The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason\'s Corner Folks

C >> Charles Felton Pidgin >> The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason\'s Corner Folks

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

"The foine gintleman that he is. 'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' sez
he, and he shakes me hand as jintly as if I was a born lady. And the
pretty sister that he has, an' the beautiful wife. An' he's the
President of the State, an' sez he, 'Mrs. Crowley, how do you do, an'
it's delighted I am to see you again.'"

Mrs. Crowley wiped her eyes with her apron and resumed her household
duties, occasionally repeating, "'How do you do, Mrs. Crowley.' When
Dan comes to-night I'll tell him what the Governor said."

Hiram soon joined the party, it being his night off. As of old, he
stammered, or stuttered, when excited, and the sight of Quincy and
Alice was enough to entirely disorganize his speaking apparatus.

"Ain't this jolly?" said he. "Just like old times. I heerd you was at
Miss Hawkinses, but I didn't think as how you'd git round here so
quick. But we're mighty glad to see 'em, ain't we, Mandy? I hope
you're all as hungry as I am." He went to the kitchen door and
called, "Mrs. Crowley, we're waiting for the supper."

"How I wish Uncle Ike could be with us," said Alice.

"Why can't you call him?" asked Quincy.

"He's too weak in his legs to come down," said Mandy.

"I'll fetch him," and Quincy bounded up stairs, while Mandy got a
place ready for him.

Quincy soon returned with Uncle Ike in his arms and placed him in a
big arm-chair at the head of the table.

Alice looked up and smiled at her husband.

"Now it is much more like old times," she said, softly.

Maude, who had been an interested listener and spectator, finally
exclaimed, "I'm not surprised that you stayed down here four months,
Quincy, but we used to wonder, until we saw Alice, what the great
attraction was."

Maude's explosive remark caused a general laugh in which Uncle Ike
joined. Alice, feeling that all eyes were fixed upon her, blushed
prettily, "As my husband's residence here brought good to others as
well as to myself, I am glad that a poor, blind girl, such as I was,
proved an attraction strong enough to keep him here."

She stopped, somewhat abashed at making so long a speech, which Maude
might think indicated that she was offended at her sister-in-law's
reference to herself.

"Bravo, Alice," cried Uncle Ike, "so say we all of us."

After supper all adjourned to the parlour. Quincy offered to carry
Uncle Ike.

"No, young man. I'm all right on an even floor. It's these up and
down stairs that tire my loose joints"--and he made his way, without
assistance, to an easy chair in a farther corner. Quincy looked about
the room. Five years had made little change. The old square piano was
in its accustomed place, as well as the music stand. He looked over
the pieces--the same ones that he and Alice had sung together years
ago.

"Let's have some music," said Hiram. "We haven't heard any singers,
except Dan, since you folks went away. Guess that pianner's out of
tune by this time."

It certainly was, but their hearts were in tune, and it mattered
little if some of the keys refused to move, or the sounds emitted
were more discordant than melodious.

"Is this Dan a good singer?" asked Quincy.

"Fine!" exclaimed Hiram. "He's great on Irish songs."

"They are always humourous or pathetic," remarked Alice. "Some of
them remind me of a person trying to laugh with a heart full of
sorrow, and their love songs are so sweet."

"Can't we have him in?" asked Maude.

"I'll go and see if he's come," said Mandy. "He often drops in and
helps Mrs. Crowley clear up after supper."

Maude laughed. "A sure sign he's in love. I hope I'll get such a
helpful husband."

"Your life will be on different lines," remarked Uncle Ike. "You will
not be obliged to do your own housework."

"I don't know about that. I've loafed all my life and I'd really like
to know what work is."

Mandy came back with smiling face. "Yes, he's there, and they're
putting the dishes in the closet. He's coming in, and, of course,
Mrs. Crowley will come too."

"While we are waiting, play something, Maude," said Quincy.

"I only took three quarters," she said roguishly, as she seated
herself and dashed off "Waves of Ocean" in strident style.

"I always liked that," said Hiram.

"So do I, with my bathing-dress on," and Maude acknowledged the
applause that greeted her efforts with a low bow.

The door was opened, and Mrs. Crowley entered followed by Mr. Daniel
Sweeney. Mrs. Crowley with her neat calico dress and white apron, did
not look her forty-five years, and Mr. Sweeney, although five years
her senior, was a young appearing man.

"I haven't the music with me," said Mr. Sweeney to Maude, who offered
to play the accompaniment.

"Give me the key--I guess I can vamp it."

Mr. Sweeney struck a note.

"What's the title?" asked Maude.

"Widow Mahan's Pig."

"Oh, I know that," said Maude. "It's one of my favourites. I often
sing it to my sister Florence. She just adores it."

"Why, Maude," cried Alice, "how can you tell such stories?" But
Quincy was laughing quietly. But few people understood Maude as he
did.

Mr. Sweeney had a fine baritone voice; he sang with great expression,
and, what is particularly desirable in a comic song, the words could
be heard and understood.

I.

Young Widow Mahan had an iligant pig,
In the garden it loved for to wallow and dig;
On potatoes it lived, and on fresh buttermilk,
And its back was as smooth as fine satin or silk.
Now Peter McCarthy, a graceless young scamp,
Who niver would work, such a lazy young tramp,
He laid eye on the pig, as he passed by one day,
And the thafe of the world, he stole it away!

_Chorus_

An iligant pig in every way,
Young Widow Mahan used often to say:
"Faith, when it's full grown, I'll go to the fair,
A mighty foine price I'll get for it there."

As Mr. Sweeney started to repeat the four lines of the chorus, a
soprano voice rose above his own, and, as the last note died away,
Maude came in for her share of the applause. Mrs. Crowley was
delighted, and showed her appreciation by laughing until she cried.

II

He drove the poor piggy to Ballyporeen,
And the price of it soon he did spend in poteen,
He got into a fight and was cracked on the head,
Then to jail he was carried and taken for dead.
The constable then for the Father did send,
For he thought that McCarthy was quite near his end;
He confessed to the priest, did this penitent youth,
About the pig stealing he told the whole truth.

Maude improvised a short symphony before the third and last stanza.

III

Then to young McCarthy, the Father did say:
"Now what will you do at the great Judgment Day?
For you will be there, at the bar you will stan'
The pig as a witness, and Widow Mahan."
"Faith, what will I do?" young McCarthy did say.
"An' the pig will be there at the great Judgment Day?
Begorre! I'll say to the Widow, 'Asthore,
Take back your old pig, for I want it no more'

"'An iligant pig in ivery way,
Schwate Widow Mahan, plaze take it away.
Faith, now it's full grown, just go to the fair,
A mighty foine price you'll git for it there.'"

"Yes," said Uncle Ike, "that's what the rich man will say. After
cheating the poor, buncoing the credulous, and 'cornering' his
fellows, he will say he is willing to give it back, for he has no
further use for it. There's a good moral in that song, Mr. Sweeney,
and some of our sordid millionaires ought to hear it."

Quincy looked at his watch. "The hour is late--for the country, but,
fortunately, our hotel keeps open all night."

Quincy carried Uncle Ike up stairs to his room and told him he would
come some day and have a good old-fashioned talk with him.

They walked home slowly, Maude admiring the moonlight night and the
cool, scented air. When they reached their own room, after seeing
Maude to hers, Alice repeated to her husband her conversation with
Uncle Ike.

"You must do something to cheer him up, Quincy. Promise me, won't
you?"

"Yes, I promise. I hope I won't forget to perform it as I have in one
instance."

"Why--what?"

"Do you remember that young man at the Town Hall--Arthur Scates? He's
in consumption. I told him to come to the State House and I would see
that he had proper treatment. He hasn't been--or perhaps he has since
I've been away, but I will see him to-morrow."

Alice looked up at him approvingly. "Quincy, I agree with you that
the real value of money is found in the good that can be done with
it."

CHAPTER VII

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."

CHAPTER VIII

UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS

At the breakfast table next morning, Maude sat with her head bent
over her plate. All were awaiting Olive's advent with the fruit.

"At your devotions, Maude?" asked Alice.

"Yes, I am thanking the Lord that my life was saved by a woman. _She_
can't ask me to marry her."

A trio of "good mornings" greeted the Rev. Mr. Gay as he entered and
took his accustomed place at the head of the table. He bowed his head
and asked a blessing.

"Why do you ask a blessing, Mr. Gay?"

Mr. Gay looked up, but there was no levity in Maude's eyes.

"It is our duty to thank the Almighty for his goodness in providing
for our physical ends."

"But," said Maude, "with the exception of the fruit all our food is
prepared by man. We couldn't eat it just as it grows."

"God has given us the necessary intelligence to properly utilize his
blessings."

"But some people starve to death," said Maude, forsaking the main
argument.

"Unfortunately, yes, owing to man's lack of brotherly feeling, or
rather, a hap-hazard method of distributing his blessings. It is not
God's will that any of his creatures should lack food or raiment."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17