"Do you s'pose," she said, at last, in a musing voice: "Herbert, do you
s'pose maybe there's some poor family's children somewheres that haven't
got any playthings or anything and we could take all these----"
But here Herbert proved unsympathetic. "I'm not goin' to give my insecks
to any poor people's children," he said emphatically. "I don't care how
poor they are!"
"Well, I thought maybe just as a surprise----"
"I won't do it. I had mighty hard work to catch this c'lection, and I'm
not goin' to give it away to anybody, I don't care how surprised they'd
be! Anyway, I'd never get any thanks for it; they wouldn't know how to
handle 'em, and they'd get all stung up: and what'd be the use, anyhow?
I don't see how _that's_ goin' to be somep'n so interesting we'd never
forget it."
"No," she said. "I guess it wouldn't. I just thought it would be kind of
a bellnevolent thing to do."
This word disturbed Herbert, but he did not feel altogether secure in
his own impression that "benovvalent" was the proper rendition of what
she meant, and so refrained from criticism. Their musing was resumed.
"There's one thing I do wish," Florence said suddenly, after a time. "I
wish we could find some way to use the c'lection that would be useful
for Noble Dill."
Now, at this, her cousin's face showed simple amazement. "What on earth
you talkin' about?"
"Noble Dill," she said dreamily. "He's the only one I like that comes to
see Aunt Julia. Anyway, I like him the most."
"I bet Aunt Julia don't!"
"I don't care: he's the one _I_ wish she'd get married to."
Herbert was astounded. "Noble Dill? Why, I heard mamma and Aunt Hattie
and Uncle Joe talkin' about him yesterday."
"What'd they say?"
"Most of the time," said Herbert, "they just laughed. They said Noble
Dill was the very last person in this town Aunt Julia'd ever dream o'
marryin'. They said he wasn't anything: they said he wasn't handsome
and he wasn't distingrished-looking----"
"I think he is," Florence interposed. "I think he's _very_
distingrished-looking."
"Well, they said he wasn't, and they know more'n you do. Why, Noble Dill
isn't hardly any taller'n I am myself, and he hasn't got any muscle
partickyourly. Aunt Julia wouldn't look at him!"
"She does, too! My goodness, how could he sit on the porch, right in
front of her, for two or three hours at a time, without her lookin' at
him?"
"I don't care," Herbert insisted stubbornly. "_They_ said Aunt Julia
wouldn't. They said she was the worst flirt had ever been in the whole
family and Noble Dill had the worst case they ever saw, but she wouldn't
ever look at him, and if she did she'd be crazy."
"Well, anyway," said Florence, "I think he's the nicest of all that goes
to see her, and I wish we could use this c'lection some way that would
be nice for him."
Herbert renewed his protest. "How many times I got to tell you I had a
hard enough time catchin' this c'lection, day in and day out, from
before daylight till after dark, and then fixin' 'em all up like this
and everything! I don't prapose to waste 'em just to suit Noble Dill,
and I'm not goin' to give 'em away either. If anybody wanted to buy 'em
and offered a good fair price, money down, why, I----"
"_That's_ it, Herbert!" his lady-cousin exclaimed with sudden
excitement. "Let's sell 'em!" She jumped up, her eyes bright. "I bet we
could get maybe five dollars for 'em. We can pour the ones that are in
the jars that haven't got tops and the ones in the jelly glasses and
pill-boxes--we can pour all those into the jars that have got tops, and
put the tops on again, and that'd just about fill those jars--and then
we could put 'em in a basket and take 'em out and sell 'em!"
"Where could we sell 'em?" Herbert inquired, not convinced.
"At the fish store!" she cried. "Everybody uses bugs and worms for bait
when they go fishing, don't they? I bet the fish man'll buy all the
worms we got, even if he wouldn't buy anything else. I bet he'll buy all
the others, too! I bet he never saw as much good bait as this all at one
time in his whole life! I bet he'll give us five dollars--maybe more!"
Herbert was dazzled; the thought of this market was a
revelation--nothing could have been more plausible. Considered as bait,
the c'lection at once seemed to acquire a practical and financial value
which it lacked, purely as a c'lection. And with that the amateur and
scientist disappeared, giving way to the person of affairs. "'Give _us_
five dollars'?" he said, in this capacity, and for deeper effect he used
a rhetorical expression: "Who do you think is the owner of all this fish
bait, may I ask you, pray?"
"Yes, you _may_, pray!" was his cousin's instant and supercilious
retort. "Pray where would you ever of got any five dollars from any fish
man, if it hadn't been for me, pray? Pray, didn't I first sajest our
doing somep'n with the bugs we'd never forget, and if the fish man gives
us five dollars for 'em won't we remember it all our lives, pray? And,
pray, what part did you think up of all this, pray? Not one single
thing, and if you don't divide even with me, I'll run ahead and tell the
fish man the whole c'lection has been in bottles that had old medicine
and poison in 'em--and then where'll _you_ be, pray?"
It is to be doubted that Florence possessed the cold-blooded capacities
with which this impromptu in diplomacy seemed to invest her: probably
she would never have gone so far. But the words sufficed; and Herbert
was so perfectly intimidated that he was even unresentful. "Well, you
can have your ole two dollars and a half, whether you got a right to it
or not," he said. "But you got to carry the basket."
"No," said Florence. "This has got to be done right, Herbert. We're
partners now and everything's got to be divided just exackly even. I'll
carry the basket half the way and you carry it the other half."
"Well----" he grumbled, consenting.
"That's the only right way," she said sunnily. "You carry it till we get
to the fish man's, and I'll carry it all the way back."
But even Herbert could perceive the inequality here. "It'll be empty
then," he protested.
"Fair's fair and wrong's wrong," she returned firmly. "I spoke first to
carry it on the way home, and the one that speaks first gets it!"
"Look here!"
"Herbert, we got to get all these bugs fixed up and ready," she urged.
"We don't want to waste the whole afternoon just talkin' about it, do
we? Besides, Herbert, on the way home you'll have two dollars and a half
in your pocket, or anyway as much as you have left, if you buy some
soda and candy and things, and you'll feel so fine then you won't mind
whether you're carrying the basket or not."
The picture she now suggested to Herbert's mind was of himself carrying
the basket both to the fish man and from the fish man: and he found
himself anxious to protest, yet helpless in a maze of perplexity. "But
wait a minute," he began. "You said----"
"Let's don't waste another minute," she interrupted briskly. "I
shouldn't wonder it was after four o'clock by this time, and we both
need money. Hurry, Herbert!"
"But didn't you say----" He paused to rub his head. "You said I'd feel
so good I wouldn't mind if I--if----"
"No. I said, 'Hurry'!"
"Well----" And though he felt that a subtle injustice lurked somewhere,
he was unable to think the matter out clearly into its composing
elements, and gave up trying. Nevertheless, as he obeyed her, and began
to "hurry," there remained with him an impression that by some foggy and
underhand process he had been committed to acquiescence in an unfair
division of labour.
In this he was not mistaken. An hour later he and Florence were on their
way home from the fish man's place of business, and Herbert, having
carried the basket thither, was now carrying it thence. Moreover, his
burden was precisely as heavy on this homeward leg of the course as it
had been on that terminating at the fish store, for, covered by a
discreet newspaper, the preserve and pickle jars still remained within
the basket, their crowding and indignant contents intact. The fish man
had explained in terms derisive, but plain, the difference between a
fish man and a fisherman. He had maintained his definitions of the two
economic functions in spite of persistent arguments on the part of the
bait-dealers, and in the face of reductions that finally removed ninety
per cent. of their asking price. He wouldn't give fifty cents, or ten
cents, or one cent, he said: and he couldn't furnish the address of
anybody else that would. His fish came by express, he declared, again
and again: and the only people he knew that did any fishing were mainly
coloured, and dug their own bait; and though these might possibly be
willing to accept the angle worms as a gift, they would probably incline
to resent a generosity including so many spiders, not to speak of the
dangerous winged members of the c'lection. On account of these latter,
he jocosely professed himself to be anxious lest the tops of some of the
jars might work loose--and altogether he was the most disheartening man
they had ever met.
Anticlimax was never the stimulant of amiability, and, after an
altercation on the pavement just outside of the store, during which the
derisive fish man continually called to them to go on and take that
there basket out of the neighbourhood, the cousins moved morbidly away,
and walked for a time in silence.
They brooded. Herbert was even more embittered with Florence than he was
with the fish man, and Florence found life full of unexpectedness; it
had been so clear to her that the fish man would say: "Why, certainly.
Here's five dollars; two dollars and a half for each of you. Would you
care to have the jars back?" The facts, so contrary, seemed to wear the
aspect of deliberate malice, and she felt ill-used, especially as she
had several physical grievances, due to her assistance in pouring part
of the c'lection into the jars with tops. In spite of every precaution
three or four of the liveliest items had made their escape, during this
pouring, and had behaved resentfully. Florence bore one result on the
back of her left hand, two others on the thumb and second finger of her
right hand, and another, naturally the most conspicuous, on the point of
her chin. These had all been painful, in spite of mud poultices, but,
excited by the anticipation of a kindly smiling fish man, and occupied
with plans for getting Herbert to spend part of his two dollars and a
half for mutual refreshment, she had borne up cheerfully. Now,
comprehending that she had suffered in vain, she suffered anew, and
hated bugs, all fish men, and the world.
It was Herbert who broke the silence and renewed the altercation. "How
far you expeck me to go on luggin' this ole basket?" he demanded
bitterly. "All the way home?"
"I don't care how far," she informed him. "You can throw it away if you
want to. It's certainly no propaty of mine, thank you!"
"Look here, didn't you promise you'd carry it home?"
"I said I _spoke_ to. I didn't say I _would_ carry it."
"Well, I'd like to know the dif----"
But Florence cut him off. "I'll tell you the difference, since you're so
anxious to know the truth, Mister Herbert Atwater! The difference is
just this: you had no biznuss to meddle with those vile ole bugs in the
first place, and get me all stung up so't I shouldn't wonder I'd haf to
have the doctor, time I get home, and if I do I'm goin' to tell mamma
all about it and make her send the bill to your father. I want you to
know I _hurt_!"
"My goodness!" Herbert burst out. "Don't you s'pose _I_ hurt any? I
guess you don't hurt any worse than----"