AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
BY
EDITH VAN DYNE (one of L. Frank Baum's pen names)
1908
Continued....
CHAPTER IX.
THE LIVES OF THE SAINTS.
On Wednesday afternoon McNutt drove the sad-eyed
sorrel mare over to the
Wegg farm again. He had been racking his brain for a
way to get more
money out of the nabob, for the idea had become a
veritable passion with
him and now occupied all his thoughts.
That very morning an inspiration had come to him.
Among other
occupations he had at one time adopted that of a
book-agent, and by dint
of persistent energy had sold numerous copies of
"Radford's Lives of the
Saints" to the surrounding farmers. They had cost
him ninety cents a
copy and he had sold them at three dollars each,
netting a fine profit
in return for his labor. The books were printed upon
cheap paper,
fearfully illustrated with blurred cuts, but the
covers were bound in
bright red with gold lettering. Through
misunderstandings three of these
copies had come back to him, the subscribers
refusing to accept them;
and so thorough had been his canvassing that there
remained no other
available customers for the saintly works. So Peggy
had kept them on a
shelf in his "office" for several years, and now,
when his eye chanced
to light upon them, he gave a snort of triumph and
pounced upon them
eagerly. Mr. Merrick was a newcomer. Without doubt
he could be induced
to buy a copy of Radford's Lives.
An hour later McNutt was on his mission, the three
copies, which had
been carefully dusted, reclining on the buggy seat
beside him. Arrived
at the Wegg farm, he drove up to the stile and
alighted.
Louise was reading in the hammock, and merely
glanced at the little man,
who solemnly stumped around to the back door with
the three red volumes
tucked underneath his arm. He had brought them all
along to make his
errand "look like business."
"Where's the nabob?" he asked blind Nora.
"What's that, Mr. McNutt?" she inquired, as if
puzzled. She knew his
voice, as she did that of nearly everyone with whom
she had ever been
brought in contact.
"Why, the nabob; the boss; Mr. Merrick."
"Oh. He's in the barn with Tom, I guess."
McNutt entered the barn. Uncle John was seated upon
an overturned pail
watching Old Hucks oil Joe's harness. The agent
approached him with a
deferential bow.
"Sir," said he, "you'll 'scuse my comin' agin so
soon to be a-botherin';
but I hev here three copies of Radford's famis wucks
on the Lives o' the
Saints, in a edishun dee looks----"
"A what?"
"A edishun dee looks, which means extry fine. It's a
great book an'
they's all out'n print 'cept these three, which I
hain't no doubt many
folks would be glad to give their weight in gold
fer, an' some over."
"Stand out of the light, McNutt."
The agent shifted his position.
"Them books, sir----"
"Oh, take 'em away."
"What!"
"I don't read novels."
McNutt scratched his head, perplexed at the rebuff.
His "dee looks"
speech had usually resulted in a sale. An idea
flashed across his
brain--perhaps evolved by the scratching.
"The young lady, sir--"
"Oh, the girls are loaded with books," growled the
nabob.
The agent became desperate.
"But the young lady in the hammick, sir, as I jest
now left, says to
tell ye she wants one o' these books mighty bad, an'
hopes you'll buy it
for her eddificationing."
"Oh; she does, eh?"
"Mighty bad, sir."
Uncle John watched Thomas polish a buckle.
"Is it a moral work?" he asked.
"Nuthin' could be moraler, sir. All 'bout the lives
o'--"
"How much is it?"
"Comes pretty high, sir. Three dollars. But it's--"
"Here. Take your money and get out. You're
interrupting me."
"Very sorry, sir. Much obleeged, sir. Where'll I
leave the book?"
"Throw it in the manger."
McNutt selected a volume that had a broken corner
and laid it carefully
on the edge of the oat-bin. Then he put his money in
his pocket and
turned away.
"Morn'n' to ye, Mr. Merrick."
"Stop a bit," said Uncle John, suddenly.
The agent stopped.
"I believe I paid you ten dollars for Miss Ethel
Thompson's services. Is
that correct?"
"Ye--yes, Mr. Merrick."
McNutt's heart was in his shoes and he looked
guiltily at his accuser,
the pale blue eyes bulging fearfully.
"Very well; see that she gets it."
"Of course, Mr. Merrick."
"And at once. You may go."
McNutt stumped from the barn. He felt that a
dreadful catastrophe had
overtaken him. Scarcely could he restrain the
impulse to sob aloud. Ten
dollars!--Ten dollars gone to the dogs as the result
of his visit to the
nabob that morning! To lose ten dollars in order to
gain three was very
bad business policy. McNutt reflected bitterly that
he would have been
better off had he stayed at home. He ought to have
been contented with
what he had already made, and the severe manner the
nabob had used in
addressing him told the agent plainly that he need
not expect further
pickings from this source.
In the midst of his despair the comforting thought
that Ethel would
surely refuse the money came to sustain him; so he
recovered somewhat
his former spirits. As he turned the corner of the
house he observed
Louise still reading in the hammock.
In some ways McNutt was a genius. He did not neglect
opportunities.
"Here's my las' chance at these idjits," he
muttered, "an' I'll learn
thet nabob what it costs, to make Marsh McNutt stand
out'n his light."
Then he hastened over to the hammock.
"'Scuse me, miss," said he, in his most ingratiating
voice. "Is yer
uncle 'round anywheres?"
"Isn't he in the barn?" asked the girl, looking up.
"Can't find him, high ner low. But he ordered a book
of me t'other
day--'Radford's Lives o' the Saints'--an' perhaps
you'll take it an' pay
me the money, so's I kin go home."
Louise gazed at the man musingly. He was one of the
people she intended
to pump for information concerning the mystery of
Captain Wegg, and she
must be gracious to him in order to win his
good-will and induce him to
speak freely. With this thought in mind she drew out
her purse
and asked:
"How much were you to be paid for the book?"
"Three dollars, miss."
"Here is the money, then. Tell me--your name is
McNutt, isn't it?--how
long have you lived in this place?"
"All my life, miss. Thank 'e, miss. Good day to ye,
miss."
He placed the book in the hammock beside her.
"Don't go, please." said the girl. "I'd like you to
tell me something
about Captain Wegg, and of his poor wife who died,
and--"
"Nuther time, miss, I'll be glad to. Ye'll find me
in my orfice, any
time. Jest now I'm in the dumdest hurry ye ever
knew. Good day to ye,
miss," he repeated, and stumped quickly to the buggy
awaiting him. Next
moment he had seized the reins and was urging the
sorrel mare along the
stony lane at her best pace.
Louise was both astonished and disappointed, but
after a little thought
she looked after the departing agent with a shrewd
smile.
"He's afraid to talk," she murmured, "and that only
confirms my
suspicions that he knows more than he cares to
tell."
Meantime McNutt was doing his best to get away from
the premises before
the discovery was made that he had sold two "Lives
of the Saints" to one
family. That there might be future consequences to
follow his deception
never occurred to him; only the immediate necessity
for escape
occupied his mind.
Nor were his fears altogether groundless. Turning
his head from time to
time for a glance behind, he had seen Mr. Merrick
come from the barn
with a red book in his hand and approach the
hammock, whereupon the
young lady arose and exhibited a second book. Then
they both dropped the
books and ran into the lane and began shouting for
him to stop--the
man's voice sounding especially indignant and
imperative.
But McNutt chose to be deaf. He did not look around
again, and was
congratulating himself that he would soon be out of
earshot when a
sudden apparition ahead caused the mare to halt
abruptly. It also caused
the cold chills to run down the agent's back. Beth
and Patsy had stepped
into the lane from a field, being on their way home
from their
daily walk.
"They're calling to you, sir," said Patsy to the
agent. "Didn't you hear
them?"
"I--I'm a little deaf, miss," stammered McNutt, who
recognized the young
ladies as Mr. Merrick's nieces.
"I think they wish you to go back," remarked Beth,
thoughtfully watching
the frantic waves of Uncle John's chubby arms and
Louise's energetic
beckonings. They were too far off to be heard
plainly, but their actions
might surely be understood.
McNutt with reluctance looked over his shoulder, and
a second shudder
went through him.
"I hain't got time to go back," he said, as an
inspiration came to him;
"but I guess you kin do jest as well. This book
here," picking up the
last of the three from the seat, "I offered to sell
yer uncle fer five
dollars; but he wanted it fer four. I ain't no
haggler, you understan',
so I jest driv away. Now Mr. Merrick has changed his
mind an' is willin'
to give five fer it; but there ain't nuthin' small
about me. Ef you
gals'll jest give me the four dollars ye kin take
the book to yer uncle,
with my compliments; an' I won't hev t' go back. I'm
in a
drea'ful hurry."
Patsy laughed at the little man's excited manner.
"Fortunately I have some money with me," she said;
"but you may as well
take the five dollars, for unless Uncle had been
willing to pay it he
would not have called you back."
"I think so, myself, miss," he rejoined, taking the
money and handing
her the volume.
Uncle John and Louise, glaring at the distant group,
saw the third red
book change hands, and in answer to their renewed
cries and gestures
Patsy waved the "Lives of the Saints" at them
reassuringly and came on
at a brisk walk, followed by Beth.
McNutt slapped the sorrel with the ends of the reins
so energetically
that the mare broke into a trot, and before the
girls had come within
speaking distance of their uncle, the agent was well
out of sight and
exulting in the possession of eleven dollars to pay
for his morning's
work. Even if Ethel accepted that ten, he reflected,
he would still be a
dollar ahead. But he was sure she would tell him to
keep it; and he'd
"jest like to see thet air nabob git a penny back
agin."
Meantime Uncle John's wrath, which was always an
effervescent quality
with the little gentleman, had changed to wonder
when he saw his nieces
approaching with the third red-and-gold book. Louise
was leaning against
the rail fence and laughing hysterically, and
suddenly a merry smile
appeared and spread over her uncle's round face as
he said:
"Did you ever hear of such an audacious swindle in
all your born days?"
"What will you do, Uncle?" asked the girl, wiping
the tears of merriment
from her eyes. "Have the man arrested?"
"Of course not, my dear. It's worth the money just
to learn what talents
the fellow possesses. Tell me, Patsy," he continued,
as the other nieces
joined them, "what did you pay for your book?"
"Five dollars. Uncle. He said--"
"Never mind what he said, my dear. It's all right. I
wanted it to add to
my collection. So far I've got three 'Lives of the
Saints'--and I'm
thankful they're not cats, or there'd be nine lives
for me to
accumulate."
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
Continued....
 
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