CHAPTER XII--JIM HENRY STARTS SCREENIN'
A whole month more went by afore Jim Henry Jacobs was well enough tocome home. When he got off the train at the Ostable depot, thin andwhite and lookin' as if he'd been hauled through a knothole, I waswaitin' for him. Maybe we wa'n't glad to see each other! We shook handsfor pretty nigh five minutes, I cal'late. I loaded him into my buggy anddrove him down to the Poquit House and took him upstairs to his room,which had been made as comf'table and cozy as it's possible to make aroom in that kind of a boardin'-house.
He set down in a big chair and looked around him.
"By George, Skipper!" he says, fetchin' a long breath, "this is home,and I'm mighty glad to be here. Where'd all the flowers come from?"
"Mary is responsible for them," I told him. "She thought they'd sort ofbrighten up things."
"They do, all right," says he, grateful. "And now tell me aboutbusiness. How is everything?"
I told him that everything was fine; trade was tip-top, and so on. Helistened and was pleased, but I could see there was somethin' else onhis mind.
"There's just one thing more," he said, soon's he got the chance. "Iknew the store must be O. K.; your letters told me that. But--er--but--"tryin' hard to be casual and not too interested, "how is Frank doin'with his restaurant? How's the 'Sign of the Windmill' gettin' on?"
Then I told him the whole yarn, almost as I've told it here. Helistened, breakin' out with exclamations and such every little while.When I got to where the Washburn man told who Frank and the stewardesswas, he couldn't hold in any longer.
"A crook!" he sung out. "A crook! And she was his wife!"
"So it seems," says I. "And that ain't all of it, neither. You rememberthe doctor said he'd drawn his account out of the Ostable bank. Yes.Well, that account didn't amount to much; he'd used it about all,anyway. But there was another account in his wife's name at the Sandwichbank, and _that_ was fairly good size."
"Did you get hold of that?" he asked, excited.
"No, we didn't. 'Twas in her name and we wouldn't have touched it, ifwe'd wanted to; but we didn't get the chance. She drew it all the verynext mornin' and the pair of 'em cleared out. I judge they'd planned toskip in a few days anyhow, and our creditors' raid only hurried thingsup a little mite. The whole thing was a skin game--Frank and hisprecious wife had seen ruination comin' on and they'd laid plans tofeather their own nest and let the rest of us whistle. We ain't seen 'emfrom that day to this."
He was shakin' all over. "You ain't?" he shouted, jumpin' from thechair. "You ain't? Why not? What did you let 'em get away for? Whydidn't you set the police after 'em? What sort of managin' do you callthat? I--I--"
"Hush!" says I, surprised to see him act so. "Hush, Jim! you ain't heardthe whole of it yet. Our bill--"
"Bill be hanged!" he broke in. "I don't care a continental about thebill. I invested fifteen hundred dollars of my own money in thatroad-house, and you let that fakir get away with the whole of it. You'rea nice partner!"
_I_ was surprised now, and a good deal cut up and hurt. 'Twas anunderstandin' between us--not a written one, but an understandin' justthe same--that neither should go into any outside deal without tellin'the other. We'd agreed to that after the row concernin' Taylor and the"Palace Parlors." So I was surprised and hurt and mad. But I held inwell as I could.
"That's enough of that, Jim Henry!" says I. "I'll talk about that later.Now I'll tell you the rest of the yarn I started with. After thatcritter who called himself Frank, but whose name, it seemed, wasFrancis, had galloped away with the stewardess woman, there wasconsider'ble excitement around that dinin'-room, now I tell you.However, Johnson and Washburn and me managed to get together in theprivate office and I told 'em all about how we come to be there, andabout our gettin' their dinner, and all the rest of it. They seemed tothink 'twas funny, laughed liked a pair of loons, but I was a long waysfrom laughin'.
"'Well, well, well!' says Johnson, when I'd finished, 'that's the bestjoke I've heard in a month of Sundays. You sartinly have your own waysof doin' business down here, Cap'n Snow. But the dinner was a good oneand I'll pay you for it now. How much?'
"'Well,' says I, 'I suppose I ought to get what I can for our crowd toleave with their wives and relations afore we're carted to jail. Coursethe meal we got for you wa'n't what you expected and I can't charge thatFrank thief's price for it; but I've got to charge somethin'. If youthink a dollar a head wouldn't be too much, I--'
"'A _dollar_!' says both of 'em. 'A dollar!'
"'Do you mean that's all you'll charge?' says Johnson. 'A dollar for_that_ dinner! It was the best--'
"'You bet it was!' says Washburn.
"'Look here!' goes on Johnson. 'I was to pay Frank, or whatever his realname is, two-fifty a plate. Yours was wuth three of any meal I ever gothere, but, if you will be satisfied with the contract price I made withhim, I'll give you a check now. And, Cap'n Snow, let me give you a pieceof advice. Now you've got this hotel, keep it; keep it and run it. Ifyou can furnish dinners like this one every day in the week durin' thesummer and fall you'll have customers enough. Why, I'll engagetwenty-five plates for next Sunday, myself. I've got another week-endparty, haven't I, Wash?'
"'If you haven't I can get one for you,' says Washburn. 'Johnson'sadvice is good, Cap'n. Keep this place and run it yourself. Don't beafraid of Francis. Confound him! I ought to have him jailed. The Clubwould pitch me out if they knew I had the chance and didn't take it. ButI won't, for your sake. So long as he doesn't trouble you I'll keepquiet. But if he _does_ trouble you, if he ever comes back, just sendfor me. However, you won't have to send; he'll never come back.'
"And," says I, to Jim Henry, "he ain't ever come back. I talked thematter over with Mary and Alpheus and a few of the others and, afterconsider'ble misgivin's on my part, we reached an agreement. I decidedto run the 'Sign of the Windmill' myself. We bounced the chef and hishelpers and the foreign waiters and hired Alpheus's wife and Cahoon'sdaughter and four or five more. We fed ten folks that next day and theyall said they was comin' again. They did and they fetched others. Theupshot of it is that all that hotel's outstandin' bills have been paid,the place is out of debt, and the outlook for next season is somethin'fine. There, Jim Henry, that's the yarn. I went through Purgatorybecause I figgered that you had trusted the store business in my handsand the Windmill's bill was so large and I thought I was responsible forit. If I'd known you'd put money into the shebang without tellin' me,your partner, a word about it, maybe I'd have felt worse. I _should_have felt worse--I do now--but in another way. I didn't think you'd dosuch a thing, Jim! I honestly didn't."
He'd set down while I was talkin'. Now he got up again.
"Skipper," he says, sort of broken, "I--I don't know what to say to you.I--"
"It's all right," says I, pretty sharp. "Your fifteen hundred's allright, I cal'late. The furniture and fixin's are wuth that, I guess. Isthere anything else you want to ask me? If not I'm goin' to the store."
I was turnin' to go, but he stepped for'ard and stopped me.
"Zeb," he says, his face workin', "don't go away mad. I've been a chump.You ought to hate me, but I--I hope you won't. I was a fool. I thoughtbecause you was country that you hadn't any head for business, and whenyou wouldn't invest in that Windmill proposition I was sore and wentinto it myself. My conscience has plagued me ever since. I'm a low-downchump. I deserve to lose the fifteen hundred and I'm glad I did. By theLord Harry! you've got more real business instinct than I ever dreamedof."
He looked so sort of weak and sick and pitiful that I was awful sorryfor him, in spite of everything.
"Don't talk foolish," says I. "You ain't lost your money. It's yoursnow; at least I don't think Brother Fred George Eben Frank Francis'llever turn up to claim it."
He shook his head. "Not much!" he says. "You don't suppose I'll take ashare in that hotel, after you and your smart managin' saved it, do you?I ain't quite as mean as that, no matter what you think. No, sir, you'vemade good and the whole property is
yours. All I want you to do is togive me another chance. If I live I'll show you how thankful I--"
"There! there!" says I, all upset, "don't say another word. Of coursewe'll hang together in this, same as in everything else. Shake, andlet's forget it."
We shook hands and his was so thin and white I felt worse than ever.
"Skipper," he says, "I can't thank--"
"No need to thank me," I cut in. "If you've got to thank anybody, thankMary Blaisdell. She's been the brains of that eatin'-house concern eversince I took hold of it. She's a wonder, that woman. If she'd been myown sister she couldn't have done more. I wish she was."
He looked at me, pretty queer.
"Skipper," says he, smilin', "if you wish that you're a bigger chumpthan I've been, and that's sayin' a heap."
What in the world he meant by that I didn't know--but I didn't ask him.Not that I didn't think. I'd been thinkin' a lot of foolish thingslately, but you could have cut my head off afore I said 'em out loud,even to myself.
He came down to the store the next mornin' and the sight of it seemed tobe the very tonic he needed. He got better day by day and pretty soonwas his own brisk self again. "The Sign of the Windmill"--by the way,I'd changed the name on my own hook and 'twas the "Sign of the Bluefish"now--done fust rate all through the fall and when we closed it we wassure that next summer it would be a little gold mine for us. In fact,everything in the trade line looked good, by-products and all, and Iought to have been a happy man. But I wa'n't exactly. Somehow or other Icouldn't feel quite contented. I didn't know what was the matter with meand when I hinted as much to Jacobs he just looked at me and laughed.
"You're lonesome, that's what's the matter with you," he says. "You'retoo good a man to be boardin' at a one-horse ranch like the Poquit."
"I'll admit that," says I. "I'll give in that I'm next door to an angeland ought to wear wings, if it'll please you any to have me say so. Andthe Poquit ain't a paradise, by no means. But I've sailed salt water forthe biggest part of my life and it ain't poor grub that ails me."
"Who said it was?" says he. "I said you were lonesome. You ought to havea home."
"Old Mans' Home you mean, I s'pose. Well, I ain't goin' there yet."
He laughed again and walked off.
In October he went up to Boston and came back with his head full of newideas and his pockets full of notions. He'd been to what theadvertisements called the Industrial Exhibition in Mechanics' Buildin'up there, and had fetched back every last thing he could get for nothin'and some few that he bought cheap. He had a sample trap that, accordin'to the circular, would catch all the able-bodied rats in a township thefust night and make all the crippled and bedridden ones grievethemselves to death of disappointment because they couldn't get into itafore closin' hours. And he had the Gunners' Pocket Companion, which wasa foldin' hatchet and butcher knife, with a corkscrew in the handle; andsamples of "cereal coffee" that didn't taste like either cereal orcoffee; and safety razors that were warranted not to cut--and wouldn't;and--and I don't know what all. These was side issues, however, as youmight say. What he was really enthusiastic over was the EurekaAdjustable Aluminum Window Screen. If he'd been a mosquito he couldn'thave been more anxious about them screens.
"They're the greatest ever, Skipper!" he says to me, enthusiastic. "Fitany window; can't rust--and a child of twelve can put 'em up."
"That part don't count," says I. "Nowadays if a child of twelve ain'thalfway through Harvard his folks send for the doctor. I may be ahayseed, but I read the magazines."
He went right along, never payin' no attention, and praisin' up themscreens as if he was nominatin' 'em for office. Finally he madeproclamation that he'd applied--in the store name, of course--for theOstable County agency for 'em.
"But why?" says I. "We've got an adjustable screen agency now. Andthey're good screens, too. No mosquito can get through them--unless ittakes to usin' a can-opener, which wouldn't surprise me a whole lot."
"I know they are good screens," says he; "but there's nothin' new ornovel about 'em. And, I tell you, Cap'n Zeb, it's novelty that catchesthe coin. We want to get the contract for screenin' that new hotel atWest Ostable. It'll be ready in a couple of months and there's twohundred rooms in it. Let's say there are two windows to a room; that'sfour hundred screens--besides doors and all the rest. That hotel willneed screens, won't it?"
"Need 'em!" says I. "In West Ostable! In among all them salt meadows andcedar swamps! It'll need screens and nettin's and insect powder and'intment--and even then nobody but the hard-of-hearin' bo'rders'll beable to sleep on account of the hummin'. Need screens! _That_ hotel! Mysoul and body!"
Well, then, we must get the contract--that's all. It was well wuth thetrouble of gettin'. And with the Adjustable Aluminum to start with, andhe, Jim Henry, to do the talkin', we would get it. He'd applied for thecounty agency and the Adjustable folks had about decided to give it tohim. They'd write and let us know pretty soon.
A week went by and we didn't hear a word. Then, on the followin' Mondaybut one, come a letter. Jim Henry was openin' the mail and I heard himrip loose a brisk remark.
"What's the matter?" says I.
"Matter!" he snarls. "Why, the miserable four-flushers have turned medown--that's all. Read that!"
I took the letter he handed me. It was type-wrote on a big sheet ofpaper, with a printed head, readin': "Ormstein & Meyer, Hardware andTools. Manufacturers of Eureka Adjustable Aluminum Window Screens." Andthis is what it said:
_Mr. J. H. Jacobs_,
_Ostable Grocery, Dry Goods, Boots and Shoes and Fancy Goods Store, Ostable, Mass._
_Dear Sir_: Regarding your application for Ostable County ag'y Eureka Adjustable Aluminum Window Screens, would say that we have decided to give ag'y to party named Geo. Lentz, who will give entire time to it instead making it a side issue as per your conversation with our Mr. Meyer. Regretting that we cannot do business together in this regard, but trusting for a continuance of your valued patronage, we remain
Yours truly,
_Ormstein & Meyer._
Dic. M--L. G.
"Now what do you think of that?" snaps Jim, mad as he could stick. "Whatdo you think of that!"
"Well," says I, slow, "I think that, speakin' as a man in thecrosstrees, it looks as if you and me wouldn't furnish screens for theWest Ostable Hotel."
He half shut his eyes and stared at me hard.
"Oh!" says he. "That's what you think, hey?"
"Why, yes," I says. "Don't you?"
"No!" he sings out, so loud that 'Dolph Cahoon, our new clerk, who'dbeen half asleep in the lee of the gingham and calico dressgoodscounter, jumped up and stepped on the store cat. The cat beat for portdown the back stairs, whoopin' comments, and 'Dolph begun measurin'calico as if he was wound up for eight days.
"No!" says Jacobs again, soon as the cat's opinion of 'Dolph had fadedaway into the cellar--"No!" he says. "I don't think it at all. We maynot sell Eureka Adjustables to that hotel, but we'll sell screens toit--and don't you forget that. I'll make it my business to get thatcontract if I don't do anything else. I'm no quitter, if you are!"
"Nary quit!" says I. "I'll stand by to pull whatever rope I can; but itdoes seem to me that this agent, whoever he is, will have an eye on thathotel. And, accordin' to your accounts, he's got better goods than wehave."
"Maybe. But if he's a better salesman than I am he'll have to go some toprove it. I'll beat him, by fair means or foul, just to get even. That'sa promise, Skipper, and I call you to witness it."
"Wonder who this Geo. Lentz is," says I. "'Tain't a Cape name, that'ssure."
"I don't care who he is. I only wish he'd have the nerve to come intothis store--that's all. He'd go out on the fly--I tell you that! Andthat's another promise."
Maybe 'twas; but, if so--However, I'm a little mite ahead of myself;fust come fust served, as the youngest boy said when the fatherundertook to thrash the whole family. The fust thing that happene
d afterour talk and the Eureka folks' letter was Jim Henry's goin' over to WestOstable to see Parkinson, the hotel man. He went in the new runaboutautomobile that he'd bought since he got back from the West, and wasgone pretty nigh all day. When he got back he was hopeful--I could seethat.
"Well," says he, "I've laid the cornerstone. I've talked theNonesuch"--that was the brand of screen we carried--"to beat the cars;and we'll have a show to get in a bid, at any rate. It'll be six weeksmore afore the contract's given out, and meantime yours truly will be onthe job. If our old college chum, G. Lentz, Esquire, don't hustle he'llbe left at the post."
"What sort of a chap is this Parkinson man?" I asked.
"Oh, he's all right; big and fat and good-natured. A good feller, Ishould say. Likes automobilin', too, and thinks my car is a winner."
"Married, is he?" says I.
"No; he's a widower. That's a good thing, too."
"Why? What's that got to do with it?"
"A whole lot. If he was married I'd have to take Mrs. P. along on ourauto rides; and--let alone the fact that there wouldn't be room--she'dwant to talk scenery instead of screens. Women and business don't mix.That's one reason why I've never married."
I couldn't help thinkin' of some of the hints he'd been heavin' atme--the "home" remarks and so on--but I never said nothin'.
This was a Tuesday. And when, on Thursday afternoon, I walked into thestore, after havin' had dinner at the Poquit, I found 'Dolph Cahoon--ournew clerk I've mentioned already--leanin' graceful and easy over thecandy counter and talkin' with a young woman I'd never seen afore. Ididn't look at her very close, but I got a sort of general observationas I walked aft to the post-office department; and, sifted down, thatobservation left me with remembrances of a blue serge jacket and skirt,cut clipper fashion and fittin' as if they was built for the craft thatwas in 'em; a little blue hat--a real hat; not a velvet tar barrelupside down--with a little white gull's wing on it; brown eyes and brownhair, and a white collar and shirtwaist. I didn't stop to hail, youunderstand; but I judged that the stranger's home port wa'n't Ostable orany of the Cape towns. Ostable outfitters don't rig 'em that way.
I come in the side door, and 'Dolph or his customer didn't notice me.The young woman was lookin' into the showcase; and, as for 'Dolph, hewouldn't have noticed the President of the United States just then. Hewas twirlin' his red mustache with the hand that had the rock-crystalring on the finger of it, and his talk was a sort of sugared purr--atleast, that's the nighest description of it that I can get at.
I set down in my chair at the postmaster's desk and begun to turn oversome papers. Mary had gone to dinner and Jim Henry was away in his auto;so I was all alone. I turned over the papers, but I couldn't get my mindon 'em--the talk outside was too prevailin', so to speak.
'Dolph was doin' the heft of it. The young woman's answers was short andnot too interested. 'Dolph was remarkin' about the weather and what adull winter we'd had, and how glad he'd be when spring really set in andthe summer folks begun to come--and so on.
"Really," says he, and though I couldn't see him I'd have bet that themustache and ring was doin' business--"Really," he says, "there's adreadful lack of cultivated society in this town, Miss--er--"
He held up here, waitin', I judged, for the young woman to give hername. However, she didn't; so he purred ahead.
"There's so few folks," he says, "for a young feller like me--used tothe city--to associate with. This is a jay place all right. I'm onlyhere temporary. I shall go back to Brockton in the fall, I guess."
_I_ guessed he'd go sooner; but I kept still.
"Are you goin' to remain here for some time?" he asked.
"Possibly," says the girl.
"I'm 'fraid you'll find it pretty dull, won't you?"
"Perhaps."
"I should be glad to introduce you to the folks that are worth knowin'.Are you fond of dancin'? There's a subscription ball at the town hallto-night."
This was what a lawyer'd call a leadin' question, seemed to me; but theanswer didn't seem to lead to anything warmer than the North Pole. Theyoung woman said, "Indeed?" and that was all.
"I'm perfectly dippy about waltzin'," says 'Dolph. "By the way, won'tyou have some confectionery? These chocolates are pretty fair."
I riz to my feet. I don't mind bein' a philanthropist once in a while,but I like to do my philanthropin' fust-hand. And them chocolates soldfor sixty cents a pound!
I had my hand on the doorknob. Just as I turned it I heard the youngwoman say, crisp and cold as a fresh cucumber:
"Pardon me, but will your employer be in soon? If not I'll callagain--when he is in."
"You won't have to," says I, steppin' out of the post-office room andwalkin' over toward the candy counter. "One of him's in now. 'Dolph, youcan put them chocolates back in the case. Oh, yes--and you mightassociate yourself with the broom and waltz out and sweep the frontplatform. It's been needin' your cultivated society bad."
The rest of that clerk's face turned as red as his mustache, and the wayhe slammed the chocolate box into the showcase was a caution! Then Iturned to the young woman, who was as sober as a deacon, except for hereyes, which were snappin' with fun, and says I:
"You wanted to see me, I believe, miss. My name's Zebulon Snow and I'mone of the partners in this jay place. What can I do for you?"
She waited until 'Dolph and the broom had moved out to the platform.Then she turned to me and she says:
"Captain Snow," she says, "I understand that your firm here is intendin'puttin' in a bid for the window screens at the new hotel at WestOstable. Is that so?"
I was consider'ble surprised, but I didn't see any reason why Ishouldn't tell the truth.
"Why, yes, ma'am," says I; "we are figgerin' on the job. Are youinterested in that hotel? If you are I'd be glad to show you samples ofthe Nonesuch screen. We cal'late that it's a mighty slick article."
She smiled, pretty as a picture.
"I am interested in the hotel," she says; "and in screens, though notexactly in the way you mean, perhaps. Here is my card."
She took a little leather wallet out of her jacket-pocket and handed mea card. I took it. 'Twas printed neat as could be; but it wa'n't theneatness of the printin' that set me all aback, with my canvasflappin'--'twas what that printin' said:
GEORGIANNA LENTZ
_Ostable County Agent for the_ _Eureka Adjustable Aluminum Window Screen_
"What?--What!--Hey?" says I.
"Yes," says she.
"Agent for the Eureka Adjusta--You!"
"Why, yes; of course. The Eureka people wrote you that they had given methe agency, didn't they?"
I rubbed my forehead.
"They wrote my partner and me," I stammered, "that they'd given itto--to a feller named George--er--that is--"
"Not George--Georgianna. Oh, I see! They abbreviated the name and so youthought--Of course you did. How odd!"
She laughed. I'd have laughed too, maybe, if I'd had sense enough tothink of it; but I hadn't, just then.
"You the agent!" says I. "A--a woman!"
"Yes."
"But--but a woman!"
"Well?" pretty crisp. "I admit I am a woman; but is that any reason whyI should not sell window screens?"
I rubbed my forehead some more. These are progressive days we're livin'in, and sometimes I have to hustle to keep abreast of 'em.
"Why, no," says I, slow; "I cal'late 'tain't. I suppose there's no lawagainst a woman's sellin' 'most any article that is salable, windowscreens or anything else if she wants to; but I can't see--"
"Why she should want to? Perhaps not. However, we needn't go into thatjust now. The fact is I do want to and intend to. I have secured aboardin' place here in Ostable and shall make the town my headquarters.This is a small community and one naturally prefers to be friendly withall the people in it. So, after thinkin' the matter over, I decided thatit was best to begin with a clear understandin'. Do you follow
me?"
"I--I guess so. Heave ahead; I'll do my best to keep you in sight. Ifthe weather gets too thick I'll sound the foghorn. Go on."
"I am naturally desirous of securin' the hotel screen contract. So, Iunderstand, are you. I have seen Mr. Parkinson, the hotel man, and hetells me that your firm and mine will probably be the only bidders. Nowthat makes us rivals, but it need not necessarily make us enemies. Myproposition is this: You will submit your bid and I will submit mine.The party submittin' the lowest bid--quality of product considered--willwin. I propose that we let it go in that way. We might, of course, do agreat many other things--might attempt to bring influence to bear;might--well, might cultivate Mr. Parkinson's acquaintance, and--and soon. You might do that--so might I, I suppose; but, for my part, I preferto make this a fair, honorable business rivalry, in which the bestman--er--"
"Or woman," I couldn't help puttin' in.
"In which the best bid wins. I have already demonstrated the Eureka forMr. Parkinson's benefit and left a sample with him. He tells me that youhave done the same with the Nonesuch. I will agree--if you will--to letthe matter rest there, submittin' our respective bids when the timecomes and abidin' by the result. Now what do you say?"
'Twas pretty hard to say anything. I wanted to laugh; but I couldn't dothat. If there ever was anybody in dead earnest 'twas this partic'laryoung woman. And she wa'n't the kind to laugh at either. She might be ina queer sort of business for a female--but she was nobody's fool.
"Well," she asks again, "what do you say?"
I shook my head. "I can't say anything very definite just this minute,"I told her. "I've got a partner, and naturally I can't do much withoutconsultin' him; but I will say this, though," noticin' that she lookedpretty disappointed--"I'll say that, fur's I'm concerned, I'magreeable."
She smiled and, as I cal'late I've said afore, her smile was wuthlookin' at.
"Thank you so much, Cap'n Snow," she says. "Then we shall be friends,sha'n't we? Except in business, I mean."
"I hope so--sartin," says I. "Now it ain't none of my affairs, ofcourse, but I am curious. How did you ever happen to take the agencyfor--for window screens?"
That made her serious right off. She might smile at other things, butnot at her trade; that was life and death for sure.
"I took it," she says, "for several reasons. My mother died recently andI was left alone. My means were not sufficient to support me. I havedone office work, typewritin', and so on, for some years; but I feltthat the opportunities in the positions I held were limited and Idetermined to take up sellin'--that is where the larger returns are.Don't you think so?"
"Oh, yes--sartin."
"Yes. I knew Mr. Meyer slightly in a business way. I took the Eurekascreen and sold it on commission about Boston for a time. Then I appliedfor the Ostable County agency and got it--that's all."
"I see," says I. "Yes, yes. Well, I must say that, for a girl, you--"
She interrupted me quick.
"I don't see that my bein' a girl has anything to do with it," she says."And in this agreement of ours, if it is made, I don't wish thedifference of sex considered at all. This is a business proposition andsex has nothin' to do with it. Is that plain?"
"Yes," says I, considerin', "it's plain; but I ain't sure that--"
"I am sure," she interrupts--"and you must be. I wish to be treated inthis matter exactly as if I were a man. I wish I were one!"
"I doubt if you'd get most men to agree with you in that wish," I says."However, never mind. I'll do my best to get Mr. Jacobs, my partner, tosay 'Yes' to your proposal. And I hope you'll do fust-rate, even if weare what you call rivals. Drop in any time, Miss Georg--Georgianna, Imean."
We shook hands and she went away. I went as fur as the platform withher. When I turned to go in again I noticed 'Dolph Cahoon starin' afterher, with his eyes and mouth open.
"Gosh!" says he, grinnin'. "By gosh! She's a peach! Ain't she, Cap'nZeb?"
"Maybe so," says I, pretty short; "but I don't recollect that we hiredyou as a judge of fruit. Has that broom took root in the dirt on thisplatform? Or what is the matter?"
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