There was nothing striking about him. He was a good-looking man verging
on middle age perhaps, with a rather short little figure and an airy
walk.
"Now," said the Master of the House, when the party were all disposed
to the best advantage, and the Frenchman had gone into an ecstasy over
the view from the summer-house, "John Gayther, you are to listen
carefully to this story, for I am going to tell it myself, being moved
thereto by the story my wife told here."
John, greatly relieved by this announcement, signified his cordial
approbation, and the captain began his relation:
"Captain Abner Budlong was a retired sailorman. He was rather small of
stature, with mild blue eyes, and a little gold ring in each of his
ears. He was in the prime of life, and had been so often wet with salted
water and dried by salted winds that he looked as though he might last
forever.
"He had ceased to sail in ships, because his last vessel, of which he
had been part-owner, had positively declined to sail any longer under
him. When this misguided craft decided to go to the bottom of the sea,
Captain Abner, in a little boat, accompanied by his crew, betook himself
to the surface of the land, and there he determined to stay for the rest
of his life. His home was on the sea-shore. In the summer-time he fished
and took people out to sail in his boat; and in the cold weather he
generally devoted himself to putting things into his house, or arranging
or rearranging the things already there. He himself was his family, and
therefore there was no difference of opinion as to the ordering of that
household.
"The house was divided through the middle by a narrow hallway; that part
to the right as one entered the front door was called by Captain Abner
the 'bachelor side,' while the portion to the left he designated as the
'married side.' The right half might have suggested a forecastle, and
was neat and clean, with sanded floors and everything coiled up and
stowed away in true shipshape fashion. But the other half was viewed by
Captain Abner as something in the quarter-deck style. Exactly half the
hall was carpeted, and the little parlor opening from it was also
carpeted, painted, and papered, and filled with a great variety of
furniture and ornaments which the captain had picked up by sea and land.
Everything was very pretty and tasteful, according to the captain's
ideas of taste and art, and everything was sacred; no collector could
have bought anything out of that little parlor, no matter how much money
he might offer.
"This parlor and the room above had been furnished, decorated, and
ornamented for the future mistress of Captain Abner's household, and he
was ready to dedicate them to her services whenever he should be so
lucky as to find her. So far, as he sometimes expressed himself, he had
not had a chance to sing out, 'There she blows!'
"One afternoon, when Captain Abner was engaged in dusting the ornaments
in the parlor, his good friend Samuel Twitty stood in the doorway and
accosted him. Sam Twitty had been mate to Captain Abner, and as he had
always been accustomed to stand by his captain, he stood by him when he
left the sea for the land; although they did not live in the same house,
they were great cronies, and were always ready to stand by each other,
no matter what happened. Sam's face and figure were distinguished by a
pleasant plumpness; he was two or three years the junior of Captain
Abner, and his slippered feet were very flat upon the ground. He held
his pipe behind his back in such a position that it hung over the
uncarpeted part of the hallway. A pipe in the married part of the house
was never allowed.
"'Sam,' said Captain Abner, 'you've hove in sight jes at the right
minute, for I'm kind o' puzzled. Here's this conch-shell, which is the
biggest I ever seed, and a king conch-shell at that, and I can't make up
my mind whether she'd like it here in the middle of the mantelpiece, or
whether she'd like to have the gilded idol here, where it would be the
fust thing she'd see when she came into the room. Sometimes I'm inclined
in the way of the heathen idol, and sometimes in the way of the king
conch-shell. And how am I to know which she likes? What do you think
about it?'
"'Well, now, Cap'n Abner,' said Sam, his head cocked a little to one
side, 'that's a pretty hard question to answer, considerin' I don't know
who she is and what kind o' taste she's got. But I'll tell you what I'd
do if I was you. I'd put that king conch-shell on the mantelpiece, or I
would put the gilded idol there, it wouldn't matter much which, and then
I'd put the other one handy, so that when she fust come in, and you
could see she didn't like whatever it was that was in the middle of the
mantelpiece, you could whip it off and put the other thing there almost
afore she knowed it.'
"'Sam,' said Captain Abner, 'that's a real good rule to go by, and it
looks to me as if it might fit other things besides gilded idols and
conch-shells. And now that you're here I'd like you to stay and take
supper with me. I've got something to tell you.'
"After the evening meal, which was prepared by Captain Abner and his
guest, who were both expert maritime cooks and housekeepers, these two
old friends sat down to smoke their pipes, the parlor door having been
carefully shut.
"'Sam,' said the captain, 'I've got everything ready for her that I can
think of. There isn't anything more she'd be likely to want. So now I'm
goin' after her, and I'm goin' to start on Monday mornin'.'
"Sam Twitty was astonished. He had had an idea that Captain Abner would
go on preparing for her to the end of his days, and it was a shock to
him to hear that the work of preparation, in which he had been
interested for so many years, and in which he had so frequently
assisted, should now be brought suddenly to a close.
"'Ready!' he ejaculated. 'I wouldn't have believed it if ye hadn't told
me yourself. And yet, come to think of it, I can't see for the life of
me what else you can do for her.'
"'There ain't nothin' else,' said Abner, 'and on Monday mornin' I'm
settin' out to look for her.'
"'Do you go by land or by water?' asked Sam.
"'Land,' was the answer. 'There ain't no chance of runnin' across her by
sea.'
"'And how are you goin'? Walkin'?'
"'No, sir,' said Abner. 'I'm goin' to hire a horse and a buggy. That's
how I'm goin'.'
"'And where are you goin' to steer fust?' asked Sam.
"'I'm goin' fust to Thompsontown, and after I've took my observations
there I'll fetch a compass and sail every which way, if need be. There's
lots of people of all sorts in Thompsontown, and I don't see why she
shouldn't be one of them.'
"'No more do I,' said Sam Twitty. 'I think it's more'n likely she'll be
one of them.'
"Very early the next morning, almost before the first streaks of dawn,
Captain Abner was awakened by a voice under his window.
"'Shipmate ahoy!' said the voice, which was Sam Twitty's. In a moment
Abner's head was out of the window.
"'Cap'n Abner,' said Sam, 'I'm goin' with you.'
"Abner did not immediately answer, but presently he replied: 'Look here,
Sam Twitty; you come around after breakfast and tell me that ag'in.'
"Promptly after breakfast Sam appeared.
"'Look a' here,' said Captain Abner, when they had lighted their morning
pipes, 'that ain't a bad notion of yours. Somethin' might turn up when
I'd want advice, and you might give me some like you gave me about the
king conch-shell and the gilded idol. It ain't a bad idea, and, as you
say so, I'd like you to come along.'
"Sam did not reply with the alacrity that might have been expected of
him. He puffed silently at his pipe and gazed upon the ground. 'You said
you was a-goin' in a buggy,' he remarked.
"'Yes; that's what I'm expectin' to do.'
"'Then how am I to get back?' inquired Sam.
"'That's so,' said Abner. 'I never thought of that.'
"'Look a' here, cap'n,' said Abner; 'what do you say to a spring-wagon
with seats for four, two in front, and two behind?'
"This suited Captain Abner, and Sam went on to say: 'There'll be
another good thing about that; if you get her and bring her back--'
"'Which is what I'm goin' for and intend to do.'
"'Then,' continued Sam, 'you two could sit on the back seat, and I could
sit in front and drive.'
"'Did you ever drive, Sam?' asked Captain Abner.
"'Not yet; but I wouldn't mind l'arnin'.'
"'But you won't l'arn with me and her,' said Captain Abner.
"'How are you goin' to manage it, then?' asked Sam. 'You won't want me
and her to sit on the back seat, and it wouldn't look jes right for you
an' her to be in front, and me behind all by myself, as if I was
company.'
"'Don't know,' said Captain Abner. 'We'll get her fust, and then let her
sit where she wants to.'
"'There's one thing I wouldn't like to see,' said Sam Twitty, 'and
that's you and me sittin' behind, and her a-drivin'.'
"'There won't be none of that,' said Captain Abner; 'that ain't my
way.'"
"Is that a good beginning?" asked the Master of the House, suddenly
addressing his wife.
"Yes," she replied, "very good; and I see this is to be a real man's
story."
"And so it should be, mamma," said the Daughter of the House. "Men know
more about men than they do about women."
"Don't be too sure of that," said her father. "But no matter. The two
friends started out on Monday morning after breakfast for Thompsontown.
Considerable delay was occasioned at the livery-stable by certain pieces
of advice which Sam Twitty offered to Captain Abner. In the first
place, he objected to a good black horse which had been attached to
the wagon, giving it as his opinion that that looked too much like a
funeral, and that a cheerful-colored horse would be much better adapted
to a matrimonial expedition. A gray horse, slower than the black one,
was substituted, and Sam was quite satisfied. Then a great many things
in the way of provisions and conveniences came into his mind which he
thought would be well to take on the voyage, and he even insisted upon
rigging up an extension at the back of the wagon on which her trunk
could be carried on the home journey.
"At last they got away, and as they drove slowly out of the little
village not one of the inhabitants thereof knew anything about their
intended journey, except that they were going to Thompsontown; for
Captain Abner and Sam Twitty would have as soon thought of boring a hole
in the bottom of a boat in which they were to sail as of telling their
neighbors they were going to look for her and to bring her back in that
spring-wagon.
"The old gray horse jogged very comfortably over the smooth road until a
toll-gate was perceived near by.
"'Now, then, cap'n,' said Sam, as they drew up in front of the little
house by the roadside, 'whatever you pay here you ought to charge to the
expense of gettin' her.'
"'That's so,' said his companion; 'but if she's all right I ain't goin'
to mind no tolls.'
"A pleasant-faced woman now came to the door of the little house and
stood expectant, while Captain Abner thrust his hand into his pocket.
"'How much is it?' said he.
"'It's ten cents,' said she.
"Then Sam Twitty, who did not wish to sit silent, remarked that it was a
fine day, and the toll-gate woman said that indeed it was. Captain Abner
was now looking at some small change in the palm of his hand.
"'I ain't got ten cents,' said he. 'Here's only six, and I can't scrape
up another copper. Sam, can you lend me four cents?'
"Sam searched his pockets. 'Haven't got it,' said he. 'Them little
things we bought jes afore we started cleaned me out of change.'
"'The same thing's happened to me, too,' said Abner; 'and, madam, I'll
have to ask you to change a five-dollar note, which is the smallest I've
got.'
"The toll-gate woman said she was very sorry, but indeed she had not
five dollars in change, either at the toll-gate or in the house where
she lived just behind in a little garden. The day before she had had a
good deal of change, but she had paid it all into the company.
"'Then what are we goin' to do?' asked Sam. 'I suppose you won't let us
go through without payin'?'
"The woman smiled and shook her head. 'I couldn't do that; it's against
the rules. Sometimes when people come along and find they have nothin'
to pay toll with they go back and get the money somewhere. It's our
rules, and if I broke them I might lose my place.'
"'Which we wouldn't think of makin' you do,' remarked Sam.
"'But that's one thing I can't do,' said Captain Abner. 'I can't turn
round and go back. If the folks knew I was turned back because I
couldn't pay toll I'd never hear the end of it.'
"'That's so,' agreed Sam. 'It would never do to go back.'
"The toll woman stood and looked at them and smiled. She was a pleasant
personage, not inclined to worry over the misfortunes of her
fellow-beings.
"'Isn't there a place somewhere near here where I could get a note
changed?' asked Abner.
"'I can't say,' answered the toll woman. 'I don't believe any of the
houses along the road has got five dollars in change inside of them, and
even if you went across the country to any of the farm-houses, you
wouldn't be likely to find that much. But if you are not in a hurry and
wouldn't mind waitin', it's as like as not that somebody will be along
that's got five dollars in change. You don't seem to know this part of
the country,' she added.
"'No,' said Abner; 'when me and my mate travels we generally take the
public conveyances. This is the fust time we've druv on this road.'
"Then up spoke Sam Twitty: 'Does you and your husband live here and keep
the toll-gate, ma'am?'
"The woman looked as though she thought the plump person a little
inquisitive, but she smiled and answered, 'My husband used to keep the
toll-gate, but since he died I've kept it.'
"Captain Abner looked troubled. 'I don't mind so much waitin' myself,'
said he, 'but it's the horse I'm thinkin' about. I promised I'd have him
fed at twelve o'clock sharp every day I have him. He's used to it, and
I don't want him givin' out afore I'm through with him.'
"'When horses is used to bein' fed at regular times,' said the toll-gate
woman, 'they do show it if they don't get fed. But, if you don't mind,
I've got a little stable back there, and some corn, and if you choose to
drive your horse into the yard and give him a feed I'll charge you jes
what anybody else would. And while he's a-feedin' most likely
somebody'll come along that's got five dollars in change.'
"For some minutes Sam Twitty had not said a word, but now he most
earnestly advised his friend to accept this offer, and, jumping to the
ground, he hurried to open the gate so that Captain Abner might drive
in. Abner had not yet made up his mind upon the subject, but, as Sam
stood there by the open gate, he drove in.
"'Look a' here!' said Sam, as they stood by the stable door. 'This is a
jolly good go! Did you take notice of that toll-gate woman? She's tiptop
to look at. Did you see how clean she is, and what a nice way of
smilin', an' a good deal of red in her cheeks, too, and jes about old
enough, I should say, if I was called upon. And, more than that, I
should say, judgin' from what I've seen of her, she's as likely to be as
accommodatin' as any person I ever did see that I had seed for so short
a time. I jes put her into my mind a-goin' into your parlor and sayin'
that conch-shells was jes what she liked on mantelpieces. And I could
put her in jes as well with the gilded idol.'
"'You seem to do a lot of thinkin' in a mighty short time,' said Abner.
'But what's all that got to do with anything?'
"'Do!' exclaimed Sam. 'It's got lots to do. Why wouldn't she be a good
one for _her_? I don't believe you'd find a better one in Thompsontown.'
"'Sam Twitty!' exclaimed Abner, rather testily, 'what are you talkin'
about? Do you suppose I'd paint and paper and clean up and furnish one
side of my house for her, and then start out on a week's cruise to look
for her, and then take and put in her place and give everything I've
been gettin' for her for so many years to the fust woman I meet, and she
a toll-gate woman at that?'"
The Frenchman, who had been listening with great apparent interest, now
looked so inquiringly at the Master of the House that he paused in his
story.
"Excuse my interrupt," he said apologetically; "but what is toll-gate
woman?"
"My conscience!" exclaimed the captain, "you haven't understood a word
of my story!" He then proceeded to explain a toll-gate and its office
and emoluments; but it was at once evident that the Frenchman knew all
about the thing--he did not know the English words which expressed it;
and he had a clear comprehension of the narrative.
"Those two men pull two ways," he said gleefully; "ought to make a good
story."
"It is a good story if my papa tells it," spoke up the Daughter of the
House. And John Gayther was pleased to note a sharpness in her voice.
"Yes, miss; that is just what I say--a very much good story. I long for
the end to come."
"Not exactly the compliment intended," remarked the Mistress of the
House, with a smile.
"How do you think it will end?" asked the Daughter of the House,
impulsively, addressing the Frenchman.
"It is not polite to imagine," he replied.
"But I want to know," she persisted. "It is not impolite to guess."
"Well, then, miss, he marry nobody. Too many women in that Villa
Thompson. But we sadly interrupt! Beg pardon, captain."
"The captain I am telling about in my story," said the Master of the
House, resuming his narrative, "could not silence Sam Twitty.
"'Now I tell you, cap'n,' he said, as he assisted in taking the horse
out of the wagon, 'don't you go and miss a chance. Here's a fust-rate
woman, with red cheeks and mighty pretty hair, and a widow, too. Even if
you don't take her now, it's my advice that you look at her sharp with
the idea that if things don't turn out in Thompsontown as you'd like
them to, it would be mighty comfortin' to you to pick her up on your way
back.'
"When Captain Abner and Sam returned from the stable they looked up and
down the far-stretching road, and then, at the invitation of the
toll-gate woman, they seated themselves on a bench at the back of the
toll-house.
"''Tisn't a very good time for people to be passin',' said she. 'Not
many folks is on the road between twelve and one. They're generally
feedin' themselves and their horses. But if you can make yourselves
comfortable here in the shade, I don't think you'll have to wait very
long. I'll jes step in and see if my dinner ain't cooked. There ain't
nobody in sight.'
"Sam Twitty rubbed his hands together. 'In my opinion,' said he, 'that
woman is a fust-class housekeeper.'
"In a very few minutes she returned. 'If you gentlemen don't mind,' said
she, 'I can give you your dinner here at the same price you'd have to
pay anywhere else. I always cook a lot on Mondays, so's I can have
something cold for the rest of the week. It's on the table now, and you
can go in and wait on yourselves.'
"Sam gave a quick glance at Abner. 'You go in with her,' said he, 'and
eat your dinner. I'm not hungry, and I'll wait out here and keep the
toll-gate. Afterwards I'll get a bite.'
"The toll-gate woman smiled. 'Perhaps it would be better for me to go in
and wait on one of you at a time; but I don't think it's likely there'll
be anybody passin'.'
"Abner did not object--he was hungry; and he followed the toll-gate
woman into her house. Sam Twitty made a motion as if he would dance a
little in his slippered feet.
"'That's jes like runnin' across a dead whale what's jes expired of too
much fat. All you've got to do is to cut it up and try it down. The fust
thing Cap'n Abner does is to run into a widow woman that'll suit him, I
believe, better than anybody he'll meet, if he cruises around
Thompsontown for a week.'
"Sam sat down on the bench and pictured things in his mind: he took the
toll-gate woman all over Captain Abner's house, even into the unmarried
part, and everywhere he saw her the same bright-cheeked, pleasantly
smiling woman she was here in her own house. The picture pleased him so
much that he withdrew his senses from the consideration of everything
else, and therefore it was he did not hear wheels on the road, and was
awakened from his pleasant dreams by a voice outside the door. He
bounced to his slippered feet, and entered the toll-house.
"On the roadway was a buggy and a horse, and in the buggy sat a smiling
young woman. Why she smiled Sam could not imagine; but then, he could
not see the comical expression on his own face on being thus suddenly
aroused to a sense of his duty.
"'How much is the toll?' said the young woman, still smiling.
"Sam looked at her; she was a good-looking young person, and he liked
her smile, for it betokened a sense of humor, and that pleased him. 'How
much?' he repeated. 'A vehicle, a man, and a horse--'
"'But this is a girl and a mare,' she interrupted. 'How much is that?'
"Sam looked up and smiled. This young person certainly had a sense of
humor. 'I wonder how much that would be,' he said. 'I guess I'll have to
get a pencil and paper and work it out.'
"The girl laughed. 'You are not the toll-gate keeper?' she asked.
"'No,' replied Sam. 'I'm keepin' it for her. She's eatin' her dinner.
Don't you know the toll yourself? You've paid it before, haven't you?'
"'No, I haven't,' she replied. 'I am visiting in the neighborhood. But I
won't haggle about being a girl. I'll pay the price for a man, if you
will let me know what it is.'
"An idea came suddenly into Sam Twitty's head: this was a very bright
girl, a very attractive girl, who was visiting in the neighborhood, and
he determined to keep her at the toll-gate a few minutes if he could.
"'I don't want to make any mistake,' he said quickly. 'I'll jes pop into
the house and see what the toll really'll be for you.'
"'Oh, you needn't do that,' said the young woman. 'Of course it is the
same--'
"But Sam was gone; and she laughed and said to herself that the deputy
toll-gate keeper was a very funny person. Sam ran to the house, panting.
He beckoned to Captain Abner to step outside.
"'Look a' here,' he said; 'you hurry out to the gate and take a good
long look at the girl that's there. She's a-visitin' in the
neighborhood. Now mind you take a good look at her, and I'll be there in
a minute.'
"Without exactly understanding the reason for this earnest injunction,
Abner went to the gate. He was accustomed to taking Sam's advice if he
saw no good reason against it.
"The toll-gate woman was on her feet, but Sam detained her, and said
something about the relation between sex and toll.
"'Well, well,' said the woman, 'she must be a queer one. I'll go out to
her.'
"'Oh, no,' cried Sam. 'Sit here and finish your dinner. He's comin'
right back, and I'll collect the toll.' Half-way to the toll-house Sam
met Abner. 'What do you think of her?' he asked hurriedly. 'Did you take
a good look at her?'
"'Yes, I did,' replied his friend, 'and I don't think nothin' of her.
What is there to think about her?'
"'Go back to your dinner,' cried Sam. 'I've got to collect her toll.'
"'I want you to tell me,' said the girl, not smiling now, 'do you keep a
detective here? Do you think I want to cheat the road out of its toll? I
am ready to pay the charge, whatever it is.'
"'Detective!' exclaimed Sam.
"'Yes,' said she; 'that little brown man who came out here and looked at
me as if he were determined to know me the next time he saw me.'
"'Oh, him!' said Sam. 'That's a friend of mine, Cap'n Abner Budlong.
He's no detective, nor nothin' like one. He jes came out to see who was
passin' while I was findin' out about the toll. He's always fond of
seein' people.'
"'I should think he was,' said the young woman. 'In fact, I think you
are a funny lot, toll-gate woman and all. Now here is a quarter; please
take the toll and give me the change, that is, if you know how to
calculate.'
"Sam took the money, but he did not immediately make the change. 'I
don't want you to think hard of any of us,' said he, 'on account of your
bein' kept here a little longer than common. But specially I don't want
you to think hard of my friend Cap'n Abner Budlong, the gentleman who
stepped out here to see who was passin'. Bless your soul, he's no
detective! He's one of the finest fellows I know, and you jes ought to
see his house at Shamrick. It's filled with more things that's nice to
look at and things that's comfortable to use than any other house in
that region. Everything's jes as clean and shipshape--'
"'He must have a good wife,' the young woman interrupted.
"'He hasn't got no wife at all,' said Sam, delighted to get in this
piece of information. 'Never had one.'