A SETTLEMENT.
When they entered the room Quincy motioned Strout to a chair, which he took. He then closed the door and, taking a cigar case from his pocket, offered a cigar to Strout, which the latter refused. Quincy then lighted a cigar and, throwing himself into an armchair in a comfortable position, looked straight at the Professor, who returned his gaze defiantly, and said:
"Mr. Strout, there is an open account of some two month's standing between us, and I have asked you to come up here to-day, because I think it is time for a settlement"
"I don't owe you nuthin'," said Strout, doggedly.
"I think you owe me better treatment than you have given me the past two months," remarked Quincy, "but we'll settle that point later."
"I guess I've treated you as well as you have me," retorted Strout, with a sneer.
"But you began it," said Quincy, "and had it all your own way for two months; I waited patiently for you to stop, but you wouldn't, so the last week I've been squaring up matters, and there is only one point that hasn't been settled. From what I have heard," continued Quincy, "I am satisfied that Miss Mason has received full reparation for any slanderous remarks that may have been started or circulated by you concerning herself."
The Professor attentively regarded the pattern of the carpet on the floor.
Quincy continued, "Miss Lindy Putnam has repeated to me what she told Mr. Stiles about her visit to Boston, and attributed the distorted and untrue form in which it reached the inhabitants of this town to your well-known powers of invention. Am I right?"
The Professor looked up. "I'll have somethin' to say when you git through," he replied.
"I expect and ask no apology or reparation for what you've said about me," remarked Quincy. "You made your boast that one of us had got to leave town, and it wouldn't be you. When I heard that I determined to stay at whatever cost, and we'll settle this afternoon which one of us is going to change his residence."
"I don't think you kin run me out o' town," said Strout, savagely.
"Well, I don't know," rejoined Quincy. "Let us see what I have done in a week. You insulted Mr. Pettengill and his sister by not inviting them to the surprise party. I know it was done to insult me rather than them, but you will remember that we three were present, and had a very pleasant time. I was the lawyer that advised Deacon Mason not to loan that five hundred dollars to pay down on the store. I told the Deacon I would loan him five hundred dollars if the store was knocked down to you, but I would have had that store if it had cost me ten thousand dollars instead of three. I was the one who put your war record in the hands of Mr. Tobias Smith, and I was the one that prepared the statement which showed how negligent you had been in attending to your duties as tax collector."
"Payin' so much attention to other people's business must have made yer forget yer own," said Strout, shutting his teeth together with a snap.
"Oh, no," remarked Quincy, with a laugh; "I had plenty of time left to take a hand in village politics, and my friend Mr. Stackpole was elected by a very handsome vote, as you have no doubt heard." Strout dug his heel into the carpet, but said nothing.
"Now," continued Quincy, "I've had your appointment as postmaster held up till you and I come to terms."
"You're takin' a lot of trouble for nothin'," said Strout. "I can't be postmaster unless I have a store. I guess I kin manage to live with my music teachin' and organ playin' at the church."
"I've thought of that," said Quincy. "I don't wish to go to extremes, but I will if it is necessary. Before you leave this room, Mr. Strout, you must decide whether you will work with me or against me in the future."
"S'posin' I decide to work agin yer?" asked Strout; "what then?"
"Well," said Quincy sternly, "if you drive me to it, I'll bring down a couple of good music teachers from Boston. They'll teach music for nothing, and I'll pay them good salaries. The church needs a new organ, and I'll make them a present of one, on condition that they get a new organist."
Strout looked down reflectively for a few minutes, then he glanced up and a queer smile passed over his face. "S'posin' I switch 'round," said he, "and say I'll work with yer?"
"If you say it and mean it, Mr. Strout," replied Quincy, rising from his chair, "I'll cross off the old score and start fresh from to-day. I'm no Indian, and have no vindictive feelings. You and I have been playing against each other and you've lost every trick. Now, if you say so, we'll play as partners. I'll give you a third interest in the grocery store for a thousand dollars. The firm name shall be Strout & Maxwell. I'll put in another thousand dollars to buy a couple of horses and wagons, and we'll take orders and deliver goods free to any family within five miles of the store. Maxwell will have a third, and I'll have a third as silent partner, and I'll see that you get your appointment as postmaster."
Quincy looked at Strout expectantly, awaiting his answer. Finally it came.
"Considerin' as how you put it," said Strout, "I don't think you and me will clash in the futur'."
Quincy extended his hand, which Strout took, and the men shook hands.
"That settles it," said Quincy.
"Just half an hour!" exclaimed Strout, looking at his watch.
A loud knock was heard on the door.
"I guess Abner has got tired o' waitin' and has come arter me," remarked Strout.
Quincy opened the door and Mr. Stiles stood revealed.
"Is Professor Strout here?" asked he.
"Yes," said Quincy; "come in."
"I guess I'll see him out here," continued Abner. "What I've got to say may be kinder private."
"Come in, Abner," cried Strout, "and let's hear what's on your mind."
"Wall," said Abner, looking askance at Quincy, "if yer satisfied, I am. Hiram Maxwell's jest came down from Mis' Putnam's, and Mis' Heppy Putnam's dead,"—Quincy started on hearing this,—"and Samanthy Green is at her wits' end, 'cause she never was alone in the house with a dead pusson afore, an' Hiram's goin' to take Betsy Green back to stay with her sister, and then he's goin' to take Miss Alice Pettengill down home, cuz Miss Pettengill's most tired out; cuz, you see, she's been there since eight o'clock this mornin', and Mis' Putnam didn't die till about one o'clock, and Samanthy says Mis' Putnam took on awful, so you could hear her all over the house, and Miss Lindy Putnam, she's goin' to take the next train to Bosting—she's goin', bag and baggage—and I've got to drive her over to the station, and Bob Wood, he's comin' along with a waggin to carry her trunks and bandboxes and sich, and so I've come to tell yer, Professor, that I can't take yer over to the Centre this arternoon, no how."
"That's all right, Abner," said Strout; "considerin' as how things has gone, to-morrow will do just as well, but I wish you'd drop in and tell the town treasurer that I'm goin' into business with Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Sawyer here,"—Abner's eyes dilated,—"under the firm name of Strout, Maxwell, & Co."
"No!" interrupted Quincy, "let the sign read, Strout & Maxwell."
"And," continued Mr. Strout, "Mr. Sawyer here is goin' to push through my app'intment as postmaster."
By this time Abner's mouth was wide open. Quincy saw it, and imagined the conflict going on in poor Abner's mind.
"What Mr. Strout says is correct," remarked Quincy, "but you have no time to lose now. Perhaps to-night Mr. Strout will explain the matter more fully to you."
Abner turned, without a word, and left the room.
"Mr. Stiles is a faithful friend of yours," said Quincy, turning to the Professor.
"Yes," assented Strout; "Abner's a very good shaft horse, but he wouldn't be of much vally as a lead."
Quincy again extended his cigar case. This time the Professor did not refuse, but took two. Holding up one of them between his fingers, he said, "This is the one I didn't take when I came in."
"I will have the partnership papers drawn up in a few days, Mr. Strout, ready for signature, and I will write at once to my friends in Washington, and urge them to see the Postmaster General, and have your appointment made as soon as possible."
"Yer don't let no grass grow under yer feet, do yer?" said Strout.
Quincy was a little taken aback by this remark, for he had not anticipated a compliment from the Professor. He turned to him and said, "Until you forfeit my esteem, we are friends, and it is always a pleasure to me to help my friends."
The men shook hands again, and the Professor left the room.
"Not a bad man at heart," soliloquized Quincy. "I am glad the affair has had such a pleasant termination. Poor Alice! What a time she must have had with Mrs. Putnam, and so Lindy is going to keep her word, and not stay to the funeral. Well, knowing what I do, I don't blame her. Perhaps Mrs. Putnam told Alice that Lindy was not her own child, for Alice would not accept the fortune, I know, if she thought she was wronging Lindy by doing so. I'll go home,"—he smiled as he said this,—"and probably Alice will tell me all about it."
He went down stairs, and not seeing Mrs. Hawkins in the dining-room, walked out into the kitchen, where she was hard at work washing the dinner dishes.
"Law, Mr. Sawyer, why didn't you holler for me ef you wanted anything?"
"I don't wish for anything particularly," said Quincy, "but I do wish to compliment you on your chicken salad; it was as fine as any I ever ate at Young's, or Parker's, in Boston, and," continued he, "here are twelve dollars." He held out the money to her, she wiped her hands on her apron.
"What's that fur?" she asked. "I've got six dollars of your money now."
"That's for Mandy," said Quincy; "and this," pressing the money into her hand, "is for four weeks' room rent; I am liable to come here any time during the next month. I am going into business with Mr. Strout and Mr. Maxwell—we're going to run the grocery store over here, and it will be very handy to be so near to the store until we get the business established. Good afternoon, Mrs. Hawkins," and he took her hand, which was still wet, in his, and shook it warmly.
He turned to leave the house by the kitchen door, but Mrs. Hawkins interposed.
"You better go out the front way," said she, and she ran before him and opened the door leading to the front entry, and then the front door. As he passed out, she said, "I wish you success, Mr. Sawyer, and we'll gin you all our trade."
"Thank you!" said Quincy. He walked down the path, opened the front gate, and as he closed it raised his hat to Mrs. Hawkins, who stood in the front doorway, her thin, angular face wreathed in smiles.
"Wall," said she, as she closed the front door and walked back into the kitchen, "what lies some folks tell. Now, that Professor Strout has allus said that Mr. Sawyer was so stuck up that he wouldn't speak to common folks. Wall, I think he's a real gentleman. 'Twon't do for any one to run him down to me after this."
Here she thought of her money, and, spreading out the three bills in her hand, she opened the kitchen door and screamed at the top of her voice, "Jonas! Jonas!! Jonas!!!" There were no signs of Jonas. "Where is that man? He's never 'round when he's wanted."
"What is it, Marthy?" said a voice behind her. Turning, she saw her husband puffing away at his brierwood pipe.
"I thought you went out to the barn," said she, "to help Abner hitch up?"
"Wall, I did," he replied; "but it didn't take two on us long to do that. I eat so much chicken salad that it laid kinder heavy on my stummick, so I went out in the wood-shed to have a smoke. But where did you git all that money?"
"Mr. Sawyer took the front room for two weeks and paid for it ahead, and do you know he said my chicken salad was jist as good as Mrs. Young and Mrs. Parker makes down to Bosting."
"I don't know Mrs. Young nor Mrs. Parker," said Jonas, "but on makin' chicken salad I'll match Mrs. Hawkins agin 'em any day;" and he went out in the wood-shed to finish his smoke.
As Quincy walked down the road towards the Pettengill house his mind was busy with his thoughts.
"To think," said he to himself, "that while I was listening to those stories, to call them by no worse name, at the dinner table, the woman I love was witnessing the death agony and listening to the last words of a dear friend—the woman who's going to leave her a fortune. Now that she knows that she's an heiress, I can speak; she never would have listened to me, knowing that she was poor and I was rich, and I never could have spoken to her with that secret in my mind that Mrs. Putnam told me—that she was going to leave her all her money. I am so glad for Alice's sake, even if she does not love me. She can have the best medical attendance now, and she will be able to give all her time to her literary work, for which she has a decided genius. Won't she be delighted when I tell her that Leopold has placed all her stories and wants her to write a book?"
As he reached the front gate he saw Hiram driving up the road and Alice was with him. As Hiram stopped, Quincy stepped forward and took Alice's hand to assist her in alighting from the buggy.
"Oh, Mr. Sawyer," said she, "have you heard that Mrs. Putnam is dead, and I've had such a terrible day with her?"
Her nervous system had been wrought to its highest tension by what she had undergone during the past six hours. She burst into a flood of tears. Then she tottered and would have fallen if Quincy had not grasped her.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
She took a step forward, but he saw at a glance that she had not sufficient strength to reach her room.
"Open the gate, Hiram. Then give the door-bell a good sharp ring, so that Mandy will come quickly."
He took her in his arms and went up the path, by the astonished Mandy, and upstairs to Alice's room, where he laid her tenderly upon her bed. Turning to Mandy, who had followed close at his heels, he said:
"She is not sick, only nervous and worn out. If you need me, call me."
He went into his own room and thanked Heaven that he had been at hand to render her the service that she so much needed. When he went down to supper Mandy told him that Miss Alice was asleep, and she guessed she'd be all right in the morning.