Alexandria Gazette

AUNT PAT'S PROPOSAL
By
JULIA GREENE.

"I was never a strong advocate of the
idea that women ought to propose,"
said the red-headed man. "Still, I
know one woman who took matters
neglected by a bashful suitor into her
own hands and wound up the busi-
ness so neatly and in so novel a man-
ner that she won plaudits from every-
body who ever heard the story.

"This woman was known the coun-
ty over as Aunt Patsy Mitchell. Aunt
Patsy lived alone in a big red brick
house that was set down in the mid.
dle of an immense yard. The yard
at one time was well shaded, but the
trees had been felled one by one until
nothing remained standing but a few
cedar trees and one monstrous oak.

This oak stood in a corner not far
from the front fence.
It was the
most perfect specimen of fine, sym-
metrical forest tree to be found in that
part of the county, and Aunt Patsy
had always been very proud of it. 'It's
a grand type of endurance,' she had
often been heard to say. 'Why, per-
fect as that tree is, it ought to be
standing 500 years from now.' Know-
ing those to be her sentiments, the
surprise of the neighbors was un-
bounded when it was learned that
Aunt Patsy had sent for two wood
cutters and had ordered them to
chop down the oak tree three feet
from the ground.

"A few days after the tree had been
felled and dragged away I was walk-
ing past Aunt Patsy's house with
Walter Craig. Craig was a man who
had managed my father's farm for
several years. From the top of his
head to the sole of his foot Craig
presented a very peculiar appearance,
but his most striking single feature
was his mouth. That organ was
kept wide open day and night, sleep-
ing or waking. As we neared the
house we saw Aunt Patsy standing
at the front gate. We went up and
stopped on the other side.

"'Aunt Patsy,' said Craig, 'I don't
want to be pryin', but I'd like to know
what you had that tree whacked over
for?'

"'Reckon,' she said, 'there's a
whole raft of people hereabouts 'd
like to know that very same thing.'

"'I reckon,' said Craig, 'there is.'

"'Well,' returned Aunt Patsy, 'I
don't wish any of 'em any harm, so
I do hope they won't hold their
breath till they find out. Not but
what they're goin' to some day, for
they are, but they'll have to bide my
time.'"

"Craig nodded respectfully.
'And
what you goin' to do with the stump,
Aunt Patsy?' he asked. 'You ought to
have that drug up by the roots.'

"'I oughtn't do anything of the
kind,' retorted Aunt Patsy. 'I've made
all my cal'lations regardin'
that
stump, and I certainly don't cal'late to
have it drug out.'"

"That was in the fall. All winter
the oak stump stood in Aunt Patsy's
front yard, bleak and drear, but
early in the spring two men who were
used to clearing off were called in
for consultation, and Aunt Patsy gave
them instructions to burn out the
heart of the stump. A week later the
only thing remaining of the prize oak
was an outer shell about four inches
thick.

"'I'm goin' to get some bees,' said
Aunt Patsy, when Craig and I stopped
at her gate soon afterward and asked
her about the skeleton. 'I've always
wanted a swarm, and I cal'late to
turn this stump into a hive for 'em.
I'll have the top roofed over. It
seems to me it'll be a real handy place
for 'em.'"

"The following day Aunt Patsy went
into town. She was gone a week, and
when she returned she was provided
with a box full of chisels and other
tools, of whose use even the village
carpenter was ignorant. When the
first warm spring days came Aunt
Patsy began her work on the unique
beehive. For two weeks she labored,
cutting and chiseling the hard wood
with rare skill and patience. By and
by it became apparent that the side
of the hive facing the turnpike was
taking on the semblance of a human
face. Aunt Patsy smiled grimly when
Craig leaned over the fence one night
and asked her whose portrait she was
carving.

"'It's the face of the man I'm goin
to marry,' she said.

"That report spread rapidly and
thereafter Aunt Patsy's open-air
studio was thronged with people anxious to discover through the line-
ments of the sculptured face some
clue to the identity of the intended
husband. I don't know anything about
the work of professional sculptors
but we saw before us, as if in life,
the squinting eyes, the flaring ears
the high forehead and the gaping
mouth of Craig. My bare feet scarcely
touched the turnpike as I ran
home to tell the news. I found Craig
out back of the orchard plowing.

"'Craig,' I gasped, 'it's you. Aunt
Patsy has been carving your face. It's
you she's going to marry.'

"Craig dropped the lines and his
mouth flew wider open than ever.

"'She's left your mouth open just
like that,' I screamed. 'She says that's
where the bees are to go in at.'

"Craig said never a word even
then. He left the horses standing
in the furrow and ran out to the pike
and started toward Aunt Patsy's on
the lope. It was past noon when he
returned.

"'It's all up with me,' he said solemnly. 'It does look like me. It
really was me she had fixed her mind
on. If I'd only known--

"'What would you have done, Craig,
if you had known?' I asked.

"'I guess mebbe I'd asked her first,'
said Craig."