THE COUNTRY STORE
THE Prices had the right idea about entertaining a crowd of young
people: that was to let them entertain each other. If a dozen boys and
girls can't have a good time just because they are girls and boys then
there is something very dull about them and the combination is hopeless.
There was nothing dull about this crowd gathered in the hospitable Price
mansion. Harvie was too well bred to let the disappointment about the
non-appearance of one guest make him neglect the others. Poor George
Massie was the one who could not conceal his feelings. Annie was the
first and only girl he had ever cared for and now he sat, a mountain of
woe, consuming large quantities of luncheon as though the business of
eating were the only solace in life.
"Wake up, Sleepy, the worst is yet to come!" teased Rags.
Sleepy only groaned and dismally accepted another hot biscuit. The funny
thing about Sleepy was that he was so in love with Annie that he did not
at all mind being teased.
"I am going down to see Annie right after luncheon. Don't you want to go
too?" I whispered to Sleepy who was next to me.
"Sure!"
"We are trying to think up a plan by which we can get her hateful old
father to let her join us here."
"Brute!"
"Don't you think the girl is pretty, sitting next to Wink?"
Miss Wilcox had plunged into a flirtation with that budding young
doctor, placed on her right, not forgetting to turn to her left quite
often to include Jack Bennett in her chatter.
"No! Like blondes best!"
Miss Wilcox looked up quickly. I was almost sure she had heard Sleepy.
She glanced quite seriously around the table, regarding each girl
intently. Certainly there were no decided blondes there except Mary
Flannagan, whose hair was red, and even the best friends of dear old
Mary could not call her beautiful. The Tucker twins were more brunette
than blonde, Dum's hair being red black and Dee's blue black. As for me,
Page Allison, I was neither one thing nor the other. My hair was neither
light nor dark and my eyes were grey. She need not look at me so hard. I
wasn't the blonde that Sleepy liked best.
Farther acquaintance with Jessie Wilcox explained her concern over
Sleepy's remark. She was a very nice girl just so long as she was "it,"
but she could not brook a rival of any sort. She must be the center of
attraction, admired by all, praised by all. The minute she felt that
there was someone who was considered more beautiful than she was, could
dance better, sing better, do anything better, that minute she was a
changed being.
Her previous visits to Maxton had been very delightful as she had always
been praised and petted to her heart's content. Both General Price and
his sister were devoted to her and she was ever a welcome visitor. Her
grandfather's home was about ten miles from Price's Landing, and
whenever she came from New York to see him she must spend part of her
time with the old people at Maxton. Harvie admired her very much, as who
would not? She was beautiful, intelligent, very quick-witted and
charming. He had never seen her with any other girl except her best
friend, who on one occasion had been at Maxton with her, and this
friend, being hopelessly plain and rather slow of wit, but served as a
foil to the little beauty.
After overhearing Sleepy's announcement about blondes, she looked at me
so steadily that I began to blush. I was suddenly very conscious of my
tip-tilted nose and of the added toll of freckles that the summer always
exacted from it. I wondered if anyone else was noticing the almost
disagreeable expression of her usually sweet countenance.
I was glad when Miss Maria arose as a signal for us to leave the table.
"Make yourselves at home!" the general said in his hospitable way.
"Maxton is yours to do with as you please. There are horses in the
stables for any of you who want to ride or drive; there are boats on the
river; there are swings on the lawn; the tennis court is in condition
for matches if you care to play. All I ask of you is not to fall off the
horses or let them run away with you and kill you; and not to tumble
into the river and drown."
"That seems a reasonable request," I laughed. "How about falling out of
the swings or beating each other up with tennis rackets?"
"Oh, well! I must not put too many restrictions on youth," he said,
pinching my ear.
Jessie looked at me again rather severely and once more I felt mighty
freckled.
"Let's get a rig and go see Annie," suggested Sleepy.
"All right! Tweedles and Mary want to go, too."
"Let's get in ahead of them," he pleaded.
"Come on, Page!" shouted Dum. "We want you in a set of tennis."
"Now I was just going to ask her to come for a row," cried Dee. "Wink
and Jim told me to engage you. They have gone to see about the boat."
"Sorry, but I've got a date with Sleepy."
"Humph! Miss Allison seems to be rather in demand," said Jessie to Jack
Bennett. She said it in a low voice but I heard quite distinctly.
"Yes! They say she is the most popular girl at her school."
"Oh, is that so? I can't see the attraction."
"Well, she must have it because girls like her as well as the fellows.
They say Dr. White is terribly smitten on her."
"Absurd!"
I quite agreed with her. The sooner Wink White stopped hypnotizing
himself into thinking he was in love with me, the better I would have
liked it. Of course every girl likes to have attention, but I thought
entirely too much of Wink to be pleased to have him looking at me like
a dying calf. He was such a nice boy, so good looking, so clever, so
agreeable,--except when he was alone with me. Then his whole nature
seemed to undergo a change. I dreaded being left with him and usually
managed to avoid it. He was my fly in the ointment of this house-party.
I did not at all relish having this young Kentuckian state it as a fact
that Wink was interested in me. Jessie Wilcox was welcome to him if she
could persuade him to transfer his affections.
Sleepy and I skimmed away in a spruce red-wheeled buggy with a young
horse that evidently liked to be moving.
"Fierce about Annie!" he said. "I'd like to wring that old duffer's
neck."
"I hope he has gone before we get there, then," I laughed. "If Mr.
Tucker could only get hold of him, I bet he could bring him around."
Mr. Pore had not gone, however, when we drew up at the cross roads where
the country store stood. He was engaged in trying to sell a large rake
to a farmer, while Annie was busily employed in measuring off two yards
and three-quarters of unbleached cotton for the farmer's wife and then
computing the amount due when the cotton was worth eight and two-third
cents a yard. She completed the calculation just as we came in.
How glad she was to see us! Mr. Pore seemed pleased to renew my
acquaintance, too. He gave only a formal greeting to Sleepy but shook my
hand in what he meant to be a cordial way. The fact that I was part
English and that part of me came up to his idea of social equality, made
him look upon me as desirable. He had not forgotten that my mother and
his wife had been friends in England. He honestly felt that there were
no Americans who were his equals. General Price might be almost so, but
not quite. He saw no reason why his beautiful daughter should not spend
her young life weighing out lard and measuring calico for negroes, but
every reason why she should not demean herself by mixing socially with
any but the highest.
Mr. Pore's store was like every other country store except that it was
perhaps a little more orderly, not much though. Order in a country store
seems to be impossible. The stock must be so large and so varied to suit
all demands that there never is room for it. I have never seen a country
store that was not crowded. How the keepers of such stores ever take
stock of their wares is a mystery to me. Perhaps they never do, but just
go on buying when the supply gets low, and selling off as they can,
putting money in the till until it gets full and then sending it to the
bank. Usually they run their affairs in a haphazard manner and their
books would defy an expert to straighten out. No matter from what walk
of life the country storekeepers are drawn, they are all more or less
alike, whether they are younger sons of the nobility as was Mr. Pore or
elder sons of the soil (with much soil sticking to them) as was old
Blinker, who ran the rival emporium at Price's Landing. They always have
more stock than they have store, and their books usually look as though
entries had been made upside down.
The Pores' store had shelves stretching from one end to the other, down
both sides and reaching as high as the ceiling. On these shelves were
piled dry-goods of all grades and material, lamps, shoes, harness,
hardware, canned goods of every description, crackers, soap, starch,
axle grease, false hair, perfume, patent medicines, toys, paint brushes,
brooms, tobacco, writing paper, china and glass ware, jars, pots and
pans, pokers, baseball bats, millinery, overalls, etc., etc.
The things that were too tall for the shelves, like Grandfather's clock,
consequently stood on the floor. The aisle between the counters was
blocked with sewing machines, kitchen tables, chairs, lawn mowers,
crates of eggs and cases of ginger ale and sarsaparilla. There were
barrels of coarse salt and great tins of lard, firkins of mackerel and
herring, barrels of flour and sacks of meal. One would think that
everything in the world that could be bought or sold was in that little
store, but no! A door to one side led into another room and this room
was also full to overflowing. There were more barrels of provisions for
man and beast; sacks of chicken feed and bran; stoves of all kinds;
poultry netting; coils of wire fencing; gardening implements and away
back in a corner I spied a coffin.
What a setting for such a jewel as Annie Pore! Her beauty shone
resplendent from its background of apron gingham and butter crocks. I
fancied I could detect a little redness to her eyelids as though the
disappointment in not being at Maxton with her friends had caused some
weeping, but her manner was calm and her expression one of resignation
to fate and the decrees of a selfish father. I could not help thinking
how I would have behaved under the circumstances, or the Tucker twins. I
would not have cried, to be sure, but neither would my expression have
been resigned. As for Dum and Dee: they would no doubt have broken up
the shop.
"We are so sorry Annie can't come to the house-party," I ventured as the
farmer who had been haggling for the rake decided not to take it.
Why Mr. Pore was ever able to sell anything I could not see. His manner
was so superior and condescending. Harvie told me afterwards that Mr.
Pore had succeeded in spite of himself. He was scrupulously honest in
the first place and then he always carried the best line of goods. As
for the science of salesmanship: he had yet to learn its rudiments. He
looked sore and irritated at having failed to make the sale but put on
more than ever the manner of insulted royalty. I saw the farmer making
for the rival store where a little later he emerged. Blinker had made
the sale.
When I ventured the above remark, Annie looked as though she wished I
wouldn't, and her father, I am sure, regretted the fact that I was part
English, and that English of good blood; otherwise he could easily have
annihilated me.
"It is a matter I do not care to discuss," he said with a freezing
hauteur.
"Oh, I am not discussing with you, my dear Mr. Pore! I am merely telling
you. All of us are so devoted to Annie and we have looked forward to
being with her on this house-party all summer. I am sure if Harvie had
known earlier that you would not be able to spare Annie at this time,
he would have been glad to postpone the party."
"Ahem--I--am compelled to take this occasion for a business trip. When
one is engaged in mercantile pursuits, it is necessary to make
periodical visits to the city to replenish one's wares."
"Oh, certainly, I understand, but we still are dreadfully sorry about
Annie. Of course we know that you want her to have all the pleasure on
earth. That is the way fathers are made. We are sure you will make your
stay as brief as possible so that Annie can join us at Maxton."
He looked somewhat taken aback and murmured something more about
mercantile pursuits. Sleepy sat on a keg of nails with eyes as big as
saucers while Annie had the startled expression of one who sees her
friend enter the cage of a man-eating lion.
"You see I am an only child, too, Mr. Pore, and my mother is dead, just
like Annie's. I know better than anyone how much a father can be to a
little motherless daughter, and how that father can plan and deny
himself for his child. You can't tell me anything about the love of a
father."
As Mr. Pore had never attempted to tell of any such thing, this was most
audacious of me. Annie was actually gasping and Sleepy choked, but Mr.
Pore looked at me quite solemnly through his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Sometimes my father is called away; you see a country doctor's time is
not his own, either, and he has had to leave me just when I felt I most
needed him--on birthdays--and--and--all kinds of holidays, but he comes
back to me just as fast as he can. My father is thinking of getting an
assistant and then he can have more time, I hope. You have had an
assistant, too, have you not?"
He bowed gravely.
"Where is he, then?"
"He is away on leave."
"Ill? That is too bad!"
"No, not ill! He is having a much-needed holiday."
"Oh, then he has gone on a trip?"
"I fancy not."
"Why, then I am sure he would be glad to come back and relieve Annie so
she can come to Maxton. Oh, Mr. Pore, do please write for him to come on
back and take his holiday later!"
"Really, Miss Allison----" he began in his most dignified Oxford donnish
manner.
"Oh, I just know you will! You and Father and Mr. Tucker are all just
alike. You can't bear to deny your girls any pleasure."
His expression was comical at having these virtues thrust upon him.
"I--er--I--shall endeavor to return from this enforced journey,
necessary to replenish the stock which one engaged in mercantile
pursuits in the rural districts finds it expedient to carry, and on my
return if all goes well with the business, I shall permit my daughter to
enjoy the hospitality extended to her by my neighbor, General Price."
"I knew you would! I knew you would!" and I shook his limp hand which
Dee Tucker had once said reminded her of nothing so much as an old pump
handle that had lost the sucker. Everybody knows how that feels, at
least everybody who has had dealings with pumps. You grasp the handle
expecting some resistance and a flow of water in response; but when the
sucker has disappeared, the handle will fly up in a strange limp manner
and unless the pumper is wary there is danger of getting a lick in the
nose.
I cared not for a response. If no flow of kindliness was the result of
my enthusiasm, I cared not a whit. Annie was to be one of the
house-party and I had saved the day. I remembered how Mr. Tucker, dear
old Zebedee, had declared that he had won over Mr. Pore by treating him
like a human being, that time he had persuaded him to let Annie come to
Willoughby to the vacation party. I had treated him as I would any
ordinary kind father and he had been so astonished and pleased at his
portrait that he had unconsciously accepted it as a likeness and begun
to pose to look like it.