AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
BY
EDITH VAN DYNE (one of L. Frank Baum's pen names)
1908
Continued....
CHAPTER VI.
PEGGY PRESENTS HIS BILL.
Millville waited in agonized suspense for three days
for tangible
evidence that "the nabob was in their midst," as Nib
Corkins poetically
expressed it; but the city folks seemed glued to the
farm and no one of
them had yet appeared in the village. As a matter of
fact, Patsy and
Uncle John were enthusiastically fishing in the
Little Bill, far up in
the pine woods, and having "the time of their lives"
in spite of their
scant success in capturing trout. Old Hucks could go
out before
breakfast and bring in an ample supply of speckled
beauties for Mary to
fry; but Uncle John's splendid outfit seemed scorned
by the finny folk,
and after getting her dress torn in sundry places
and a hook in the
fleshy part of her arm Patsy learned to seek shelter
behind a tree
whenever her uncle cast his fly. But they reveled in
the woods, and
would lie on the bank for hours listening to the
murmur of the brook and
the songs of the birds.
The temper of the other two girls was different.
Beth De Graf had
brought along an archery outfit, and she set up her
target on the ample
green the day following her arrival. Here she
practiced persistently,
shooting at sixty yards with much skill. But
occasionally, when Louise
tired of her novel and her cushions in the hammock,
the two girls would
play tennis or croquet together--Beth invariably
winning.
Such delightful laziness could brook no interference
for the first days
of their arrival, and it was not until Peggy McNutt
ventured over on
Monday morning for a settlement with Mr. Merrick
that any from the
little world around them dared intrude upon the
dwellers at the
Wegg farm.
Although the agent had been late in starting from
Millville and Nick
Thorne's sorrel mare had walked every step of the
way, Peggy was obliged
to wait in the yard a good half hour for the "nabob"
to finish his
breakfast. During that time he tried to decide which
of the two
statements of accounts that he had prepared he was
most justified in
presenting. He had learned from the liveryman at the
Junction that Mr.
Merrick had paid five dollars for a trip that was
usually made for two,
and also that the extravagant man had paid
seventy-five cents more to
Lucky Todd, the hotel keeper, than his bill came to.
The knowledge of
such reckless expenditures had fortified little
McNutt in "marking up"
the account of the money he had received, and
instead of charging two
dollars a day for his own services, as he had at
first intended, he put
them down at three dollars a day--and made the days
stretch as much as
possible. Also he charged a round commission on the
wages of Lon Taft
and Ned Long, and doubled the liveryman's bill for
hauling the goods
over from the Junction. Ethel Thompson had refused
to accept any payment
for what she had done, but Peggy bravely charged it
up at good round
figures. When the bill was made out and figured up
it left him a
magnificent surplus for his private account; but at
the last his heart
failed him, and he made out another bill more modest
in its extortions.
He had brought them both along, though, one in each
pocket, vacillating
between them as he thought first of the Merrick
millions and then of the
righteous anger he might incur. By the time Uncle
John came out to him,
smiling and cordial, he had not thoroughly made up
his mind which
account to present.
"I must thank you for carrying out my orders so
intelligently," began
the millionaire. "Without your assistance I might
have found things in
bad shape, I fear."
McNutt was reassured. The nabob would stand for bill
No. 1, without a
doubt.
"I tried fer to do my best, sir," he said.
"And you did very well," was the reply. "I hope you
kept your
expenditures well within bounds?"
The agent's heart sank at the question and the
shrewd, alert look that
accompanied it. Even millionaires do not allow
themselves to be
swindled, if they can help it. Bill No. 2 would be
stiff enough; he
might even have to knock a few dollars off from
that.
"Most things is high in Millville," he faltered,
"an' wages has gone up
jest terr'ble. The boys don't seem to wanter do
nuthin' without
big pay."
"That is the case everywhere," responded Mr.
Merrick, thoughtfully; "and
between us, McNutt, I'm glad wages are better in
these prosperous times.
The man who works by the day should be well paid,
for he has to pay well
for his living. Adequately paid labor is the
foundation of all
prosperity."
Peggy smiled cheerfully. He was glad he had had the
forethought to bring
Bill No. 1 along with him.
"Hosses is high, too," he remarked, complacently,
"an' lumber an' nails
is up. As fer the live-stock I bought fer ye, I
found I had to pay like
sixty for it."
"I suppose they overcharged you because a city man
wanted the animals.
But of course you would not allow me to be robbed."
"Oh, 'course not, Mr. Merrick!"
"And that nag in the stable is a sorry old beast."
Peggy was in despair. Why in the world hadn't he
charged for "the
beast"? As it was now too late to add it to the bill
he replied,
grudgingly:
"The hoss you mention belongs to the place, sir. It
went with the farm,
'long o' Old Hucks an' Nora."
"I'm glad you reminded me of those people," said
Uncle John, seriously.
"Tell me their history."
Louise sauntered from the house, at this juncture,
and sank gracefully
upon the grass at her uncle's feet. She carried a
book, but did not
open it.
"Ain't much to tell, sir, 'bout them folks," replied
the agent. "Cap'n
Wegg brung the Huckses with him when he settled
here. Wegg were a
sea-cap'n, ye see, an' when he retired he Wanted to
git as far from the
sea's he could."
"That was strange. A sailor usually loves to be near
salt water all his
days," observed Uncle John.
"Wall, Wegg he were diff'rent. He come here when I
were a boy, bringin'
a sad-faced young woman an' Ol' Hucks an' Nora. I
s'pose Hucks were a
sailor, too, though he never says nuthin' 'bout
that. The Cap'n bought
this no'count farm an' had this house built on it--a
proceedin' that, ef
I do say it, struck ev'rybody as cur'ous."
"It _was_ curious," agreed Mr. Merrick.
"But the cur'ous'est thing was thet he didn't make
no 'tempt at farmin'.
Folks said he had money to burn, fer he loaded it
into this fool house
an' then sot down an' smoked all day an' looked
glum. Ol' Hucks planted
the berry patch an' looked arter the orchard an' the
stock; but Cap'n
Wegg on'y smoked an' sulked. People at Millville was
glad to leave him
alone, an' the on'y friend he ever had were crazy
Will Thompson."
"Crazy?"
"As a loon." The agent hitched uneasily on the lawn
bench, where he was
seated, and then continued, hastily: "But thet ain't
neither here ner
there. A baby was born arter a time, an' while he
was young the
sad-faced mother sickened an' died. Cap'n Wegg give
her a decent fun'ral
an' went right on smokin' his pipe an' sulkin', same
as ever. Then
he--he--died," rather lamely, "an' Joe--thet's the
boy--bein' then about
sixteen, dug out 'n' run away. We hain't seen him
sense."
"Nice boy?" asked Uncle John.
"Joe were pretty well liked here, though he had a
bit o' his dad's
sulkiness. He 'n' Ethel Thompson--crazy Will's
gran'daughter--seemed
like to make up together; but even she don't know
what drav him
off--'nless it were the Cap'n's suddint death--ner
where he went to."
Uncle John seemed thoughtful, but asked no more
questions, and McNutt
appeared to be relieved that he refrained. But the
bill ought to be
forthcoming now, and the agent gave a guilty start
as his
patron remarked:
"I want to settle with you for what you have done.
I'm willing to pay a
liberal price, you understand, but I won't submit to
being robbed
outrageously by you or any of your Millville
people."
This was said so sternly that it sent McNutt into an
ague of terror. He
fumbled for the smallest bill, tremblingly placed it
in Mr. Merrick's
hand, and then with a thrill of despair realized he
had presented the
dreadful No. 1!
"It's--it's--a--'count of what I spent out," he
stammered.
Uncle John ran his eye over the bill.
"What are Plymouth Rocks?" he demanded.
"He--hens, sir."
"Hens at a dollar apiece?"
"Thoroughbreds, sir. Extry fine stock. I raised 'em
myself."
"H-m. You've charged them twice."
"Eh?"
"Here's an item: 'Twelve Plymouth Rocks, twelve
dollars;' and farther
down: 'Twelve Plymouth Rocks, eighteen dollars.'"
"Oh, yes; o' course. Ye see, I sold you a dozen
first, of the dollar
kind. Then I thought as how, bein' fine young birds,
you'd be tempted
fer to eat 'em, an' a dozen don't go fur on the
table. So I up an' sold
ye another dozen, extry ol' stock an' remarkable
high-bred, fer a
dollar-an'-a-half each. Which is dirt cheap because
they's too old to
eat an' jest right fer layers."
"Are they here?"
"Every one of 'em."
"Very good. I'm glad to have them. The cow seems
reasonably priced, for
a Jersey."
"It is. Jest extror'nary!" exclaimed Peggy,
reassured.
"And your people have all done work of an unusual
character in a
painstaking manner. I am very much pleased. There
seems to be a hundred
and forty dollars my due, remaining from the five
hundred I sent you."
"Here it is, sir," responded McNutt, taking the
money from his
pocket-book. In another place he had more money,
which he had intended
to pay if the smaller bill had been presented.
Uncle John took the money.
"You are an honest fellow, McNutt," said he. "I
hadn't expected a dollar
back, for folks usually take advantage of a stranger
if he gives them
half a chance. So I thank you for your honesty as
well as for your
services. Good morning."
The agent was thoroughly ashamed of himself. To be
"sech a duffer" as to
return that money, when by means of a little
strategy he might have kept
it, made him feel both humiliated and indignant. A
hundred and forty
dollars; When would he have a chance to get such a
windfall again? Pah!
he was a fool--to copy his identical thoughts: "a
gol dum
blithering idjit!"
All the way home he reflected dismally upon his lack
of business
foresight, and strove to plan ways to get money
"out'n thet easy mark."
"Didn't the man rob you, Uncle?" asked Louise, when
the agent had
disappeared.
"Yes, dear; but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction
of knowing I
realized it."
"That was what I thought. By the way, that Wegg
history seems both
romantic and unusual," she said, musingly. "Don't
you scent some mystery
in what the man said of it?"
"Mystery!" cried Uncle John. "Lordy, no, Louise.
You've been readin' too
many novels. Romances don't grow in parts like
these."
"But I think this is where they are most likely to
grow, Uncle,"
persisted the girl, "just consider. A retired sea
captain hides inland,
with no companions but a grinning sailor and his
blind housekeeper
--except his pale wife, of course; and she is
described as sad and
unhappy. Who was she, do you think?"
"I don't think," said Uncle John, smiling and
patting the fair check of
his niece. "And it don't matter who she was."
"I'm sure it does. It is the key to the whole
mystery. Even her baby
could not cheer the poor thing's broken heart. Even
the fine house the
Captain built failed to interest her. She pined away
and died, and----"
"And that finished the romance, Louise."
"Oh, no; that added to its interest. The boy grew up
in this dismal
place and brooded on his mother's wrongs. His stern,
sulky old father
died suddenly. Was he murdered?" in a low voice;
"did the son revenge
his mother's wrongs?"
"Figglepiff, Louise! You're getting theatric--and so
early in the
morning, too! Want to saddle my new farm with a
murder, do you? Well,
it's rubbish. Joe Wegg ran away from here to get
busy in the world.
Major Doyle helped him with my money, in exchange
for this farm, which
the boy was sensible to get rid of--although I'm
glad it's now mine. The
Major liked Joe Wegg, and says he's a clean-cut,
fine young feller. He's
an inventor, too, even if an unlucky one, and I've
no doubt he'll make
his way in the world and become a good citizen."
With these words Uncle John arose and sauntered
around to the barn, to
look at the litter of new pigs that just then served
to interest and
amuse him. The girl remained seated upon the grass,
her hands clasped
over her knee and a look of deep retrospection upon
her face.
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
Continued....
 
|
