That Mother-in-Law of mine.

“Be to her virtues very kind, Be to her faults a little blind.”

PHILADELPHIA: THE KEYSTONE PUBLISHING CO. 1889.

[2] COPYRIGHT By JOHN E. POTTER AND COMPANY, 1879

[3] Dedicated TO ALL THOSE HAVING MOTHERS-IN-LAW OR EXPECTING TO HAVE.

[5]CONTENTS.

[7]MY MOTHER-IN-LAW.

CHAPTER I. BESSIE AND I AND BESSIE’S MOTHER.

“Why, Charlie, you sha’n’t talk so about my mother! I won’t allow it.”

“It does sound a little rough, my dear; but I can’t help it. She does exasperate me so. She doesn’t show a proper deference for your husband, my dear. We are married now, and she ought to give up her objections to me. I can’t be expected to place myself in her leading strings.”

“But you mustn’t demand too much at once, and should try to conciliate her. Now do, for my sake; won’t you, dear?”

Here we were, only a month married, and spending our honeymoon at a most charming summer resort, where there was no excuse for getting out of patience. Everything was beautiful [8]and attractive: Little hotel, strange to say, quite delightful; no fault to find with surroundings and accommodations; my darling Bessie, as sweet as an angel and determined to be happy and to make me happy; everything, in short, calculated to give us a long summer of delight.

That is, if Bessie had only been an orphan. But there was her mother, who had joined us on our summer trip, after the first two weeks of unalloyed happiness, and threatened to accompany us through life. Already it almost made the prospect dismal. The idea that Bessie and I would ever quarrel, or even have any impatient words together, had seemed to me to be simply ridiculous. I had seen what I had seen. My dashing friend, Fred, and his stylish wife,—they had been married two years, and a visible coldness had come upon them. I knew, by an occasional angry whisper and knitting of the brow before people, that he must sometimes swear and rave in the privacy of their own rooms, and her cutting replies or haughty indifference showed that there had been a deal of love lost between them in those two years.

[9]Other people, too, got indifferent or downright hostile in their marital relations. But then, I was not a dashing fellow and Bessie was not stylish, and in other ways we were quite different from most people. Ours had been a real love-match from the first. Bessie was simple and unaffected, honest and pure in every thought, and determined to make me a faithful and loving wife till death did us part. As for me, why, of course I was generous and affectionate, ready to make any sacrifice and bear any burden for the trusting creature who had so freely given herself into my keeping. There should be no clouds to darken her life. I would never be selfish or impatient, or for one moment hurt her gentle heart by heedless act or careless word.

But plague upon it! I could not get on with her mother; and here I was, before our summer holiday was over, and before we had settled down to that home life in which trouble and annoyance must needs come, getting out of patience and saying cruel things; and there was Bessie, sitting in the summer twilight with a light shawl drawn over her shoulders, pouting her pretty lips with vexation, [10]and digging the toes of her little boots into the balustrade in front of us, because I had expressed a pious wish that her mother was in Jericho. I declare, if there weren’t tears gathering in her gentle blue eyes!

I was angry with myself, and, putting my arm around her slender waist, I laid my cheek against hers and said soothingly, “Never mind, darling! I didn’t mean it. Don’t think any more about it.”

But as we sat for the next five minutes without saying a word, I couldn’t help pondering on the possibilities of the future, for Mrs. Pinkerton was to live with us. That was one of the understood conditions of our bargain, and it was evident that she was to furnish the test of all my good resolutions.

Mrs. Pinkerton had been left a widow when Bessie was twelve years old, with a neat little cottage in the suburbs of the city and a snug competence in a secure investment. I was fairly settled in business, with an income that would enable us to live in modest comfort, and was determined not to disturb the investment or have it drawn upon in any way for household expenses. But [11]the old lady—I already began to speak of her by that disrespectful epithet, although she was still under fifty—was to live with us. I had readily acquiesced in that arrangement, for was it not my darling’s wish? And I could not decently make any objection, for it was mighty convenient to have a pretty cottage, ready furnished, in one of the finest suburbs of the city in which I was employed.

Mrs. Pinkerton was a good woman in her way: how could she be anything else and the mother of such an angel as I had secured for my wife? She meant well, of course; I admitted that, and I ought to be on the pleasantest terms with her, and determined from the first that I would be. But somehow we were not congenial, and when that is the case the best people in the world find it hard to get along agreeably together.

The course of true love between Bessie and me had run very smooth. From the moment my old school-fellow, her brother George, now in Paris studying medicine, had introduced me to her, I had been completely won by her sweet disposition and charming ways, and she in turn was captivated [12]by my manly independence, strong good sense, and generous impulses. I am not vain, but the truth is the truth; and, as I am telling this story myself, I must set down the facts. We fell in love right away, and it was not long before we were mutually convinced that we were made expressly for each other and could never be happy apart.

So it happened that I had to do the courting with the mother. She was the one to be won over, and it was not likely to be an easy task, for I plainly saw that she did not quite approve of me. When I was first introduced to her, she looked at me with her great, steady blue eyes, as if analyzing me to the very boots, and evidently set me down as a somewhat arrogant and self-sufficient young fellow who needed a judicious course of discipline to teach him humility. I was generally self-possessed and had no little confidence in myself, but I confess that I was embarrassed in her presence. She was not at all like Bessie, I thought. She had taught school in her youth, and had learned to command and be obeyed. The late Mr. Pinkerton, I fancied, had found it useless to contend against her authority, and this had [13]increased her disposition to carry things her own way; and her seven years’ widowhood, with its independence and self-reliance, had not prepared her to be submissive to the wishes of others.

Still, she loved her daughter with tender devotion, and her chief anxiety was to have her every wish gratified. Therein was my advantage, for I knew that Bessie, gentle and trusting as she was, would never give me up or allow her life to be happy without the gratification of her first love. So I set to work confidently to make myself agreeable to the widow and win her consent to our marriage.

“You must bring mamma around to approve of it,” Bessie had said, on that ever-to-be-remembered evening, when we were returning from a long drive, and after an hour of sweet confidences she had surrendered herself without reserve to my future keeping. “She is the best mother in the world, and loves me very much, but she is peculiar in some ways, and I am afraid she doesn’t altogether like you. I would not for the world displease her, that is, if I could help it,” she [14]added, glancing up, as much as to say, “It is all settled now forever and forevermore, whatever may befall, but do get my mother to consent to it with a good grace.”

[15]CHAPTER II. COURTING THE MOTHER.

Mrs. Pinkerton sat in an easy-chair near the window, doing nothing, when I marched in to begin the siege. I felt diffident and uneasy, although I am not usually troubled that way. But if I should live to the advanced age of Methusaleh, I could never forget Mrs. Pinkerton’s appearance on that memorable occasion. Before I had spoken a word I saw that she knew what was coming, and had hardened her heart against me. She had anticipated all that I would say, had discounted my plea, as it were, and prejudged the whole case. Her look plainly said: “Young man, I know your pitiful story. You needn’t tell me. You may be very well as young men go, you fancy you can more than fill a mother’s place in Bessie’s inexperienced heart, but you can’t get [16]me out. I am Adamant. Your intentions are all very honorable, but you are a graceless intruder. Your credentials are rejected on sight.” I saw the difficult task I had undertaken. “Mrs. Pinkerton,” I said, mustering all my forces, “it is no use mincing the matter, or beating about the shrubbery.

I am in love with your daughter, and Bessie is in love with me. I believe I can make Bessie happy, and am sure nothing but Bessie can make me happy. I have come to ask your consent to our marriage.” Then I hung my head like a whipped school-boy.

Mrs. Pinkerton took off her eye-glasses, and then put them on again with considerable care; after which she leveled a look at me and through me that made me feel like calling out “Murder!” or making for the door. But I stood my ground, and heard her say quietly,—

“So you are engaged to my daughter?”

A simple remark, but the tone meant “You are a puppy.” I had to muster all my resolution to reply politely and coolly that, with her gracious consent, such was the fact.

“Are you aware that it is customary to obtain [17]parental consent before proceeding to such lengths?”

“Mrs. Pinkerton, excuse me. I thought in my ignorance that it would be just as well to do that afterwards; or rather, I didn’t think anything about it. I was so much in love with Bessie that it was all out before I knew it. If I had thought, of course I would have—”

“Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Pinkerton, “if your kind of people ever thought, they would undoubtedly do differently. Bessie certainly ought to know better. Girls rush into matrimony now-a-days with as much carelessness as they would choose partners at a game of croquet. I should have been consulted in this. It is all wrong to allow young people to have such entire freedom in affairs of this kind as they are allowed in these days.”

“But certainly, my dear Mrs. Pinkerton,” I said, becoming somewhat impatient, “you will not refuse your consent in this case? Bessie’s happiness—that is, the happiness of all of us, or—our happiness—Bessie’s and mine, I would say—”

“No doubt your happiness is very important to [18]yourself, Mr. Travers, and as to my daughter’s well-being, I have looked to that for quite a number of years past, and I flatter myself I shall be able to look out for it in the future.”

“Not if you insist on parting us!” I cried, getting out of patience and letting all my carefully prepared plans of assault go by the board. “You may withhold your consent, but that cannot prevent our loving each other!”

“Of course not. Nothing on earth can prevent young people who are in love from making themselves ridiculous. But getting married and living together soon cures them of sentimentalism.”

“Won’t you give us that chance to be cured then, my dear Mrs. Pinkerton?” I exclaimed, regaining a little tact.

She seemed to be taking it under advisement, and my courage came up a little. Then, looking at me with her peculiarly searching gaze, she said, “It isn’t necessary to argue the case; I know all you would say. You love Bessie to distraction; you could not live without her; your heart would be hopelessly broken if you had to give her up; you will be true to her forever and a day; [19]you offer her all of the good things of this world that any sane woman could desire, besides which you throw in an eternal, undying devotion; and so on, to the end of the chapter. We will consider that all said, and so save time and trouble. You think that ought to end the matter and bring me to your way of thinking. I wonder at the effrontery of young men, who walk into our households and carelessly tell us mothers what is best for our children, and assure us, between their puffs of tobacco smoke, that a case of three weeks’ moonshining outweighs the devotion of a lifetime.”

I began to see what course was open for me. The old lady was jealous, and I could not blame her. Her objections were general, not specific. Strategy must take the place of a direct assault. There flashed through my mind the ridiculous old nonsense rhyme quotation,—

I said gently, “I can readily see how a mother must regard the claims of the man who comes to her demanding her most precious treasure; and [20]what you say makes me feel how presumptuous my demand must seem. I love your daughter—that must be my only excuse. And after all, what has happened was only what a mother must expect. Your daughter’s love will not be the less yours because she also loves the man of her choice. That she should love and be loved was inevitable.”

“We will not go into the discussion any further,” she interrupted. “I don’t wish to say anything uncomplimentary of you personally, but I simply am not prepared to give my daughter up at present. My opinion of men in general is good, so long as they do not interfere with me or mine.”

(Mental note: “May there be precious little interference between us!”)

“Your judgment is doubtless good,” I said, smiling; “but there are exceptions which prove the rule, and I hope you will find that even I will improve upon acquaintance.”

“Your conceit is abominable, young man.”

“Thank you. I have found no one who could flatter me except myself, so I lose no opportunity to give myself a good character.”

[21]“Especially in addressing the mother of the woman you wish to marry, eh?”

“Precisely, as she is naturally prejudiced against me. My dear Mrs. Pinkerton, what must I do to please you?”

“Hold your tongue!”

“Anything but that. You admit that I am a good fellow enough, and that Bessie would probably marry some one in course of time. Now, I don’t see why you cannot make us both happy by giving your consent. It costs you a pang to do it. I honor you for that. Give me the right to console you.”

“By making myself an object of pity? No, not yet, not yet. I must, at least, have time to think.”

I inwardly cursed my luck. How long was this sort of thing going to last? I was about to rise and take my leave, when an inspiration struck me.

“Mrs. Pinkerton,” I said gravely, “what you have said of the ties that exist between you and your daughter has touched me deeply. I believe we young people do not half appreciate a mother’s [22]unchanging love. It lies so far beneath the surface that we are too apt to forget its constant blessing. My mother died when I was very young. Ah, if she were only here now, to plead my cause for me!”

With these words, I turned on my heel and hastily got out of the room. I went into the garden and lighted a cigar, the better to think over the situation. I could not determine what progress, if any, I had made in the good graces of Mrs. Pinkerton. While I was cogitating, Bessie came out and approached me with an inquiring look. I am afraid my returning glance did not greatly reassure her. As she came up and took my arm, she said,—

“Well?”

“Well! No, it’s not very well. I am beaten, my dear. Your mother is simply a stony-hearted parent!”

“What did she say?”

“Oh, she wants you to grow up an old maid—as if such a thing were possible!—and says that lovers have no idea of what a mean, cruel thing it is to rob people of only daughters; and that she [23]shall require time to think of it. What do you think of that?”

Bessie knitted her pretty brows, and dug her toes into the walk.

“Perhaps I had better go to her?” she said.

“Of course you must. But I know it won’t be of any use just yet. We must, as she says, give her time. She will come around all right at the end of nine or ten years. The fact is, Bessie, she’s a little bit jealous of me and regards me as an intruder.”

“Poor, dear mamma!” said Bessie, her eyes becoming moist.

“Poor, dear pussy-cat! You should have seen her shoot me with her eyes and ridicule my honest sentiment. She used me roughly, my dear, and I can’t help wondering at my amazing politeness to her.”

Bessie was not discouraged. She had several interviews with her mother, in which protestations, tears, smiles, and coaxings played a part, but there was no apparent change of heart on the part of the old lady, after all. I don’t know how long this disagreeable state of affairs would have continued [24]under ordinary circumstances, had not an unexpected, thrilling, and, as it happened, fortunate occurrence hastened a crisis and brought an end to the siege. It was a very singular thing, and it seemed to have been pre-arranged to bring me glory, and, what was better, the desired goodwill of the “stony-hearted parent.”

If there was any one thing that the worthy Mrs. Pinkerton detested more than men and tobacco, that thing was a burglar. Add fear to detestation, and you will see that when I defended the old lady from the attentions of a burglar, I had taken a long step into her good graces.

It was a week after the interview narrated above, and in the early summer, Mrs. Pinkerton had gone down to a quiet sea-side resort for a short stay, thinking to get away from me; but I was not to be put off so. I followed her, taking a room at the same hotel.

About one o’clock at night, the particular burglar to whom I owe so much, effected an entrance into the hotel through a basement window, and quietly made his way up stairs. Every one was asleep except myself, and I was planning all sorts [25]of expedients to conquer the prejudices of my mother-in-law that was to be. Mrs. Pinkerton’s room opened on a long corridor, near the end of which my modest seven-by-nine snuggery was situated. It was a warm night, and the transoms over the doors of almost all the bed-chambers had been left open to admit the air. A gleam of light from a dark-lantern, coming through my transom, was what led me to hastily don a pair of trousers and take my revolver from my valise. Then I opened my door very cautiously, without having struck a light, and could see—nothing! I waited a few moments, almost holding my breath. At the end of those few moments I could make out the form of a man swarming over the top of the door of Mrs. Pinkerton’s room. His head and shoulders were already inside the room, and I could see his legs wriggle about as he noiselessly

wormed his way through the narrow transom. It took me but a brief second of time to glide forward on tiptoe and mount the same chair which had been used by the intruder in climbing to the transom. This done, I seized both the wriggling legs simultaneously, and gave a tremendous pull.