AMOS WILLIAMS HAD been carrying a jug of his last year’s cider over to Esther Tibbetts’s every Sunday night for two months or more and he thought it was about time for something to happen. Amos had been trying all summer to marry Esther, but Esther owned a good farm and a fine set of buildings and she thought she was very well off just as she was. Every Sunday night Esther seemed to be ready to say she would marry Amos, but by that time the cider was all gone and he had to go away and wait for another week to pass before he could try again.
When he went back to work at the skewer mill Monday morning, the other men wanted to know if anything had happened the night before. Everybody in the mill knew that Amos was trying his hardest to marry Esther before winter and cold weather came. Amos had begun taking Esther a jug of cider because one of the men there had said that if a woman drank enough hard cider she would marry anybody.
“What did Esther say last night, Amos?” one of the men asked him, winking at the others. “Did she say she would get married to you?”
Amos said nothing for a few minutes. The mill was turning out candy sticks for all-day suckers this week because there was a big stock of meat skewers on hand and a large order for candy sticks had been received over the week end. Amos picked up a wrench and adjusted the turning machine on his bench while everybody stood around waiting to hear about Esther.
“The cider gave out too quick, I guess,” he said. “I thought for a while she was going to say she would get married, but I guess there wasn’t enough cider.”
“What you should do, Amos,” another of the men said seriously, “is to take two jugs of cider with you next Sunday night. When I was courting my wife, I couldn’t do a thing with her until I began taking two jugs with me when I went to see her. You should take two jugs of cider, Amos. That will make things happen, all right.”
“I’ll have to do something about it,” Amos said. “My cider barrel is getting low. I’ve only got five or six gallons left in it now. And winter is coming on, too. If Esther don’t marry me pretty soon, I’ll have to buy some new blankets.”
“You take Esther two jugs next Sunday night, Amos, and if all that cider won’t make something happen for you I’ll give you five gallons out of my own barrel.”
Amos pulled the belt on his machine and went to work turning candy sticks. He was getting uneasy now that winter was coming. He had planned to marry Esther before it began to be cold at night so he would not have to buy any new blankets. His sister had taken all his quilts when she was married that past spring and now he could not get them away from her. Esther had a lot of quilts and if he could marry her they would use hers that winter. Everything would work out just fine if Esther would only say she would marry him. He would live in Esther’s house because it was a mile closer to the skewer-mill than his own, and he would not have to walk so far when he went to work.
By the end of the week Amos was desperate. Since Tuesday there had been a heavy frost every night and the only bed covering he had was the old yellow quilt his sister said she would not have. It would have been a foolish waste of money to go to the store and buy two or three sets of blankets, considering the fact that Esther had dozens and dozens of quilts which they would use if she would only marry him before winter and cold weather came.
Early Sunday evening Amos filled two jugs with his last-year’s cider and took them with him to see Esther. When he got there, he wanted Esther to begin drinking with him right away. Esther liked cider, especially when it was a year old, and they drank one jug empty before nine o’clock. Amos had not said a word the whole evening about marrying. He figured that it would be better to wait and talk about that when they started on the second jug.
Esther took a good stiff drink from the new jug and danced a few steps before she sat down again.
“This is good cider, Esther,” he said preliminarily.
Esther put her hand over her mouth and swallowed two or three times in quick succession.
“You always have good apple juice, Amos,” she smiled at him. Amos rubbed the palms of his hands nervously over his knees, trying to erase the indigo stain of white birch from the skin. He liked to hear Esther praise his cider.
“The boys at the skewer mill promised to give me a whole barrel of cider when I get married,” he lied shamelessly.
He glanced at Esther, hoping to find on her face some sign of the effect the carefully planned story should have had on her. Esther looked blankly at the ceiling, as though she did not know why Amos came to see her every Sunday night with his last-year’s cider. Amos poured her another glass from the jug.
While she drank the cider, Amos studied the pile of thick quilts and comforters on the foot of her bed in the next room. Seeing Esther’s quilts made him more than ever determined to marry her right away. He could see no sense in his coming to her house every week and bringing her his good cider when, if she would marry him, he could be there every night and have all his cider for himself.
And this time, when he brought two jugs, he knew he had the best opportunity of his life. If Esther drank both jugs of cider and still continued to say that she would not marry him, then there would be no use in wasting any more of his cider on her.
Esther finished the glass and gave it to Amos. He put it on the table and turned around just in time to see Esther lifting her skirt near the hem with a thumb and forefinger and carelessly throwing one leg across the other. He knew at once that the second jug was doing all it should do, because Esther had never crossed her legs so gaily during all the other times he had been bringing one jug. He poured her another glass, and rubbed his birch-stained hands together enthusiastically while she was placing the glass to her lips.
“Esther, I’ve got more than seven thousand dollars in the savings bank,” he began. That was the first thing he said each time he asked her to marry him. “My farm and buildings are worth three thousand dollars, and I haven’t any debts.”
Esther lifted her eyelids and looked at Amos. Her eyes were sleepy-looking but she was wide awake.
“I don’t want to be married,” she said, beginning to giggle a little or the first time. “I want to stay like I am, Amos.”
This was the only time he had ever been with Esther when she had a cider-giggle. He watched her anxiously, startled by her prompt refusal.
“But blankets —” he cried out nervously.
“What blankets?” she asked, raising herself on her elbow and guiding herself across the room, The cider-giggle was getting beyond her control.
“Winter is coming — cold weather!” he shouted desperately.
“What about cold weather, Amos?” she giggled again.
“I was just thinking about blankets,” he said hopelessly.
Esther went to the door and looked into her bedroom. Amos came and stood behind her.
“I haven’t any blankets, Amos,” she giggled, “but I’ve got a lot of quilts and comforters.”
Amos looked hopefully over her shoulder at the pile of quilts and comforters on her bed.
“I want us to get married, Esther,” he said thickly. “How would you like to marry me?”
Esther pushed Amos roughly aside and went back into the room. She was giggling so foolishly she could not speak.
Amos went to the table and poured her another glass of cider. While she drank it he glanced at the almost empty jug, realizing that he would have to hurry Esther if he was to get her consent before all the cider was gone.
When she handed him the empty glass, Amos put it on the table and caught her hands before she could jerk away from him. Then, holding her arms so she could not push him away, he kissed her. Knowing that she would try to push him away when he did that, he put his arms around her and held her while he talked to her about marrying him.
“I want that you should marry me, Esther,” he struggled with her strength, “because if you don’t I’ll have to buy some blankets for the winter.”
Esther pushed and scratched but Amos held her all the tighter. He could see that she was mad, but at the same time she could not keep from giggling just as sillily as ever. Amos poured out the last glass of cider for her while he held her with one hand.
Still holding her with one hand he tried to force the cider into her mouth. Suddenly she shoved Amos with all her might, and both of them fell on the floor. Amos was not hurt, but Esther struck her knee on a chair and cut a deep gash in her leg. The blood ran through her stocking and dripped on the floor beside them.
“Esther, I want that you should marry me right away before —” he began a second time.
Before he could say another word Esther had grabbed the nearest cider jug and hit him over the head with it. The blow was glancing, and the jug only stunned him for a moment. She had swung the jug so hard, though, that it was jerked from her fingers and crashed against the cast-iron stove. She immediately reached for the second jug, but Amos was too quick for her. He ran to the door and out into the yard before she could throw it at him. When he got to the road, she had reached the door, and with all her strength she hurled the stone jug at Amos. Amos dodged out of the way and ran down the road toward his house.
When he got home, there was nothing to do but drink some cider and go to bed. He was so mad about the way things turned out that he drank almost three times as much cider as he usually did when he went down into his cellar.
By the time Amos started to the skewer mill the next morning he was resigned to his inability to marry Esther. His only regrets now were that he had wasted all his last-year’s hard cider on her and would have to buy two or three sets of blankets, after all.
When he got to the mill, a stranger was standing in the doorway. The man made no effort to move when Amos tried to enter.
“Your name is Amos Williams, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Amos Williams it’s been ever since I can remember,” Amos said sourly, trying to get into the mill.
“Well, you will have to come along with me to the county jail,” he said, holding out a folded paper.
“What for?” Amos demanded.
“The paper says ‘Assault on the Person of Esther Tibbetts.’”
The man who had promised Amos five gallons of cider the week before, when he suggested that Amos take Esther two jugs, came up the road to the mill door. He asked Amos what the trouble was and Amos told him.
“You got me into all this trouble,” Amos swore at him. “You said two jugs would make her marry me, and now she’s had me arrested for assault.”
“Well, it’s too bad you’ve got to go to jail and lose all that time here at the mill, Amos, but it was all your own fault.”
“How was it my fault?”
“It’s like this, Amos. There are three kinds of women. There are one-jug, two-jug, and three-jug women. You should have told me at the start that Esther was a three-jug woman. If you had done that, I could have told you to take her three jugs of cider instead of only two.”
(First published in This Quarter)