Fudge doings :: :: University of Virginia Library

I SHALL open this volume with a few observations
upon an individual, who may possibly
have important relations with the Fudge family:
I refer to Mr. Blimmer, of Blimmersville. Mr.
Blimmer has a very snug office, full of diagrams
of Blimmersville. Indeed, the plots, sites, buildings,
and accounts, of that prospective town
may be said to fill up the office. There is,
among other charts, a beautiful lithograph of

Blimmersville, very attractive, with a proposed
church, and a proposed clergyman's cottage; both
of them highly picturesque, highly Gothic, and
highly flattering to the proposed Christian feeling
of the township—much more flattering, indeed, than
such buildings are apt to be in earnest.

Numerous choice sites are indicated upon the
maps by red lines. I may say that the red lines are
very frequent; indeed, scarce any other kind of
sites are at all designated. There are large ledgers
in the office, with quite infrequent entries; and
there is a small boy in the corner, very busy in
making copies of circular letters. Mr. Blimmer
himself, with his heels upon the last year's stove,
appears, at first glance, to be absorbed with the
daily paper.

But Mr. Blimmer is not absorbed with the daily
paper. Mr. Blimmer shifts his heels frequently
upon the last year's stove. Mr. Blimmer passes
his hand in a disturbed manner through his hair.
Mr. Blimmer puts on his hat—takes off his hat.
Something is disturbing Mr. Blimmer. There is a
paper in the safe of Mr. Blimmer, which disturbs
him; and that paper is the will of the late Mr.
Bodgers. I should be doing injustice to the investigating
spirit of Mr. Blimmer, if I did not say that
he had perused the paper alluded to with great

care. He has found the name of Kitty Fleming
introduced in that paper after a most generous fashion;
so generous, indeed, that he recalls the
aspect of that young lady (whom, it will be remembered,
he had encountered on a visit to the
Misses Fudge) very affably. Indeed, he has taken
an early occasion to renew his calls in that quarter.
He has entertained Misses Jemima and Bridget with
the exceedingly voluble and vivid manner with
which he has recounted the fearful accident, in
which he had so near a concern. He has interested
the tender Kitty by a pleasant narrative of the assiduous
but unavailing efforts which he employed for
the rescue of her uncle Truman; and at sight of
her white handkerchief and the tears, he has kindly
forborne; making a show, indeed, of a red silk
handkerchief on his own part.

Jemima and Bridget have both remarked that Mr.
Blimmer has “smarted up;” by which expression
they make graceful allusion to a new black coat, and
to very becoming plaids. (Jemima is fond of plaids,
especially large patterns.) They remark that he
talks less about Blimmersville than he did, and attribute
it to modesty. They remark that he is kind
to Kitty; which is very good of him. “In the
days of affliction,” said Jemima to Mr. Blimmer,
“how pleasant are the visits of a friend!”

“Just so,” said Mr. Blimmer, and saddled
his right knee with his left leg in a caressing
manner.

“How very apt!” thought Jemima; and she
wondered, in her own mind, if Mr. Blimmer would
ever marry.

Now Mr. Blimmer on these occasions, which were
not infrequent, was revolving very much the same
question himself; but not in the same fashion. The
truth is, Mr. Blimmer had allowed himself to form
conjectures, from time to time, about the probable
age of Miss Kitty; he had allowed himself to admit
that four or five more years could hardly have
diminished his interest in her; he regarded this as
evidence of sincerity. He thought her pretty in
black, and interesting, and had remarked as much
to Jemima, who said she was “a sweet little pink
of a thing; and so young to have affliction!” And
then Jemima cast her eyes to the ceiling.

Mr. Blimmer continued the plaids, and the visits.
And not only did he indulge freely in the conjectures
I have named, but allowed himself to indulge
in kindred conjectures respecting his own presumptive
age. He might pass, he thought indulgently,
for thirty-five. It is possible. Girls of nineteen
frequently contract marriages with men of forty.
These were sometimes, he had heard, marriages of

inclination. He was rash enough to indulge this
belief.

Thereupon, Mr. Blimmer, in his office, with his
eye upon the cheerful diagrams, drew very delightful
pictures of a large family mansion with
Corinthian columns and wide lawn, in the immediate
neighborhood of Blimmersville, and overlooking the
entire domain; commanding cheerful views of Blimmersville
spire in the extreme distance, and a company
of Blimmersville children pleasantly gambolling
on the village green, while a few Blimmer children
might, he thought, with a blush, be gambolling nearer
home.

Now Kitty, like the good girl that she is, thinks
that Mr. Blimmer is very kind to call so often as
he does, and to have helped, as he did upon the
river, her poor uncle Truman, and to neglect his
great town of Blimmersville to talk with a young
girl like herself. And this kindness she feels the
more, because the elegant Adolphe has not latterly
been so frequent in his visits, being busied, indeed,
with quite other affairs. However, the mother—
very lonely now at Newtown, and knowing little
what may come of uncle Truman's property, and
fearing lest Kitty may stay too long in the city—
bids her come back to the old home once more.

I need not say that this arrangement very much

quickens the action and the plans of Mr. Blimmer,
whose reception by the Misses Fudge is too grateful
to be unimproved. He has a fancy, too, that
pecuniary motives may have suggested this change
to the poor mother in the country, and a generous
impulse prompts him to sound matters with Miss
Jemima.

It would be unwise and uncousinly in me, to
attempt to portray the emotions of my poetic
Jemima, when she learned that Mr. Blimmer
requested a private interview. Far be it from me
to pry savagely into the recesses of a fond woman's
heart. I have said that she liked plaids; I have
said that she wrote poetry; I have said that she
has cast her eyes to the ceiling: it is enough.

Mr. Blimmer did wear plaids; and—cruel man—
a large pattern.

Jemima threw herself almost unconsciously into a
fauteuil. I should do injustice to her appearance, if
I did not say that she had “prinked” very successfully.
Mr. Blimmer was embarrassed; so was
Jemima.

Mr. Blimmer alluded, as was his habit, to recent
family afflictions.

Jemima “strove to repress the rising sigh.”

Mr. Blimmer compassionated them all—deeply,
tenderly.

Jemima did not repress the sigh, and played
hysterically with her handkerchief—bordered with
thread-lace, and worked in the corner with a harp
by Mademoiselle Entrenous, and containing their
joint initials, tied together with an embroidered
love-knot.

Mr. Blimmer thought the loss must be a fearful
one to Miss Kitty. (He had usually spoken of her
as simple Kitty.)

“The dear thing!” said Jemima, glancing at
Mr. Blimmer.

“And yet,” said Mr. Blimmer, “as he was an
old bachelor, he couldn't be exactly the sort of
thing—the sort of protector for Kitty.”

“Bachelors are devoid of proper feeling,” said
Jemima, poetically.

“Ah, now, Miss Jemima, you don't think that?”

And Jemima relents—with her eyes.

“She seems very much attached to you,” pursued
Blimmer, manfully.

“Ah, Mr Blimmer!” and Jemima's hand is
placed upon her heart.

“Suppose now, Miss Jemima, we were to arrange
a little plan for her to stay with you—between ourselves,
as it were?”

“Ah, Mr. Blimmer!” and the hand continues in
the old position.

“Indeed, now, Miss Jemima, I feel an interest
I can't well express.”

“Ah, Mr. Blimmer, how can I—”

“You can command my purse for the necessary,
Miss Jemima.”

“So kind, so generous, Mr. Blimmer!” and
Jemima is excited.

“Not a bit, Miss Jemima: I think we understand
each other now?”

“This is so unexpected, Mr. Blimmer.”

“Of course it is; never occurred to me till this
morning; but you see I'm a stirring man, Miss
Jemima—up to the mark.”

“Ah, yes, I feel—I know I can rely on you,
Mr. Blimmer.”

“To be sure. If it's an object, Miss Jemima, I
would n't mind leaving, say a hundred dollars in
advance.”

The poetic Jemima, unconscious of figures, can
only sigh, “Indeed, indeed, Mr. Blimmer, a true
heart is not held by shackles of gold.”

“Just so, just so,” said Mr. Blimmer. “But
Kitty will stay now: eh, Miss Jemima?”

“And so kind to the dear thing! How grateful
she must be, Mr. Blimmer; she must love you!”

“You really fancy so, Miss Jemima? And you
think you could arrange for her stay?”

Miss Jemima fears “not just now;” but she
hopes, nay, she is quite sure, that after—after—

“Just so,” chimes in Mr. Blimmer; “and you
think the friends won't object to the arrangement?”

“Friends, Mr. Blimmer?”

“Mrs. Solomon and Mrs. Fleming—think they 'll
have nothing to say, Miss Jemima?”

“Fie, Mr. Blimmer! and are you not the only
friend—[getting warm]—indeed—indeed, Mr. Blimmer,
the only friend whom I regard—whom I”—

“Just so—just so,” says Mr. Blimmer, frighted
with a new thought that flashes over him. And
he rises somewhat confusedly—not, as Jemima,
perhaps, fondly fancied, to impress a kiss upon those
virgin lips, but to make a hurried plea about his
pressing engagements at Blimmersville: “A large
sale is a-foot; business before pleasure; always my
motto. We'll keep this little matter between ourselves,
eh, Miss Jemima?”

“You are so droll, Mr. Blimmer.”

And as Mr. Blimmer escapes out of the door,
whether it was the poetic atmosphere, or a certain
perplexity that hung over him, he cannot forbear
an alliterative play upon the words of Miss Jemima;
to wit—“D—d droll!”

He wickedly repeats it to himself, several times,
on the way home. I cannot say that he regards with

the same cheerful aspect as before, the diagrams
of Blimmersville. The town looks uninteresting,
even on paper. Mr. Blimmer has started unexpected
game. I have hinted already that, at some
former period, he was said to have paid attentions to
Miss Jemima. I also hinted that those attentions
were discontinued: I need not say that he had
looked upon the discontinuance as fixed. It is to
be feared that Miss Jemima holds different views.

Under the awkward position of affairs, it seems
to Mr. Blimmer—as it would have seemed, I think,
to most bachelors similarly situated—that there is
need of prompt and decisive action. To a consideration
of this action, he, therefore, addresses himself,
with his usual energy. There is clearly no chance
for further negotiation through the medium of Miss
Jemima. Miss Kitty, if captured at all, must be
carried by storm, and this before any story of a will
shall have gone abroad.

There are various opinions in regard to bachelor
action under similar circumstances; some recommending
cautious approaches; and others, of more
active temperament, preferring very swift and unexpected
advances. In view of Mr. Blimmer's age,
and of cousin Kitty's unprotected state, I think
that he decided wisely. A middle-aged spinster is
usually open to a careful and laborious siege: with

a school-girl, or lady in her teens, it is more doubtful.
My own procedure with such a subject would
be very prompt; all time given to consider, is lost
time. Consideration is not flattering to one who
decides by impulse.

My cousin Kitty, I am sure, was meantime very
unsuspecting; and thought Mr. Blimmer, as he
came up with her again and again, on her afternoon
strolls, very, very kind. I do not know but she
came to regard his dress and bearing, after
Jemima's frequent encomiums, as something altogether
piquant and noticeable. I am sure that she
was feeling very unprotected and desolate; and in
her heart was conscious of a secret impulse to love
very much, without great questioning, whatever or
whoever was kind to her.

Therefore, though not ordinarily of a terrific cast
of character, Mr. Blimmer is to be regarded, I
think, at the present juncture, as a very dangerous
man.