Then Nelson, who had been restfully counting on the money from Richards for his own debt, bestirred himself, only to find his patient creditor gone and a woman in his stead who must have her money. He wrote again—sorely against his will—begging Richards to raise the money somehow. Richards's answer was in his pocket, for he wore the best black broadcloth in which he had done honor to the lawyer, yesterday. Richards plainly was wounded; but he explained in detail to Nelson how he (Nelson) could borrow money of the banks on his farm and pay Miss Brown. There was no bank where Richards could borrow money; and he begged Nelson not to drive his wife and little children from their cherished home. Nelson choked over the pathos when he read the letter to Tim; but Tim only grunted a wish that HE had the handling of that feller. And the lawyer was as little moved as Tim. Miss Brown needed the money, he said. The banks were not disposed to lend just at present; money, it appeared, was “tight;” so, in the end, Nelson drove home with the face of Failure staring at him between his horses' ears.
There was only one way. Should he make Richards suffer or suffer himself? Did a man have to grind other people or be ground himself? Meanwhile they had reached the town. The stir of a festival was in the air. On every side bunting streamed in the breeze or was draped across brick or wood. Arches spanned some of the streets, with inscriptions of welcome on them, and swarms of colored lanterns glittered against the sunlight almost as gayly as they would show when they should be lighted at night. Little children ran about waving flags. Grocery wagons and butchers' wagons trotted by with a flash of flags dangling from the horses' harness. The streets were filled with people in their holiday clothes. Everybody smiled. The shopkeepers answered questions and went out on the sidewalks to direct strangers. From one window hung a banner inviting visitors to enter and get a list of hotels and boarding-houses. The crowd was entirely good-humored and waited outside restaurants, bandying jokes with true Western philosophy. At times the wagons made a temporary blockade in the street, but no one grumbled. Bands of music paraded past them, the escort for visitors of especial consideration. In a window belonging, the sign above declared, to the Business Men's Association, stood a huge doll clad in blue satin, on which was painted a device of Neptune sailing down the Mississippi amid a storm of fireworks. The doll stood in a boat arched about with lantern-decked hoops, and while Nelson halted, unable to proceed, he could hear the voluble explanation of the proud citizen who was interpreting to strangers.
This, Nelson thought, was success. Here were the successful men. The man who had failed looked at them. Eve roused him by a shrill cry, “There they are. There's May and the girls. Let me out quick, Uncle!”
He stopped the horse and jumped out himself to help her. It was the first time since she came under his roof that she had been away from it all night. He cleared his throat for some advice on behavior. “Mind and be respectful to Mrs. Arlington. Say yes, ma'am, and no, ma'am——” He got no further, for Eve gave him a hasty kiss and the crowd brushed her away.
“All she thinks of is wearing fine clothes and going with the fellers!” said her brother, disdainfully. “If I had to be born a girl, I wouldn't be born at all!”
“Maybe if you despise girls so, you'll be born a girl the next time,” said Nelson. “Some folks thinks that's how it happens with us.”
“Do YOU, Uncle?” asked Tim, running his mind forebodingly over the possible business results of such a belief. “S'posing he shouldn't be willing to sell the pigs to be killed, 'cause they might be some friends of his!” he reflected, with a rising tide of consternation. Nelson smiled rather sadly. He said, in another tone: “Tim, I've thought so many things, that now I've about given up thinking. All I can do is to live along the best way I know how and help the world move the best I'm able.”
“You bet I ain't going to help the world move,” said the boy; “I'm going to look out for myself!”
“Then my training of you has turned out pretty badly, if that's the way you feel.”
A little shiver passed over the lad's sullen face; he flushed until he lost his freckles in the red veil and burst out passionately: “Well, I got eyes, ain't I? I ain't going to be bad, or drink, or steal, or do things to git put in the penitentiary; but I ain't going to let folks walk all over me like you do; no, sir!”