CALEB'S departure was effected without publicity, no one having
known of its probability but the Somertons and Pastor Grateway, whom
Caleb had asked to provide a temporary substitute to lead his weekly
"class-meetin'." The substitute, however, made haste to tell of his new
dignity, so within twenty-four hours the entire town knew that Caleb
had gone to New York, and great was the wonder; for from the date of
the foundation of the town no Claybanker had been known to go to New
York intentionally, although it was reported that an occasional native
had reached the metropolis in the course of a desultory journey to the
bad.
Philip felt quite competent to manage the business without assistance,
early summer being, like spring, a period of business inactivity;
but within a week he was mystified by the appearance of many people
who had never before entered the store, but who now evinced not only
a willingness but a strong desire to become customers. Referring to
a full list which Caleb had prepared months before, but which until
now had lain unnoticed in the desk,--a list of adults throughout the
county,--Philip found opposite the names of the visitors some comments
not entirely uncomplimentary; among them, "Tricky"; "Shaky"; "Never
believe him"; "Don't sell to her without written order from her dad";
"Thief"; "Require his note, with good endorsement--he can get it"; "Her
husband's published notice against trusting her"; etc. The incursion
increased in volume as time went on, and compelled Philip to say to
Grace, at the end of the seventh day:--
"I didn't suppose there could be so many undesirable people in a single
fairly respectable and small county. They've evidently thought me 'an
easy mark,' as the city boys say, if I could be found away from Caleb's
sheltering wing, but not one of them has succeeded in getting the
better of me. Men talk of the tact needed in avoiding the plausible
scamps who invade business circles in the city, but after this week's
experience I think I could pass inspection for a city detective's
position."
"If you had a list like Caleb's to refer to, so that you might know
what to expect of every one you met," Grace added, with a roguish
twinkle in her eyes, for which the eyes themselves were obscured a
moment, after which infliction Philip continued:--
"I really wish that an important trade or two, of almost any kind,
would turn up, for me to manage without assistance; not that I
underrate Caleb's value, but I should like to demonstrate that besides
having been an apt pupil, I've at least a little ability that is wholly
and peculiarly mine. Then I should like to write Caleb about it; the
honest chap would be quite as pleased as I at any success I might
report, and he would feel less uneasy at being away."
Within an hour or two, a native whom Philip knew by sight and name,
although not one of his own customers, shuffled into the store, and
asked:--
"Don't know nobody that wants to trade goods for forty acre o' black
wannut land, I s'pose?"
"Black walnut timber? How old?"
"Well, the best way to find out's to look at it for yourself."
"Whereabouts is it? I may take a look at it when I get a chance."
"'Tain't more'n two mile off. What's to keep ye from gittin' on yer
hoss now an' ridin' out with me? We can git there an' back in an hour."
"Do it, Phil," Grace whispered. "The horse needs exercise, and so do
you. I can hold the fort for an hour."
"The land's too fur from my place," explained the farmer, as the two
men rode along at an easy canter, "an' I can't keep track o' the lumber
market, to know when to cut an' ship wannut lawgs, but 'tain't that way
with you."
"How much do you want for it?"
"Well, I reckon five dollar an acre won't hurt ye--five dollars in
goods. I've been a holdin' it a long time, 'cause wannut land is wuth
more'n more ev'ry year; but my folks wants an awful lot o' stuff, an'
my boys want me to lay in a lot o' new farmin' tools, an' make an'
addition to the barn, an' I kind o' ciphered up what ev'rythin' wanted,
all told, would cost, an' I made out 'twould be nigh onto two hundred
dollars, an' I sez to myself, sez I, 'By gum, I'll sell the wannut lot;
that's what I'll do.' It's all free an' clear--I've got the deed in my
pocket, an' 'twon't take ye ten minutes at the County Clerk's office
to find that there's no mortgages on it. Whoa! There! Did ye ever see
finer wannut land'n that? Let's ride up an' down through it. I dunno
any trees that grows that's as cherful to look at, from the money
standp'int, as tall, thick black wannuts."
Philip was not an expert on standing timber, but it was plain to see
that the ground over which he rode, to and fro, was well sprinkled with
fine black walnut trees. It lay low enough to be subject to the annual
overflow of the creek, not far away, but Philip was bargaining for
timber--not for land. The two men continued to ride until the farmer
said:--
"Here's my line--see the blaze on this tree? You can see t'other end o'
the line way down yander, ef you skin yer eye--a big blazed hick'ry;
or, we'll ride down to it."
"Never mind," said Philip. "I'll give you two hundred in goods as soon
as you like."
"I thort you would," said the farmer. "Well, I'll bring in the papers,
fully executed, to-morrer, an' I'll leave a list o' stuff that ye might
lay out, to save time; my wife can do her sheer o' the tradin' when she
comes in to-morrer. An' I'll assign ye my own deed, when we get back
to town, so's ye can have the title examined to-day, ef ye like, an'
put a stopper agin any new incumbrances, though I ain't the kind o' man
to make 'em after passin' my word. 'A bargain's a bargain!' that's my
motto."
When Philip returned to the store he found awaiting him a young man on
horseback, whose face was unfamiliar. When the seller of the walnut
land had departed, the young man said:--
"See anythin' wrong 'bout this hoss?"
After a hasty but close examination Philip admitted that he did not.
"Glad o' that," said the man, "'cause o' this." As he spoke he handed
Philip a bit of paper on which was written, in Caleb's familiar
chirography and over Caleb's signature:--
"DEAR JIM: Anybody would be glad to give you
seventy-five dollars in cash for your colt, but you're
foolish to sell now. Keep him a year, and you'll get
fifty more, but if you're bound to sell, please give
Mr. Somerton first show.
"Yours truly,
"CALEB WRIGHT."
"I suppose, from this, that you'd rather have seventy-five dollars than
your colt?" Philip said, as he returned the letter.
"That's about the size of it; but if you ain't sharp-set for a healthy
three-year-old, of the kind they hanker after up to the city, I reckon
I can find somebody that is, seein' that Caleb's a good judge an' never
over-prices hosses when he thinks he's likely to do the buyin' of 'em."
"Come in," said Philip, who quickly made out a receipt for seventy-five
dollars for one sorrel horse, aged three years, which the young man
signed.
"James Marney," said Philip, reading the signature. "I thought I knew
every name in the county, but--"
"But I come from the next county," said the young man. "Caleb'll be
disappointed not to see me, but this young woman says he's gone East.
What'll you gimme for the saddle an' bridle? I'm goin' to the city an'
can't use 'em there."
The equipments named were in fair condition, so after some "dickering"
Philip exchanged six dollars for them, and the young man sauntered off
in the direction of Claybanks' single "saloon."
"'A fool and his money,'" quoted Philip to Grace; "but as he didn't
heed Caleb's injunction, I don't suppose any word of mine would have
had any effect. Mark my words: I'll clear twenty-five at least on that
transaction within a week, for there's a city dealer here now to buy a
string of young horses. That forty acres of walnut trees is ours, too,
and cheap enough to hold until winter, when labor will be cheap; then
I'll have the trees cut and hauled to the creek, to be rafted out when
the overflow comes."
Grace looked at her husband admiringly, contemplatively, exultantly,
and said:--
"Who'd have thought it a year ago?"
"Thought what, ladybird?"
"Oh, that you would have blossomed into a keen-eyed, quick, successful
trader."
"It does seem odd, doesn't it? There's more profit in to-day's
transactions than my city salary for a month amounted to. Ah, well;
live and learn. If you'll keep shop a few minutes longer, I'll put both
horses into the barn and go up to the court-house and see if Weefer's
title to the forty acres of walnut is clear."
In a few moments he returned with some papers in his hands and a
countenance more than ordinarily cheerful, so that Grace said:--
"Apparently the title is good."
"Oh, yes; but here's something unexpected, and quite as gratifying,--a
letter from Caleb. I didn't imagine, till now, how glad I should be to
hear from the dear old chap."
"Read it--aloud--at once!" Grace said, clapping her hands in joyous
anticipation. "Where does he write from?"
"New York. H'm--here goes.
"'DEAR PHILIP, Hoping you're both well, I write to say that I'm a
good deal better, though Niagara nearly knocked me deaf, and New
York's about finished the job. If we had water-power like Niagara at
Claybanks, it would be the making of the town. I told Miss Truett that
I thought the foam on the falls beat any lace in her store, and she
thought so too.'"
"Oh, what fun she'll have with Caleb!" Grace exclaimed.
"Probably, as you think so; but who is she?"
"She's the head of one of the departments of the store I was in. I gave
Caleb letters to her and some of the other people who would give him
information, for my sake, about goods he was to buy for us. Mary Truett
is the ablest business woman in the place, and besides, she's as good
as gold; not exactly pretty, but wonderfully charming, and as merry as
a grig. She's a perfect witch; I'd give anything to see her demure face
as she listens to Caleb, and then to hear her 'take him off' after he
has gone. But do go on with the letter."
"Where was I? Oh--'New York's noisier than Niagara, and all the noises
don't play the same tune, either, but my second day here was Sunday,
so I got broke in gradual, for which I hope I was truly grateful.
I sampled the different kinds of churches, one of them being Miss
Truett's.'"
"She's an Episcopalian," Grace said. "I wonder how Caleb got along with
the service."
"Perhaps we can find out. He says: 'I don't know whether I stood up
most, or sat down most, but I do know that I wouldn't have knowed when
to do either if Miss Truett hadn't given me a powerful lot of nudges
and coat-tail pulls, besides swapping books with me mighty lively while
the minister was going forward and backward in them. I won't describe
the service; for as you and your wife belong to that sect, I guess you
know more than I can tell you, but I will say that there was enough
"amens" in it to show where us Methodists got the habit of shouting
out in meeting; and though I can't make up my mind after only one try,
as a lot of our customers said when your Uncle Jethro put on sale the
first box of lump sugar that ever came to Claybanks, I reckon that it
is a first-rate manner of worship for them that are used to it, seeing
that John Wesley was in it, and you two, and Miss Truett, for she
looked like a picture of an angel when she was reading and singing and
praying.'"
"Poor Caleb!" Grace sighed. "He's like all the other men who have met
Mary Truett."
"Does she flirt even in church?"
"She never flirts. Don't be horrid! Go on with the letter."
"H'm. 'New York is hotter than Claybanks'--rank heresy,
Caleb--'according to the thermometer, and the way the heat sizzles
out of the sidewalks, and meanders upward, ought to be a warning to
hardened sinners, and there are plenty of them here. Why, I asked a
policeman on Broadway where was a first-class eating-house, and he
pointed to one that he said was the best in town, and I had fried ham,
and they charged me seventy-five cents for it, though it wouldn't have
weighed half a pound raw. I don't harbor bad feelings, but the owner
of that eating-house had better shy clear of me on Judgment Day. Miss
Truett says it was extortionate, and I wish he could have seen her eyes
when she said it.'"
"I wish I too could have seen them, for they are superb," Grace said.
"I must write her for a full report on Caleb. But I'm interrupting."
"'That seaside boarding-place you engaged for me,'" continued Philip
from the letter, "'is knocking my malaria endwise, which it ought to,
seeing the price of board that is tacked up on the door, but anyhow, I
feel like a giant every morning when I start for the city; that is, I
think I do, though I never was a giant to find out for sure. I take
a walk morning and evening, looking at the ocean, and trying to tell
myself what I think of it, but not a word can I get hold of. Miss
Truett says it's just so with her.' H'm--there's that woman again!"
"Bless her!"
"I shouldn't say so. I'm afraid Caleb has lost his head over her."
"He'll find it again. Any good man will be bettered by meeting her. Is
there anything more about her?"
"Yes, and at once. Here it is: 'Miss Truett is all interest about your
wife, and I like to get her going on the subject, for she thinks that
Mrs. Somerton is everything that is nice and good and splendid; and
when Miss Truett thinks anything, she knows how to say it in a style
that beats any lawyer or preacher I ever heard. It ain't a pretty thing
to say about a woman, maybe, but I mean only what's right when I say
that when she talks it always seems to me that sometime or other she
swallowed a big dictionary, colored pictures and all, and not a scrap
of it disagreed with her. She says she wishes she had a job just like
Mrs. Somerton's, and I told her that there was only one way to get it,
and that if ever I saw an unmarried Western merchant of about your age
and general style, I'd give him her name and some pointed advice.
"'Most of the goods you wanted are bought and shipped, and when the
corn-meal gets here I'll get out for England.
"'With hearty regards to Mrs. Somerton, I am
"'Yours always,
"'CALEB WRIGHT.'"
"Oh, Mary Truett!" exclaimed Grace, when the reading ended. "What fun
you've had!"
"As she seems to be the spirit of the letter," said Philip, "tell me
something more about her."
"I don't know what more to say. I wasn't familiar with her, for she
was a department head, and not of my department, but she had a way
of saying kind and merry things to some girls in other parts of the
store. She is about thirty; she has parents and brothers, and works
merely because she is overflowing with energy, and has no taste for the
trivialities of mere society life. Yet her manners are charming, and
genuine, too. 'Twas the fashion of the store to worship her, and no one
ever tired of it."
"All this, yet unmarried at thirty? How did it happen?"
"I don't know. Perhaps 'twas because she never met you when you were a
bachelor. It hasn't been for lack of admirers. Probably she is waiting
for a man who is worthy of her. I know she saved many girls in her
department and in some others from making foolish marriages, and I
committed some of her warnings and arguments to memory--though I got
them at second-hand--and I used them on other girls."
"I suppose we couldn't persuade her to come out here, to assist you in
the store?"
"Scarcely. She is very well paid where she is. Besides, what would
there be for her in other ways?"
"As much as there is for you, poor girl."
"Oh, no--for I have my husband."
"And you feel sure that she isn't trifling with Caleb?"
"The idea! If you could see them together--dear, poor Caleb, with
his thin figure, ragged beard, tired face, and stooping pose--Mary
rather short, but erect, with broad shoulders, brilliant eyes, rosy
cheeks, the reddish brown hair that delights your artistic eye, and
as quick in her motions as if she never knew weariness. She's of the
kind that never grows old; there are such women. Oh, the comparison is
ridiculous--'tis unkind to Caleb to make it. Besides, she is not the
only clever business woman to whom I gave him letters."
"H'm! He's startlingly silent about the others. What troubles me is
this: Caleb is so honest and earnest, and so unaccustomed to brilliant
women, that he may lose his heart, and the more impossible the affair,
the more he'll suffer. 'Twould be bad business to have him go abroad to
be cured of malaria, only to return and die of heartache."
"Phil, Caleb isn't a fool."
"No, but he's a man."