CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES
Mr. Wingate stopped and roared a greeting to Captain Hiram Baker, who
was passing the open door of the waiting room.
“Hello, there, Hime!” he shouted. “Come up in here! What, are you too
proud to speak to common folks?”
Captain Hiram entered. “Hello!” he said. “You look like a busy gang, for
sure. What you doin'--seatin' chairs?”
“Just now we're automobilin',” observed Captain Sol. “Set down, Hiram.”
“Automobilin'?” repeated the new arrival, evidently puzzled.
“Sartin. Barzilla's takin' us out. Go on, Barzilla.”
Mr. Wingate smiled broadly. “Well,” he began, “we HAVE just about
reached the part where I went autoin'. The widow and me and Jonadab.”
“Jonadab!” shouted Stitt. “I thought you said--”
“I know what I said. But we went auto ridin' just the same.
“'Twas Henry G. Bradbury that took us out, him and his bran-new big
tourin' car. You see, he landed to board with us the next day after
Henrietta come--this Henry G. did--and he was so quiet and easy spoken
and run his car so slow that even a pizen auto hater like Jonadab
couldn't take much offense at him. He wa'n't very well, he said, subject
to some kind of heart attacks, and had come to the Old Home for rest.
“Him and the Cap'n had great arguments about the sins of automobilin'.
Jonadab was sot on the idee that nine folks out of ten hadn't machine
sense enough to run a car. Bradbury, he declared that that was a fact
with the majority of autos, but not with his. 'Why, a child could run
it,' says he. 'Look here, Cap'n: To start it you just do this. To stop
it you do so and so. To make her go slow you haul back on this lever. To
make her go faster you shove down this one. And as for steerin'--well,
a man that's handled the wheels of as many catboats as you have would
simply have a picnic. I'm in entire sympathy with your feelin's against
speeders and such--I'd be a constable if I was in your shoes--but this
is a gentleman's car and runs like one.'
“All Jonadab said was 'Bosh!' and 'Humph!' but he couldn't help actin'
interested, particular as Mrs. Bassett kept him alongside of the machine
and was so turrible interested herself. And when, this partic'lar
afternoon, Henry G. invites us all to go out with him for a little 'roll
around,' the widow was so tickled and insisted so that he just HAD to
go; he didn't dast say no.
“Somehow or 'nother--I ain't just sure yet how it happened--the seatin'
arrangements was made like this: Jonadab and Bradbury on the front seat,
and me and Henrietta in the stuffed cockpit astern. We rolled out and
purred along the road, smooth as a cat trottin' to dinner. No speedin',
no joltin', no nothin'. 'TWAS a 'gentleman's car'; there wa'n't no doubt
about that.
“We went 'way over to Bayport and Orham and beyond. And all the time
Bradbury kept p'intin' out the diff'rent levers to Jonadab and tellin'
him how to work 'em. Finally, after we'd headed back, he asked Jonadab
to take the wheel and steer her a spell. Said his heart was feelin' sort
of mean and 'twould do him good to rest.
“Jonadab said no, emphatic and more'n average ugly, but Henry G. kept
beggin' and pleadin', and pretty soon the widow put in her oar. He must
do it, to please her. He had SAID he could do it--had told her so--and
now he must make good. Why, when Mr. Loveland--
“'All right,' snarls Jonadab. 'I'll try. But if ever--'
“'Hold on!' says I. 'Here's where I get out.'
“However, they wouldn't let me, and the Cap'n took the wheel. His jaw
was set and his hands shakin', but he done it. Hettie had give her
orders and she was skipper.
“For a consider'ble spell we just crawled. Jonadab was steerin' less
crooked every minute and it tickled him; you could see that.
“'Answers her hellum tiptop, don't she?' he says.
“'Bet your life!' says Bradbury. 'Better put on a little more speed,
hadn't we?'”
He put it on himself, afore the new pilot could stop him, and we
commenced to move.
“'When you want to make her jump,' he says, you press down on that with
your foot, and you shove the spark back.'
“'Shut up!' howls Jonadab. 'Belay! Don't you dast to touch that. I'm
scart to death as 'tis. Here! you take this wheel.'
“But he wouldn't, and we went on at a good clip. For a green hand the
Cap'n was leavin' a pretty straight wake.
“'Gosh!' he says, after a spell; 'I b'lieve I'm kind of gettin' the hang
of the craft.'
“'Course you are,' says Bradbury. 'I told--Oh!'
“He straightens up, grabs at his vest, and slumps down against the back
of the seat.
“'What IS it?' screams the widow. 'Oh, what IS it, Mr. Bradbury?'
“He answers, plucky, but toler'ble faintlike. My heart!' he gasps.
'I--I'm afraid I'm goin' to have one of my attacks. I must get to a
doctor quick.'
“'Doctor!' I sings out. 'Great land of love! there ain't a doctor nigher
than Denboro, and that's four mile astern.'
“'Never mind,' cries the Bassett woman. 'We must go there, then. Turn
around, Jonadab! Turn around at once! Mr. Bradbury--'
“But poor Henry G. was curled up against the cushions and we couldn't
get nothin' out of him but groans. And all the time we was sailin' along
up the road.
“'Turn around, Jonadab!' orders Henrietta. 'Turn around and go for the
doctor!'
“Jonadab's hands was clutched on that wheel, and his face was white as
his rubber collar.
“'Jerushy!' he groans desperate, 'I--I don't know HOW to turn around.'
“'Then stop, you foolhead!' I bellers. 'Stop where you be!'
“And he moans--almost cryin' he was: 'I--I've forgotten how to STOP.'
“Talk about your situations! If we wa'n't in one then I miss my guess.
Every minute we was sinkin' Denboro below the horizon.
“'We MUST get to a doctor,' says the widow. 'Where is there another one,
Mr. Wingate?'
“'The next one's in Bayport,' says I, 'and that's ten mile ahead if it's
a foot.'
“However, there wa'n't nothin' else for it, so toward Bayport we put.
Bradbury groaned once in a while, and Mrs. Bassett got nervous.
“'We'll never get there at this rate,' says she. 'Go faster, Jonadab.
Faster! Press down on--on that thing he told you to. Please! for MY
sake.'
“'Don't you--' I begun; but 'twas too late. He pressed, and away we
went. We was eatin' up the road now, I tell you, and though I was
expectin' every minute to be my next, I couldn't help admirin' the way
the Cap'n steered. And, as for him, he was gettin' more and more set up
and confident.
“'She handles like a yacht, Barzilla,' he grunts, between his teeth.
'See me put her around the next buoy ahead there. Hey! how's that?'
“The next 'buoy' was a curve in the road, and we went around it
beautiful. So with the next and the next and the next. Bayport wa'n't so
very fur ahead. All to once another dreadful thought struck me.
“'Look here!' I yells. 'How in time are we goin' to stop when we--OW!'
“The Bassett woman had pinched my arm somethin' savage. I looked at her,
and she was scowlin' and shakin' her head.
“'S-sh-sh!' she whispers. 'Don't disturb him. He'll be frightened and--'
“'Frightened! Good heavens to Betsy! I cal'late he won't be the only one
that's fri--'
“But she looked so ugly that I shut up prompt, though I done a heap of
thinkin'. On we went and, as we turned the next 'buoy,' there, ahead of
us, was another auto, somethin' like ours, with only one person in it, a
man, and goin' in the same direction we was, though not quite so fast.
“Then I WAS scart. 'Hi, Jonadab!' I sings out. 'Heave to! Come about!
Shorten sail! Do you want to run him down? Look OUT!'
“I might as well have saved my breath. Heavin' to and the rest of it
wa'n't included in our pilot's education. On we went, same as ever. I
don't know what might have happened if the widow hadn't kept her head.
She leaned over the for'ard rail of the after cockpit and squeezed a
rubber bag that was close to Jonadab's starboard arm. It was j'ined to
the fog whistle, I cal'late, 'cause from under our bows sounded a beller
like a bull afoul of a barb-wire fence.
“The feller in t'other car turned his head and looked. Then he commenced
to sheer off to wind'ard so's to let us pass. But all the time he kept
lookin' back and starin' and, as we got nigher, and I could see him
plainer through the dust, he looked more and more familiar. 'Twas
somebody I knew.
“Then I heard a little grunt, or gasp, from Cap'n Jonadab. He was
leanin' for'ard over the wheel, starin' at the man in the other auto.
The nigher we got, the harder he stared; and the man in front was
actin' similar in regards to him. And, all to once, the head car stopped
swingin' off to wind'ard, turned back toward the middle of the road, and
begun to go like smoke. The next instant I felt our machine fairly jump
beneath me. I looked at Jonadab's foot. 'Twas pressed hard down on the
speed lever.
“'You crazy loon!' I screeched. 'You--you--you--Stop it! Take your foot
off that! Do you want to--!'
“I was climbin' over the back of the front seat, my knee pretty nigh on
Bradbury's head. But, would you believe it, that Jonadab man let go of
the wheel with one hand--let GO of it, mind you--and give me a shove
that sent me backward in Henrietta Bassett's lap.
“'Barzilla!' he growled, between his teeth, 'you set where you be
and keep off the quarterdeck. I'm runnin' this craft. I'll beat that
Loveland this time or run him under, one or t'other!'
“As sure as I'm alive this minute, the man in the front car was Tobias
Loveland!
“And from then on--Don't talk! I dream about it nights and wake up with
my arms around the bedpost. I ain't real sure, but I kind of have an
idee that the bedpost business comes from the fact that I was huggin'
the widow some of the time. If I did, 'twa'n't knowin'ly, and she never
mentioned it afterwards. All I can swear to is clouds of dust, and horns
honkin', and telegraph poles lookin' like teeth in a comb, and Jonadab's
face set as the Day of Judgment.
“He kept his foot down on the speed place as if 'twas glued. He shoved
the 'spark'--whatever that is--'way back. Every once in a while he
yelled, yelled at the top of his lungs. What he yelled hadn't no sense
to it. Sometimes you'd think that he was drivin' a horse and next that
he was handlin' a schooner in a gale.
“'Git dap!' he'd whoop. 'Go it, you cripples! Keep her nose right in the
teeth of it! She's got the best of the water, so let her bile! Whe-E-E!'
“We didn't stop at Bayport. Our skipper had made other arrangements.
However, the way I figgered it, we was long past needin' a doctor, and
you can get an undertaker 'most anywhere. We went through the village
like a couple of shootin' stars, Tobias about a length ahead, his hat
blowed off, his hair--what little he's got--streamin' out behind, and
that blessed red buzz wagon of his fairly skimmin' the hummocks and
jumpin' the smooth places. And right astern of him comes Jonadab,
hangin' to the wheel, HIS hat gone, his mouth open, and fillin' the dust
with yells and coughs.
“You could see folks runnin' to doors and front gates; but you never saw
'em reach where they was goin'--time they done that we was somewheres
round the next bend. A pullet run over us once--yes, I mean just that.
She clawed the top of the widow's bunnit as we slid underneath her, and
by the time she lit we was so fur away she wa'n't visible to the
naked eye. Bradbury--who'd got better remarkable sudden--was pawin' at
Jonadab's arm, tryin' to make him ease up; but he might as well have
pawed the wind. As for Henrietta Bassett, she was acrost the back of the
front seat tootin' the horn for all she was wuth. And curled down in a
heap on the cockpit floor was a fleshy, sea-farin' person by the name of
Barzilla Wingate, sufferin' from chills and fever.
“I think 'twas on the long stretch of the Trumet road that we beat
Tobias. I know we passed somethin' then, though just what I ain't
competent to testify. All I'm sure of is that, t'other side of Bayport
village, the landscape got some less streaked and you could most
gen'rally separate one house from the next.
“Bradbury looked at Henrietta and smiled, a sort of sickly smile. She
was pretty pale, but she managed to smile back. I got up off the floor
and slumped on the cushions. As for Cap'n Jonadab Wixon, he'd stopped
yellin', but his face was one broad, serene grin. His mouth, through
the dust and the dirt caked around it, looked like a rain gully in a
sand-bank. And, occasional, he crowed, hoarse but vainglorious.
“'Did you see me?' he barked. 'Did you notice me lick him? He'll laugh
at me, will he?--him and his one-horse tin cart! Ho! HO! Why, you'd
think he was settin' down to rest! I've got him where I want him now!
Ho, ho! Say, Henrietta, did you go swift as you--? Land sakes! Mr.
Bradbury, I forgot all about you. And I--I guess we must have got a good
ways past the doctor's place.'
“Bradbury said never mind. He felt much better, and he cal'lated he'd do
till we fetched the Old Home dock. He'd take the wheel, now, he guessed.
“But, would you b'lieve it, that fool Jonadab wouldn't let him! He was
used to the ship now, he said, and, if 'twas all the same to Henry G.
and Hettie, he'd kind of like to run her into port.
“'She answers her hellum fine,' he says. 'After a little practice I
cal'late I could steer--'
“'Steer!' sings out Bradbury. 'STEER! Great Caesar's ghost! I give you
my word, Cap'n Wixon, I never saw such handlin' of a machine as you did
goin' through Bayport, in my life. You're a wonder!'
“'Um-hm,' says Jonadab contented. 'I've steered a good many vessels in
my time, through traffic and amongst the shoals, and never run afoul
of nothin' yet. I don't see much diff'rence on shore--'cept that it's a
little easier.'
“EASIER! Wouldn't that--Well, what's the use of talkin'?
“We got to the Old Home House safe and sound; Jonadab, actin' under
Bradbury's orders, run her into the yard, slowin' up and stoppin' at
the front steps slick as grease. He got out, his chest swelled up like
a puffin' pig, and went struttin' in to tell everybody what he'd done to
Loveland. I don't know where Bradbury and the widow went. As for me, I
went aloft and turned in. And 'twas two days and nights afore I got up
again. I had a cold, anyway, and what I'd been through didn't help it
none.
“The afternoon of the second day, Bradbury come up to see me. He was
dressed in his city clothes and looked as if he was goin' away. Sure
enough, he was; goin' on the next train.
“'Where's Jonadab?' says I.
“'Oh, he's out in his car,' he says. 'Huntin' for Loveland again,
maybe.'
“'HIS car? You mean yours.'
“'No, I mean his. I sold my car to him yesterday mornin' for twenty-five
hundred dollars cash.'
“I set up in bed. 'Go 'long!' I sings out. 'You didn't nuther!'
“'Yes, I did. Sure thing. After that ride, you couldn't have separated
him from that machine with blastin' powder. He paid over the money like
a little man.'
“I laid down again. Jonadab Wixon payin' twenty-five hundred dollars for
a plaything! Not promisin', but actually PAYIN' it!
“'Has--has the widow gone with him?' I asked, soon's I could get my
breath.
“He laughed sort of queer. 'No,' he says, 'she's gone out of town for
a few days. Ha, ha! Well, between you and me, Wingate, I doubt if
she comes back again. She and I have made all we're likely to in this
neighborhood, and she's too good a business woman to waste her time.
Good-by; glad to have met you.'
“But I smelt rat strong and wouldn't let him go without seein' the
critter.
“'Hold on!' I says. 'There's somethin' underneath all this. Out with it.
I won't let on to the Cap'n if you don't want me to.'
“'Well,' says he, laughin' again, 'Mrs. Bassett WON'T come back and
I know it. She and I have sold four cars on the Cape in the last five
weeks, and the profits'll more'n pay vacation expenses. Two up in
Wareham, one over in Orham, to Loveland--'
“'Did YOU sell Tobias his?' I asks, settin' up again.
“'Hettie and I did--yes. Soon's we landed him, we come over to bag old
Wixon. I thought one time he'd kill us before we got him, but he didn't.
How he did run that thing! He's a game sport.'
“'See here!' says I. 'YOU and Hettie sold--What do you mean by that?'
“'Mrs. Bassett is my backer in the auto business,' says he. 'She put in
her money and I furnished the experience. We've got a big plant up in--'
namin' a city in Connecticut.
“I fetched a long breath. 'WELL!' says I. 'And all this makin' eyes at
Tobe and Jonadab was just--just--'
“'Just bait, that's all,' says he. 'I told you she was a good business
woman.'
“I let this sink in good. Then says I, 'Humph! I swan to man! And how's
your heart actin' now?'
“'Fine!' he says, winkin'. 'I had that attack so's the Cap'n would learn
to run on his own hook. I didn't expect quite so much of a run, but
I'm satisfied. Don't you worry about my heart disease. That twenty-five
hundred cured it. 'Twas all in the way of business,' says Henry G.
Bradbury.”
“Whew!” whistled Captain Hiram as Barzilla reached into his pocket for
pipe and tobacco. “Whew! I should say your partner had a narrer escape.
Want to look out sharp for widders. They're dangerous, hey, Sol?”
The depot master did not answer. Captain Hiram asked another question.
“How'd Jonadab take Hettie's leavin'?” he inquired.
“Oh,” said Barzilla, “I don't think he minded so much. He was too crazy
about his new auto to care for anything else. Then, too, he was b'ilin'
mad 'cause Loveland swore out a warrant against him for speedin'.
“'Nice trick, ain't it?' he says. 'I knew Tobe was a poor loser, but
I didn't think he'd be so low down as all that. Says I was goin' fifty
mile an hour. He! he! Well, I WAS movin', that's a fact. I don't care.
'Twas wuth the twenty-dollar fine.'
“'Maybe so,' I says, 'but 'twon't look very pretty to have a special
auto constable hauled up and fined for breakin' the law he's s'posed to
protect.'
“He hadn't thought of that. His face clouded over.
“'No use, Barzilla,' says he; 'I'll have to give it up.'
“'Guess you will,' says I. 'Automobilin' is--'
“'I don't mean automobilin',' he snorts disgusted. 'Course not! I mean
bein' constable.'
“So there you are! From cussin' automobiles he's got so that he can't
talk enough good about 'em. And every day sence then he's out on the
road layin' for another chance at Tobias. I hope he gets that chance
pretty soon, because--well, there's a rumor goin' round that Loveland is
plannin' to swap his car for a bigger and faster one. If he does . . .”
“If he does,” interrupted Captain Sol, “I hope you'll fix the next race
for over here. I'd like to see you go by, Barzilla.”
“Guess you'd have to look quick to see him,” laughed Stitt. “Speakin'
about automobiles--”
“By gum!” ejaculated Wingate, “you'd have to look somewheres else to
find ME. I've got all the auto racin' I want!”
“Speakin' of automobiles,” began Captain Bailey again. No one paid the
slightest attention.
“How's Dusenberry, your baby, Hiram?” asked the depot master, turning to
Captain Baker. “His birthday's the Fourth, and that's only a couple of
days off.”
The proud parent grinned, then looked troubled.
“Why, he ain't real fust-rate,” he said. “Seems to be some under
the weather. Got a cold and kind of sore throat. Dr. Parker says he
cal'lates it's a touch of tonsilitis. There's consider'ble fever, too.
I was hopin' the doctor'd come again to-day, but he's gone away on
a fishin' cruise. Won't be home till late to-morrer. I s'pose me and
Sophrony hadn't ought to worry. Dr. Parker seems to know about the
case.”
“Humph!” grunted the depot master, “there's only two bein's in creation
that know it all. One's the Almighty and t'other's young Parker. He's
right out of medical school and is just as fresh as his diploma. He
hadn't any business to go fishin' and leave his patients. We lost a
good man when old Dr. Ryder died. He . . . Oh, well! you mustn't
worry, Hiram. Dusenberry'll pull out in time for his birthday. Goin' to
celebrate, was you?”
Captain Baker nodded. “Um-hm,” he said. “Sophrony's goin' to bake a
frosted cake and stick three candles on it--he's three year old, you
know--and I've made him a 'twuly boat with sails,' that's what he's been
beggin' for. Ho! ho! he's the cutest little shaver!”
“Speakin' of automobiles,” began Bailey Stitt for the third time.
“That youngster of yours, Hiram,” went on the depot master, “is the
right kind. Compared with some of the summer young ones that strike this
depot, he's a saint.”
Captain Hiram grinned. “That's what I tell Sophrony,” he said.
“Sometimes when Dusenberry gets to cuttin' up and she is sort of
provoked, I say to her, 'Old lady,' I say, 'if you think THAT'S a
naughty boy, you ought to have seen Archibald.'”
“Who was Archibald?” asked Barzilla.
“He was a young rip that Sim Phinney and I run across four years ago
when we went on our New York cruise together. The weir business had been
pretty good and Sim had been teasin' me to go on a vacation with him, so
I went. Sim ain't stopped talkin' about our experiences yet. Ho! ho!”
“You bet he ain't!” laughed the depot master. “One mix-up you had with
a priest, and a love story, and land knows what. He talks about that to
this day.”
“What was it? He never told me,” said Wingate.
“Why, it begun at the Golconda House, the hotel where Sim and I was
stayin'. We--”
“Did YOU put up at the Golconda?” interrupted Barzilla. “Why, Cap'n
Jonadab and me stayed there when we went to New York.”
“I know you did. Jonadab recommended it to Sim, and Sim took the
recommendation. That Golconda House is the only grudge I've got against
Jonadab Wixon. It sartin is a tough old tavern.”
“I give in to that. Jonadab's so sot on it account of havin' stopped
there on his honeymoon, years and years ago. He's too stubborn to
own it's bad. It's a matter of principle with him, and he's sot on
principle.”
“Yes,” continued Baker. “Well, Sim and me had been at that Golconda
three days and nights. Mornin' of the fourth day we walked out of the
dinin' room after breakfast, feelin' pretty average chipper. Gettin'
safe past another meal at that hotel was enough of itself to make a chap
grateful.
“We walked out of the dinin' room and into the office. And there, by the
clerk's desk, was a big, tall man, dressed up in clothes that was loud
enough to speak for themselves, and with a shiny new tall hat, set with
a list to port, on his head. He was smooth-faced and pug-nosed, with an
upper lip like a camel's.
“He didn't pay much attention to us, nor to anybody else, for the matter
of that. He was as mournful as a hearse, for all his joyful togs.
“'Fine day, ain't it?' says Sim, social.
“The tall chap looked up at him from under the deck of the beaver hat.
“'Huh!' he growls out, and looks down again.
“'I say it's a fine day,' said Phinney again.
“'I was after hearin' yez say it,' says the man, and walks off, scowlin'
like a meat ax. We looked after him.
“'Who was that murderer?' asks Sim of the clerk. 'And when are they
going to hang him?'
“'S-sh-sh!' whispers the clerk, scart. ''Tis the boss. The bloke what
runs the hotel. He's a fine man, but he has troubles. He's blue.'
“'So that's the boss, hey?' says I. 'And he's blue. Well, he looks it.
What's troublin' him? Ain't business good?'
“'Never better. It ain't that. He has things on his mind. You see--'
“I cal'late he'd have told us the yarn, only Sim wouldn't wait to hear
it. We was goin' sight-seein' and we had 'aquarium' and 'Stock Exchange'
on the list for that afternoon. The hotel clerk had made out a kind of
schedule for us of things we'd ought to see while we was in New York,
and so fur we'd took in the zoological menagerie and the picture museum,
and Central Park and Brooklyn Bridge.
“On the way downtown in the elevated railroad Sim done some preachin'.
His text was took from the Golconda House sign, which had 'T. Dempsey,
Proprietor,' painted on it.
“'It's that Dempsey man's conscience that makes him so blue, Hiram,'
says Sim. 'It's the way he makes his money. He sells liquor.'
“'Oh!' says I. 'Is THAT it? I thought maybe he'd been sleepin' on one
of his own hotel beds. THEY'RE enough to make any man blue--black and
blue.'
“The 'aquarium' wa'n't a success. Phinney was disgusted. He give one
look around, grabbed me by the arm, and marched me out of that building
same as Deacon Titcomb, of the Holiness Church at Denboro, marched his
boy out of the Universalist sociable.
“'It's nothin' but a whole passel of fish,' he snorts. 'The idea of
sendin' two Cape Codders a couple of miles to look at FISH. I've looked
at 'em and fished for 'em, and et 'em all the days of my life,' he says,
'and when I'm on a vacation I want a change. I'd forgot that “aquarium”
meant fish, or you wouldn't have got me within smellin' distance of
it. Necessity's one thing and pleasure's another, as the boy said about
takin' his ma's spring bitters.'
“So we headed for the Stock Exchange. We got our gallery tickets at the
bank where the Golconda folks kept money, and in a little while we was
leanin' over a kind of marble bulwarks and starin' down at a gang of men
smokin' and foolin' and carryin' on. 'Twas a dull day, so we found out
afterward, and I guess likely that was true. Anyway, I never see such
grown-up men act so much like children. There was a lot of poles stuck
up around with signs on 'em, and around every pole was a circle of
bedlamites hollerin' like loons. Hollerin' was the nighest to work
of anything I see them fellers do, unless 'twas tearin' up papers and
shovin' the pieces down somebody's neck or throwin' 'em in the air like
a play-actin' snowstorm.
“'What's the matter with 'em?' says I. 'High finance taken away their
brains?'
“But Phinney was awful interested. He dumped some money in a mine once.
The mine caved in on it, I guess, for not a red cent ever come to the
top again, but he's been a kind of prophet concernin' finances ever
sence.
“'I want to see the big fellers,' says he. 'S'pose that fat one is
Morgan?'
“'I don't know,' says I. 'Me and Pierpont ain't met for ever so long.
Don't lean over and point so; you're makin' a hit.'
“He was, too. Some of the younger crew on the floor was lookin' up and
grinnin', and more kept stoppin' and joinin' in all the time. I cal'late
we looked kind of green and soft, hangin' over that marble rail, like
posies on a tombstone; and green is the favorite color to a stockbroker,
they tell me. Anyhow, we had a good-sized congregation under us in
less than no time. Likewise, they got chatty, and commenced to unload
remarks.
“'Land sakes!' says one. 'How's punkins?'
“'How's crops down your way?' says another.
“Now there wa'n't nothin' real bright and funny about these
questions--more fresh than new, they struck me--but you'd think they
was gems from the comic almanac, jedgin' by the haw-haws. Next minute
a little bald-headed smart Alec, with clothes that had a tailor's sign
hull down and out of the race, steps to the front and commences to make
a speech.
“'Gosh t'mighty, gents,' says he. 'With your kind permission, I'll sing
“When Reuben Comes to Town.”'
“And he did sing it, too, in a voice that needed cultivatin' worse'n
a sandy front yard. And with every verse the congregation whooped and
laughed and cheered. When the anthem was concluded, all hands set up a
yell and looked at us to see how we took it.
“As for me, I was b'ilin' mad and mortified and redhot all over. But Sim
Phinney was as cool as an October evenin'. Once in a while old Sim
comes out right down brilliant, and he done it now. He smiled, kind
of tolerant and easy, same as you might at the tricks of a hand-organ
monkey. Then he claps his hands, applaudin' like, reaches into his
pocket, brings up a couple of pennies, and tosses 'em down to little
baldhead, who was standin' there blown up with pride.
“For a minute the crowd was still. And THEN such a yell as went up! The
whole floor went wild. Next thing I knew the gallery was filled with
brokers, grabbin' us by the hands, poundin' us on the back, beggin' us
to come have a drink, and generally goin' crazy. We was solid with the
'system' for once in our lives. We could have had that whole buildin',
from marble decks to gold maintruck, if we'd said the word. Fifty
yellin' lunatics was on hand to give it to us; the other two hundred was
joyfully mutilatin' the baldhead.
“Well, I wanted to get away, and so did Sim, I guess; but the crowd
wouldn't let us. We'd got to have a drink; hogsheads of drinks. That was
the best joke on Eddie Lewisburg that ever was. Come on! We MUST come
on! Whee! Wow!
“I don't know how it would have ended if some one hadn't butted head
first through the mob and grabbed me by the shoulder. I was ready to
fight by this time, and maybe I'd have begun to fight if the chap who
grabbed me hadn't been a few inches short of seven foot high. And,
besides that, I knew him. 'Twas Sam Holden, a young feller I knew when
he boarded here one summer. His wife boarded here, too, only she wa'n't
his wife then. Her name was Grace Hargrave and she was a fine girl.
Maybe you remember 'em, Sol?”
The depot master nodded.
“I remember 'em well,” he said. “Liked 'em both--everybody did.”
“Yes. Well, he knew us and was glad to see us.
“'It IS you!' he sings out. 'By George! I thought it was when I came on
the floor just now. My! but I'm glad to see you. And Mr. Phinney, too!
Bully! Clear out and let 'em alone, you Indians.'
“The crowd didn't want to let us alone, but Sam got us clear somehow,
and out of the Exchange Buildin' and into the back room of a kind of
restaurant. Then he gets chairs for us, orders cigars, and shakes hands
once more.
“'To think of seein' you two in New York!' he says, wonderin'. 'What are
you doin' here? When did you come? Tell us about it.'
“So we told him about our pleasure cruise, and what had happened to us
so fur. It seemed to tickle him 'most to death.
“'Grace and I are keepin' house, in a modest way, uptown,' says Sam,
'and she'll be as glad to see you as I am. You're comin' up to dinner
with me to-night, and you're goin' to make us a visit, you know,' he
says.
“Well, if we didn't know it then, we learned it right away. Nothin'
that me or Simeon could say would make him change the course a point. So
Phinney went up to the Golconda House and got our bags, and at half-past
four that afternoon the three of us was in a hired hack bound uptown.
“On the way Sam was full of fun as ever. He laughed and joked, and asked
questions about East Harniss till you couldn't rest. All of a sudden he
slaps his knee and sings out:
“'There! I knew I'd forgotten somethin'. Our butler left yesterday,
and I was to call at the intelligence office on my way home and see if
they'd scared up a new one.'
“I looked at Simeon, and he at me.
“'Hum!' says I, thinkin' about that 'modest' housekeepin'. 'Do you keep
a butler?'
“'Not long,' says he, dry as a salt codfish. And that's all we could get
out of him.
“I s'pose there's different kinds of modesty. We hadn't more'n got
inside the gold-plated front door of that house when I decided that the
Holden brand of housekeepin' wa'n't bashful enough to blush. If I'D been
runnin' that kind of a place, the only time I'd felt shy and retirin'
was when the landlord came for the rent.
“One of the fo'mast hands--hired girls, I mean--went aloft to fetch Mrs.
Holden, and when Grace came down she was just as nice and folksy and
glad to see us as a body could be. But she looked sort of troubled, just
the same.
“'I'm ever so glad you're here,' says she to me and Simeon. 'But, oh,
Sam! it's a shame the way things happen. Cousin Harriet and Archie came
this afternoon to stay until to-morrow. They're on their way South.
And I have promised that you and I shall take Harriet to see Marlowe
to-night. Of course we won't do it now, under any consideration, but you
know what she is.'
“Sam seemed to know. He muttered somethin' that sounded like a Scripture
text. Simeon spoke up prompt.
“'Indeed you will,' says he, decided. 'Me and Hiram ain't that kind.
We've got relations of our own, and we know what it means when they
come a-visitin'. You and Mr. Holden'll take your comp'ny and go to
see--whatever 'tis you want to see, and we'll make ourselves to home
till you get back. Yes, you will, or we clear out this minute.'
“They didn't want to, but we was sot, and so they give in finally. It
seemed that this Cousin Harriet was a widow relation of the Holdens, who
lived in a swell country house over in Connecticut somewhere, and was
rich as the rest of the tribe. Archie was her son. 'Hers and the Evil
One's,' Sam said.
“We didn't realize how much truth there was in this last part until we
run afoul of Archie and his ma at dinner time. Cousin Harriet was tall
and middlin' slim, thirty-five years old, maybe, at a sale for
taxes, but discounted to twenty at her own valuation. She was got up
regardless, and had a kind of chronic, tired way of talkin', and a
condescendin' look to her, as if she was on top of Bunker Hill monument,
and all creation was on its knees down below. She didn't warm up to
Simeon and me much; eyed us over through a pair of gilt spyglasses, and
admitted that she was 'charmed, I'm sure.' Likewise, she was afflicted
with 'nerves,' which must be a divil of a disease--for everybody but the
patient, especial.
“Archie--his ma hailed him as 'Archibald, dear'--showed up pretty
soon in tow of his 'maid,' a sweet-faced, tired-out Irish girl named
Margaret. 'Archibald, dear,' was five years old or so, sufferin' from
curls and the lack of a lickin'. I never see a young one that needed a
strap ile more.
“'How d'ye do Archie?' says Simeon, holdin' out his hand.
“Archie didn't take the hand. Instead of that he points at Phinney and
commences to laugh.
“'Ho, ho!' says he, dancin' and pointin'. 'Look at the funny whiskers.'
“Sim wa'n't expectin' that, and it set him all aback, like he'd run into
a head squall. He took hold of his beard and looked foolish. Sam and
Grace looked ashamed and mad. Cousin Harriet laughed one of her lazy
laughs.
“'Archibald, de-ar,' she drawls, 'you mustn't speak that way. Now be
nice, and play with Margaret durin' dinner, that's a good boy.'
“'I won't,' remarks Archie, cheerful. 'I'm goin' to dine with you,
mama.'
“'Oh, no, you're not, dear. You'll have your own little table, and--'
“Then 'twas' Hi, yi!' 'Bow, wow!' Archibald wa'n't hankerin' for little
tables. He was goin' to eat with us, that's what. His ma, she argued
with him and pleaded, and he yelled and stamped and hurrahed. When
Margaret tried to soothe him he went at her like a wild-cat, and kicked
and pounded her sinful. She tried to take him out of the room, and then
Cousin Harriet come down on her like a scow load of brick.
“'Haven't I told you,' says she, sharp and vinegary, 'not to oppose the
child in that way? Archibald has such a sensitive nature,' she says to
Grace, 'that opposition arouses him just as it did me at his age. Very
well, dear; you MAY dine with us to-night, if you wish. Oh, my poor
nerves! Margaret, why don't you place a chair for Master Archibald? The
creature is absolutely stupid at times,' she says, talkin' about that
poor maid afore her face with no more thought for her feelin's than
if she was a wooden image. 'She has no tact whatever. I wouldn't have
Archibald's spirit broken for anything.'
“'Twas his neck that needed breakin' if you asked ME. That was a joyful
meal, now I tell you.
“There was more joy when 'twas over. Archie didn't want to go to bed,
havin' desires to set up and torment Simeon with questions about his
whiskers; askin' if they growed or was tied on, and things like that.
Course he didn't know his ma was goin' to the show, or he wouldn't have
let her. But finally he was coaxed upstairs by Margaret and a box of
candy, and, word havin' been sent down that he was asleep, Sam got
out his plug hat, and Grace and Cousin Harriet got on their fur-lined
dolmans and knit clouds, and was ready for the hack.
“'I feel mighty mean to go off and leave you this way,' says Sam to
me and Simeon. 'But you make yourself at home, won't you? This is your
house to-night, you know; servants and all.'
“'How about that boy's wakin' up?' says I.
“'Oh, his maid'll attend to him. If she needs any help you can give it
to her,' he says, winkin' on the side.
“But Cousin Harriet was right at his starboard beam, and she heard him.
She flew up like a settin' hen.
“'Indeed they will NOT!' she sings out. 'If anyone but Margaret was to
attempt to control Archibald, I don't dare think what might happen.
I shall not stir from this spot until these persons promise not to
interfere in ANY way; Archibald, dear, is such a sensitive child.'
“So we promised not to interfere, although Sim Phinney looked
disappointed when he done it. I could see that he'd had hopes afore he
give that promise.”