend；　who　happened　to　live　in　Mariposa；
and　who　was　a　violent　man；　said　at　once：　〃Edward；　by　Jehoshaphat！
send　the　boy　up　here。〃

So　that　is　how　Pupkin　came　to　Mariposa。　And　if；　when　he　got　there；
his　father's　friend　gave　no　sign；　and　treated　the　boy　with　roughness
and　incivility；　that　may　have　been；　for　all　I　know；　a　continuation　of
the　〃tanning〃　process　of　the　Maritime　people。

Did　I　mention　that　the　Pepperleigh　family；　generations　ago；　had　taken
up　land　near　the　Aroostook；　and　that　it　was　from　there　the　judge's
father　came　to　Tecumseh　township？　Perhaps　not；　but　it　doesn't　matter。

But　surely　after　such　reminiscences　as　these　the　awful　things　that
are　impending　over　Mr。　Pupkin　must　be　kept　for　another　chapter。



NINE

The　Mariposa　Bank　Mystery

Suicide　is　a　thing　that　ought　not　to　be　committed　without　very
careful　thought。　It　often　involves　serious　consequences；　and　in　some
cases　brings　pain　to　others　than　oneself。

I　don't　say　that　there　is　no　justification　for　it。　There　often　is。
Anybody　who　has　listened　to　certain　kinds　of　music；　or　read　certain
kinds　of　poetry；　or　heard　certain　kinds　of　performances　upon　the
concertina；　will　admit　that　there　are　some　lives　which　ought　not　to
be　continued；　and　that　even　suicide　has　its　brighter　aspects。

But　to　commit　suicide　on　grounds　of　love　is　at　the　best　a　very
dubious　experiment。　I　know　that　in　this　I　am　expressing　an　opinion
contrary　to　that　of　most　true　lovers　who　embrace　suicide　on　the
slightest　provocation　as　the　only　honourable　termination　of　an
existence　that　never　ought　to　have　begun。

I　quite　admit　that　there　is　a　glamour　and　a　sensation　about　the　thing
which　has　its　charm；　and　that　there　is　nothing　like　it　for　causing　a
girl　to　realize　the　value　of　the　heart　that　she　has　broken　and　which
breathed　forgiveness　upon　her　at　the　very　moment　when　it　held　in　its
hand　the　half…pint　of　prussic　acid　that　was　to　terminate　its　beating
for　ever。

But　apart　from　the　general　merits　of　the　question；　I　suppose　there
are　few　people；　outside　of　lovers；　who　know　what　it　is　to　commit
suicide　four　times　in　five　weeks。

Yet　this　was　what　happened　to　Mr。　Pupkin；　of　the　Exchange　Bank　of
Mariposa。

Ever　since　he　had　known　Zena　Pepperleigh　he　had　realized　that　his
love　for　her　was　hopeless。　She　was　too　beautiful　for　him　and　too　good
for　him；　her　father　hated　him　and　her　mother　despised　him；　his　salary
was　too　small　and　his　own　people　were　too　rich。

If　you　add　to　all　that　that　he　came　up　to　the　judge's　house　one　night
and　found　a　poet　reciting　verses　to　Zena；　you　will　understand　the
suicide　at　once。　It　was　one　of　those　regular　poets　with　a　solemn
jackass　face；　and　lank　parted　hair　and　eyes　like　puddles　of　molasses。
I　don't　know　how　he　came　thereup　from　the　city；　probablybut
there　he　was　on　the　Pepperleighs'　verandah　that　August　evening。　He
was　reciting　poetryeither　Tennyson's　or　Shelley's；　or　his　own；　you
couldn't　telland　about　him　sat　Zena　with　her　hands　clasped　and　Nora
Gallagher　looking　at　the　sky　and　Jocelyn　Drone　gazing　into　infinity；
and　a　little　tubby　woman　looking　at　the　poet　with　her　head　falling
over　sidewaysin　fact；　there　was　a　whole　group　of　them。

I　don't　know　what　it　is　about　poets　that　draws　women　to　them　in　this
way。　But　everybody　knows　that　a　poet　has　only　to　sit　and　saw　the　air
with　his　hands　and　recite　verses　in　a　deep　stupid　voice；　and　all　the
women　are　crazy　over　him。　Men　despise　him　and　would　kick　him　off　the
verandah　if　they　dared；　but　the　women　simply　rave　over　him。

So　Pupkin　sat　there　in　the　gloom　and　listened　to　this　poet　reciting
Browning　and　he　realized　that　everybody　understood　it　but　him。　He
could　see　Zena　with　her　eyes　fixed　on　the　poet　as　if　she　were　hanging
on　to　every　syllable　（she　was；　she　needed　to）；　and　he　stood　it　just
about　fifteen　minutes　and　then　slid　off　the　side　of　the　verandah　and
disappeared　without　even　saying　good…night。

He　walked　straight　down　Oneida　Street　and　along　the　Main　Street　just
as　hard　as　he　could　go。　There　was　only　one　purpose　in　his
mind；suicide。　He　was　heading　straight　for　Jim　Eliot's　drug　store　on
the　main　corner　and　his　idea　was　to　buy　a　drink　of　chloroform　and
drink　it　and　die　right　there　on　the　spot。

As　Pupkin　walked　down　the　street；　the　whole　thing　was　so　vivid　in　his
mind　that　he　could　picture　it　to　the　remotest　detail。　He　could　even
see　it　all　in　type；　in　big　headings　in　the　newspapers　of　the
following　day：

APPALLING　SUICIDE。　PETER　PUPKIN　POISONED。

He　perhaps　hoped　that　the　thing　might　lead　to　some　kind　of　public
enquiry　and　that　the　question　of　Browning's　poetry　and　whether　it　is
altogether　fair　to　allow　of　its　general　circulation　would　be　fully
ventilated　in　the　newspapers。

Thinking　of　that；　Pupkin　came　to　the　main　corner。

On　a　warm　August　evening　the　drug　store　of　Mariposa；　as　you　know；　is
all　a　blaze　of　lights。　You　can　hear　the　hissing　of　the　soda…water
fountain　half　a　block　away；　and　inside　the　store　there　are　ever　so
many　peopleboys　and　girls　and　old　people　tooall　drinking
sarsaparilla　and　chocolate　sundaes　and　lemon　sours　and　foaming　drinks
that　you　take　out　of　long　straws。　There　is　such　a　laughing　and　a
talking　as　you　never　heard；　and　the　girls　are　all　in　white　and　pink
and　cambridge　blue；　and　the　soda　fountain　is　of　white　marble　with
silver　taps；　and　it　hisses　and　sputters；　and　Jim　Eliot　and　his
assistant　wear　white　coats　with　red　geraniums　in　them；　and　it's　just
as　gay　as　gay。

The　foyer　of　the　opera　in　Paris　may　be　a　fine　sight；　but　I　doubt　if
it　can　compare　with　the　inside　of　Eliot's　drug　store　in　Mariposafor
real　gaiety　and　joy　of　living。

This　night　the　store　was　especially　crowded　because　it　was　a　Saturday
and　that　meant　early　closing　for　all　the　hotels；　except；　of　course；
Smith's。　So　as　the　hotels　were　shut；　the　people　were　all　in　the　drug
store；　drinking　like　fishes。　It　just　shows　the　folly　of　Local　Option
and　the　Temperance　Movement　and　all　that。　Why；　if　you　shut　the　hotels
you　simply　drive　the　people　to　the　soda　fountains　and　there's　more
drinking　than　ever；　and　not　only　of　the　men；　too；　but　the　girls　and
young　boys　and　children。　I've　seen　little　things　of　eight　and　nine
that　had　to　be　lifted　up　on　the　high　stools　at　Eliot's　drug　store；
drinking　great　goblets　of　lemon　soda；　enough　to　burst　thembrought
there　by　their　own　fathers；　and　why？　Simply　because　the　hotel　bars
were　shut。

What's　the　use　of　thinking　you　can　stop　people　drinking　merely　by
cutting　off　whiskey　and　brandy？　The　only　effect　is　to　drive　them　to
taking　lemon　sour　and　sarsaparilla　and　cherry　pectoral　and　caroka
cordial　and　things　they　wouldn't　h