CHAPTER II--WHAT A "PULLET" DID TO A PEDIGREE
In less than two months that store of ours was a payin' proposition. JimHenry Jacobs was responsible, that is all I can tell you. Don't ask mehow he did it. 'Twas advertisin', mainly. Advertisin' in the papers,advertisin' on the fences, things set out in the windows, a new gaudydelivery cart, special bargain days for special stuff--they all helped.Of course if we'd limited ourselves to Ostable the cargo wouldn't havebeen so heavy that we'd get stoop-shouldered, but that Jim Henry wasunlimited. He advertised in the county weekly and sent a special cart totake orders for twenty mile around. The early summer cottages wasbeginnin' to open and 'twas summer trade, rich city folks' trade, thatthe Jacobs man said we must have. And we got it, one way or another wegot it all. Most of the swell big-bugs had been in the habit of orderin'wholesale from Boston, but he soon stopped that. One after another JimHenry landed 'em. When I asked him how, he just winked.
"Skipper," says he--he most generally called me "Skipper" same as Icalled Beanblossom "Pullet"--"Skipper," he says, "you can always hook acod if there's any around and you keepin' changin' bait; ain't that so?Um-hm; well, I change bait, that's all. Every man, woman and suffragettehas got a weak p'int somewheres. I just cast around till I find thatparticular weak p'int; then they swaller hook, line and sinker."
"Humph!" I says, "Miss Letitia ain't swallowed nothin' yet, that I'venoticed. Her weak p'ints all strong ones? or what is the matter?"
He made a face. "Sister Pendlebury," says he, "is the frostiestproposition I ever tackled outside of an ice chest. But I'll get heryet. You wait and see. Why, man, we've _got_ to get her."
Well, I could find more truth in them statements than I couldsatisfaction. We'd got to get her--yes. But she wouldn't be got. She wasthe richest old maid on the North Shore; lived in a stone and plasterhouse bigger'n the Ostable County jail, which she'd labeled "PendleburyVilla"; had six servants, three cats and a poll parrot; and was sotipped back with dignity and importance that a plumb-line dropped fromher after-hair comb would have missed her heels by three inches. Herwinter port was Brookline; summers she condescended to shed glory overOstable.
To get the trade of Pendlebury Villa had been Jim Henry's dream from thestart. And up to date he was still dreamin'. The other big-bugs he hadcaged, but Letitia was still flyin' free and importin' her honey fromBoston, so to speak. Jacobs had tried everything he could think of,bribin' the servants, sendin' samples of fancy breakfast food andpickles free gratis, writin' letters, callin' with his Sunday clotheson, everything--but 'twas "Keep Off the Grass" at Pendlebury Villa sofar as we was concerned. 'Twas the biggest chunk of trade under one headon the Cape and it hurt Jim Henry's pride not to get it. However, hekept on tryin'.
One mornin' he comes back to the store after a cruise to the Villa andit seemed to me that he looked happier than was usual after one of thesetrips.
"Skipper," says he, "I think--I wouldn't bet any more'n my small change,but I _think_ I've laid a corner stone."
"With Miss Pendlebury?" says I, excited.
"With Letitia," he says, noddin'. "I haven't got an order, but I havegot a promise. She's agreed to drop in one of these days and look usover."
"Well!" says I, "I should say that _was_ a corner stone."
"We'll hope 'tis," he says. "Ho, ho! Skipper, I wish you might have beenpresent at the exercises. They were funny."
Seems he'd managed--bribery and corruption of the hired help again--tosee Letitia alone in what she called her "mornin' room." He said that,if he'd paid any attention to the temperature of that room when he andshe first met in it, he'd have figgered he'd struck the morgue; but hewarmed it up a little afore he left. Miss Pendlebury just set and glaredfrosty while he talked and talked and talked. She said about three wordsto his two hundred thousand, but every one of hers was a "no." Shedidn't care to patronize the local merchants. The city ones were badenough--she had all the trouble she wanted with _them_. She was notinterested; and would he please be careful when he went out and not stepon the flower beds.
He was about ready to give it up when he happened to notice an ileportrait in a gorgeous gold frame hangin' on the wall. 'Twas the pictureof a man, and Jim Henry said there was a kind of great-I-am look to it,a combination of fatness and importance and wisdom, same as you see in astuffed owl, that give him an idea. He started to go, stopped in frontof the picture and began to look it over, admirin' but reverent, same asa garter snake might look at a boa-constrictor, as proof of what therace was capable of.
"Excuse me, Miss Pendlebury," he says, "but that is a wonderfulportrait. I have had some experience in judgin' paintin's--" he wasclerk in the Grand Central Store framed picture department once--"and Ithink I know what I'm talkin' about."
Would you believe it, she commenced to unbend right off.
"It is a Sargent," says she.
Now I should have asked: "Sergeant of militia, or what?" and upset thewhole calabash; but Jim Henry knew better. He bows, solemn and wise, andsays he'd been sure of it right along.
"But any painter," he says, "would have made a success with a subjectlike that gentleman before him. There is somethin' about him, the heightof his brow, and his wonderful eyes, etcetery, which reminds me--You'llexcuse me, Miss Pendlebury, but isn't that a portrait of one of yournear relatives?"
She unbent some more and almost smiled. The painted critter was her paand he was considered a wonderful likeness.
Well, that was enough for your uncle Jim Henry. He settled down to hisjob then and the way he poured gush over that painted Pendlebury man wasclose to sacreligion. But Letitia never pumped up a blush; worship waswhat she expected for her and her pa. He'd been a member of theGovernor's staff and a bank president and a church warden and analderman and land knows what. His daughter and Jacobs had a realsociable interview and it ended by her promisin' to drop in at the storeand look our stock over. 'Course 'twa'n't likely 'twould suit her--shewas very exacting, she said--but she'd look it over.
We looked it over fust. We put in the rest of that day changin'everything around on the counters and shelves, puttin' the canned stuffin piles where they'd do the most good, and settin' advertisin' signsand such in front of the empty places where they'd been afore. EvenPullet worked, though he couldn't understand it, and growled because hehad to leave the musty old book he was readin' and the "genealogicaltree" he'd begun to cultivate once more. Jacobs was pretty welldisgusted with Pullet. Said he was an incumbrance on the concern andhadn't any business instinct.
All the next day and the next we hung around, dressed up to kill--thatis, Jim Henry's togs would have killed anything with weak eyes--waitin'for Letitia Pendlebury to come aboard and inspect. But she didn't comethat day, or the next either. Jacobs was disapp'inted, but he wouldn'tgive in that he was discouraged. The fourth forenoon, when there wasstill nothin' doin', he and I went on a cruise with a hired horse andbuggy over to Bayport, where we had some business. We left Pullet incharge of the store and when we came back he was lookin' pretty joyful.
"Who do you think has been here?" he says, in his thin, polite littlevoice. "Miss Letitia Pendlebury called this afternoon."
"She did!" shouts Jacobs.
"Did she buy anythin'?" I wanted to know.
No, it appeared that she hadn't bought anythin'. Fact is, Pullet hadforgot he was supposed to be a storekeeper. When Letitia came in he wasroostin' in his family tree, had the chart spread out on the counter andwas fillin' in some of the twigs with the names of dead and goneBeanblossoms. He couldn't climb down to common things like crackers andsalt pork.
"But she was very much interested," he says, his specs shinin' with joy."When she found out what I was busy with she was _very_ much interested,really. She is a lady of family, too."
"She _is_?" I sings out. "What are you talkin' about? She's an old maidand an only child besides, and--"
"Hush up, Skipper," orders Jacobs. "Go on, Pullet--Mr. Beanblossom, Imean--go on."
So on went Pullet, both wings flappin
'. Letitia and he had talked"family" to beat the cars. She had 'most everything in the Villa excepta family tree. She must have one right away. She simply must.
"And I am to help her in preparin' it," says Pullet, puffed up andvainglorious. "The Pendlebury family tree will be an honor to prepare.Of course it will require much labor and research, but I shall enjoydoing it. I told her so. Her father would have prepared one himself, hadoften spoken of it, but he was a very busy man of affairs and lacked thetime."
My, but I was mad! I cal'late if I had a marlinspike handy our coopwould have been a Pullet short. But Jim Henry Jacobs was so full oftickle he couldn't keep still. He fairly dragged me into the back room.
"Skipper," he says, "here it is at last! We've got it!"
"Yes," I sputters, thinkin' he was referrin' to Beanblossom, "we've gotit; and, if you ask me, I'd tell you we'd ought to chloroform it aforeit does any more harm."
"No, no," he says, "you don't understand. We've got the old girl's weakp'int at last. It's genealogy. Pullet shall grow her a family tree if Ihave to buy a carload of fertilizer to-morrer. Think of it! think of it!Why, she won't give him a minute's rest from now on. She'll be after himthe whole time."
"But I can't see where the trade comes in," says I.
"You _can't_! With our senior pardner head forester? My boy, if anyother shop sells Pendlebury Villa a dollar's worth after this, I'llFletcherize my hat, that's all!"
He knew what he was talkin' about, as usual. The very next forenoonLetitia was in to consult with Pullet about huntin' up her familyrecords. Afore she left Jacobs took orders for thirty-two dollars' worthand I'd have bet she didn't know a thing she bought. After dinner, JimHenry sent Pullet up to see her. He stayed until supper time. Next dayhe had supper at the Villa. A week later he made his first trip toBoston, to the Genealogical Society, to hunt for records. And Jacobsstayed in Ostable and kept the Villa supplied with the luxuries of life.If the Pendlebury servants didn't die of gout and overeatin', it wasn'tour fault.
By August the whole town was talkin'. They had it all settled. 'Cordin'to the gossip-spreaders there could be only one reason for Pullet andMiss Letitia bein' together so much--they was cal'latin' to marry. Theweddin' day was prophesied and set anywheres from to-morrer to nextChristmas. I thought such talk ought to be stopped. Jim Henry didn't.
"Why?" says he.
"_Why!_" I says. "Because it's foolishness, that's why. 'Cause there'sno truth in it and you know it."
"No, I don't know," says he. "Stranger things than that have happened."
"_She_ marry that old fossilized pauper!"
"Why not? He's a gentleman and a scholar, if he _is_ poor. She's rich,but if there's one thing she isn't, it's a scholar."
"Humph! fur's that goes," says I, "she ain't a gentleman, either--thoughshe's next door to it."
"That's all right. Skipper, there's some things money can't buy.Pullet's got book learnin' and treed ancestors and she ain't. She's gotmoney and he ain't. Both want what t'other's best fixed in. If oldBeanblossom had any sand, I should believe 'twas a sure thing. I guessI'll drop him a hint."
"My land!" I sang out; "don't you do it. The fat'll all be in the firethen."
"Skipper," says he, "you're a cagey old bird, but you don't know it all.There's some things you can leave to me. And, anyhow, whether theweddin' bells chime or not, all this talk is good free advertisin' forthe store."
'Twa'n't long after this that the genealogical man begun to seem lessgay-like. He and Letitia was together as much as ever, the Pendleburytree and the Beanblossom tree--he worked on both at the same time--wasflourishin', after the topsy-turvy way of such vegetables--from theupper branches down towards the trunks; but there was a look on Pullet'sface as he pawed through his books and papers that I couldn'tunderstand. He looked worried and troubled about somethin'.
"What's the matter?" I asked him, once. "Ain't your ancestors turnin' upsatisfactory?"
"Yes," he says, polite as ever, but sort of condescendin' and proud,"the Beanblossom history is, if you will permit me to say so, a verysatisfactory record indeed."
"And the Pendleburys?" says I. "George Washin'ton was first cousin ontheir ma's side, I s'pose."
He didn't answer for a minute. Then he wiped his specs with hishandkerchief. "The Pendlebury records are," he says, slow, "a triflemore confused and difficult. But I am progressin'--yes, Cap'n Snow, Ithink I may say that I am progressin'."
The thunderbolt hit us, out of a clear sky, the fust week in September.Yet I s'pose we'd ought to have seen it comin' at least a day ahead.That day the Pendlebury gasoline carryall come buzzin' up to the frontplatform and Letitia steps out, grand as the Queen of Sheba, of course.
"Cap'n Snow," says she, and it seemed to me that she hesitated just aminute, "is Mr. Beanblossom about?"
"No," says I, "he ain't. I don't know where he is exactly. He was in thestore this mornin' askin' about a letter he's expectin' from theGenealogical Society folks, but he went out right afterwards and I ain'tseen him since. I s'posed, of course, he was up to your house."
"No," she says, and I thought she colored up a little mite; "he has notbeen there since day before yesterday. Perhaps that is natural, underthe circumstances," speakin' more to herself than to me, "but ...however, will you kindly tell him I called before leavin' for the city.I am goin' to Boston on a shoppin' excursion," she adds, condescendin'."I shall return on Wednesday."
She went away. Pullet didn't show up until night and then the firstthing he asked for was the mail. When I told him about the Pendleburywoman he turned round and went out again.
Next day was Saturday and we was pretty busy, that is, Jim Henry and theclerk was busy. I was about as much use as usual, and, as for Pullet, hewas no use at all. A big green envelope from the Genealogical Societycome for him in the morning mail--he was always gettin' letters fromthat Society--and he grabbed at it and went out on the platform. Alittle while afterwards I saw him roostin' on a box out there, with hishair, what there was of it, all rumpled up, and an expression of sucheverlastin', world-without-end misery on his face that I stopped stockstill and looked at him.
"For the mercy sakes," says I, "what's happened?"
He turned his head, stared at me fishy-eyed, and got up off the box.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Is the world comin' to an end?"
He put one hand to his head and waved the other up and down like a pumphandle.
"Yes," he sings out, frantic like. "It is ended already. It is all over.I--I--"
And with that he jumps off the platform and goes staggerin' up the road.I'd have follered him, but just then Jim Henry calls to me from insidethe store and in a little while I'd forgot Beanblossom altogether. Ithought of him once or twice durin' the day, but 'twa'n't till aboutshuttin'-up time that I thought enough to mention him to Jacobs. Then hementioned him fust.
"Whew!" says he, settin' down for the fust time in two hours. "Whew! I'mtired. This has been the best day this concern has had since I took holdof it, and I've worked like a perpetual motion machine. We'll needanother boy pretty soon, Skipper. Pullet's no good as a salesman. By theway, where _is_ Pullet? I ain't seen him since noon."
Neither had I, now that I come to think of it.
"I wonder if the poor critter's sick," I says. Then I started to tellhow queer he'd acted out on the platform. I'd just begun when AmosHallett's boy come into the store with a note.
"It's for you, Cap'n Zeb," he says, all out of breath. "I meant to giveit to you afore, but I just this minute remembered it. Mr. Beanblossom,he give it to me at the depot when he took the up train."
"Took the up train?" says I. "Who did? Not Pul--Mr. Beanblossom?"
"Yes," says the boy. "He's gone to Boston, leastways the depot-mastersaid he bought a ticket for there. Why? Didn't you know it? He--"
I was too astonished to speak at all, but Jim Henry was cool as usual.
"Yes, yes, son," he says. "It's all right. You trot right along homeafore you catch cold in your frec
kles." Then, after the youngster'dgone, he turns to me quick. "Open it, Skipper," he orders. "Somethin'shappened. Open it."
I opened the envelope. Inside was a sheet of foolscap covered from topto bottom with mighty shaky handwritin'. I read it out loud.
"_Captain Zebulon Snow_,
"_Dear Sir_:
"Polite as ever, ain't he?" I says. "He'd been genteel if he was writin'his will."
"Go on!" snaps Jacobs. "Hurry up."
"_Dear Sir_: When you receive this I shall have left Ostable, it may be forever. I have made a horrible discovery, which has wrecked all my hopes and my life. In accordance with Mr. Jacob's kindly counsel, I recently summoned courage to ask Miss Pendlebury to become my wife.
"Good heavens to Betsy!" I sang out, almost droppin' the letter.
"Go on!" shouts Jacobs. "Don't stop now."
"But he asked her to _marry_ him!" I gasps. "In accordance with youradvice--_yours_! Did _you_ have the cheek to--"
"_Will_ you go on? Of course I advised him. We'd got the Pendleburytrade, hadn't we? Can you think of any surer way to cinch it than tohave those two idiots marry each other? Go on--or give me the letter."
I went on, as well as I could, everything considered.
"She did not refuse. She was kinder than I had a right to expect. I realized my presumption, but--"
"Skip that," orders Jim Henry. "Get down to brass tacks."
I skipped some.
"She told me she must have a few days' time to consider. I waited. To-day I received a communication from the Genealogical Society which has dashed my hopes to the ground. It was in connection with my work on the Pendlebury family tree. For some time I have been very much troubled concerning developments in that work. The later Pendleburys have been ladies and gentlemen of repute and worth, but as I delved deeper into the past and approached the early generations in this country, I--"
"Skip again," says Jacobs.
I skipped.
"And now, to my horror, I find the fact proven beyond doubt. Ezekiel Jonas Pendlebury--whose name should be inscribed upon the trunk of the tree, he being the original settler in America--was hanged in the Massachusetts Bay Colony for stealing a hog upon the Sabbath Day."
Then I _did_ drop the letter. "My land of love!" was all I could say.And what Jacobs said was just as emphatic. We stared at each other; andthen, all at once, he began to laugh, laugh till I thought he'd neverstop. His laughin' made me mad until I commenced to see the funny sideof the thing; then I laughed, too, and the pair of us rocked back andforth and haw-hawed like loons.
"Oh, dear me!" says Jim Henry, wipin' his eyes. "The original Pendleburyhung for hog stealin'!"
"Stealin' it on Sunday," says I. "Don't forget that. Sabbath-breakin'was worse than thievin' in them days."
"Well, go on, go on," says he. "There's more of it, ain't they?"
There was. The writing got finer and finer as it got close to the bottomof the page. Poor Pullet had caved in when that revelation struck him.Honor compelled him to tell Letitia the truth and how could he tell hersuch a truth as that? She, so proud and all. He had led her into thisdreadful research work and she would blame him, of course, and dismisshim with scorn and contempt. Her contempt he could not bear. No, he mustgo away. He could never face her again. He was goin' to Boston, to hiscousin's house in Newton, and stay there for a spell. Perhaps some day,after she had shut up her summer villa and gone, too, he might return;he didn't know. But would we forgive him, etcetery and so forth,and--good-by.
His name was squeezed in the very corner. I looked at Jacobs.
"Well," I says, some disgusted, "it looks to me, as a man up a tree--nota family tree, neither, thank the Lord--as if instead of cinchin' thePendlebury trade your 'advice' had queered it forever."
He didn't say nothin'. Just scowled and kicked his heels together. Thenhe grabbed the letter out of my hand and begun to read it again. Iscowled, too, and set starin' at the floor and thinkin'. All at once Iheard him swear, a sort of joyful swear-word, seemed to me. I looked up.As I did he swung off the counter, crumpled up the letter, jammed it inhis pocket and grabbed up his hat.
"Skipper," he says, his eyes shinin', "there's a night freight toBoston, ain't there?"
"Yes, there is, but--"
"So long, then. I'll be back soon's I can. You and Bill"--that was theclerk--"must do as well as you can for a day or so. So long. But youjust remember this: Old Doctor James Henry Jacobs, specialist in sickbusinesses, ain't given up hopes of this patient yet, not by any mannerof means. By, by."
He was gone afore I could say another word, and for the rest of thatnight and all day Sunday and until Monday evenin's train come in, I waslike a feller walkin' in his sleep. All creation looked crazy and I wasthe only sane critter in it.
On Monday evenin' he came sailin' into the store, all smiles. 'Twas sometime afore I could get him alone, but, when I could, I nailed him.
"Now," says I, "perhaps you'll tell me why you run off and left me, andwhere you've been, and what you mean by it, and a few other things."
He grinned. "Been?" he says. "Well, I've been to see the last of MissLetitia Pendlebury of Pendlebury Villa, Ostable, Mass. Miss Pendleburyis no more."
"No more!" I hollered. "No _more_! Don't tell me she's dead!"
"I sha'n't," says he, "because she isn't. She's alive, all right, butshe's no more Miss Pendlebury. She's Mrs. Winthrop Adams Beanblossomnow," he says. "They were married this forenoon."
"_Married?_"
"Married."
"But--but--after the hangin' news--and the hog-stealin'--and--Does sheknow it? She wouldn't marry him after _that_?"
"She knows and she was tickled to death to marry him. Skipper, there wasa P.S. on the back of that letter of Pullet's. You didn't turn the pageover; I did and I recognized the life-saver right off. Here it is."
He passed me Beanblossom's letter, back side up. There was a P.S., butit looked to me more like the finishin' knock on the head than it didlike a life-saver. This was it:
"P.S. I have neglected to state another fact which my researches have brought to light and which makes the affair even more hopeless. My own ancestor, at that time Governor of the Colony, was the person who sentenced Ezekiel Pendlebury and caused him to be hanged."
"And that," says I, "is what you call a life-saver! My nine-timesgreat-granddad has your nine-times great-granddad hung and that removesall my objections to marryin' you. Oh, sure and sartin! Yes, indeed!"
He smiled superior. "Listen, you doubtin' Thomas," says he. "You can'tsee it, but Sister Letitia saw it right off when I put Pullet's caseafore her at the Hotel Somerset, where she was stoppin'. _Her_ ancestorwas a hog-stealer and a hobo; but Beanblossom's ancestor was a Governorand a nabob from way back. If by just sayin' yes you could swap apig-thief for a governor, you'd do it, wouldn't you? You would if you'dbeen braggin' 'family' as Letitia has for the past three months. I sawher, turned on some of my convincin' conversation, saw Pullet at hiscousin's and convinced him. They were married at Trinity parsonage thisvery forenoon."
"My! my! my!" I says, after this had really sunk in. "And the Pendleburytree is--"
"There ain't any Pendlebury tree," he interrupts. "It's the kindlin'-binfor that shrub. But the _Beanblossom_ tree, with governors and judgesand generals proppin' up every main limb, is goin' to hang right next toPa Pendlebury's picture in the mornin' room of Pendlebury Villa. And thehead of Pendlebury Villa is the senior partner in the Ostable Grocery,Dry Goods, Boots and Shoes and Fancy Goods Store."
He was wrong there. Letitia Pendlebury Beanblossom had another surpriseunder her bonnet and she sprung it when she got back. She sent forJacobs and me and made proclamation that her husband would withdraw fromthe firm.
"I trust that Mr. Beanblossom and I are democratic," she says. "Ofcourse we shall continue to purchase our supplies from you gentlemen.But, really," she says, "you _must_ see that a man whose ancest
or bydirect descent was Governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony could scarcelyhumiliate himself by engaging in _trade_."
So, instead of gettin' out of storekeepin', I was left deeper in it thanever. But Jim Henry cheered me up by sayin' I hadn't really been in itat all yet.
"This foundlin' is only beginnin' to set up and take notice," he says."Skipper, you put your faith in old Doctor Jacobs' Teethin' Syrup andTonic for Business Infants."
"I guess that's where it's put," says I, drawin' a long breath.
"It couldn't be in a better place, could it? No, we've got a good start,but that's all it is. Before I get through you'll see. We've got to makethis store prominent and keep it prominent, and the best way to do thatis to be prominent ourselves. Skipper, I wish you'd go into politics."
"Politics!" says I, soon as I could catch my breath. "Well, when I do, Igive you leave to order my room at the Taunton Asylum. What do youcal'late I'd better try to get elected to--President or pound-keeper?"
He laughed.
"Both of them jobs are filled at the present time," I went on,sarcastic. "So is every other I can think of off-hand."
"That's all right," says he. "Some of these days you'll hold officeright in this town. We need political prestige in our business and you,Cap'n Snow, bein' the solid citizen of this close corporation, will haveto sacrifice yourself on the altar of public duty."
"Nary sacrifice," says I. Which shows how little the average man knowswhat's in store for him.
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