“I am not much of a hand to talk on any subject, Pole,” he said. “But there is something I've got to say to you, and it comes from the heart.”
“Well, ef it ain't a dun I'll be glad to hear it,” Pole smiled. “When I fust catched sight of you, it flashed over me that ef I didn't make another payment on that debt you'd have to take my farm. But I'm gettin' on my feet now, Mr. Mayhew, an'—”
“I'll never bother you on that score,” the merchant said, impulsively. “I was just about to tell you that I am deeply grateful for what you did for Nelson. Oh, he's told me all about it!” The old man held up his hand and stopped Pole, who was on the point of decrying his part in the matter in question. “Yes, he told me all you did, Baker, and I don't actually believe any other man in the whole state could have worked it so fine; and the boy's coming back here, Pole, has been my financial salvation. I couldn't have kept on here, and it would have killed me to see the old business fall to pieces.”
“You bet, I'm glad he's back, too,” Pole returned. “An' he's happy over it, ain't he, Mr. Mayhew?”
“Ah, there's the trouble, Baker!” the old man sighed. “It looks like, with all that has come his way of late, that he would be satisfied, but he isn't—he simply isn't. Baker, I think I see what's lacking.”
“You think you do, Mr. Mayhew?” Pole leaned forward anxiously.
“Yes, I believe it's due to Nathan Porter's daughter. God knows she's the very girl for him. She's one woman that I admire with all my heart. Nelson's got sense; he sees her good qualities, and wants her, but the report is out that her and Hillhouse are courting down at Cartersville. The preacher's had two weeks' extension on his vacation, and they tell me he is cutting a wide swath. Folks down there are raving over his bright sermons, and naturally that will flatter and influence a woman's judgment. Besides, I really believe the average woman would rather marry a mountain circuit-rider on three hundred a year than a man in easy circumstances in any other calling.”
“I don't know as to that,” Pole said, evasively. “Nobody kin pick an' choose fer a woman. Ef I had a dozen gals I'd keep my mouth shet on the husband line. That's old man Dickey's policy, over at Darley; he has ten gals that he says has married men in every line o' business under the sun. The last one come to 'im an' declared she wanted to marry a tight-rope walker that was exhibitin' in the streets. That sorter feazed the old chap, and he told the gal that her husband never could rise but jest so high in the world an' was shore to come down sooner or later, but she was the doctor an' to go ahead. Even that marriage turned out all right, fer one day the chap, all in stars an' spangles an' women's stockin's, fell off'n of a rope forty feet from the ground. He struck a load o' hay an' broke his fall, but on his way down he seed the sale sign of a grocery across the street an' bought the business, an' now Dickey's gettin' his supplies at wholesale prices.”
Turning from the old man, Pole passed the clerks and a few customers in the store and went back to Floyd's desk, where his friend sat writing.
“Got yore workin' gear on I see,” he observed, with a smile. “You look busy.”