CHAPTER X.
THE TIN-PEDLER.
Those of my readers who live in large cities are probably notfamiliar with the travelling tin-pedler, who makes his appearance atfrequent intervals in the country towns and villages of New England.His stock of tinware embraces a large variety of articles forculinary purposes, ranging from milk-pans to nutmeg-graters. Theseare contained in a wagon of large capacity, in shape like a box, onwhich he sits enthroned a merchant prince. Unlike most traders, hereceives little money, most of his transactions being in the form ofa barter, whereby be exchanges his merchandise for rags, white andcolored, which have accumulated in the household, and are gladlytraded off for bright tinware. Behind the cart usually depend twoimmense bags, one for white, the other for colored rags, which, intime, are sold to paper manufacturers. It may be that the very paperon which this description is printed, was manufactured from rags socollected.
Abner Bickford was the proprietor of such an establishment as I havedescribed. No one, at first sight, would have hesitated to class himas a Yankee. He was long in the limbs, and long in the face, with ashrewd twinkle in the eye, a long nose, and the expression of a manwho respected himself and feared nobody. He was unpolished, in hismanners, and knew little of books, but he belonged to the sameresolute and hardy type of men who in years past sprang to arms, andfought bravely for an idea. He was strong in his manhood, and wouldhave stood unabashed before a king. Such was the man who was tomortify the pride of Fitzgerald Fletcher.
Tom Carver watched for his arrival in Centreville, and walking up tohis cart, accosted him.
"Good-morning, Mr. Bickford."
"Good-mornin', young man. You've got the advantage of me. I neversaw you before as I know of."
"I am Tom Carver, at your service."
"Glad to know you. Where do you live? Maybe your wife would likesome tinware this mornin'?" said Abner, relaxing his gaunt featuresinto a smile.
"She didn't say anything about it when I came out," said Tom,entering into the joke.
"Maybe you'd like a tin-dipper for your youngest boy?"
"Maybe I would, if you've got any to give away."
"I see you've cut your eye-teeth. Is there anything else I can dofor you? I'm in for a trade."
"I don't know, unless I sell myself for rags."
"Anything for a trade. I'll give you two cents a pound."
"That's too cheap. I came to ask your help in a trick we boys wantto play on one of our number."
"Sho! you don't say so. That aint exactly in my line."
"I'll tell you all about it. There's a chap at our school--theAcademy, you know--who's awfully stuck up. He's all the timebragging about belonging to a first family in Boston, and turning uphis nose at poorer boys. We want to mortify him."
"Just so!" said Abner, nodding. "Drive ahead!"
"Well, we thought if you'd call at the school and ask after him, andpretend he was a cousin of yours, and all that, it would make himmad."
"Oh, I see," said Abner, nodding, "he wouldn't like to own atin-pedler for his cousin."
"No," said Tom; "he wants us to think all his relations are rich. Iwouldn't mind at all myself," he added, it suddenly occurring to himthat Abner's feelings might be hurt.
"Good!" said Abner, "I see you aint one of the stuck-up kind. I'vegot some relations in Boston myself, that are rich and stuck up. Inever go near 'em. What's the name of this chap you're talkin'about?"
"Fletcher--Fitzgerald Fletcher."
"Fletcher!" repeated Abner. "Whew! well, that's a joke!"
"What's a joke?" asked Tom, rather surprised.
"Why, he _is_ my relation--a sort of second cousin. Why, my motherand his father are own cousins. So, don't you see we're secondcousins?"
"That's splendid!" exclaimed Tom. "I can hardly believe it."
"It's so. My mother's name was Fletcher--Roxanna Fletcher--afore shemarried. Jim Fletcher--this boy's father--used to work in mygrandfather's store, up to Hampton, but he got kinder discontented,and went off to Boston, where he's been lucky, and they do say he'smighty rich now. I never go nigh him, 'cause I know he looks down onhis country cousins, and I don't believe in pokin' my nose in where Iaint wanted."
"Then you are really and truly Fitz's cousin?"
"If that's the boy's name. Seems to me it's a kinder queer one. Is'pose it's a fust-claas name. Sounds rather stuck up."
"Won't the boys roar when they hear about it! Are you willing toenter into our plan?"
"Well," said Abner, "I'll do it. I can't abide folks that's stuckup. I'd rather own a cousin like you."
"Thank you, Mr. Bickford."
"When do you want me to come round?"
"How long do you stay in town?"
"Well, I expect to stop overnight at the tavern; I can't get throughin one day."
"Then come round to the Academy to-morrow morning, about half-pasteight. School don't begin till nine, but the boys will be playingball alongside. Then we'll give you an introduction to your cousin."
"That'll suit me well enough. I'll come."
Tom Carver returned in triumph, and communicated to the other boysthe arrangement be had made with Mr. Bickford, and his unexpecteddiscovery of the genuine relationship that existed between Fitz andthe tin-pedler. His communication was listened to with greatdelight, and no little hilarity, and the boys discussed the probableeffect of the projected meeting.
"Fitz will be perfectly raving," said Henry Fairbanks. "There'snothing that will take down his pride so much."
"He'll deny the relationship, probably," said Oscar.
"How can he?"
"He'll do it. See if he don't. It would be death to all hisaristocratic claims to admit it."
"Suppose it were yourself, Oscar?"
"I'd say, 'How are you, cousin? How's the the business?'" answeredOscar, promptly.
"I believe you would, Oscar. There's nothing of the snob about you."
"I hope not."
"Yet your family stands as high as Fletcher's."
"That's a point I leave to others to discuss," said Oscar. "Myfather is universally respected, I am sure, but he rose from theranks. He was once a printer's devil, like my friend Harry Walton.Wouldn't it be ridiculous in me to turn up my nose at Walton, justbecause be stands now where my father did thirty years ago? It wouldbe the same thing as sneering at father."
"Give us your hand, Oscar," said Henry Fairbanks. "You've got nononsense about you--I like you."
"I'm not sure whether your compliment is deserved, Henry," saidOscar, "but if I have any nonsense it isn't of that kind."
"Do you believe Fitz has any suspicion that he has a cousin in thetin business?"
"No; I don't believe he has. He must know he has poor relations,living in the country, but he probably thinks as little as possibleabout them. As long as they don't intrude themselves upon hisgreatness, I suppose he is satisfied."
"And as long as no one suspects that he has any connection with suchplebeians."
"Of course."
"What sort of a man is this tin-pedler, Tom?" asked Oscar.
"He's a pretty sharp fellow--not educated, or polished, you know, buthe seems to have some sensible ideas. He said he had never seen theFletchers; because he didn't want to poke his nose in where he wasn'twanted. He showed his good sense also by saying that he had ratherhave me for a cousin than Fitz."
"That isn't a very high compliment--I'd say the same myself."
"Thank you, Oscar. Your compliment exalts me. You won't mind mystrutting a little."
And Tom humorously threw back his head, and strutted about with mockpride.
"To be sure," said Oscar, "you don't belong to one of the firstfamilies of Boston, like our friend, Fitz."
"No, I belong to one of the second families. You can't blame me, forI can't help it."
"No, I won't blame you, but of course I consider you low."
"I am afraid, Tom, I haven't got any cousins in th
e tin trade, likeFitz."
"Poor Fitz! he little dreams of his impending trial. If he did, I amafraid he wouldn't sleep a wink to-night."
"I wish I thought as much of myself as Fitz does," said HenryFairbanks. "You can see by his dignified pace, and the way he tosseshis head, how well satisfied he is with being Fitzgerald Fletcher,Esq."
"I'll bet five cents he won't strut round so much to-morrowafternoon," said Tom, "after his interview with his new cousin. Buthush, boys! Not a word more of this. There's Fitz coming up thehill. I wouldn't have him suspect what's going on, or he mightdefeat our plans by staying away."
Risen from the Ranks; Or, Harry Walton's Success Page 10
