LAND AND LOVE.
Mr. Minorkey and the fat gentleman found much to interest them as the
coach rolled over the smooth prairie road, now and then crossing a
slough. Not that Mr. Minorkey or his fat friend had any particular
interest in the beautiful outline of the grassy knolls, the gracefulness
of the water-willows that grew along the river edge, and whose paler
green was the prominent feature of the landscape, or in the sweet
contrast at the horizon where grass-green earth met the light blue
northern sky. But the scenery none the less suggested fruitful themes for
talk to the two gentlemen on the back-seat.
"I've got money loaned on that quarter at three per cent a month and five
after due. The mortgage has a waiver in it too. You see, the security was
unusually good, and that was why I let him have it so low." This was what
Mr. Minorkey said at intervals and with some variations, generally adding
something like this: "The day I went to look at that claim, to see
whether the security was good or not, I got caught in the rain. I
expected it would kill me. Well, sir, I was taken that night with a
pain--just here--and it ran through the lung to the point of the
shoulder-blade--here. I had to get my feet into a tub of water and take
some brandy. I'd a had pleurisy if I'd been in any other country but
this. I tell you, nothing saved me but the oxygen in this air. There!
there's a forty that I lent a hundred dollars on at five per cent a month
and six per cent after maturity, with a waiver in the mortgage. The day I
came here to see this I was nearly dead. I had a--"
Just here the fat gentleman would get desperate, and, by way of
preventing the completion of the dolorous account, would break out with:
"That's Sokaska, the new town laid out by Johnson--that hill over there,
where you see those stakes. I bought a corner-lot fronting the public
square, and a block opposite where they hope to get a factory. There's a
brook runs through the town, and they think it has water enough and fall
enough to furnish a water-power part of the day, during part of the year,
and they hope to get a factory located there. There'll be a territorial
road run through from St. Paul next spring if they can get a bill through
the legislature this winter. You'd best buy there."
"I never buy town lots," said Minorkey, coughing despairingly, "never! I
run no risks. I take my interest at three and five per cent a month on a
good mortgage, with a waiver, and let other folks take risks."
But the hopeful fat gentleman evidently took risks and slept soundly.
There was no hypothetical town, laid out hypothetically on paper, in
whose hypothetical advantages he did not covet a share.
"You see," he resumed, "I buy low--cheap as dirt--and get the rise. Some
towns must get to be cities. I have a little all round, scattered here
and there. I am sure to have a lucky ticket in some of these lotteries."
[Illustration: MR. MINORKEY AND THE FAT GENTLEMAN.]
Mr. Minorkey only coughed and shook his head despondently, and said that
"there was nothing so good as a mortgage with a waiver in it. Shut down
in short order if you don't get your interest, if you've only got a
waiver. I always shut down unless I've got five per cent after maturity.
But I have the waiver in the mortgage anyhow."
As the stage drove on, up one grassy slope and down another, there was
quite a different sort of a conversation going on in the other end of the
coach. Charlton found many things which suggested subjects about which he
and Miss Minorkey could converse, notwithstanding the strange contrast in
their way of expressing themselves. He was full of eagerness,
positiveness, and a fresh-hearted egoism. He had an opinion on
everything; he liked or disliked everything; and when he disliked
anything, he never spared invective in giving expression to his
antipathy. His moral convictions were not simply strong--they were
vehement. His intellectual opinions were hobbies that he rode under whip
and spur. A theory for everything, a solution of every difficulty, a
"high moral" view of politics, a sharp skepticism in religion, but a
skepticism that took hold of him as strongly as if it had been a faith.
He held to his _non credo_ with as much vigor as a religionist holds to
his creed.
Miss Minorkey was just a little irritating to one so enthusiastic. She
neither believed nor disbelieved anything in particular. She liked to
talk about everything in a cool and objective fashion; and Charlton was
provoked to find that, with all her intellectual interest in things, she
had no sort of personal interest in anything. If she had been a
disinterested spectator, dropped down from another sphere, she could not
have discussed the affairs of this planet with more complete
impartiality, not to say indifference. Theories, doctrines, faiths, and
even moral duties, she treated as Charlton did beetles; ran pins through
them and held them up where she could get a good view of them--put them
away as curiosities. She listened with an attention that was surely
flattering enough, but Charlton felt that he had not made much impression
on her. There was a sort of attraction in this repulsion. There was an
excitement in his ambition to impress this impartial and judicial mind
with the truth and importance of the glorious and regenerating views he
had embraced. His self-esteem was pleased at the thought that he should
yet conquer this cool and open-minded girl by the force of his own
intelligence. He admired her intellectual self-possession all the more
that it was a quality which he lacked. Before that afternoon ride was
over, he was convinced that he sat by the supreme woman of all he had
ever known. And who was so fit to marry the supreme woman as he, Albert
Charlton, who was to do so much by advocating all sorts of reforms to
help the world forward to its goal?
He liked that word goal. A man's pet words are the key to his character.
A man who talks of "vocation," of "goal," and all that, may be laughed at
while he is in the period of intellectual fermentation. The time is sure
to come, however, when such a man can excite other emotions than mirth.
And so Charlton, full of thoughts of his "vocation" and the world's
"goal," was slipping into an attachment for a woman to whom both words
were Choctaw. Do you wonder at it? If she had had a vocation also, and
had talked about goals, they would mutually have repelled each other,
like two bodies charged with the same kind of electricity. People with
vocations can hardly fall in love with other people with vocations.
But now Metropolisville was coming in sight, and Albert's attention was
attracted by the conversation of Mr. Minorkey and the fat gentleman.
"Mr. Plausaby has selected an admirable site," Charlton heard the fat
gentleman remark, and as Mr. Plausaby was his own step-father, he began
to listen. "Pretty sharp! pretty sharp!" continued the fat gentleman. "I
tell you what, Mr. Minorkey, that man Plausaby sees through a millstone
with a hole in it. I mean to buy some lots in this place. It'll be the
county-seat and a railroad junction, as sure as you're alive. And
Plausaby has saved some of his best lots for me."
"Yes, it's a nice town, or will be. I hold a mortgage on the best
eighty--the one this way--at three per cent and five after maturity, with
a waiver. I liked to have died here one night last summer. I was taken
just after supper with a violent--"
"What a beauty of a girl that is," broke in the fat gentleman, "little
Katy Charlton, Plausaby's step-daughter!" And instantly Mr. Albert
Charlton thrust his head out of the coach and shouted "Hello, Katy!" to a
girl of fifteen, who ran to intercept the coach at the hotel steps.
"Hurrah, Katy!" said the young man, as she kissed him impulsively as soon
as he had alighted.
"P'int out your baggage, mister," said Jim, interrupting Katy's raptures
with a tone that befitted a Superior Being.
In a few moments the coach, having deposited Charlton and the fat
gentleman, was starting away for its destination at Perritaut, eight
miles farther on, when Charlton, remembering again his companion on the
front seat, lifted his hat and bowed, and Miss Minorkey was kind enough
to return the bow. Albert tried to analyze her bow as he lay awake in bed
that night. Miss Minorkey doubtless slept soundly. She always did.