Kitabı oku: «The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe: or, There's No Place Like Home», sayfa 3
CHAPTER IV
THE IDENTICAL SHOE
They did pretty well through the fall. Joe came across odd jobs, gathered stores of hickory-nuts and chestnuts; and now and then of an evening they had what he called a rousing good boil; and certainly chestnuts never tasted better. They sat round the fire, and told riddles or stories, and laughed as only healthy, happy children can. What if they were poor, and had to live in a little tumble-down shanty!
Sometimes Joe would surprise them with a somerset in the middle of the floor, or a good stand on his head in one corner.
"Joe," Granny would say solemnly, "I once knowed a man who fell that way on his head off a load of hay, and broke his back."
"Granny dear, 'knowed' is bad grammar. When you go to see Florence in her palace, you must say knew, to rhyme with blew. But your old man's back must have grown cranky with rheumatism, while mine is limber as an eel."
"He wasn't old, Joe. And in my day they never learned grammar."
"Oh, tell us about the good old times!" and Hal's head was laid in Granny's lap.
The children were never tired of hearing these tales. Days when Granny was young were like enchantment. She remembered some real witch stories, that she was sure were true; and weddings, quiltings, husking-bees, and apple-parings were full of interest. How they went out sleigh-riding, and had a dance; and how once Granny and her lover, sitting on the back seat, were jolted out, seat and all, while the horses went skimming along at a pace equal to Tam O'Shanter's. And how they had to go to a neighboring cottage, and stay ever so long before they were missed.
"There'll never be such times again," Joe would declare solemnly.
Florence would breath a little sigh, and wonder if she could ever attain to beaux and merriment, and if any one would ever quarrel about dancing with her. How happy Granny must have been!
Dot had a dreadful cold, and Granny an attack of rheumatism; but they both recovered before Christmas. Every one counted so much on this holiday. All were making mysterious preparations. Joe and Hal and Florence had their heads together; and then it was Granny and Florence, or Granny and Hal.
"I don't dare to stir out," said Joe lugubriously, "lest you may say something that I shall not hear."
Hal killed three fine young geese. Two were disposed of for a dollar apiece, and the third he brought to the kitchen in triumph.
"There's our Christmas dinner, and a beauty too!" he announced.
Hal had sold turkeys and chickens enough to buy himself a good warm winter coat.
Granny had a little extra luck. In fact, it was rather a prosperous winter with them; and there was nothing like starvation, in spite of Mrs. Van Wyck's prediction.
They all coaxed Granny to make doughnuts. Joe dropped them in the kettle, and Hal took them out with the skimmer. How good they did smell!
Kit and Charlie tumbled about on the floor, and were under everybody's feet; while Dot sat in her high chair, looking wondrous wise.
"How'll we get the stockings filled?" propounded Joe, when the supper-table had been cleared away.
They all glanced at each other in consternation.
"But where'll you hang 'em?" asked Kit after a moment or two of profound study.
"Some on the andirons, some on the door-knob, some on the kettle-spout, and the rest up chimney."
"I say, can't we have two?" was Charlie's anxious question.
"Lucky if you get one full. What a host of youngsters! O Granny! did you know that last summer I discovered that you were the old woman who lived in a shoe?"
"O Joe! don't;" and Hal raised his soft eyes reproachfully.
Granny laughed, not understanding Hal's anxiety.
"Because I had so many children?"
"Exactly; but I think you are better tempered than your namesake."
Granny's eyes twinkled at this compliment.
"It was an awful hot day, and Dot was cross enough to kill a cat with nine lives."
"But she's a little darling now," said Hal, kissing her. "I think the sand-man has been around;" and he smiled into the little face with its soft drooping eyes.
"Yes, she ought to be in bed, and Kit and Charlie. Come, children."
"I want to see what's going to be put in my stocking," whined Charlie in a very sleepy tone.
"No, you can't. March off, you small snipes, or you will find a whip there to-morrow morning."
That was Joe's peremptory order.
They had a doughnut apiece, and then went reluctantly. Charlie was very sure that she was wider awake than ever before in her life, and could not get asleep if she tried all night. Kit didn't believe that morning would ever come. Hal put on Dot's nightgown, and heard her say, "Now I lay me down to sleep;" while Joe picked up the cat, and irreverently whispered, —
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
All curled up in a little heap.
If I should wake before 'tis day,
What do you s'pose the doctor'd say?"
"O Joe!" remonstrated Granny.
"That's Tabby's prayers. Tabby is a high principled, moral, and intellectual cat. Now go to sleep, and dream of a mouse."
Tabby winked her eyes solemnly, as if she understood every word; and it's my firm belief that she did.
Then Granny, Florence, Joe, and Hal sat in profound thought until the old high clock in the corner struck nine.
"Well," said Joe, "what are we waiting for?"
Hal laughed and answered, —
"For some one to go to bed."
"What is to be done about it?"
Florence looked wise, and said presently, —
"We'll all have to go in the other room except the one who is to put something in the stockings."
"That's it. Who will begin?"
"Not I," rejoined Joe. "I don't want to be poked down into the toe."
"And I can't have my gifts crushed," declared Florence.
"Hal, you begin."
Hal was very cheerful and obliging. Granny lighted another candle, and the three retired. He disposed of his gifts, and then called Joe.
Joe made a great scrambling around. One would think he had Santa Claus himself, and was squeezing him into the small stocking, sleigh, ponies, and all.
"Now, Granny, it's your turn."
Granny fumbled about a long while, until the children grew impatient. Afterward Florence found herself sorely straitened for room; but she had a bright brain, and what she could not put inside she did up in papers and pinned to the outside, giving the stockings a rather grotesque appearance, it must be confessed. There they hung in a row, swelled to dropsical proportions, and looking not unlike stumpy little Dutchmen who had been beheaded at the knees.
"Now, Granny, you must go to bed," said Joe with an air of importance. "And you must promise to lie there until you are called to-morrow morning, – honor bright!"
Granny smiled, and bobbed her flaxen curls.
"Now," exclaimed Florence, bolting the middle door so they would be sure of no interruption.
Joe went out to the wood-shed, and dragged in a huge shoe. The toe was painted red, and around the top a strip of bright yellow, ending with an immense buckle cut out of wood.
"Oh, isn't it splendid!" exclaimed Florence, holding her breath.
"That was Hal's idea, and it's too funny for any thing. Granny could crawl into it head first. If we haven't worked and conjured to keep Kit and Charlie out of the secret, then no one ever had a bit of trouble in this world."
Joe laughed until he held his sides. It was a sort of safety escape-valve with him.
"H-u-s-h!" whispered Hal. "Now, Flossy."
Florence brought a large bundle out of the closet. There were some suppressed titters, and "O's," and "Isn't it jolly?"
"Now you must tie your garters round the bedpost, put the toe of your shoes toward the door, and go to bed backward. That'll make every thing come out just right," declared Joe.
"Oh, dear! I wish it was morning!" said Hal. "I want to see the fun."
"So don't this child. I must put in some tall snoring between this and daylight."
They said good-night softly to each other, and went off to bed. Joe was so full of mischief, that he kept digging his elbows into Hal's ribs, and rolling himself in the bedclothes, until it was a relief to have him commence the promised snoring.
With the first gray streak of dawn there was a stir.
"Merry Christmas!" sang out Joe with a shout that might have been heard a mile. "Hal and Kit" —
"Can't you let a body sleep in peace?" asked Kit in an injured tone, the sound coming from vasty deeps of bedclothes.
Joe declared they always had to fish him out of bed, and that buckwheat cakes was the best bait that could be used.
"Why, it's Christmas. Hurrah! We're going to have a jolly time. What do you suppose is in your stocking?"
That roused Kit. He came out of bed on his head, and commenced putting his foot through his jacket sleeve.
"I can't find my stockings! Who's got 'em?"
"The fellow who gets up first always takes the best clothes," said Joe solemnly.
With that he made a dive into his. It was the funniest thing in the world to see Joe dress. His clothes always seemed joined together in some curious fashion; for he flung his arms and legs into them at one bound.
"Oh, dear! Don't look in my stocking, Joe. You might wait. I know you've hidden away my shoe on purpose."
With this Kit sat in the middle of the floor like a heap of rains, and began to cry.
Hal came to the rescue, and helped his little brother dress. But Joe was down long before them. He gave a whoop at the door.
"Merry Christmas!" exclaimed Florence with a laugh, glad to think she had distanced him.
"Merry Christmas! The top o' the mornin' to you, Granny! Long life and plenty of 'praties and pint.' Santa Claus has been here. My eyes!"
Hal and Kit came tumbling along; but the younger stood at the door in amaze, his mouth wide open.
"Hush for your life!"
But Kit had to make a tour regardless of his own stocking, while Joe brandished the tongs above his head as if to enforce silence.
Hal began to kindle the fire. Charlie crept out in her nightgown, with an old shawl about her, and stood transfixed with astonishment.
"Oh, my! Isn't that jolly? Doesn't Granny know a bit?"
"Not a word."
"Mrs. McFinnegan," said Joe through the chink of the door, "I have to announce that the highly esteemed and venerable Mr. Santa Claus, a great traveller and a remarkably generous man, has made a call upon you during the night. As he feared to disturb your slumbers, he left a ball of cord, a paper of pins, and a good warm night-cap."
Florence was laughing so that she could hardly use buttons or hooks. Dot gave a neglected whine from the cradle.
"Is Granny ready?" Hal asked as she came out.
"She's just putting on her cap."
Hal went in for a Christmas kiss. Granny held him to her heart in a fond embrace, and wished the best of every thing over him.
"Merry Christmas to you all!" she said as Hal escorted her out to the middle of the room.
Joe went over on his head, and then perched himself on the back of a chair. The rest all looked at Granny.
"Is this really for me?" she asked in surprise, though the great placard stared her in the face.
The children set up a shout. Kit and Charlie paused, open-mouthed, in the act of demolishing something.
"Why, I never" —
"Tumble it out," said Joe.
"This great shoe full" —
Florence handed the first package to Granny. She opened it in amaze, as if she really could not decide whether it belonged to her or not.
There was a paper pinned on it, "A Merry Christmas from Mrs. Kinsey."
A nice dark calico dress-pattern, at which Granny was so overcome that she dropped into the nearest chair.
Next a pair of gloves from Joe; a pretty, warm hood from Mrs. Howard, the clergyman's wife; a bowl of elegant cranberry sauce from another neighbor; a crocheted collar from Florence, and then with a big tug —
"Oh!" exclaimed Granny, "is it a comfortable, or what?"
A good thick plaid shawl. Just bright enough to be handsome and not too gay, and as soft as the back of a lamb.
"Where did it come from?"
Granny's voice trembled in her excitement.
"From all of us," said Florence. "I mean, Joe and Hal and me. We've been saving our money this ever so long, and Mrs. Kinsey bought it for us. O Granny!" —
But Granny had her arms around them, and was crying over heads golden and brown and black; and Hal, little chicken-heart, was sobbing and smiling together. Joe picked a big tear or two out of his eye, and began with some nonsense.
"And to keep it a secret all this time! and to make this great shoe! There never was such a Christmas before. Oh, children, I'm happier than a queen!"
"What makes you cry then, Granny?" asked Charlie. "But oh! wasn't it funny? And if it only had runners it would make a sleigh. Look at the red toe."
They kissed dozens of times, and inspected each other's gifts. Florence had made each of the boys two dainty little neckties, having begged the silk from Miss Brown. Charlie and Kit had a pair of new mittens, Joe and Hal a new shirt with a real plaited bosom, and a host of small articles devised by love, with a scarce purse. But I doubt if there was a happier household in richer homes.
It was a long while before they had tried every thing, tasted of all their "goodies," and expressed sufficient delight and surprise. Dot was taken up and dressed, and Kit found that she fitted into the shoe exact. Her tiny stocking was not empty. They all laughed and talked; and it was nine o'clock before their simple breakfast was ready.
Joe had to take a turn out to see some of the boys; Florence made the beds, and put the room in order; and Hal kept a roaring fire to warm it up, so that they might have a parlor. Kit and Charlie were deeply interested in the shoe; and Granny had to break out every now and then in surprise and thankfulness.
"A shawl and hood and gloves and a dress! Why, I never had so many things at once, I believe; and how hard you must all have worked! I don't see how you could save so much money!"
"It's better than living with Mrs. Van Wyck," returned Florence with pardonable pride. "Embroidering is real pretty work, and it pays well. Mrs. Howard has asked me to do some for a friend of hers."
"You're a wonder, Florence, to be sure. I can't see how you do 'em all so nice. But my fingers are old and clumsy."
"They know how to make pies and doughnuts," said Kit, as if that was the main thing, after all.
They went to work at the dinner. It was to be a grand feast. Joe kept the fire brisk; while Hal waited upon Granny, and remembered the ingredients that went to make "tip-top" dressing.
"It is a pity you were not a Frenchman," said Florence. "You would make such a handy cook."
Hal laughed, his cheeks as red as roses.
"I couldn't keep house without him," appended Granny.
There was a savory smell of roasting goose, the flavor of thyme and onions, which the children loved dearly. Charlie and Kit went out to have a good run, and came back hungry as bears, they declared. Joe went off to see some of the boys, and compare gifts. Though more than one new sled or nice warm overcoat gave his heart a little twinge, he was too gay and happy to feel sad very long; and, when he had a royal ride down hill on the bright sleds that flashed along like reindeers, he returned very well content.
Florence sighed a little as she arranged the table. Three kinds of dishes, and some of them showing their age considerably. If they were all white it wouldn't be so bad. She did so love beauty!
But when the goose, browned in the most delicious manner, graced the middle dish, the golden squash and snowy mound of potatoes, and the deep wine color of the cranberries lent their contrast, it was quite a picture, after all. And when the host of eager faces had clustered round it, one would hardly have noticed any lack. They were all in the gayest possible mood.
Hal did the carving. The goose was young and tender, and he disappeared with marvellous celerity.
Wings, drumsticks, great juicy slices with crisp skin, dressing in abundance; and how they did eat! For a second helping they had to demolish the rack; and Charlie wasn't sure but picking bones was the most fun of all.
"Hal, you had better go into the poultry business," said Joe, stopping in the midst of a spoonful of cranberry.
"I've been thinking of it," was the reply.
"I should think he was in it," said Charlie slyly.
Joe laughed.
"Good for you, Charlie. They must feed you on knives at your house, you're so sharp. But I have heard of people being too smart to live long, so take warning."
Charlie gave her head a toss.
"Why wouldn't it be good?" pursued Joe. "People do make money by it; and I suppose, before very long, we must begin to think about money."
"Don't to-day" said Granny.
"No, we will not worry ourselves," rejoined Hal.
One after another drew long breaths, as if their appetites were diminishing. Dot sat back in her high chair, her hands and face showing signs of the vigorous contest, but wonderfully content.
"Now the pie!" exclaimed Joe.
Florence gathered up the bones and the plates, giving Tabby, who sat in the corner washing her face, a nice feast. Then came on the Christmas pie, which was pronounced as great a success as the goose.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Joe. "One unfortunate thing about eating is, that it takes away your appetite."
"It is high time!" added Florence.
They wouldn't allow Granny to wash a dish, but made her sit in state while they brought about order and cleanliness once more. A laughable time they had; for Joe wiped some dishes, and Charlie scoured one knife.
Afterward they had a game at blind-man's-buff. Such scampering and such screams would have half frightened any passer-by. They coaxed Granny to get up and join; and at last, to please Hal, she consented.
If Joe fancied he could catch her easily, he was much mistaken. She had played blind-man's-buff too many times in her young days. Such turning and doubling and slipping away was fine to see; and Charlie laughed so, that Joe, much chagrined, took her prisoner instead.
"Granny, you beat every thing!" he said. "Now, Charlie."
Charlie made a dive at the cupboard, and then started for the window, spinning round in such a fashion that they all had to run; but even she was not fleet enough.
After that, Kit and Florence essayed; and Joe, manœuvring in their behalf, fell into the trap himself, at which they all set up a shout.
"I'm bound to have Granny this time," he declared.
Sure enough, though he confessed afterwards that he peeped a little; but Granny was tired with so much running: and, as the short afternoon drew to a close, they gathered round the fire, and cracked nuts, washing them down with apples, as they had no cider.
"It's been a splendid Christmas!" said Charlie, with such a yawn that she nearly made the top of her head an island.
"I wonder if we'll all be here next year?" said Joe, rather more solemnly than his wont.
"I hope so," responded Granny, glancing over the clustering faces. Dot sat on Hal's knee, looking bright as a new penny. She, too, had enjoyed herself amazingly.
But presently the spirit of fun seemed to die out, and they began to sing some hymns and carols. The tears came into Granny's eyes, as the sweet, untrained voices blended so musically. Ah, if they could always stay children! Foolish wish; and yet Granny would have toiled for them to her latest breath.
"Here's long life and happiness!" exclaimed Joe, with a flourish of the old cocoanut dipper. "A merry Christmas next year, and may we all be there to see!"
Ah, Joe, it will be many a Christmas before you are all there again.
CHAPTER V
GOOD LUCK FOR JOE
"Hooray!" said Joe, swinging the molasses jug over his head as if it had been a feather, or the stars and stripes on Fourth of July morning.
"O Joe!"
"Flossy, my darling, you are a poet sure; only poetry, like an alligator, must have feet, or it will lose its reputation. Here's your 'lasses, Granny; and what do you think? Something has actually happened to me! Oh, my! do guess quick!"
"You've been taken with the 'lirium" – and there Charlie paused, having been wrecked on a big word.
"Delirium tremenjous. Remember to say it right hereafter, Charlie."
Charlie looked very uncertain.
"Maybe it's the small-pox," said Kit, glancing up in amazement.
"Good for you!" and Joe applauded with two rather blue thumb-nails. "But it's a fact. Guess, Granny. I'm on the high road to fortune. Hooray!"
With that, Joe executed his usual double-shuffle, and a revolution on his axis hardly laid down in the planetary system. He would have said that it was because he was not a heavenly body.
"O Joe, if you were like any other boy!"
"Jim Fisher, for instance, – red-headed, squint-eyed, and freckled."
"He can't help it," said Hal mildly. "He is real nice too."
"You're not going" – began Granny with a gasp.
"Yes, I'm going" – was the solemn rejoinder.
"Not to sea!" and there came a quick blur in Hal's eyes.
"Oh, bother, no! You're all splendid at guessing, and ought to have a prize leather medal. It's in Mr. Terry's store; and I shall have a dollar and a half a week! Good by, Mr. Fielder. Adieu, beloved grammar; and farewell, most fragrant extract of cube-root, as well as birch-oil. O Granny! I'm happy as a big sunflower. On the high road to fame and fortune, – think of it!"
"Is it really true?" asked Florence.
"Then, I won't need to go for any thing," appended Charlie.
"No; but you'll have to draw water, and split kindlings, and hunt up Mrs. Green's cows."
"In Mr. Terry's store! What wonderful luck, Joe!"
Granny's delight was overwhelming. All along she had experienced a sad misgiving, lest Joe should take a fancy to the sea in real earnest.
"Yes. It's just splendid. Steve Anthony's going to the city to learn a trade. He had a letter from his uncle to-day, saying that he might start right away. I thought a minute: then said I, 'Steve, who's coming here?' 'I don't know,' said he. 'Mr. Terry'll have to look round.' 'I'm your boy,' said I, 'and no mistake.' And with that I rushed in to Mr. Terry, and asked him. He gave me some columns of figures to add up, and questioned me a little, and finally told me that I might come on Monday, and we'd try for a week."
"There's Joe's fortune," said Hal, "and a good one too. You will not need to go to sea."
There was an odd and knowing twinkle in Joe's merry hazel eye, which showed to an observing person that he was not quite sound on the question.
"Tate Dotty;" and two little hands were outstretched.
"O Dot! you're a fraud, and more trouble to me than all my money."
With that, Joe sat her up on his shoulder, and she laughed gleefully.
Granny lighted a candle, and began to prepare for supper. While Charlie set the table, Granny brought out the griddle, and commenced frying some Indian cakes in a most tempting manner. Joe dropped on an old stool, and delighted Dot with a vigorous ride to Banbury Cross.
Kit stood beside him, inhaling the fragrance of the cakes, and wondering at the dexterity with which Granny turned them on a slender knife.
"I don't see how you do it. Suppose you should let 'em fall?"
"Ho!" said Charlie, with a sniff of disdain. "Women always know how."
"But they can't come up to the miners," suggested Joe. "They keep house for themselves; and their flapjacks are turned, – as big as Granny's griddle here."
"One cake?"
"Yes. That's where the art comes in."
"They must take a shovel," said Charlie.
"No, nor a knife, nor any thing."
With that Joe shook his head mysteriously.
"With their fingers," announced Kit triumphantly.
"My mother used to bake them in a frying-pan," said Granny. "Then she'd twirl it round and round, and suddenly throw the cake over."
"There!"
Kit gave a nod as much as to say, "Beat that if you can."
"That isn't a circumstance," was Joe's solemn comment.
"But how then?" asked Charlie, who was wound up to a pitch of curiosity.
"Why, they bake them in a pan too, and twirl it round and round, and then throw it up and run out of doors. The cake goes up chimney, and comes down on the raw side, all right, you see, and drops into the pan before you can count six black beans."
"Oh, I don't believe it!" declared Charlie. "Do you, Granny?"
"They'd have to be pretty quick," was the response.
"You see, a woman never could do it, Charlie," Joe continued in a tormenting manner.
"But, Charlie, a miner's cabin is not very high; and the chimney is just a great hole in the roof," explained Hal.
"'Tory, 'tory," said Dot, who was not interested in the culinary art.
"O Dotty! you'll have a piece worn off the end of my tongue, some day. It's high time you were storing your mind with useful facts; so, if you please, we will have a little English history."
"What nonsense, Joe! As if she could understand;" and Florence looked up from her pretty worsted crocheting.
"To be sure she can. Dot comes of a smart family. Now, Midget;" and with that he perched her up on his knee.
Charlie and Kit began to listen.
"'When good King Arthur ruled the land,
He was a goodly king:
He stole three pecks of barley-meal
To make a bag pudding.'"
"I don't believe it," burst out Charlie. "I was reading about King Arthur" —
"And he was a splendid cook. Hear his experience, —
'A bag pudding the king did make,
And stuffed it well with plums;
And in it put great lumps of fat,
As big as my two thumbs.'"
Dot thought the laugh came in here, and threw back her head, showing her little white teeth.
"It really wasn't King Arthur," persisted Charlie.
"It is a fact handed down to posterity. No wonder England became great under so wise and economical a rule; for listen —
'The king and queen did eat thereof,
And noblemen beside;
And what they could not eat that night,
The queen next morning fried,' —
as we do sometimes. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Hunnerful," ejaculated Dot, wide-eyed.
"I hope you'll take a lesson, and" —
"Come to supper," said Granny.
Irrepressible Charlie giggled at the ending.
They did not need a second invitation, but clustered around eagerly.
"I'm afraid there won't be any left to fry up in the morning," said Joe solemnly.
After the youngsters were off to bed that evening, Joe began to talk about his good fortune again.
"And a dollar and a half a week, regularly, is a good deal," he said. "Why, I can get a spick and span new suit of clothes for twelve dollars, – two months, that would be; and made at a tailor's too."
"The two months?" asked Florence.
"Oh! you know what I mean."
"You will get into worse habits than ever," she said with a wise elder-sister air.
"I don't ever expect to be a grand gentleman."
"But you might be a little careful."
"Flo acts as if she thought we were to have a great fortune left us by and by, and wouldn't be polished enough to live in state."
"The only fortune we shall ever have will come from five-finger land," laughed Hal good-naturedly.
"And I'm going to make a beginning. I do think it was a streak of luck. I am old enough to do something for myself."
"I wish I could find such a chance," said Hal, with a soft sigh.
"Your turn will come presently," Granny answered, smiling tenderly.
Joe went on with his air-castles. The sum of money looked so large in his eyes. He bought out half of Mr. Terry's store, and they were to live like princes, – all on a dollar and a half a week.
Granny smiled, and felt proud enough of him. If he would only keep to business, and not go off to sea.
So on Friday Joe piled up his books, and turned a somerset over them, and took a farewell race with the boys. They were all sorry enough to lose him. Mr. Fielder wished him good luck.
"You will find that work is not play," he said by way of caution.
Early Monday morning Joe presented himself bright as a new button. He had insisted upon wearing his best suit, – didn't he mean to have another soon? for the school clothes were all patches. He had given his hair a Sunday combing, which meant that he used a comb instead of his fingers. Mr. Terry was much pleased with his promptness.
A regular country store, with groceries on one side and dry goods on the other, a little sashed cubby for a post-office, and a corner for garden and farm implements. There was no liquor kept on the premises; for the mild ginger and root beer sold in summer could hardly be placed in that category.
Joe was pretty quick, and by noon had mastered many of the intricacies. Old Mr. Terry was in the store part of the time, – "father" as everybody called him. He was growing rather childish and careless, so his son instructed Joe to keep a little watch over him. Then he showed him how to harness the horse, and drove off with some bulky groceries that he was to take home.
"All things work together for good, sonny," said Father Terry with a sleepy nod, as he sat down by the stove.
"What things?"
"All things," with a sagacious shake of the head.
This was Father Terry's favorite quotation, and he used it in season and out of season.
The door opened, and Mrs. Van Wyck entered. She gave Joe a sharp look.
"So you're here?" with a kind of indignant sniff.
"Yes. What will you have?"
There was a twinkle in Joe's eye, and an odd little pucker to his lips, as if he were remembering something.
"You needn't be so impudent."
"I?" and Joe flushed in surprise.
"Yes. You're a saucy lot, the whole of you."
With that Mrs. Van Wyck began to saunter round.
"What's the price of these cranberries?"
"Eighteen cents," in his most respectful tone.
"They're dear, dreadful dear. Over to Windsor you can get as many as you can carry for a shillin' a quart."
Joe was silent.
"Say sixteen."
"I couldn't," replied Joe. "If Mr. Terry were here" —
"There's Father Terry." She raised her voice a little. "Father Terry, come and look at these cranberries. They're a poor lot, and you'll do well to get a shillin' a quart."
Joe ran his fingers through them. Plump and crimson, very nice he thought for so late in the season.
"I don't s'pose I'd get more'n two good quarts out of three. They'll spile on your hands. Come now, be reasonable."
Father Terry looked undecided. Joe watched him, thinking in his heart that he ought not fall a penny.
"Say a shillin'."
The old man shook his head.
"Well, fifteen cents. I want three quarts, and I won't give a penny more."
The old gentleman studied Joe's face, which was full of perplexity.
"Well," he said with some reluctance.
Joe measured them. Mrs. Van Wyck gave each quart a "settle" by shaking it pretty hard, and Joe had to put in another large handful.
