Читать книгу The Hand-Made Gentleman: A Tale of the Battles of Peace - Irving Bacheller - Страница 20

Table of Contents

Dry Goods and Yankee Notions

A white banner on the first and third vans announced:

Our Great Store will be Open from Two to

Six To-Day in the Vacant Lot Corner

of Crosby and Main Streets

I began my work, and for an hour or so the vans were passing up and down the streets, and most of the women I saw left me to go and look out of their doors and windows. I could make little headway, for by two o'clock the houses were all empty. Mothers, daughters, and hired girls were on their way to the great travelling store. I went with the crowd, and found the red vans in a row on the vacant lot and many gathered about them. The sides of each van had been let down to serve as counters on which the goods were displayed. The smart-looking man who had driven the white horses sat under a little canopy of red-and-white bunting with the wonderful lady who had ridden beside him. I stood with a score of other people looking at them.

“What! do you think I would lie for a shilling?” he was saying to a man who stood beside him. “Bosh! I might tell eight lies for a dollar, but one for a shilling! No! That's below my price.”

He laid off his beaver hat and sat twisting his' sandy-hued mustache. His curly hair was cut close.

“Hey, boy!” he said, as he beckoned to me, “want to earn half a dollar?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Well, trot down to the depot and bring me a copy of last night's Utica Observer,” he commanded, as he put a shinplaster in my hand.

When I had returned with the paper, he asked, “What ye got in yer grip?”

“Sal,” I answered.

“Sal!” he exclaimed, with a laugh, “who's Sal?”

“A wonder!” I answered. “Cleans and polishes glassware, silverware, gold, brass, and pewter; removes dirt from woodwork, and makes the home bright and beautiful.”

He laughed again, and asked me to show him what Sal could do on the large silver buckles which adorned his shoes. This I did, and the result so pleased him that he offered me a dollar for the balance of my stock, and I gladly closed the deal.

It was about three o'clock when I set out afoot for the Huddle. About half-way there I found a puppy in the road—a small, lonely, pathetic creature, abandoned by some one who had had enough of him. I wonder if ever I felt such an appeal as came out of that warm little bundle of playfulness, wrapped in the softest robe of silken fur and with eyes saying, “Please, sir, take me and be kind to me.”

The puppy followed me until I yielded to his pleading and took him up in my arms. Well, he was better than no company, and I buttoned him under my coat and against my breast, where he lay asleep with only his nose in view. At dusk I found lodgings in a farm-house, and went to my room contented with the bit of luncheon that I had with me. A kindly old woman had said that I could stay, and sent a hired man up-stairs with me. He explained that “the boss and his wife” were away, and would not return for an hour or so. I offered to pay him if he would take care of the puppy, but he had to hurry to meet a train, and said that he would come up and get him later.

I decided to make some Sal, and so I put the ingredients in my wash-bowl and added water.

It became an obstinate, ill-looking mess, and one might as well have tried to make balls out of buttermilk. It resisted all my efforts. I wondered what I should do with it, and lay down upon the bed in discouragement. The hired man had not yet returned, and the puppy had gone to sleep in a corner. I would lie there and rest while I waited, and so, thinking, fell asleep.

Some hours later the puppy woke me with loud cries of despair. The hired, man must have forgotten his promise. I rose from the bed, and saw the plight of my puppy. He had wallowed in my basin, and the soft Sal lay thick on his body. He began wailing as if wild with all regret. I could hear people jumping out of bed.

In a moment I heard a rap at my door, and opened it. A man, half dressed, sprang aside as the puppy ran upon his bare feet. Farther down the gloomy hall I could hear him calling and pursuing my pet; then a soft thud on the floor. The man had picked up the puppy and dropped him, saying, “Heavens!” It was only one word, but full of meaning.

I tried to clean the floor while my benefactors pursued the unhappy creature.

“Pick him up!” said a woman, excitedly.

“Pick him up! Never!” said the man.

“Seems so he was covered with lather,” said the woman.

“Maybe he's mad!” another suggested. “Throw this sheet over him!”

“Come on, I've got him now,” said the first woman.

Soon there came a loud rap at my door. A tall, thin, long-nosed Yankee entered as I opened it.

“See here, young man,” he drawled, “what do you mean by fillin' this house with puppies?”

“There is only one, sir,” I answered.

“Only one!” said he, sharply. “I should think that was enough. He's as big as an elephant. He filled the house from cellar to garret, and crowded us all out o' bed and yelled for more room. Say, what's he got on him?” '“Silver polish,” I answered.

“Silver polish!” said he. “Well, I've read o' their puttin' dogs in a bath-tub, but I never heard o' their bein' polished before.”

“He got into the basin where I mixed it.”

My visitor picked up the dish of soft Sal, and held it near the light for examination.

“Godfrey Cordial!” he remarked, “it's an awful-lookin' mess! What do you call it?”

“Sal,” I answered.

“Sal!” he exclaimed. “I'm sorry that you an' Sal ever lit in my family tree. You're a fine pair o' birds.”

I explained to him that the hired man had promised to take the puppy out-of-doors, but had forgotten to do so, and he left me.

I went to breakfast soon after daylight in the morning. When I returned to my room the Sal was gone. Some one had carried the bowl away with its contents. I went below to look for the proprietor. I found him shovelling dirt in the garden.

“Somebody took my polish,” I said to him, as pleasantly as possible.

“Yes, an' I'm about to bury it an' the dog, too.”

“Is the dog dead?” I asked, with a pang of regret.

“Yes; slain by his own deviltry! Oh, he had a busy night! Got to playin' with our ol' cat; he polished her an' she polished him. Her paws are all gummed up an' her eyes swelled an' kind o' shiny. He got at our shepherd dog an' polished him. That dog has got a sore mouth an' is brighter than he ever was before, The last performance of your puppy was to tackle one o' the hind feet o' my ol' mare; he didn't live long after that. The services have begun, an' I guess you're the only mourner. I've just prayed that I may never see him again. The sermon will be short. Don't ever take up any more room in the world than what you're entitled to.”

So ended my first adventure in business. It taught me the wisdom of knowing how, and of being sure about it, and, further, that one is to be careful not to take more than his share of room in the world.