“Ain't this your lumber?” he demanded.
“It doesn't make any difference whether it is or not, I—”
“Didn't you tell Z. Snow and Co. that this lumber'd got to be delivered to-day or you'd cancel the order?”
“Never mind. That is my business, sir. You—”
“Hold on! Ho-o-ld on! I got a business, too. My business is deliverin' what I'm paid to deliver. Al Speranzy he says to me: 'Ves,' he says, 'if you don't deliver that lumber to old man Calvin to-day you don't get no money, see. Will you deliver it?' Says I, 'You bet your crashety-blank life I'll (hic) d'liver it! What I say I'll do, I'll do!' And I'm deliverin' it, ain't I? Hey? Ain't I? Well, then, what the—” And so forth and at length, while Mrs. Calvin collapsed half fainting in an easy-chair, and horrified Welfare Workers covered their ears—and longed to cover their noses.
The lumber was delivered that day. Its delivery was, from the viewpoint of Messrs. Young and Mullen, a success. The spring meeting of the Welfare Workers was not a success.
The following day Mr. Calvin called at the office of Z. Snow and Co. He had things to say and said them. Captain Zelotes, who had returned from Boston, listened. Then he called his grandson.
“Tell him what you've just told me, Mr. Calvin,” he said.
The reverend gentleman told it, with added details.
“And in my opinion, if you'll excuse me, Captain Snow,” he said, in conclusion, “this young man knew what he was doing when he sent those drunken scoundrels to my house. He did it purposely, I am convinced.”