The attorney, when Eliph' walked down the path to the gate, entered the
house, and found Miss Sally still sitting in the dark parlor where she
had had the painful interview with Eliph' Hewlitt. She still held her
handkerchief to her eyes, for she had been weeping, and the attorney was
not sorry to see this evidence of the stress of her interview with the
book agent. Certain that Eliph' had told Doc Weaver of the lung-testers,
he was no less certain that the book agent had been telling Miss Sally
that the nickel-plated affairs would be thrown back on her hands, and he
hastened to urge resistance.
“Miss Briggs,” he said, “I came right in, because I knew what that book
agent was here to say to you, and I wanted to warn you against him. I
know what he asked, and I hope you refuse him.”
Miss Sally gasped.
“I believe,” continued the attorney, taking a seat, “that you refused,
because you know which side your bread is buttered on. I believe that
before the day is over Colonel Guthrie will come with the same question,
and I want you to give him the same answer. And if Skinner should come
on his knees, I want you to send him away with the same answer, too.
They will all have arguments enough, but don't be fooled. They money is
all they want.”
Miss Sally gasped again. She was astounded.
“I could see,” said the attorney, confidentially, “that you have the
book agent a pretty sharp answer, and that was right. He had no business
to put himself forward at all, and I don't suppose you can guess why he
did.”
“He said he liked me,” said Miss Sally weakly, ashamed to mention the
word openly. The attorney laughed.
“My opinion is that it is an conspiracy,” he said. “That is just the
word, a conspiracy, and T. J. Jones is at the head of it. The book agent
has come first; now the Colonel will come; and then Skinner, all asking
the same thing, but my idea is that they are all in partnership, and
that Jones is engineering the whole thing. They want your money, and
that is all they want, and once they get it they will be happy and you
will be left with four lung-testers on your hands.”
Even in Kilo slang comes and goes as in the rest of the world and Miss
Sally was not sure about the word “lung-tester.” It had a slangy sound,
and it must be a term of reproach applied to the future value of the
four men Toole had mentioned. She accepted it as such.
“All I have to say,” continued the attorney, “is to refuse the Colonel,
and to refuse Skinner if he comes, just as you have refused this book
agent. Stick up for your rights. If they want to sue you, let them sue.
You have the money now, and it is better to have that than a lot of
good-for-nothing lung-testers. Once you get them on your hands you'll
never get rid of them.”
He arose and took up his hat.
“That is all I have to say,” he said, “but I wanted to let you know what
you ought to do. Don't mind if there is a lot of stuff published in the
TIMES. You have to expect that, and Jones will probably drag your
name into it, in connection with the Colonel and Skinner, but you are
perfectly innocent and they can do nothing to you.”
He went out, and Miss Sally remained in a daze, looking at the door
by which he had gone. She was still looking at it helplessly when Mrs.
Tarbro-Smith came in with a swish of skirts and put her arm gently about
her.
“DO you think you did what your heart told you to do, dear?” asked the
lady from New York, kissing Miss Sally on the brow. “He was SO downcast.
I really pitied him, poor man.”
Miss Sally threw her arms around Mrs. Smith's waist and hit her face
in the lacy softness of her gown, and wept. The authoress smoothed the
brown hair and waited patiently for the tears to cease.
“Did you see Mr. Toole?” she asked brightly, to ease Miss Sally's
weeping and to turn her thought to other things. “He wanted to see you
about those fire-extinguishers. But I don't trust him. I think he has
some plan or other that is selfish. I think he had been drinking.”
Miss Sally's tears ceased, and she sat up, straight and severe.
“Fire-extinguishers?” she asked quickly.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Smith; “he seemed to think Skinner or the Colonel
or someone would want you to take them back. And return the money, I
suppose.”
“The money?” echoed Miss Sally slowly. She blushed as she saw that she
had misunderstood the attorney, thinking he had dared to advise in her
love matters, and then she frowned. “The money?” she repeated. “But
I gave that money to pa. Pa won't ever give that money back, never! I
don't know where on earth I'd ever get sixty dollars.”
As she spoke she heard someone on the walk, and then the heavy feet of
the Colonel climbing the porch steps. She heard him ask Susan if Miss
Sally was inside, and heard the girl answer that she was, and she held
Mrs. Smith's hand tighter.
“Come in,” she called, to the knock on the door, and the Colonel stumped
into the room. He was hot and angry, so angry that he did not stop to
offer his usual curt greetings.
“Look here,” he said, by way of introduction, “you an' your
fire-extinguishers has got me into a purty fix, Sally Briggs--a blame
purty fix-an' I want to know do you intend to git me out or not? I don't
want no foolishness. Skinner is after me an' I've got to pay him back
them sixty dollars, or somebody'll go to jail for it. You ought to have
knowed them wasn't nothin' but lung-testers, afore you set me up to
sellin' 'em to Skinner, an' not let me go an' make a 'tarnal fool out
of myself. But that ain't the thing now; the thing is, will you pay
back them sixty dollars? I guess you'd better do it, an' do it quick.
Skinner'll have the law on ye if ye don't.”
Miss Sally drew back toward Mrs. Smith as he scowled at her.
“Now, you git them sixty dollars an' hand 'em over to me, that's
what you'd better do,” said the Colonel. “I want to git shut of this
business. I was a fool fer meddlin' in a woman's affairs in the fust
place. I don't want to have no more hand in it. You git me that money,
an' let me fix it up with Skinner. He's mad, an' he won't stand no
foolin'. It was all I could do to keep him from comin' in an' makin' a
row right here in the house. He's waitin' at the gate till he sees if I
git the money, an' if I don't----”
“But I haven't got sixty dollars,” Miss Sally gasped. “I gave that money
to pa. I don't know whether I can GET sixty dollars out of pa.”
She was so helpless that Mrs. Smith's blood boiled at the rude brutality
of the Colonel, and she stepped forward and faced him.
“What is all this about?” she asked. “What is the matter with those
fire-extinguishers? Why do you come bothering Miss Sally this way? Why
don't you settle it with Mr. Skinner yourself?”
“The matter is, them ain't fire-extinguishers at all,” said the Colonel
rudely, “an' wasn't, an' never was. Them things is lung-testers, an'
Sally was cheatin' Skinner when she sold 'em to him. An' the reason I'm
botherin' her is that she got the money fer 'em, an' she's got to find
it somehow an' pay it back. An' as for me settlin' with Skinner, I ain't
got nothin' to do with it. I wasn't nothin' but Sally's agent. I done
her a favor, an' that's all, an' I'm sorry I ever meddled in it.”
“But there certainly can't be such haste needed,” said Mrs. Smith. “Miss
Sally is not going to run away. Mr. Skinner is not going to fail for
want of sixty dollars, is he? You can wait until to-morrow, or to-night,
when Miss Sally can see her father.”
“No, I can't,” said the Colonel doggedly. “I can't wait at all. By
to-morrow mornin' that newspaper feller will have another paper printed
up, an' I hear tell he's goin' to give us all plain names, an' I ain't
goin' to wait. I want to git this thing fixed up right now. If Sally
ain't got sixty dollars, let her go borry it. I got to pay Skinner right
now, an' I want Sally to pay me. I want to git shut of this.”
“I don't believe Mr. Skinner is in any such hurry as you pretend!”
exclaimed Mrs. Smith. “I don't believe he is so ungenerous. I believe he
is more chivalrous, I believe HE will have some manliness, if you have
not.”
She started for the door, but the Colonel grasped her by the arm.
“Hold on, here!” he said, but Mrs. Tarbro-Smith merely raised her
eyebrows and looked, first at his hand on her arm, and then at his face,
and his hand fell. He stood irresolute and uncomfortable as she went to
the door and called to Mr. Skinner. The butcher walked up to the door,
clearing his throat as he came. Mrs. Smith held the screen door wide
for him to enter, and he walked into the parlor, holding his hat in his
hands, and stood uneasily.
“The Colonel,” said Mrs. Smith pleasantly, “has told us you wish
Miss Sally to return the money you paid for what she supposed were
fire-extinguishers.”
“They was nothin' but lung-testers,” said the butcher.
“So it seems,” said Mrs. Smith, “and it is odd that a man of business
like yourself should not know it in the first place. But of course
Miss Sally did not know what they were. Who told you they were
fire-extinguishers, Sally?”
“The Colonel,” said Miss Sally, and the Colonel moved his feet uneasily.
“Indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Smith, giving the Colonel another of her
paralyzing glances. “But Miss Sally will do whatever is right. She
hasn't the money at this moment. You can wait until to-morrow for the
sixty dollars, can you not, until she can see her father?”
The butcher grew red in the face, redder than his naturally high
coloring, but he shook his head.
“I want it now,” he said. “Business is business.” And after a moment he
added, “It wasn't sixty, it was one hundred. Four at twenty-five, that's
one hundred. One hundred dollars, that was what I handed Guthrie. I paid
one hundred and I want one hundred back.”
Miss Sally and Mrs. Smith looked at the Colonel.
“I had a right to make a commission,” he blustered. “I ain't no sich
fool as to do business fer other folks an' lose time by it. I took out a
commission, an' I had a right to, an' I don't want to hear no more about
it. A commission's fair.”
“You didn't say anything about it,” said poor Miss Sally. “Mrs. Smith
was just surprised to learn of it.”
“Surprised, my dear?” said Mrs. Smith, “No, indeed. Nothing that man
would do could quite surprise me. But forty percent commission! Miss
Sally hasn't sixty dollars in the house,” she added, turning to the
butcher. “You know very well people here don't have so much in the house
at one time. If I had it I would gladly lend it to her, but I don't
happen to have so much with me to-day. You can wait until Mr. Briggs
gets back from Clarence, or you can do what you please.”
“I want the money,” said Skinner doggedly.
“Very well,” said Mrs. Smith. “Collect forty from the Colonel. That will
keep you from starving until to-morrow. And now will you both kindly
leave the house?”
“Now, look here, Mrs. Smith, ma'm,” said the butcher. “You ain't got any
right to talk that way to me. Money matters is money matters, and a man
has a right to look after his own the best way he can. I was cheated
out of one hundred dollars by this man and Miss Sally, as easy as you
please, and there's bribery in it, and land knows what. But I ain't
mean. All I want is my money back, and I want it now. I hear T. J. Jones
is going to get out an extry to-morrow morning all about this, and all
I want is to do what is right. Hand me back my hundred dollars, and I'll
go to T. J. and explain that Miss Sally did what was right, and tell him
to leave her out of what he writes, but if I don't get the money I won't
say a word to him. He can guess all he wants about Miss Sally and the
Colonel being in cahoots with this bribe business. All I want is my
money.”
“But I say you shall have it in the morning.”
“Well, I don't count much on what you'll get out of Pap Briggs. You
might get ten cents, if he was feeling liberal, but he don't usually
feel that way. What I want is one hundred dollars right now. I don't
need no lung-testers, and I've been cheated, and I won't wait. If Miss
Sally ain't going to pay me, I'll see what the law says about it.”
“Mr. Skinner,” said Mrs. Smith, “in consideration that Miss Sally is a
lady and that you are a gentleman, will you not wait till to-morrow?”
“Business is business,” he said flatly. “When I'm sellin' meat I ain't a
gentleman, I'm a butcher; and when Miss Briggs was sellin' lung-testers
she wasn't a lady, she was in business. Business is one thing an' bein'
pleasant is another. I've got to look after my money or I soon won't
have any.”
When the two men went out Mrs. Smith could hear them begin to wrangle
even before they quitted the yard, but she was more interested in what
might happen to Miss Sally through the vindictiveness of the butcher.
She was surprised to hear that T. J. Jones had even thought of such a
thing as bringing Miss Sally's name into the matter as a conspirator,
and she did not know enough about Iowa laws to know whether the butcher
could take any summary action or not. The most satisfactory way to
straighten things out would be to pay the butcher, but it must be done
at once. She pleaded with Miss Sally to remember someone of whom she
could borrow sixty dollars, but Miss Sally confessed that she knew no
one who would be apt to lend so much. She even expressed her doubt that
her father would ever release the money she had given him. The two women
sat in the darkened parlor, Miss Sally weeping softly and Mrs. Smith
thinking hard. The authoress was ashamed that she could devise no way to
aid her friend, and there they sat, exchanging a brief word from time
to time, and the gloom deepening every minute. Presently, when the
atmosphere was so charged with sadness that it was almost too thick to
breathe, Mrs. Smith called to Susan, and the girl came in.
“Sue,” said Mrs. Smith, “will you run down to the TIMES office and see
Mr. Jones? And--let me see--and tell him I very much want to see him
before he begins to print his extra. You won't mind, will you?”
“Oh, no,” said Susan cheerfully, and she went, a fairy in filmy white,
while the two women relapsed into gloom again.
So softly did the next comer mount the porch stairs that the two women
did not hear him until a gentle tap on the door frame, followed by an
apologetic cough, announced the return of Eliph' Hewlitt.