The Speranza temper was rising. “Yes,” said the owner of that temper, succinctly.
“Does yes mean yes, in this case; or does it mean what it meant before?”
“I have told you why—”
“Never mind. Young man, if that lumber is not delivered to-day I shall cancel the order. Do you understand?”
Albert swallowed hard. “I tell you, Mr. Calvin, that it shall be delivered,” he said. “And it will be.”
But delivering it was not so easy. The team simply could NOT be taken off the schoolhouse job, fulfillment of a contract was involved there. And the other horse had gone lame and Issachar swore by all that was solemn that the animal must not be used.
“Let old Calvin wait till to-morrow,” said Issy. “You can use the big team then. And Cap'n Lote'll be home, besides.”
But Albert was not going to let “old Calvin” wait. That lumber was going to be delivered, if he had to carry it himself, stick by stick. He asked Mr. Price if an extra team might not be hired.
“Ain't none,” said Issy. “Besides, where'd your granddad's profits be if you spent money hirin' extry teams to haul that little mite of stuff? I've been in this business a good long spell, and I tell you—”
He did not get a chance to tell it, for Albert walked off and left him. At half-past twelve that afternoon he engaged “Vessie” Young—christened Sylvester Young and a brother to the driver of the depot wagon—to haul the Calvin lumber in his rickety, fragrant old wagon. Simpson Mullen—commonly called “Simp”—was to help in the delivery.