HARD SPEECHES AND HIGH TEMPER.
Dr. Sevier found occasion, one morning, to speak at some length, and
very harshly, to his book-keeper. He had hardly ceased when John
Richling came briskly in.
"Doctor," he said, with great buoyancy, "how do you do?"
The physician slightly frowned.
"Good-morning, Mr. Richling."
Richling was tamed in an instant; but, to avoid too great a contrast
of manner, he retained a semblance of sprightliness, as he said:--
"This is the first time I have had this pleasure since you were last
at our house, Doctor."
"Did you not see me one evening, some time ago, in the omnibus?" asked
Dr. Sevier.
"Why, no," replied the other, with returning pleasure; "was I in the
same omnibus?"
"You were on the sidewalk."
"No-o," said Richling, pondering. "I've seen you in your carriage
several times, but you"--
"I didn't see you."
Richling was stung. The conversation failed. He recommenced it in a tone
pitched intentionally too low for the alert ear of Narcisse.
"Doctor, I've simply called to say to you that I'm out of work and
looking for employment again."
"Um--hum," said the Doctor, with a cold fulness of voice that hurt
Richling afresh. "You'll find it hard to get anything this time of
year," he continued, with no attempt at undertone; "it's very hard for
anybody to get anything these days, even when well recommended."
Richling smiled an instant. The Doctor did not, but turned partly away
to his desk, and added, as if the smile had displeased him:--
"Well, maybe you'll not find it so."
Richling turned fiery red.
"Whether I do or not," he said, rising, "my affairs sha'n't trouble
anybody. Good-morning!"
He started out.
"How's Mrs. Richling?" asked the Doctor.
"She's well," responded Richling, putting on his hat and disappearing in
the corridor. Each footstep could be heard as he went down the stairs.
"He's a fool!" muttered the physician.
He looked up angrily, for Narcisse stood before him.
"Well, Doctah," said the Creole, hurriedly arranging his coat-collar,
and drawing his handkerchief, "I'm goin' ad the poss-office."
"See here, sir!" exclaimed the Doctor, bringing his fist down upon the
arm of his chair, "every time you've gone out of this office for the
last six months you've told me you were going to the post-office; now
don't you ever tell me that again!"
The young man bowed with injured dignity and responded:--
"All a-ight, seh."
He overtook Richling just outside the street entrance. Richling had
halted there, bereft of intention, almost of outward sense, and
choking with bitterness. It seemed to him as if in an instant all his
misfortunes, disappointments, and humiliations, that never before had
seemed so many or so great, had been gathered up into the knowledge of
that hard man upstairs, and, with one unmerciful downward wrench, had
received his seal of approval. Indignation, wrath, self-hatred, dismay,
in undefined confusion, usurped the faculties of sight and hearing and
motion.
"Mistoo Itchlin," said Narcisse, "I 'ope you fine you'seff O.K., seh, if
you'll egscuse the slang expwession."
Richling started to move away, but checked himself.
"I'm well, sir, thank you, sir; yes, sir, I'm very well."
"I billieve you, seh. You ah lookin' well."
Narcisse thrust his hands into his pockets, and turned upon the outer
sides of his feet, the embodiment of sweet temper. Richling found him a
wonderful relief at the moment. He quit gnawing his lip and winking into
vacancy, and felt a malicious good-humor run into all his veins.
"I dunno 'ow 'tis, Mistoo Itchlin," said Narcisse, "but I muz tell you
the tooth; you always 'ave to me the appe'ance ligue the chile of
p'ospe'ity."
"Eh?" said Richling, hollowing his hand at his ear,--"child of"--
"P'ospe'ity?"
"Yes--yes," replied the deaf man vaguely, "I--have a relative of that
name."
"Oh!" exclaimed the Creole, "thass good faw luck! Mistoo Itchlin, look'
like you a lil mo' hawd to yeh--but egscuse me. I s'pose you muz be
advancing in business, Mistoo Itchlin. I say I s'pose you muz be gittin'
along!"
"I? Yes; yes, I must."
He started.
"I'm 'appy to yeh it!" said Narcisse.
His innocent kindness was a rebuke. Richling began to offer a cordial
parting salutation, but Narcisse said:--
"You goin' that way? Well, I kin go that way."
They went.
"I was goin' ad the poss-office, but"--he waved his hand and curled his
lip. "Mistoo Itchlin, in fact, if you yeh of something suitable to me I
would like to yeh it. I am not satisfied with that pless yondeh with
Doctah Seveeah. I was compel this mawnin', biffo you came in, to 'epoove
'im faw 'is 'oodness. He called me a jackass, in fact. I woon allow
that. I 'ad to 'epoove 'im. 'Doctah Seveeah,' says I, 'don't you call me
a jackass ag'in!' An' 'e din call it me ag'in. No, seh. But 'e din like
to 'ush up. Thass the rizz'n 'e was a lil miscutteous to you. Me, I am
always polite. As they say, 'A nod is juz as good as a kick f'om a bline
hoss.' You are fon' of maxim, Mistoo Itchlin? Me, I'm ve'y fon' of them.
But they's got one maxim what you may 'ave 'eard--I do not fine that
maxim always come t'ue. 'Ave you evva yeah that maxim, 'A fool faw
luck'? That don't always come t'ue. I 'ave discove'd that."
"No," responded Richling, with a parting smile, "that doesn't always
come true."
Dr. Sevier denounced the world at large, and the American nation in
particular, for two days. Within himself, for twenty-four hours, he
grumly blamed Richling for their rupture; then for twenty-four hours
reproached himself, and, on the morning of the third day knocked at the
door, corner of St. Mary and Prytania.
No one answered. He knocked again. A woman in bare feet showed herself
at the corresponding door-way in the farther half of the house.
"Nobody don't live there no more, sir," she said.
"Where have they gone?"
"Well, reely, I couldn't tell you, sir. Because, reely, I don't know
nothing about it. I haint but jest lately moved in here myself, and I
don't know nothing about nobody around here scarcely at all."
The Doctor shut himself again in his carriage and let himself be whisked
away, in great vacuity of mind.
"They can't blame anybody but themselves," was, by-and-by, his rallying
thought. "Still"--he said to himself after another vacant interval, and
said no more. The thought that whether _they_ could blame others or not
did not cover all the ground, rested heavily on him.