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F012 -YOUNG -PEOPLE p
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, VOL. Lxx. No. 39
the pilgrim Dress, Ioston. ‘new work ano cbicago
- Time Tfirjydgyoffventeen Qczerza-rum.
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Drawings by 0. S lbrsmi.
In Fouiz CIlAl'l"ERS. CllAVTF.R I
ICHARD CIIADHIICK was highly
gratihed with what he called his
“luck,” when, three months after his
graduation from the high school, Mr.
Morrison offered him a position in his
flour and feed store. A good deal of the
work was heavy, to he sure, but Richard
was stoutly built for seventeen, and had
never spared his muscle, either on the
ball ground, at the family wood pile or
in the field. Besides, it offered very fair
wages from the start, which could not be
said of most similar positions in a small
town like Lodwick.
Mr. Morrison was equally gratified with
his side of the bargain. lle was an elderly
man, sometimes‘ accused of being “crusty,”
but his new clerk got on admirably with
the fanners who patronized his store.
among whom, being a farm boy himself,
he had a wide acquaintance and was ex-
ceedingly popular.
“G it com this morning, Dick?"
Joe Hazlim might call out, pulling up his
team of iron-grays at the rear door.
“Hope ‘tain't as musty as that last bag
I got. Miry said the chickens wouldn't
look at it. 'less they was starved out."
Mr. Morrison‘ would probably have
given a sharp rejoinder togsuch com-
plaints, saying,‘as he did sometimes, that
the customer wasn't “obliged to buy what
didn't suit him"; but Richard invariably
met them with a laugh.
‘WV: have a few bushels, Mr. Hazlim,"
would be a characteristic answer 0 '
“but it's fifty per cent worse than what
you got the other day, and we’ve raised
nve cents a bushel on the price.”
As the reader may surmise, Richard's
facts were not alwaysiaccurate, but, for
the matter of that, nobody thought they
were. The farmers enjoyed the young
salesman’s “blul‘f." and Mr. Morrison
chuckled over it in secret as better busi-
ness policy than “crankiness.” Occasion-
ally a shipment of meal or ground feed
was a trifle musty, especially, at the sea-
son when the new grain was being used
at the mills, but Richard's “bluH" suc-
ceeded admirably in disposing of the last
bag. -
“Didn‘t I tell you that feed was sour.
Mr. Orr?" The apparent candor of the
question and the well-feigned look of sur-
prise seldom failed to wrinkle the cus-
tomcr's elderly face into some semblance
of a’ smile. “If I didn't. I meant to. Wish
you'd take what's left of the carload. “'e
have to watch it nights, for fear it'll get
up and walk otl."
““'hat in the world did you mean, Dick.
about our getting a barrel 0 Hour so
poor that we had to feed the bread to
the pigs?” Ruth inquired one September
morning. She had waited at the feed
store to catch a ride to a friend's houser
on the delivery Wngrm. and thus chanced
to overhear one of Richard's jesting con-
. “I don't know when it could
have been. I never heard of it."
enjoyment that he seemed in danger of
toppling on the high sear. “Well, if that
isn't a good joke! Such a matter-of-fact
body as you are, sister mine! VVhy, that's
a. fiction of the business world, Ruth, very
necessary and wholly harmless, woven
out of the ‘stuff that dreams are made
of.’ That's Shakspere, isn't it?"
“But-but it wasn't true, Dick.” Ruth's
rather attractive face wore a grave expres-
sion, which again provoked the brother's
merriment.
“Of course it ‘wasn't true," he laughed.
“If it had been, I shouldn't have been so
free telling it. Nobody thought it was‘
true-that's the beauty of the thing.
Hope, you didn't think I expected Deacon
Fowler to buy a barrel of flour because
it was too bad to eat, did you?" ‘ ‘
“But somebody might, Dick”: Ruth
began. not getting further, however, for‘
Dick broke in. willfully misunderstanding.‘
“Of course they might," he chalfed.
“Next thing we know you'll be bringing
home a dress pattern you bought just
because Mr. Leonard said it was dam-
aged. It's the way they all do-every one
of ’ETl'l."
Before Richard returned from making
deliveries that morning, Mr. Morrison
had closed a bargain with Chet Flanders,
an eccentric old farmer from what was
known as the “up-creek district," to take
his entire crop of oats-nearly a thou-
sand bushels.
peared highly elated.over the transaction
when he related the circumstances to his
young assistant an hour or two later.
“Oats are on the rise,” he said, rubbing
his hands as though he were washing
them. “They wouldn't take my order in
Chicago to-day for 1ess’n thirty-eight, and
they'll go fty, my notion. before they
go lower. If his stock's as good as the
sample, I've no fault to find with the
price. Thirty-five-that's all he asked.
IIe’s such a queer, crazy mortal, I hated
to have anything to do with him, but that
was too good to lose.”
For the next few days, Richard was
kept unusually busy handling the Flan-
ders oats. Mr. Flanders had apparently
drafted all the teams in his neighborhood
into service, but he superintcnded the
weighing andunloading. himself. He was
a rather short man. whose bent shoulders
and white hair made him look older than
he really was, and he worked for the
most part silently, scrutinizing every de-
tail with quick, nervous glances of his v,
deep-set eyes. The last bag was emptied
into the big bin about four o'clock on
Friday afternoon, and the up-creek farmer
shambled into the otiice, where Mr. Mor-
rison sat behind his desk. buried in the
depths of a ponderous ledger. V
“That's the hull of ’em," he announced,
fiinging down a bundle of weigh bills
under the purchaser's nose. "Next thing,
is the pay. Three hundred and thi‘ty-
eight dollars and seventeen cents."
The dealer began turning over the" bills, ‘
h “ 'll '
scanning eac . I ve you a c eck
for the amount. That last load you put
in yesterday wasn't as clean as it might
have been-lots of weed seed in it."
Mr. Flanders’ waxy-hued face Hushed
an ominous purplish-red. If there was
one thing that his irritable temper could
not bear it was detraction of any article
he offered for 5.1 e.
“I won't have none o’ yer cheeks," he
shouted flourishing a brawny fist bel-
ligerently. “I want three thi'ty-eight,
seventeen, in clean cash, 'fore I leave this
shanty. or the teams'll begin back loadin’
the stuff, and you'll pay for haulin’ both
ways. The bargain was money on de-
liy , want it? Say. now, wa'n’t it?"
“But-but the bank is closed, man,"
Mr. Morrison sputtered. “There isn't
three hundred dollars loose in Lodwick."
The unreasonableness of the demand
made him angry in turn. “I wouldn't go
a step out of my way to get it if there
was. You may take the check, or leave
it alone."
There was a good deal more of this
wordy altercation, which, happily, we have
no occasion to record Mr. Flanders re-
peated his threat of removing the grain,
but finally drove away, shouting back a
warning that he would “sue the account,
if the money was not brought to him
within twenty-four hours.”
“And I won't come for it, nuther,” the
irate farmer declared as a parting salute.
“It's got to be put in my han ' ore sun-
down to-morrer, or I'll”-- The rest
‘"1 wnvr 1-mar-:3 -nu'1r-i=.xou-r, sEvvcNIH<..V “' are gone, it
was drowned in the rumble of the heavy
5.
“He can't do a thing,” Mr. Morrison
said to Richard, after relating the circum-
stances with which the reader is already
familiar, "but I hate to get into trouble
with such a man. I believe I'll draw
the amount out of the bank in the
morning and send )ou over with it. I
won't give him the satisfaction of go-
ing myself-that would please him too
well"
5
It
“Give me time to get my life insured
before I start, uon't you. Mr. Morrison?“
laughed Richard. “I came round the cor-
ner just in time to hear the last blast. and
he seemed pretty savage. Pettys says he
has an awful disposition, once he gets
angry about anything." ,
“I guess that's true enough,” the dealer
agreed. He turned the key in the other:
door, remembered something inside. went
to get it and closed the door a second
time. "Yes, I think I'll send you up creek.
soon as the bank opens in the morning.
It'll be off my mind then.”
At half-past ten the following morning,
Richard came into his t-mpoyer‘s office,
his face wearing a puzzled expression.
“I've been to both livery stables, Mr.
Morrison," he said, “and everything in the
shape of a horse is gone or spoken or.
You know it's the big day of the fair at
Spriugbrook-we ought to have thought
of that. Couldn't spare old Dan oi? the
delivery wagon, could you?"
.lr. Morrison shook his head slowly.
“Hurley has him down at the coal yard.
That cool night last week set folks think-
ing about winter, and of course they can't
wait a minute. That last carloa was
ten days behindhand."
“I'll tell you what I'll do." Richard
showed the animation of a new idea. “l‘ll
walk out to the farm. Father'll let me
have a horse-I know he will. VVhy
didn't I think of that before?"
Mr. Morrison lifted the lid of the desk
a little, thrust in a hand and brought out
a much-worn leather wallet. “I just put
the amount in hererthrec thi'ty-eight,
seventeen.” He smiled grimly at his imi-
tation of Flanders” vernacular. “That's
the best we can do, I guess."
“This is the last you'll see of me," Rich-
ard exclaimed gayly, catching up the
wallet and thrusting it into an inner
“I'm never
hands again-not
at one time, an)’-
how’aml the best
thing for me to do
is to clear out.
Good-by, Mr. Mor-
rison."
Richard gener-
ally walked briskly,
and he was a tritle
breathless when he
Lodwick village.
Ilis errand was
making itself
known in discon-
ncctml snatches. as
he burst into the
k i t ch en, unan-
nounced, snatched
up a caraway cake
from :1 long row
cooling on the
table and talked as
volubly with his
mouth full as he
had done when it
was empty.
““fhy, both teams
1) -k '
Ruth informed,
poising the edge of a hot tin on her ging-
ron. “Mr. llendrick came over
last night and wanted father and Steve
to go out to Spriugbrook to-day and
bring home some lambs he'd bought at
the fair. They've been gone an hour,
haven't they, mother?"
'“I.oi‘:zer than that, I should think." Mrs.
Chadwick rejoined. “I don't know where
else you'd look. Richard. Seems as it
almost everybody on the road has gone
by this morning."
“I sha'n't look," Richard declared.
“Might as well foot it over to Flanders‘
place as run from Dan to Ileersheba after
a horse. I can make it in two hours, I
guess."
"Why. Richard. it must be nine or ten
iles," Mrs. Chadwick objected. “Your
feet'll be so sore by the time you get back
that you can't stand on them."
“But who said anything about coming
Scrrcn um 27, r913
