Chapter 31
Hope was not at breakfast with us.
'The child is worn out,' said Mrs Fuller. 'I shall keep her in bed a dayor two.
'Couldn't I see her a moment?' I enquired.
'Dear! no!' said she. 'The poor thing is in bed with a headache.' IfHope had been ill at home I should have felt free to go and sit by heras I had done more than once. It seemed a little severe to be shut awayfrom her now but Mrs Fuller's manner had fore-answered any appeal and Iheld my peace. Having no children of her own she had assumed a sort ofproprietorship over Hope that was evident--that probably was why thegirl had ceased to love me and to write to me as of old. A troop ofmysteries came clear to me that morning. Through many gifts and favoursshe had got my sweetheart in a sort of bondage and would make a marriageof her own choosing if possible.
'Is there anything you would like particularly for your breakfast? MrsFuller enquired.
'Hain't no way pertic'lar,' said Uncle Eb. 'I gen rally eat buckwheatpancakes an' maple sugar with a good strong cup o'tea.
Mrs Fuller left the room a moment.
'Dunno but I'll go out to the barn a minnit 'n take a look at thehosses,' he said when she came back.
'The stable is a mile away,' she replied smiling.
'Gran' good team ye druv us out with las' night,' he said. 'Hed a chancet'look 'em over a leetle there at the door. The off hoss is puffed somefor'ard but if yer husband'll put on a cold bandage ev'ry night it'llmake them legs smoother n a hound's tooth.
She thanked him and invited us to look in at the conservatory.
'Where's yer husband?' Uncle Eb enquired.
'He's not up yet,' said she, 'I fear he did not sleep well.
'Now Mis Fuller,' said Uncle Eb, as we sat waiting, 'if there s anythingI can do t'help jes'le'me know what 'tis.
She said there was nothing. Presently Uncle Eb sneezed so powerfullythat it rattled the crystals on the chandelier and rang in the brassmedallions.
The first and second butlers came running in with a frightened look.There was also a startled movement from somebody above stairs.
'I do sneeze powerful, sometimes,' said Uncle Eb from under his redbandanna. ''S enough if scare anybody.'
They brought in our breakfast then--a great array of tempting dishes.'Jest hev four pancakes 'n a biled egg,' said Uncle Eb as he sipped histea. 'Grand tea!' he added, 'strong enough if float a silver dollar too.
'Mrs Fuller,' I said rising, when we had finished, 'I thank you for yourhospitality, but as I shall have to work nights, probably, I must findlodgings near the office.
'You must come and see us again,' she answered cordially. 'On SaturdayI shall take Hope away for a bit of rest to Saratoga probably--and fromthere I shall take her to Hillsborough myself for a day or two.
'Thought she was goin' home with me,' said Uncle Eb.
'O dear no!' said Mrs Fuller, 'she cannot go now. The girl is ill andit's such a long journey.'
The postman came then with a letter for Uncle Eb.
It was from David Brower. He would have to be gone a week or so buyingcattle and thought Uncle Eb had better come home as soon as convenient.
'They're lonesome,' he said, thoughtfully, after going over the letteragain. ''Tain't no wonder--they're gittin' old.'
Uncle Eb was older than either of them but he had not thought of that.
'Le's see; 's about eight o clock,' said he, presently. 'I've got t'goan' ten' to some business o' my own. I'll be back here sometime if dayMis Fuller an' I'll hev if see thet girl. Ye musn't never try if keep me'way from her. She's sot on my knee too many year fer that--altogethertoo many.
We arranged to meet there at four. Then a servant brought us our hats. Iheard Hope calling as we passed the stairway:
'Won't you come up a minute, Uncle Eb? I want to see you very much.'
Then Uncle Eb hurried upstairs and I came away.
I read the advertisements of board and lodging--a perplexing task forone so ignorant of the town. After many calls I found a place to myliking on Monkey Hill, near Printing House Square. Monkey Hill was theeast end of William Street, and not in the least fashionable. There weresome neat and cleanly looking houses on it of wood, and brick, and brownstone inhabited by small tradesmen; a few shops, a big stable and thechalet sitting on a broad, flat roof that covered a portion of thestableyard. The yard itself was the summit of Monkey Hill. It laybetween two brick buildings and up the hill, from the walk, one lookedinto the gloomy cavern of the stable and under the low roof, on one sidethere were dump carts and old coaches in varying stages of infirmity.There was an old iron shop, that stood flush with the sidewalk, flankingthe stableyard. A lantern and a mammoth key were suspended above thedoor and hanging upon the side of the shop was a wooden stair ascendingto the chalet The latter had a sheathing of weather-worn clapboards.It stood on the rear end of the brick building, communicating with thefront rooms above the shop. A little stair of five steps ascended fromthe landing to its red door that overlooked an ample yard of roofing,adorned with potted plants. The main room of the chalet where we ate ourmeals and sat and talked, of an evening, had the look of a ship'scabin. There were stationary seats along the wall covered with leatherncushions. There were port and starboard lanterns and a big one ofpolished brass that overhung the table. A ship's clock that had a noisyand cheerful tick, was set in the wall. A narrow passage led to theroom in front and the latter had slanting sides. A big window of littlepanes, in its further end, let in the light of William Street. Here Ifound a home for myself, humble but quaint and cleanly. A thrifty Germanwho, having long followed the sea, had married and thrown out hisanchor for good and all, now dwelt in the chalet with his wife and twoboarders--both newspaper men. The old shopkeeper in front, once a sailorhimself, had put the place in shipshape and leased it to them.
Mine host bore the name of Opper and was widely known as 'All Right'Opper, from his habit of cheery approval. Everything and everybody were'all right' to him so far as I could observe. If he were blessed ordamned he said 'all right. To be sure he took exceptions, on occasions,but even then the affair ended with his inevitable verdict of 'allright'. Every suggestion I made as to terms of payment and arrangementof furniture was promptly stamped with this seal of approval.
I was comfortably settled and hard at work on my article by noon. Atfour I went to meet Uncle Eb. Hope was still sick in bed and we cameaway in a frame of mind that could hardly have been more miserable. Itried to induce him to stay a night with me in my new quarters.
'I mus'n't,' he said cheerfully.' 'Fore long I'm comin' down ag'in butI can't fool 'round no longer now. I'll jes'go n git my new clothes andput fer the steamboat. Want ye t'go 'n see Hope tomorrow. She's comm upwith Mis Fuller next week. I'm goin' t' find out what's the matter uvher then. Somethin's wrong somewhere. Dunno what 'tis. She's all upsot.
Poor girl! it had been almost as heavy a trial to her as to me' cuttingme off as she had done. Remembrances of my tender devotion to her, inall the years between then and childhood, must have made her sore withpity. I had already determined what I should do, and after Uncle Eb hadgone that evening I wrote her a long letter and asked her if I might notstill have some hope of her loving me. I begged her to let me know whenI might come and talk with her alone. With what eloquence I could bringto bear I told her how my love had grown and laid hold of my life.
I finished my article that night and, in the morning, took it to MrGreeley. He was at his desk writing and at the same time giving ordersin a querulous tone to some workman who sat beside him. He did notlook up as he spoke. He wrote rapidly, his nose down so close to thestraggling, wet lines that I felt a fear of its touching them. I stoodby, waiting my opportunity. A full-bearded man in his shirt-sleeves camehurriedly out of another room.
'Mr Greeley,' he said, halting at the elbow of the great editor.
'Yes, what is it?' the editor demanded nervously, his hand wobbling overthe white page, as rapidly as before, his eyes upon his work.
'An
other man garrotted this morning on South Street.
'Better write a paragraph,' he said, his voice snapping with impatienceas he brushed the full page aside and began sowing his thoughts onanother. 'Warn our readers. Tell 'em to wear brass collars with spikesin 'em till we get a new mayor.
The man went away laughing.
Mr Greeley threw down his pen, gathered his copy and handed it to theworkman who sat beside him.
'Proof ready at five!' he shouted as the man was going out of the room.
'Hello! Brower,' he said bending to his work again. 'Thought you'd blownout the gas somewhere.
'Waiting until you reject this article,' I said.
He sent a boy for Mr Ottarson, the city editor. Meanwhile he had begunto drive his pen across the broadsheets with tremendous energy.
Somehow it reminded me of a man ploughing black furrows behind a fastwalking team in a snow flurry. His mind was 'straddle the furrow' whenMr Ottarson came in. There was a moment of silence in which the latterstood scanning a page of the Herald he had brought with him.
'Ottarson!' said Mr Greeley, never slacking the pace of his busy hand,as he held my manuscript in the other, 'read this. Tell me what youthink of it. If good, give him a show.
'The staff is full, Mr Greeley,' said the man of the city desk. Hiswords cut me with disappointment.
The editor of the Tribune halted his hand an instant, read the lastlines, scratching a word and underscoring another.
'Don't care!' he shrilled, as he went on writing. 'Used to slidedownhill with his father. If he's got brains we'll pay him eight dollarsa-week.
The city editor beckoned to me and I followed him into another room.
'If you will leave your address,' he said, 'I will let you hear from mewhen we have read the article.
With the hasty confidence of youth I began to discount my future thatvery day, ordering a full dress suit, of the best tailor, hat and shoesto match and a complement of neck wear that would have done credit toBeau Brummel. It gave me a start when I saw the bill would empty mypocket of more than half its cash. But I had a stiff pace to follow, andevery reason to look my best.
Eben Holden: A Tale of the North Country Page 31
