“You are not mistaken, my friends. Your eyes do not deceive you. It is Zadok Biggs. None other. I am entranced—delighted is the more ordinary expression—to see you. I am more than delighted to see that prodigious—remarkable is the commoner word—youth, Marcus Aurelius Fortunatus Tidd. There’s a name! The parents who gave that name to their son are remarkable parents! Parents, I salute you.... And there, too, are my three young friends, Plunk and Binney and Tallow.” He waved his hand at us as though we were a block away.
He didn’t give anybody a chance to say a word, but led us into the house and invited us to sit down.
“Ah, this is magnificent, this is glorious. How Zadok Biggs has looked forward to it! Madam, aside from a seat on the Supreme Bench at Washington, I most aspire to this one. Tell me all about yourselves; you, Marcus Aurelius Fortunatus Tidd, tell me all about yourself. Have you been finding opportunities? Ah, there’s a word! Opportunities are everywhere. There’s Plunk, now, missing an opportunity. There’s a chair, a comfortable chair, yet he remains erect—standing is the more usual expression. Seize your opportunity, Plunk, and be seated. Now Marcus, I listen. My ears yearn for the news you have to tell.”
Maybe you never met Zadok Biggs before, but we had, I can tell you. We got acquainted with him when Mr. Tidd come close to losing the turbine-engine he had invented and which made him rich, and Zadok did a lot to help us get it back. I really don’t believe we ever would have got it back if it hadn’t been for him. So we were pretty good friends, and every time he was near Wicksville with his tin-peddler’s wagon he’d stop overnight with Mark, and we’d all spend the evening together.
“Relate—tell is the less dignified term—the news, Marcus,” he directed a second time.
Mark started in and told him all about everything: how father was hurt and had to go to the hospital, and how we four boys were running the store, and about Jehoshaphat P. Skip, and about the chattel mortgage, and about the handsomest-man contest. When Mark was done Zadok got up and rushed over to me and patted me on the shoulder. There were tears in his eyes.
“Plunk,” says he, “my heart bleeds for your father and mother. I could weep for them in their trouble. I will visit your father in the hospital—be sure of that, Zadok Biggs will visit him and cheer him. Ha! That is something. Also I shall tell him about his son. A father loves to hear good of his son. It will help him on the road to recovery. I am proud of you, Plunk. I am proud of all of you. You are—indeed, I may say it with honest pride—you are a credit to me.” Then he hurried back and sat down.
“I’m afraid,” I says, after a while, “that we’ve bit off more’n we can chew comfortable—countin’ in that chattel mortgage.”
“It is an obstacle. Oh, there is no doubt of that! Alone you might fail, but is not Marcus Tidd with you? Ha! That counts for much. And Zadok Biggs! What of him? He is heart and soul with you. From this minute Jehoshaphat P. Skip is his enemy. Zadok will help you. Zadok will advise you. Best of all, Zadok will look about him for opportunities.” Looking for opportunities was Zadok’s specialty. “We will show this Jehoshaphat P. Skip—a detestable name; I abhor such a name—we will show him!”
He turned to Mark.