Poems (Grossman)/The Fateful Letter "H"!
THE FATEFUL LETTER "H"
Reprinted from Horace Mann Record, February, 1917
BRIDGET stood by the kitchen stove with the peel of an apple in her hand. She turned to see if any one was near, then she took it up carefully, so as not to break it, and threw it over her left shoulder. She stood as if rooted to the floor for a moment, her hands clasped tightly. "Oh, the Saints be blessed!" she ejaculated. "Sure, oi'm afraid to look. Me future husband might be starin' me in the face." She caught her breath and turned quickly. There, on the floor, the apple peel had formed the letter "H" as plain as day! Bridget burst into sobs. "And all the time I wuz wishin' it would be L," she repeated over and over again. Then her voice trailed off into little inarticulate murmurs, and she fell asleep.
"But, Bridget, we wuz to finish our courtin' a year come next Saint Swiven's, an' then you said we wuz to be———"
"Lemuel, if you don't stop talkin' I'll throw a kettle o' bilin' hot water at you. The loiks o' some presumin' people! The Saints has told me the initial of the man Oi'm ter marry———and yours ain't it!"
"I've hearn you say that fer the last half-hour. I ain't afeared of no water, and you said we wuz to be mar———"
"Lemuel, get out o' this kitchen, and be careful how you go. I jist finished scrubbin' me floor, and it ain't for the loikes of you to be a-trailin' it up with mud. Now git!"
The door slammed. Bridget began to stir the dough vigorously. "Oh, by the blessed St. Anthony," she murmured. "Why wasn't it 'L'?"
About twenty minutes later, as she shut the oven door, a clump, clump, clump was heard coming up the steps. Bridget, being in a better frame of mind, having let out her feelings on the cake, went to the door. There she saw a very shame-faced Lemuel. He stood on the top step, twisting his hat and getting redder every minute.
"The Saints be praised," said Bridget. "You usually ain't so pertikular or polite. Come in, and shet the door behoind yer."
She sat down. Lemuel gingerly selected a chair and sat down as near as possible. Thereupon Bridget promptly lost her domineering manner, blushed, and turned the other way.
"Now, Lemuel," she began, shyly.
Lemuel, seeing her face grow red, took courage, and began—"I've been walkin' a mile jist ter come back an' tell yer somethin', Bridget. Yer know—yer see—wal—er—er—I reckon I didn't tell yer. They've always called me 'Lemmie,' but my christening name is—HEZEKIAH."
"The Saints be blessed!" ejaculated Bridget.