A LIVE STOCK SALE
John Chester had prophesied that, in answer to his ill-advised jest of
an advertisement, it would "rain horses."
Apparently, it had. Not only horses but cows; and, trampled upon by the
first, hooked by the latter, an assorted lot of pigs mingled with the
other quadrupeds, squealing, twisting, doubling-and-turning upon their
leading ropes with the perversity native to swine.
These unlovely creatures frightened the high-bred team drawing the
carriage, setting them to rearing and plunging till an accident was
imminent. Their driver had made to pass directly through the assembly
before Skyrie gate, leaving it for meaner turnouts to make way for him:
with the result that the unmanageable pigs had set other horses into a
tumult.
Fortunately, the coachman was both cool and skillful, and with a
dexterity that seemed wonderful he brought the Montaigne equipage around
and began a retreat, over the way he had just come. This saved the
situation, so far as an upset was concerned, and he did not again draw
rein till well away from the scene. Then, all danger being past, Helena
promptly fainted, and saved her equally frightened mother from doing so
by rousing her maternal anxiety.
John Chester never knew just how he managed to get out of that carriage.
Certainly, with far less difficulty than he had found in entering it,
for he was suddenly upon the ground, his crutches under his arms, and
himself hobbling forward with tremendous swings into the very midst of
things.
"Come here, come here!" commanded Mrs. Calvert to Dorothy, withdrawing
to the high bank bordering the road and that was topped by one of those
great stone walls which Simon Waterman had built. Amusement, surprise,
and anxiety chased one another across her mobile old features, and with
a sudden movement she turned upon Mrs. Chester, crying excitedly: "Well,
my friend, you can't deny that plenty of things happen in the country,
as well as in the city you bewail. Match me this in Baltimore, if you
please! And explain it--if you can!"
For it was mother Martha and not her daughter who had obeyed Mrs.
Cecil's imperative: "Come here!" and who could only gasp, through her
astonishment: "It's that advertisement. A 'joke' of John's that he
didn't mean to pass beyond our own doors. We need a horse, a cow, and
pig to----"
"Add hens! to scratch up your neighbors' flower beds and give
completeness to your lives!" laughed Mrs. Betty, who felt and declared
that: "I haven't had so much fun in a single morning since--I can't tell
when. I wouldn't have missed this!"
"Seems as if everybody in the whole town must have read and answered
that foolish thing. I--_what shall we do_? How possibly get rid of all
these people!" cried the mistress of Skyrie in real distress.
As yet neither she nor Mrs. Cecil had observed Helena's faintness, for
the back of the carriage was toward them now and some distance down the
road. But they had observed Mr. Chester's swift departure houseward, and
had seen Dorothy leap like a flash over the intervening wall, toward the
kitchen door and the well which was near it.
"Makes me think of the 'Light Brigade,' with horses for 'cannon.' That's
shameful for me! though, there _are_ cows to the right of them, pigs
underneath them, and horses--did anybody ever see such a collection?"
asked Mrs. Calvert, clutching Mrs. Chester's arm to keep herself from
slipping downward from the bank into the briars below. Then suddenly
again exclaiming: "Look at that child! She's carrying water in a
pitcher. She's making her way through those men out into the road again.
Something has happened. Somebody is in trouble. Oh! it must be that
frail-looking daughter of the Montaignes! See. Dorothy is running now
straight toward the carriage."
This was sufficient to banish all amusement from Mrs. Cecil's manner and
she was instantly upon Dorothy's trail, moving with an ease and
swiftness that amazed Mrs. Chester, active though she herself was.
Indeed, the girl had to slacken her speed in order not to spill all the
water from the pitcher, and so the pair reached the side of the
carriage together; the old gentlewoman nodding approval for the presence
of mind which Dorothy had shown.
However, Helena was rapidly recovering from her brief swoon, and her
mother looked askance at the cracked pitcher in which the water had been
brought and the rusty tin cup in which it was offered; Dorothy having
seized the utensils always left lying beside the well, for the
convenience of passers-by, without waiting to secure more presentable
articles.
Still, it was Mrs. Calvert whose hand proffered the refreshing draught,
and it was Mrs. Calvert's voice which was saying, in its most
aristocratic yet kindest accents:
"I did not at once see that your daughter was ill. Your husband left us
at the very first crossroad toward your place and I was absorbed with my
new-old neighbors' affairs. Deerhurst is nearer than the Towers. Why not
drive there first and let Miss Helena rest awhile before going further?"
Now the invitation was given in all sincerity, though the mistress of
Deerhurst was inwardly smiling at the pictured face of Seth Winters, had
he been there to hear her thus cordially soliciting for guests the
people she had once declared she would never willingly know. Only the
slightest reluctance accompanied her words. She had intended calling
upon the Chesters in their home and upon having a plain business talk
with "Johnnie." However, from all appearances at the cottage beyond,
this was not an opportune time for such an interview and one that could
easily be postponed. At present, the Skyrie family had their hands
sufficiently full of more pressing affairs.
Helena Montaigne shared her father's social ambition, so it was with a
wan, sweet smile that she accepted from the mistress of Deerhurst the
battered tin cup that she would have rejected had Dorothy held it
upwards. Also, after graciously sipping a few drops of the refreshing
water, she accepted for herself and mother--it was always Helena who
settled such matters--that most gratifying invitation to the mansion.
More than that she rose from her place on the wide back seat of the
carriage and offered it to Mrs. Cecil, rather than that lady should be
forced to ride backwards. But this sacrifice was declined:
"No, indeed, thank you. I will finish my trip as I begin it, by walking.
It will take you as long to drive around by the entrance as for me to go
across lots, through the woods. I will meet you at the door. Good-by,
Dorothy. I trust you'll all come well out of your present predicament
and I shall be anxious to hear results."
Mrs. Cecil was not prone to outward expressions of affection and the
little girl was surprised to receive a kiss, as the pitcher was handed
back to her, and this surprise was fully shared by the occupants of the
carriage. But, having bestowed this light caress, the nimble old lady
gathered up her skirts and struck into a footpath running beneath the
trees, where every woodland creature was gay with the gladness of June.
Yet as she passed among them, none seemed more glad than she; nor,
maybe, in the sight of the Creator of them all was she alien to them.
Let alone, Dorothy sped backward to her home, and to the side of her
parents, who stood together before the kitchen door, vainly endeavoring
to hear what a half-dozen different men were saying at once. Her keen
eyes scanned the odd collection of beasts with an ever increasing
amusement, though she lifted her feet with a little shriek of fear as a
mighty hog, which had long outgrown its "pig" days, broke from its
owner's grasp and waddled up the path.
"I saw it in the _Local_, and if a man's goin' to start in farmin'----"
began one.
"Pooh; neighbor! this feller's hoss ain't no kind o' use to a lame man
like you! That hoss? Why, that hoss has run away and smashed things more
times 'an it's years old--and that's sayin' consid'able!" interrupted a
second trader, as the first one edged into the dooryard leading a gaunt
black steed, himself dragging through the gateway a sorrel mare which
had also reached the years of discretion.
At which number one retorted with fine scorn:
"Why, if that ain't Bill Barry! Huh! Lemme tell you, neighbor, a man
that trades hosses, or buys one outright, off _Bill_ gets left every
time. That there sorrel? Why, she's twenty-odd if she's a day!"
Amid the laugh that followed this sally a third man called over the wall
from the road beyond:
"Hello, mister? Advertised for a cow, didn't you? Well, just step a-here
and take a peek at this fine Alderney o' mine. New milker with a calf
still beside her--purty as a picture, the pair of 'em, and dirt cheap.
Reason I sell, I've got more stawk 'an my land 'll keep. Come this way,
won't you, Mr.--Mr.--'Skyrie,' is it?"
Poor father John scratched his perplexed head, shifted his weight upon
his crutches, and would fain have answered each and all at once as each
demanded; but the affair was too much for him, who was always so ready
to see the funny side of things. He cast one bewildered glance into
Dorothy's laughing, sympathetic face and, also, began to laugh aloud.
The trader nearest, he of the gaunt black steed, caught the infection of
merriment and augmented it by a hoarse guffaw. Already, while waiting
for the prospective purchasers, the many who had come to sell had seen
the absurdity of the situation, and each new arrival of pig, cow, or
horse, had caused an outburst of momentary mirth. Yet, hitherto, under
this passing amusement, had lain a half-angry resentment. Each had
climbed the mountain, or traveled across it, for the sole purpose of
"making a good trade," and none was pleased to find his chances
forestalled.
Now, however, personal feelings gave way before this good-natured
acceptance of an annoying state of things; and, before another moment
passed, the laughter which the master of Skyrie had started was echoed
from man to man till Dorothy clapped her hands to her ears and mother
Martha ran into the house, to escape the uproar.
The fun conquered, for a time at least, all ill feeling, but it had not
settled more important matters. The buying and selling had yet to come,
and John Chester fairly groaned as he whispered to Dorothy:
"What shall I do with them! However get out of this mess! I know no more
about the good points of a horse or a cow than a babe unborn, and your
mother who does--or should, for she's a farmer's daughter--has
ignominiously fled!"
Seeing the pair in apparent consultation, the visiting owners of the
various animals held their momentary peace, till Dorothy answered quite
seriously:
"Well, whether you do or do not know which is good and which is bad, you
did advertise for them, you know, and you ought to take one of each
kind, I s'pose. That is--have you got the money ready, to pay right
now?"
"Oh, yes! The money's all right. Martha has that in her cupboard."
"Well, then, let's try it this way. Ask her to come out again; then
let's begin with the pigs. They act the meanest of all the creatures and
I hate them! _Must_ we have a pig, father John?"
"So your mother says. To eat up the milk!"
"Then I do think she ought to select it. I'll go and ask her, myself.
Let everybody bring up his pig, one after another, like standing in line
at the post-office, you know; and let mother look them all over and
choose the one she wants. When we get through the pigs the rest of the
pig-men will go away, and the cow-men show us their cows. Oh! it would
be just jolly to do it that way! Mother buy the pig, you the horse, and
I the cow! I'll go and see if she will."
Either Dorothy's arguments were convincing or Mrs. Chester had repented
her retreat, thus leaving her more inexperienced husband to the mercy of
possibly unscrupulous traders, for she promptly reappeared in the
dooryard and announced:
"We will buy just what we advertised for: one cow, one horse, one pig.
We will examine the pigs first, and in order, with lowest price stated
at once. We will not dicker at all, but will buy as cheaply as we can.
Now, begin."
The little woman had placed herself upon the doorstep, with an air of
practical business which caused her husband to silently clap his hands
and as silently applaud; nodding his head and saying, by his expression:
"Good enough, madam! Couldn't have done better if you'd been in
continual practice!"
The only difficulty of the proceeding was that each "pig-man" had grown
weary of waiting and now crowded to the fore, intent upon selling _his_
pig before another had a chance. Result: seven specimens of swine, in
varying degrees of fatness, were forced into the inclosure; where each
immediately proceeded to entangle himself with his neighbor and to run
in a direction diametrically opposed to his owner's will.
"Oh! how glad I am our flower beds haven't been made yet!" cried
Dorothy, flying up the outside stairs of the cottage, where she felt
quite safe, although one inquisitive porker did plant its fore-legs on
the lower step, intent to follow. Thence it was jerked back by its
owner, with the remark:
"Drat a hog, anyhow! They're plaguyest critters to drive of any that
lives. Next time I have a pig to sell I'll do it on my own premises--or
not at all!"
In mercy to the animals and to their owners Mrs. Chester made a quick
selection and one that others, wiser than herself, knew to be a
fortunate one. Her choice fell upon a half-grown creature, whose body
had received a good scrubbing before being taken to Skyrie, and whose
skin looked pink and clean beneath its white bristles. She was asked a
larger price than was quite just, as all the other dealers knew, but as
all likewise considered "city folks" legitimate prey nobody enlightened
her, and she handed out the money at once; merely requesting its late
owner to take the animal to the corner of the old barn and securely
fasten it there.
Then there followed what father John remarked was "quite a lull in the
hog market," and Dorothy begged:
"Let's buy the cow next! There's a lovely one yonder! A soft, fat,
écru-colored one, with the cutest little calf tied to it! Oh! do let's
have the calf any way even if we don't the cow. It's a perfectly
adorable little thing! see how it cocks its head and kicks up its
heels--the sweet!"
The swine and their owners having departed the dooryard was
comparatively clear; and it was noticeable that nobody crowded forward
when, at a nod from Mr. Chester, the proprietor of the "écru-colored"
cow and "adorable calf" led them up for closer inspection.
They certainly were attractive specimens of their race, and the Quaker
miller who offered them had a most benignant countenance. He seemed to
possess the respect and confidence of his neighbors and his words had
the ring of truthfulness as he stated:
"Thee will go much further and fare much worse before thee has a cow
like Hannah offered thee, friend Martha. She is of good pedigree, as I
can show thee if thee will step over to my mill and look at my ledger.
Her yield is ten quarts at a milking, twice a day, and her price is
fifty dollars."
Martha Chester caught her breath. She had not anticipated paying more
than half that sum for "just a cow"; even the price of the pig had
startled her, remembering the small amount of cash she had in her purse.
But alas! The demon of possession had seized her! The fact that the
porcine "beauty" already tied to her barn was her own roused all her old
farm-born instinct for "stock," and though she hesitated she did not say
"No." Besides, her own half-forgotten grandsire had been a Friend and
this man's speech carried her back to childhood's days and a roomy
farmhouse, with its rich abundance of good things. Was ever a Quaker
really poor?
Now nobody, in his senses, could have compared honest Oliver Sands to a
tempter; yet his very next words proved temptation to John and Martha
Chester, whose Christian names he had somehow acquired and now used so
naturally.
"If thee buys Hannah thee will not regret it. Moreover, because I have
heard the surprising tale of the little maid yonder, I will bind the
bargain by giving her the calf, free of charge. I do not like to
separate mother and child, even among brute creatures, unless from
necessity; and, Dorothy Chester, thee may have my calf."
Of the astonishment of her parents and Dorothy's wild, almost
incredulous delight, there is no need to tell. It can be easily
surmised. Sufficient to state that very shortly afterward the
broad-brimmed hat of Oliver Sands was disappearing down the road, while
Hannah and her offspring had joined the squealing pig beside the barn.