The Whirligig Of Life

O Henry

JUSTICE-OF-THE-PEACE Benaja Widdup sat in the door of his office smoking his elder-

stem pipe. Halfway to the zenith the Cumberland range rose blue-gray in the afternoon

haze. A speckled hen swaggered down the main street of the "settlement," cackling

foolishly.

Up the road came a sound of creaking axles, and then a slow cloud of dust, and then a bull-

cart bearing Ransie Bilbro and his wife. The cart stopped at the Justice's door, and the two

climbed down. Ransie was a narrow six feet of sallow brown skin and yellow hair. The

imperturbability of the mountains hung upon him like a suit of armour. The woman was

partiality or self-partisanship in her statement of their business.

"A divo'ce," repeated Ransie, with a solemn Dod. "We-all can't git along together nohow.

It's lonesome enough fur to live in the mount'ins when a man and a woman keers fur one

another. But when she's a-spittin' like a wildcat or a-sullenin' like a hoot-owl in the cabin, a

man ain't got no call to live with her."

"When he's a no-'count varmint," said the woman, "without any especial warmth, a-traipsin'

along of scalawags and moonshiners and a-layin' on his back pizen 'ith co'n whiskey, and a-

pesterin' folks with a pack o' hungry, triflin' houn's to feed!"

"When she keeps a-throwin' skillet lids," came Ransie's antiphony, "and slings b'ilin' water

on the best coon-dog in the Cumberlands, and sets herself agin' cookin' a man's victuals,

"The law and the statutes," said he, "air silent on the subjeck of divo'ce as fur as the

jurisdiction of this co't air concerned. But, accordin' to equity and the Constitution and the

golden rule, it's a bad barg'in that can't run both ways. If a justice of the peace can marry a

couple, it's plain that he is bound to be able to divo'ce 'em. This here office will issue a

decree of divo'ce and abide by the decision of the Supreme Co't to hold it good."

Ransie Bilbro drew a small tobacco-bag from his trousers pocket. Out of this he shook upon

the table a five-dollar note. "Sold a b'arskin and two foxes fur that," he remarked. "It's all

the money we got."

"The regular price of a divo'ce in this co't," said the Justice, "air five dollars." He stuffed the

bill into the pocket of his homespun vest with a deceptive air of indifference. With much

bodily toil and mental travail he wrote the decree upon half a sheet of foolscap, and then

copied it upon the other. Ransie Bilbro and his wife listened to his reading of the document

that was to give them freedom:

"Know all men by these presents that Ransie Bilbro and his wife, Ariela Bilbro, this day

the transfer. Both men looked at her. Their dull masculinity was confronted by something

sudden and unexpected in the woman.

"Judge, don't you give him that air paper yit. 'Tain't all settled, nohow. I got to have my

rights first. I got to have my ali-money. 'Tain't no kind of a way to do fur a man to divo'ce

his wife 'thout her havin' a cent fur to do with. I'm a-layin' off to be a-goin' up to brother

Ed's up on Hogback Mount'in. I'm bound fur to hev a pa'r of shoes and some snuff and

things besides. Ef Rance kin affo'd a divo'ce, let him pay me ali-money."

Ransie Bilbro was stricken to dumb perplexity. There had been no previous hint of alimony.

Women were always bringing up startling and unlooked-for issues.

Justice Benaja Widdup felt that the point demanded judicial decision. The authorities were

"The amount," said the Justice, "air not onreasonable. Ransie Bilbro, you air ordered by the

co't to pay the plaintiff the sum of five dollars befo' the decree of divo'ce air issued."

"I hain't no mo' money," breathed Ransie, heavily. "I done paid you all I had."

"Otherwise," said the Justice, looking severely over his spectacles, "you air in contempt of

co't."

"I reckon if you gimme till to-morrow," pleaded the husband, "I mout be able to rake or

scrape it up somewhars. I never looked for to be a-payin' no alimoney."

"The case air adjourned," said Benaja Widdup, "till to-morrow, when you-all will present

yo'selves and obey the order of the co't. Followin' of which the decrees of divo'ce will be

delivered." He sat down in the door and began to loosen a shoestring.

"We mout as well go down to Uncle Ziah's," decided Ransie, "and spend the night." He

climbed into the cart on one side, and Ariela climbed in on the other. Obeying the flap of

his rope, the little red bull slowly came around on a tack, and the cart crawled away in the

nimbus arising from its wheels.

laurels and pointed a rifle at his breast. His hat was pulled down low, and something

"I want yo' money," said the figure, "'thout any talk. I'm gettin' nervous, and my finger's a-

wabblin' on this here trigger."

"I've only got f-f-five dollars," said the Justice, producing it from his vest pocket.

"Roll it up," came the order, "and stick it in the end of this here gun-bar'l."

difficulty in making a spill of it and inserting it (this with less ease) into the muzzle of the

rifle.

"Now I reckon you kin be goin' along," said the robber.

freedom. The woman cast a shy glance full of constraint at Ransie.

bread in the tin box settin' on the shelf. I put the bacon in the b'ilin'-pot to keep the hounds

"You air a-goin' to your brother Ed's?" asked Ransie, with fine unconcern.

"I was 'lowin' to get along up thar afore night. I ain't sayin' as they'll pester theyselves any to

make me welcome, but I hain't nowhar else fur to go. It's a right smart ways, and I reckon I

better be goin'. I'll be a-sayin' good-bye, Ranse - that is, if you keer fur to say so."

"I don't know as anybody's a hound dog," said Ransie, in a martyr's voice, "fur to not want

to say good-bye -- 'less you air so anxious to git away that you don't want me to say it."

Ariela was silent. She folded the five-dollar bill and her decree carefully, and placed them

in the bosom of her dress. Benaja Widdup watched the money disappear with mournful

eyes behind his spectacles.

And then with his next words he achieved rank (as his thoughts ran) with either the great

at Ariela.

"I 'low it might be lonesome," he said; "but when folks gits mad and wants a divo'ce, you

can't make folks stay."

"There's others wanted a divo'ce," said Ariela, speaking to the wooden stool. "Besides,

nobody don't want nobody to stay."

"Nobody never said they didn't."

"Nobody can't wind that old clock."

"Want me to go back along 'ith you in the cart and wind it fur you, Ranse?"

mad no more. Le's be startin', Ranse, so's we kin git home by sundown." Justice-of-the-

peace Benaja Widdup interposed as they started for the door, forgetting his presence.

"In the name of the State of Tennessee," he said, "I forbid you-all to be a-defyin' of its laws

misunderstandin' rollin' away from two lovin' hearts, but it air the duty of the co't to p'eserve

the morals and integrity of the State. The co't reminds you that you air no longer man and

wife, but air divo'ced by regular decree, and as such air not entitled to the benefits and

'purtenances of the mattermonal estate."

Ariela caught Ransie's arm. Did those words mean that she must lose him now when they

had just learned the lesson of life?

"But the co't air prepared," went on the Justice, "fur to remove the disabilities set up by the

decree of divo'ce. The co't air on hand to perform the solemn ceremony of marri'ge, thus

fixin' things up and enablin' the parties in the case to resume the honour'ble and elevatin'

state of mattermony which they desires. The fee fur performin' said ceremony will be, in

this case, to wit, five dollars."

Aricla caught the gleam of promise in his words. Swiftly her hand went to her bosom.

fingered the bill tucked down in his vest pocket. Once again he smoked his elder-stem pipe.

Once again the speck-led hen swaggered down the main street of the "settlement," cackling

foolishly.

Livros Grátis