GILL ELECTS A SQUIRE.
John Gillfillan was chief clerk at the furnace store. Upon him was the
entire responsibility of its management; to him was given the sole
charge of its business. Colonel Hornberger was always boasting of his
ability and trustworthiness, and made him his deputy with full power to
act for him. John went to the city and bought the goods for the store
and put the selling price on them. He knew just how much stock there was
on hand. He was a genius in a way, having a remarkable memory, which
relieved him of the trouble of keeping an order book. Gill was the
quickest and shrewdest buyer with whom the wholesalers had to deal.
He was handsome, tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, and always
well-dressed. His mustache and hair were dark, almost black; his eyes
gray.
In the furnishing of his room, which was on the second story of the
store building, a taste almost effeminate was displayed. A stranger
entering it would think a woman dwelt there.
When he went to it after leaving the McAnay ball he sat down, not to
think in superstitious wonder of the strange fancy of Bill Kellar's, but
to recall the words, actions, looks, of the graceful and willowy girl
who had said, "I will, John."
"She has more pride than Queen Elizabeth," he muttered. "No 'Thank you'
to me; but 'I will, John.' Lizzi, you are the comeliest girl I know, and
I have got your promise to be my wife. Well, so much."
Hard, unfeeling words, dictated by passion. Love is tender, generous;
Passion, harsh and selfish. They sit opposite at the same feast. Love
surrenders to the intoxication of the scene, grateful to be allowed
there. Passion glances scornfully at foolish Love and considers his
presence at the banquet a compliment to the giver. Love treasures the
crumbs. Passion wastes basketfuls.
"So far, so good," Gill murmured. "I'll go to Jim Harker to-morrow."
And without one tender thought for the woman, who even then, all
a-tremble with delight at being his betrothed, was uttering a prayer for
him, he threw himself on the bed and went asleep.
Lizzi did not sleep. Gill's declaration of love, as she regarded his
proposition of marriage, had opened the door of the future, and her eyes
were fastened on the scenes that imagination conjured up beyond the
threshold. She lay awake looking at them, all beaming in the sunlight.
"Squire, can you keep a secret?"
James Harker, shoemaker to Three-Sisters, sat in front of his shop,
smoking, when Gill addressed him. The title flattered him, coming from
so influential a person. He was a candidate for the office of Justice of
the Peace. At the polls on the following Tuesday--the McAnay ball was on
Wednesday--it would be decided whether Squire Parsons should retain the
right to issue warrants and summon law-breakers before him, or have only
the dignity of the title, while James Harker, formerly shoemaker,
occupied the office and received the fees.
Jim looked piqued by Gill's question.
"Keep a secret? Humph! do yer take me fer a woman?"
Gill laughed and stroked his mustache. "I'll bet you ten dollars if I
was to tell you a secret that you couldn't keep it an hour."
"Ten dollars is skeerce with me, Gill; but I'll hev ter go yer thet much
anyhow."
From somewhere in his clothes Jim produced a greasy wallet, which he
opened. He took from it a ten-dollar gold piece. Gill promptly mated it,
but modified the time.
"An hour's too short a time for a fair test."
Jim replaced the money in his wallet. Gill tossed his gold piece into
the air, caught it as it fell, balanced it on the tip of his finger, and
said:
"Jim, how would you like to have this shiner for your first
wedding-fee?"
Jim's eyes dilated.
"Well, yer wouldn't think I'd objec', would yer?"
Gill laughed and slipped the coin into his pocket. Jim's face betrayed
his eagerness for the gold.
"Let's go into the shop. I've something particular to say to you," said
Gill.
They entered, and Jim shut the door. Gill dropped into the shoemaker's
seat and laid the lap-board on his knees.
"Do you know, Jim, that Squire Parsons is going to be hard to beat?"
Jim sat down on a stool and drew a heavy breath, which was an admission
that he was of that opinion.
Gill had a knife in his hand and was cutting a piece of leather into
strips. The shoemaker, too cunning to force the conversation, looked on
in silence. Finally Gill said: "But I believe we can do it, Jim."
"Think so?" Jim asked carelessly.
Gill took another piece of leather and, after whetting the knife on the
side of the bench, began cutting a shoe-string. When he finished it, he
said:
"Jim, if you will promise to do me a favor, I'll elect you."'
Without looking up, or waiting for an answer, he began cutting another
string, running the knife dextrously around the circular piece of
leather. With great difficulty Jim restrained a promise to do anything
Gill might ask. He began to feel his way cautiously.
"If it be in my power as an honest jedge."
"I am not in the habit of asking impossibilities."
Gill was pointing the ends of the shoe-strings, and appeared very
indifferent as to whether Squire Parsons remained in office or not. His
coolness proved too much for the shoemaker, whose greed had been greatly
excited. He leaped to his feet and held up his right hand.
"I'll do it. I swear I will."
"Sit down, Jim, and keep cool. This is to be a bargain, and bargains
made in cold blood are surest kept."
Jim resumed his seat and stared in amazement at Gill, who, sure of his
man, seemed to take interest only in the shoe-strings he held before
him.
"Guess I'll send these to Squire Parsons with your compliments, Jim, as
a hint that we'll string him up."
A poor attempt at wit, but it had the desired effect, and Jim was soon
as calm as Gill could desire. Then he threw the shoe-strings away and
proceeded to business.
"I mean to elect you Justice of the Peace, Jim. That office will
materially increase your income. In return for my exertions in your
behalf, I expect you to marry me. You will be elected on Tuesday. On
Wednesday night you will meet me at the church and unite me to the woman
of my choice. I will pay you a fee and, besides, will bet you twenty
dollars in gold that you will be the first to tell of a marriage which
for good reasons my intended wife and I desire to be kept secret for
some time."
Jim rose, delighted that the favor asked of him would be so easily
granted.
"Say, Gill, thet's all right; yer needn't make the bet. Yer jist 'lect
me squire, an' I'll marry yer fer nuthin' and never tell a soul."
"But I think I'll win, that's why I want to bet."
"Well, then, I'll jist take yer up."
"All right; it's a wager."
His business completed, Gill returned to the store.
* * * * *
Squire Parsons was defeated by two votes, and great was the astonishment
in Three-Sisters, where everybody believed that John Gillfillan, clerk
of the election, was a surety against fraud.
But Gill gave little thought to the deceit that had placed Jim Harker in
the office of Justice of the Peace, for he had a weightier matter on his
mind--theft. For more than two years he had been stealing systematically
from the cash-box, and protected himself from discovery by false entries
in the books. The money thus obtained he had lost at the gaming-table
during his semi-annual visits to the city for the purpose of buying
goods. As soon as he got back to the store he began thieving again in
small amounts, in order to accumulate capital for another venture when
he next visited the city.
Luck having been so persistently against him, he had determined to learn
the art of juggling with cards, and purchased a book of instruction in
that line. With this open before him and a pack of cards in his hands he
sat in his daintily furnished room on the night of the election. He
continued to shuffle and cut the cards until near midnight, when he
rose, muttering as he concealed the pack and book:
"I think that practice will make me an expert at cards, and I'll win
next time; but I don't propose to risk much longer the chances of being
caught by Colonel Hornberger. Something has got to happen to those
books, or they will tell on me."