STROUT AND MAXWELL'S GROCERY
The next morning, after breakfast, Quincy asked his wife and Maude to
accompany him to Mrs. Hawkins' barn.
“I wish I had my saddle horse here,” said Alice.
“So do I,” added Maude. “I did think of bringing him.”
Alice laughed, “Do you know, Maude, sometimes you say the most
ridiculous things? How could you bring a horse with you?”
“Easy enough--on a cattle car. Besides, I could have ridden down here if
Quincy hadn't been in such a hurry.”
“Alone?”
“No, with Bobby. What better protector can a woman have than a good
horse? I shall never remain in danger long if my heels or my horse's
will get me away from it.”
“Maude, you're a strange girl,” said Alice. Then she put her arm about
her and added--“but one of the best girls in the world.”
By this time they had reached the barn. Two stalls were occupied. Quincy
pointed to two side-saddles hanging on the wall.
“As I knew you were both good horse-women, I had these sent up with your
riding habits from Eastborough Centre yesterday. I am going to be busy
at the store this morning, and I thought you might enjoy a ride.”
Maude threw her arms about his neck and kissed him.
“You are the bestest brother in the world.”
“And the most thoughtful husband,” said Alice as he drew her close to
him.
“Well, I'll saddle them and see you mounted.”
A quarter of an hour later Quincy led the horses to the street.
“Don't go down Obed's Hill--it is very steep. Ride along Pettingill
Street to the Centre Road, which will bring you to Mason Street, and
when you've walked your horses up hill you'll be near the grocery store,
where you'll find me.”
They waved a good-bye as they rode off, and Quincy made his way to the
grocery store. Mr. Strout came from behind the counter to meet him.
Hiram was busy putting order baskets in the gaudily painted wagon.
“I heard as how you were in town, and Hiram said you were at his house
last night, but I ain't one of the kind that gits mad if I'm waited on
last at table. In music you know we usually begin down low and finish
off up high, and visitin' is considerable like music, especially when
there's three children and one of 'em a baby.”
His closing words were intended to refer to Hiram's family, but Quincy
made no reply.
Mr. Strout was never at a loss for words: “How do you like being
Governor?”
“So well that one term is enough. I'm going to Europe later.”
“I mean to go some day. I've heard so many foreigners blow about what
they've got over there, I'm kinder anxious to see for myself. If they've
got a better grocery store than this, I'll introduce improvements as
soon as I get back.”
Hiram having finished his work and dispatched the team, the three
partners went into the private office, which was monopolized by Mr.
Strout. It contained one desk and two chairs. Hiram brought in an empty
nail keg and closed the door.
“We've done twenty per cent. more business this month than same time
last year.” Mr. Strout opened a desk drawer. “Will you smoke, Guv'nor?”
Quincy accepted the cigar, and Strout, without offering one to Hiram,
was returning the box to the drawer when Hiram, by a quick movement,
gained possession of it, and taking out half-a-dozen put them in his
pocket.
“That'll even matters up a little, I guess,” he said. Mr. Strout
scowled, but catching Quincy's eye, said nothing.
“Would you like to look over the books? I'll have them brought in.”
“Don't trouble yourself to do that,” said Quincy. “I'll examine them at
the bookkeeper's desk.”
“Oh, very well,” said Strout. “You'll find them O. K. But now's you're
here there's one thing I want to say. Hiram don't agree with me, but he
ain't progressive. There's no _crescendo_ to him. He wants to play in
one key all the time. He's--”
Quincy interrupted, “What did you wish to say about the business? We'll
drop personalities for the present, at least.”
“Well, our business is growing, but we can do ten times as much with
more capital. What I want to do is to start branch stores in Cottonton,
Montrose, and Eastborough Centre. We send our teams to all these places,
but if we had stores there we'd soon cut the other fellers out, for
buying in such large quantities, we could undersell them every time.”
“I'm rather in favour of the branches, but don't go to cutting prices.
The other fellow has the same right to a living that we have.”
“Why not let him have what he's got then and not interfere with him?”
said Mr. Strout, chewing his cigar vigorously.
“For the reason,” said Quincy, “that we don't keep store to please our
competitors, but to serve the public. I believe in low prices in sugar,
tea, and coffee, to draw trade. But general cuts in prices are ruinous
in the end, for our competitors will cut too, and we shall all lose
money.”
“I ain't agin the new stores,” said Hiram, “but I'm teetotally agin
chopping prices down on everything and tryin' to beat the other feller.”
“How much money will it require?” asked Quincy. “Have you estimated on
rent, fixtures, stock, horses and wagons, stabling, wages and salaries,
and sundry expenses?”
“Yes, I've got it all down in black and white, it's in the safe. My
estimate, and it is as close as the bark to a tree, is six thousand
dollars spot cash.”
“I'll look over your figures,” said Quincy, “and if they seem all right,
I'll advance the money on the usual terms, eight per cent., but I must
have a four thousand dollar mortgage to cover your two-thirds, for I
don't suppose you can put up two thousand apiece.”
“Not this year,” said Strout, as he proceeded to relight his cigar.
The door was thrown open violently and Alice rushed in.
“Oh, Quincy, Maude's horse has run away with her and I'm afraid she's
thrown and perhaps killed. I tried to catch up with her but I could not,
and I saw nothing else to do but to come and let you know.”
“Which way has she gone?” cried Quincy. “How did it happen?”
“We stopped at 'Zekiel's and had a talk with Huldah, who came down to
the gate. Then we went on until we came to the Centre Road. When Maude
saw the long straight stretch ahead she cried, 'Let's have a race!'
Before I could remonstrate, she gave her horse a sharp cut with the
whip. He took the bit in his teeth and bolted. I rode on as fast as I
dared to, but when I reached Mason Street she was not in sight.”
“If she had come this way we should have seen or heard her,” said
Quincy. “She must have gone towards Eastborough Centre. Come, Alice, I
will get the carryall. If she is hurt she will not be able to ride her
horse.”
Leading her horse, Quincy and Alice went to the Hawkins House.
“He takes it pretty cool,” said Strout to Hiram. “If she was my sister
I'd ring the church hell, make up a party, and go in search of her dead
body, for that's what they'll come back with.”
“I don't take no stock in that,” remarked Hiram. “She's used to horses,
and she's a mighty bright, independent girl. She'll come home all
right.”
“No doubt she's independent enough,” retorted Strout. “That runs in
the family. But the horse, it seems, was independent too. Perhaps the
Guv'nor will have a boxing match with him for his independence to a
Sawyer.”
As Hiram went back into the store he said to himself: “That Strout's
only a half-converted sinner anyway. He'll never forget the thrashing
that Mr. Sawyer gave his man, Bob Wood.”
Quincy had Alice go to her room, for she was agitated and extremely
nervous, and he asked Mrs. Hawkins to look out for her until his return.
With Andrew's help, the carryall was soon ready and Quincy drove to the
store. What was his surprise to find Maude there, still on her horse,
and apparently uninjured. With her, also on horseback was an attractive
girl, a stranger to Quincy.
“I'm all right, Quincy,” Maude cried as he alighted, “but there would
have been a funeral but for this young lady.”
Quincy, with hat in hand, bowed to the stranger. “I am deeply grateful
for your valuable service, madam. To whom are we indebted for my
sister's rescue from death?”
The young lady smiled, showing a set of even, white teeth. “Not so great
a service after all. Your sister is a good horsewoman. If she hadn't
been, she would have been thrown long before I reached her.”
“But your name, Madam,” persisted Quincy. “Her father will wish to know,
and to thank you.”
“My name when in Fernborough is Mrs. Emmanuel Howe. When I'm on the
stage, it is Dixie Schaffer. I was born in the South. My father was Col.
Hugh Schaffer of Pasquotank County, North Carolina.”
“My father and all of us will feel under great obligations to you.”
“I hope he will not. I have no objections to receiving his thanks in
writing, if he is disposed to send them, which I think unnecessary as
you are his representative. But kindly caution him not to suggest or
send any reward, for it will be returned.” She bowed to Quincy, turned
her horse's head and rode away.
As Strout entered the store he said to himself, “Bully for her. She
don't bow down to money. She's got brains.”
A few days later, however, Miss Dixie Schaffer was the recipient from
the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer of a beautiful gold pendant in the shape
of a horseshoe, set with pearls. If one could have glanced at a stub
in the lawyer's check book, he would have found the name of a prominent
jeweller, and the figures $300. It is needless to add that the gift was
not returned to the donor. When Alice saw that Maude had escaped without
injury, she soon recovered her equanimity.
“How did it happen, Maude?” asked Quincy. “Alice says you gave the horse
a sharp blow.”
“I must have hit her harder than I intended--but I was thinking of the
race more than of her. Didn't she run, hurrah-ti-cut, as Mrs. Hawkins
says? I was bound I'd keep on her back unless she fell down or ran into
something, and I did. I wasn't foolish enough to jump and land on my
head.
“When we got to the main road, I didn't know which way to turn--I mean
I couldn't think. She settled the matter by turning to the right, which
was very fortunate, but I didn't know I was on the road to Dixie.”
“Maude, you're incorrigible,” laughed Alice.
“No, I'm a sensation. I was full of them as I dashed on. But she was a
well-bred horse and kept in the middle of the road. Then, to my joy, I
saw Dixie ahead. As I went by her I yelled--yes, yelled--'she's running
away.'
“Dixie yelled--yes, yelled--'Hold on, I'll catch you.' She did, but we
ran more than a mile before she got even with me, grasped my horse's
bridle, and pulled her round so quickly that I came near landing in the
bushes. And here I am.”
“You must not ride her again,” said Alice.
“That's just what I am going to do. I'm not going to deprive that horse
of my company, when it was all my fault. No more whip, she needs only
the voice--and little of that.”
“Alice,” said Quincy, “Mr. Strout has invited us to dinner. He will be
offended unless his invitation is accepted.”
“I don't feel equal to meeting that man in his own house. I cannot bear
him even at long range. Take Maude.”
“I'll go, Quincy. I love these odd characters.”
“He's married and has a little boy,” said Alice.
“Then my love for the father will be invisible--I'll shower my affection
upon his offspring.”
Quincy, after introducing his sister to Mr. Strout and his wife,
expressed his regret that his wife was so unnerved by the runaway that
she was unable to accompany him. Mr. Strout, in turn, expressed his
regrets, as did Mrs. Strout, then he added: “Miss Sawyer, we'll have to
pay you a commission. The store has been full of folks asking about you,
and after I told them all about the runaway and how you were rescued,
they had to talk it over, and I sold more than forty cigars and ten
plugs of tobacco.”
“How did you know how I was rescued?” asked Maude.
“Well, I heard part and imagined the rest. I had to tell 'em something
or lose the trade.”
Mrs. Strout was a very good cook and the dinner was a success.
Strout leaned far back in his chair and Maude assumed a similar
position. Quincy looked at her reprovingly, but she did not change her
attitude. To her brother's astonishment, she addressed Mr. Strout.
“I suppose you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Strout.”
“Well, yes, I have. Since I got back from the war I've taught music, and
as my pupils were too lazy to come to me, I went to them. But speaking
of travelling, I was in a runaway once. It had been snowing for about
four days without a break and the roads were blocked up. I had to go to
Eastborough Centre and I hired a horse I'd never driven before.”
“Didn't you have to put snow-shoes on him?” asked Maude.
“Oh, no, because I waited until the roads were broken out.”
“That's one on me,” acknowledged Maude.
“Well, I nearly tipped over a dozen times, but I got to the Centre where
the roads had been cleared. But my sleigh went into a gully and came
down on the horse's heels. My, wasn't she off in a jiffy! I held her in
the road, the men, and women, and children, and dogs and hens getting
out of the way as fast as they could. She was a going lickety-split, and
although I wasn't frightened, I decided she'd got to stop.
“I saw a house with an ell, and in the corner the snow was packed up ten
feet high. I had an idea. I put all my strength on to one rein, turned
her head, and she went into that snow bank out of sight, all but her
tail. I got out of the sleigh, sat down on the snow, and laughed till I
thought I'd die.”
“And the horse?” queried Maude.
“It took half an hour to dig her out. They say horses are intelligent,
but I don't think they know any more than hens.”
“I thought hens were bright,” said Maude. “They say they hide their eggs
so we can't poach and boil them.”
“Well, you can judge. When we moved into this house all the doors had
glass knobs. I took them off, put them in a box and set them out in the
barn. I saw a hen setting, but didn't notice her particularly until one
day she got off the nest while I was in the barn, and true as I live,
that fool hen had been trying to hatch out those knobs.”
“They said you have a little boy, Mr. Strout,” Maude looked at him
inquiringly. “I hope he isn't sick.”
“No, he's all right. But we never let him come to the table when we have
company, because he talks too much.”
“What's his name?”
“That's the funny part of it. My wife has lots of relations, and some
wanted him named this, and some wanted him named that. So I went to the
library and looked at all the names in the dictionary.”
Maude's curiosity was excited. “What did you finally decide upon?”
“Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1, and
my wife No. 2.”
After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, “Why didn't you tell
Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?”
“Why didn't I?” snapped her husband. “Because she was so blamed anxious
for me to tell her. Them Sawyers are 'ristocrats. They look down on us
common people.”
Mrs. Strout remonstrated. “I thought he was real nice, and she's
a lovely girl. Besides, he set you up in business and made you
postmaster.”
“And what did he do it for? Just to show the power of money. What did he
want of a grocery store except to beat me out of it?”
“But you owned up in your speech at the Town Hall that you'd treated him
mean, and that you were his friend.”
“That was official. Do you suppose he means all he says? No! No more
than I do. When I get enough money, there won't be but one partner in
that grocery store, and his name will be O. Strout.”