"'Oh, no,' said I; 'as I have not told my wife, of course I shall not
tell him. I am much obliged to you for your willingness to stay. It
would be very awkward if you should go.'

"'I understand that, sir,' said Isaac, 'and I would do not one thing to
discompose madame or yourself.'

"Rounders arrived according to schedule, and I met him at the gate, and
explained that my wife insisted it would be incongruous for a carriage
to drive up to the cot. 'I like that!' exclaimed Rounders. 'I like to
walk a little.' I took up one of his valises, the good Isaac carried the
two larger ones, while Rounders, with an apologetic look from right to
left, as if there might be some person present to whom this action
should be explained, took up some canes and umbrellas wrapped in a rug,
and we all went down to the cot, where Anita was waiting to receive us.

"'Oh, I like this,' said Rounders, quite cheerfully. 'I do not know when
I have gone anywhere without some of my people. But I assure you I like
it. At the bottom of our hearts we all like this sort of thing.'

"Anita showed him everything, and probably bored him dreadfully; but our
guest was determined to be pleased, and never ceased to say how much he
liked everything. There was no foolish pride about him, he said; he
believed in coming close to nature; and although a great many of the
peaceful joys of humanity were denied the man of affairs, still, when
the opportunity came, how gladly our inward natures rose up to welcome
it! 'Your wife tells me,' said he, 'that she is cook, housekeeper,
everything. This is charming! It must be a joy to you to know she is
capable of it. But, my dear friend,' he said, putting his hand on my
shoulder, 'you must not let her overwork herself. She will be very apt
to do it; the temptation is great. I am sure if I were she the
temptation to overwork in these new spheres would be very great.'

"Rounders certainly did overwork himself, and this was in the line of
trying to make us believe that he thoroughly liked this plan of ours of
living in a cot by a rill, and that he was quite capable of forgetting
his ordinary life of affluence and luxury in the simple joys of our
rural household. He would have produced an impression on both Anita and
me if he had not said so much about it; but I knew what he was trying to
do, and made all the necessary allowances for him.

"But, say what he might, I knew he was not satisfied. I could see that
he missed his 'people,' by whom he was accustomed to be surrounded and
served; and I soon found out that his meals did not suit him. Anita
visited the kitchen much more frequently than she had done just before
Rounders arrived, and she talked a great deal about the dishes which
were served to us; but, so far as I could judge, she had no more to do
with their preparation than she had previously had. I was thoroughly
well satisfied with everything; and, although Rounders was not, it was
impossible for him to say so when he sat opposite the lady who told him
two or three times at every meal that she presided in the kitchen. Of
course I would have done everything in my power to give Rounders things
to eat that he liked, but I did not know what to do. Our table was just
as good, though not as varied, as it was when we were in town; and that
Rounders was accustomed to living better than we did I could not for one
moment believe. I came to the conclusion that, in spite of his efforts
to subdue his dominating habit, he could not resist the temptation to
let us know that he was not used to humble life, or even the appearance
of it.

"So I enjoyed our three good meals a day,--Anita would not allow us any
more,--which were prepared by one of the best cooks on the continent
from the choicest materials furnished regularly under Baxter's orders;
and if Rounders chose to think that what was good enough for me was not
good enough for him, he must go his own way and suffer accordingly. In
fortune and in station I was so immeasurably superior to him that it
nettled me a little to see him put on airs at the table to which I had
invited him. But Rounders was Rounders, and I did not allow my
irritation to continue.

"In two or three days our visitor's overwork began to show on him: his
naturally plump cheeks hung down, his eyes drooped, and, although he
drank a great deal of wine, he was seldom in good spirits. On the fourth
day of his visit, after the morning mail had been brought to us by
Isaac, Rounders came to me and told me he had just received a letter
which would make it necessary for him to go home that afternoon. I
expressed my regret, but did not urge him to stay, for it was obvious
that he wanted to go. 'I have had a most delightful time,' he said, as
he took leave of Anita; 'but business is business, and I cannot put it
aside.'

"I believed both these statements to be incorrect: I knew that at that
season he was not likely to be called away on business, and he had given
me no reason to suppose he was enjoying himself; and as I walked with
him to the gate I am afraid I was only stiffly polite. Our spirits rose
after his departure. Anita said she had found him an incongruity, and I
was tired of the spectacle of a purse-proud man trying to appear like
other people. But if I were harsh in my judgment of him I was speedily
punished. On the third day after he left I received a message from
Baxter, who wanted to see me at Baldwin's tent. He was not allowed to
come into the grounds, for Anita said that would look too much like
business.

"I found that Baxter's errand was indeed urgent, and that he was fully
warranted in disturbing our privacy. The members of an English syndicate
were coming down from Canada to make final arrangements with me for the
purchase of a great tract of mining land, and as my presence and
signature were absolutely necessary in the concluding stages of the
transaction, I would be obliged to be in New York on the next day but
one.

"I was greatly annoyed by this intelligence. The weather was
particularly fine, Anita was reading me a most interesting novel, and I
was settling myself down to a thorough enjoyment of our cottage life,
which I did not wish interfered with by anybody or anything, and I
growlingly asked why the syndicate had chosen such an unsuitable time of
the year to come down from Canada. But Baxter did not know. I continued
to growl, but there was no way out of it. I must go to New York. For the
sake of perhaps half a million dollars, which would not alter our
ordinary manner of living, which would not give us any pleasures,
privileges, or advantages of any kind which we did not now possess, we
must break up our delightful life at the cot and rill, and go back to
the humdrum of ordinary society.

"Baxter tried to console me. He said we could easily return when this
business had been settled. But I knew that going away would break the
charm; I thoroughly understood Anita's nature, and I was sure if she
left the cot for a time she would not want to go back to it. But when I
told her Baxter's business, and that she would have to have some one
come and pack up for her, she flatly declared that no one should do
anything of the kind. She would stay where she was.

"'You can't stay here by yourself!' I cried.

"'Of course not,' she said. 'Who could imagine such an absurdity? But I
shall not be alone. I was thinking this very morning of Fanny Ransmore
and her mother. I want some women guests this time, and they would be
delightful after Mr. Rounders. Fanny is as lively as a cricket, and
Mrs. Ransmore could take care of anybody. You can tell Baxter to have
some one to patrol the grounds at night, and we shall get along
beautifully. I am sure you will not be away long.'

"'But can you get the Ransmores?' I asked.

"'Certainly,' said she. 'They are at Newport now; but I will telegraph
immediately, and they can start to-night and get here to-morrow
afternoon. You need not be afraid they cannot come. They would give up
any engagement on earth to be our only guests.'

"The matter was settled according to Anita's plan, and I was more
willing to go to New York when I reflected that after the Ransmores came
Anita would not be able to read aloud to me."

"At this point," said the Master of the House, "your hero makes me
angry. Why should he think he could not go away and leave his wife for
three days, when I leave my wife, and daughter too, for three years? His
Anita is not worth one twentieth as much as either my wife or daughter.
Then again, if I were in his place, I would not allow a disadvantageous
half-million to take me away from you two. It is only the absolutely
necessary thousands that make me leave you as I do."

"Your sentiments are just as nice as they can be, papa," said the
Daughter of the House; "but don't you see if the gentleman did what you
would do it would spoil the story?"

John Gayther smiled with pleasure. Here was a young lady who never
forgot the principle of the thing, whatever the thing might be.

"That is true!" exclaimed the captain, stretching himself at full length
in his chair. "I did not think of that. Madam, please proceed; let the
King of Siam recommence his performances."

"I will merely remark," said the Mistress of the House, "that if the
King of Siam undertook to emulate my hero in all his performances, it
would be a pretty hard thing for his already overtaxed subjects.

"The Ransmores arrived on time, and were as delighted with the
invitation as Anita had said they would be. According to her orders,
neither of them brought a maid, which must have been pretty hard on the
old lady; but they declared that the fun of waiting on themselves would
be greater than anything Newport could possibly offer them.

"I went to New York, attended to my business, which occupied me for
three days, and then I thought this would be a good opportunity to take
a trip to Philadelphia to look at a large steam-yacht which was in
course of construction at the shipyards there. I did not feel in such a
hurry to go back to the cot now that the Ransmores were there, and I was
sure also that Anita would like to hear about the new yacht, in which we
hoped to make a Mediterranean voyage during the winter. But early in the
forenoon of my second day in Philadelphia, while I was engaged in a
consultation concerning some of the interior fittings of the yacht, I
received a telegram from Baxter informing me that my wife had returned
from the cot on the previous evening, and was now at our town house. At
this surprising intelligence I dropped the business in hand and went to
New York by the first train.

"'Of course,' said Anita, when we were alone, 'I will tell you why I
left that precious cot. We had a very good time after you left, and I
showed the Ransmores everything. The next day Fanny and I determined to
go fishing, leaving Mrs. Ransmore to read novels in a hammock, an
occupation she adores. Isaac was just as good as he could be all the
time; he got rods for us, and made us some beautiful bait out of raw
beef, for of course we did not want to handle worms; and we started for
the river. We had just reached a place where we could see the water,
when Fanny called out that somebody had a chicken-yard there, and that
we would have to go around it. We walked ever and ever so far, over all
sorts of stones and bushes, until we made up our minds we were inside a
chicken-yard and not outside, and so we could not get around it. I was
very much put out, and did not like it a bit because we could not reach
the river; but Fanny saw through it all, and said she was sure the fence
had been put there to keep all sorts of things from disturbing us; and
then she proposed fishing in the rill.

"'We tried this a long time, but not a bite could we get; and then Fanny
went wandering up the stream to see if she could find a spring, because
she said she had heard that trout were often found in cold streams.
After a while she came running back, and said she had found the spring,
and what on earth did I think it was? She had soon come to what seemed
to be the upper end of the rill, and went down on her hands and knees
and looked under the edge of a great flat rock, and there she saw the
end of an iron pipe through which the water was running. When I heard
this I threw down my fishing-rod and would have nothing to do with an
artificial rill. I remembered then that I had thought, two or three
times, it had improved very much since I had first seen it; and when I
asked Mr. Baxter about it last night, he said the original rill had not
water enough in it for the little cataracts and ponds, and all that, and
so he had brought down water from some other stream about half a mile
away.

"'When we went back to the cot Fanny seemed to have her suspicions
excited, and she pried into everything, and soon told me that the
furniture and all the things in the cot were only imitation of the
things plain country people use, and were, in reality, of the best
materials and wonderfully well made, and that it must have cost a lot of
money to buy all these imitations of old-fashioned, poor-folksy things.
Then she went into the garden and peered about, and told Isaac, who was
working there, that she had never seen so many different kinds of
vegetables all ripe at the same time. He touched his cap, and said that
was a compliment to his gardening. But pretty soon she saw the edge of a
flower-pot sticking above the ground, and showed it to me. I made him
dig up whole beds of things, and there was nothing but pots and pots, in
which everything was growing.

"'I went back to the house and looked about a good deal more, with Fanny
at my elbow to tell me how poor people would never have this or that or
the other thing. Then I was very angry with myself for not being able to
see things without having them pointed out to me by that Fanny Ransmore,
who was not invited to pry about and make herself disagreeable in that
way.'

"'And were you angry with me?' I asked.

"'Yes,' she answered; 'for a little while. But when I remembered the
plans I had made I thought we were about square, and that I had
concealed as much from you as you had from me. I was not angry, but I
was determined I would not stay in that mock-cot any longer. I could not
bear the sight of anything I looked at. I thought the quickest way of
settling the matter was to get rid of the whole business at once, and I
told Isaac to put a crowbar under the kitchen stove, which was full of
burning wood, and turn it over. But he was horrified, and said he might
be arrested and put in prison for doing that; and, besides, it would be
such a shame to waste so many beautiful things. Fanny and her mother
thought so, too. And I asked Isaac where the family lived who used to
own the cot, and he said they were still at the hotel, not being able to
find any suitable quarters. So I sent for the widow and her daughter and
son, and I told them to take the cot just as it was, and to keep it
forever, and I would have Mr. Maxwell make out the law papers. They went
about shouting with delight at everything they saw, very different from
that Fanny! So it was really a very nice thing to do, and I feel a great
deal better. And here I am, and you will find Fanny and her mother
somewhere in the house whenever you want to see them. After this I think
it will be better for us both not to try any affectionate frauds on each
other.'

"I was very glad the investigating Fanny had not discovered all my
affectionate frauds, and that I was able myself to reveal to Anita the
identity of the useful Isaac. This did amaze her, and for a moment I
thought she was going to cry; but she was not in the habit of doing much
of that sort of thing, and presently she laughed. 'Monsieur Isadore,'
she exclaimed, 'working in the garden and washing pots and pans! Why,
don't you know some people think he is almost as good as our head chef
Leonard?'

"'As good!' I cried. 'He is infinitely better. Leonard could never have
done for us what our good Isaac did. And now I must tell you a story
about Isadore that Baxter related to me this morning as we drove up from
the station.' I then told her the story of Isadore alias Isaac--of his
dislike for Mr. Rounders, and of the noble manner in which he had
determined to stand by us when he heard that gentleman was about to
visit us. 'After Rounders's arrival,' I remarked, 'things went on
apparently as well as before--'

[Illustration: "I made him dig up whole beds of things."]

"'Apparently!' Anita interrupted. 'They went on better than before. I
let Isaac, as we called him, do a great deal more of the cooking than he
did before Mr. Rounders came. I thought our meals were remarkably good,
and if Mr. Rounders did not like them, as I sometimes thought he did
not, I believed it was because he could not help putting on airs even to
us.'

"I laughed. 'Well,' said I, 'the state of the case was this: during the
whole time Rounders stayed with us, Isadore did not cook one particle of
food for him.'

"'That was impossible,' cried Anita. 'I noticed nothing of the kind,
and, besides, Mr. Rounders would have found it out immediately.'

"'Of course neither of us noticed it,' said I, 'for Isadore did not
serve us with any of the things he gave to Rounders. And as for the
latter discovering that he was eating his food raw, he had no idea that
such was the case. He supposed he was eating what we ate, and therefore
did not like to say anything about it.'

"'But I do not understand!' cried Anita. 'How could any one eat things
and not know they were uncooked?'

"'You do not understand,' said I, 'because you do not comprehend the
deep and wonderful art of Isadore. Baxter tried to explain some of it to
me as he heard it from the lips of the chef himself, but I do not know
enough of kitchen magic to understand it. As Isadore waited on us, he
was able to bring us well-prepared food, and to give Mr. Rounders
something very different, but which looked just like that we had. Even
his coffee was served in a cup heated hot in the oven, while the coffee
itself had merely been warmed. I cannot explain all these uncooked
meals, and if you want to know more you must ask Isadore himself. But
Baxter told me that spices and condiments must have been used with
wonderful effect, and that the poor man must have lived mostly on
biscuits. Isadore said that all his life he would laugh when he thought
of Mr. Rounders trying to eat a chicken croquette the inside of which
was perfectly raw, while the outside smoked, and looking at the same
time with astonishment at you and me as we quietly ate what seemed to be
exactly like the thing he had on his plate.'

"'But, Harold,' said Anita, 'that was a shameful way to treat our
guest!'

"'That is what Baxter said to Isadore; but the cook excused himself by
stating that all this happened in a cot, in a dear little cot, where
everything was different from everything else in the world, and where he
had tried to make you and me happy, and where he himself had been so
happy, especially when he saw Mr. Rounders trying to eat chicken
croquettes. He was also so pleased with the life at the cot that he is
going to have one of his own when he goes back to Alsace, which will be
shortly, as he has made enough to satisfy his wants, and he intends to
retire there and be happy in a cot.'

"Anita reflected for a few moments, and then she said: 'I think life in
a cot might be very happy indeed--for Isaac.'"

With this the Mistress of the House rose from her chair.

"Is that at all?" exclaimed her daughter. "There are several things I
want to know."

"That is all," replied the story-teller. "Like the good King of Siam, I
consider my already overtaxed subjects." And with this she went into the
house.

"Do either of you suppose," remarked the Master of the House, "that that
Anita woman gave the whole of that great estate to the widow and her two
children? How much land do you think, John Gayther, was enclosed inside
that chicken wire?"

"I have been calculating it in my head," replied the gardener, "and it
must have been over a thousand acres. And for my part, sir, I don't
believe it was all given to the widow. When Mr. Baxter came to attend to
the papers I think he made over the cot and about seven acres of land,
which was quite enough to be attended to by a half-grown boy."

"That is my opinion, too," said the Daughter of the House, "and I think
that the opulent owner of that great estate made a deer-park of the rest
of it, with reindeer, fallow deer, red deer, stags, and all sorts of
deer, and not one of them able to jump over the wire."

"Ah, me!" said the captain, rising and folding his arms as he leaned his
broad back against a pillar of the summer-house, "these great volcanoes
of wealth, always in eruption, always squirting out town houses, country
houses, butlers, chefs, under-chefs, diamonds, lady's-maids, horses,
carriages, seaside gardens, thousand-acre poultry-yards, private
sidewalks, and clouds of money which obscure the sun, daze my eyes and
amaze my soul! John Gayther, I wish you would send me one of your
turnip-hoers; I want him to take my second-best shoes to be mended."




                       THIS STORY IS TOLD BY

                      THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE

                           AND IS CALLED

                     THE GILDED IDOL AND THE
                         KING CONCH-SHELL




V

THE GILDED IDOL AND THE KING CONCH-SHELL


The rose-vines were running riot over the old garden wall, and as it
was now midsummer and the season of their full bloom had passed, John
Gayther set to work one morning to prune and train them. The idea of
doing this was forcibly impressed upon his mind that day by the fact
that the Mistress of the House had returned the evening before, and he
knew that she would notice the untidy appearance of the rose-vines as
soon as it should please her to come into the garden. The family had
been at the sea-shore for nearly two weeks, and the gardener had missed
them sorely, especially the Daughter of the House. They had now all
returned, and the butler had told him that they had brought with them a
visitor, a Frenchman. John Gayther, whose mind was always full of the
Daughter of the House, immediately inquired if he was young; but the
butler's answer was unsatisfactory, as he said the gentleman was neither
young nor old, and talked queer English. As the butler himself--who was
English--talked what seemed to the gardener queer English, John did not
lay much stress upon that statement.

He was soon to make his own observations, however, for a sweet voice he
knew well called out to him: "We are all back, John, in the dear old
garden!"

John turned, and found four persons had come up quietly and were
watching his work. He returned the cordial greetings of the family, and
then the Master of the House informally introduced their companion. "We
have a foreign gentleman with us, John; he belongs to the same nation as
your great hero Lafayette, and therefore I know you will be pleased to
have him join our story-telling party. For it has been decided by the
ruling power in this house that a story is to be told this morning; so
leave your vines, and come with us."

John was obliged to follow as the party took the path to the
summer-house, but he went unwillingly. Lafayette was a great and good
man, but it did not follow that all his countrymen were of that sort;
and, in fact, John knew but little about Frenchmen. He immediately
conceived a dislike to this one as he saw him walking by the side of the
Daughter of the House and evidently pleased with her company. He greatly
disliked the idea of telling a story to this stranger, and determined it
should not be made interesting.

There was nothing in the Frenchman's appearance to excite this dislike.
There was nothing striking about him. He was a good-looking man verging
on middle age perhaps, with a rather short little figure and an airy
walk.

"Now," said the Master of the House, when the party were all disposed
to the best advantage, and the Frenchman had gone into an ecstasy over
the view from the summer-house, "John Gayther, you are to listen
carefully to this story, for I am going to tell it myself, being moved
thereto by the story my wife told here."

John, greatly relieved by this announcement, signified his cordial
approbation, and the captain began his relation:

"Captain Abner Budlong was a retired sailorman. He was rather small of
stature, with mild blue eyes, and a little gold ring in each of his
ears. He was in the prime of life, and had been so often wet with salted
water and dried by salted winds that he looked as though he might last
forever.

"He had ceased to sail in ships, because his last vessel, of which he
had been part-owner, had positively declined to sail any longer under
him. When this misguided craft decided to go to the bottom of the sea,
Captain Abner, in a little boat, accompanied by his crew, betook himself
to the surface of the land, and there he determined to stay for the rest
of his life. His home was on the sea-shore. In the summer-time he fished
and took people out to sail in his boat; and in the cold weather he
generally devoted himself to putting things into his house, or arranging
or rearranging the things already there. He himself was his family, and
therefore there was no difference of opinion as to the ordering of that
household.

"The house was divided through the middle by a narrow hallway; that part
to the right as one entered the front door was called by Captain Abner
the 'bachelor side,' while the portion to the left he designated as the
'married side.' The right half might have suggested a forecastle, and
was neat and clean, with sanded floors and everything coiled up and
stowed away in true shipshape fashion. But the other half was viewed by
Captain Abner as something in the quarter-deck style. Exactly half the
hall was carpeted, and the little parlor opening from it was also
carpeted, painted, and papered, and filled with a great variety of
furniture and ornaments which the captain had picked up by sea and land.
Everything was very pretty and tasteful, according to the captain's
ideas of taste and art, and everything was sacred; no collector could
have bought anything out of that little parlor, no matter how much money
he might offer.

"This parlor and the room above had been furnished, decorated, and
ornamented for the future mistress of Captain Abner's household, and he
was ready to dedicate them to her services whenever he should be so
lucky as to find her. So far, as he sometimes expressed himself, he had
not had a chance to sing out, 'There she blows!'

"One afternoon, when Captain Abner was engaged in dusting the ornaments
in the parlor, his good friend Samuel Twitty stood in the doorway and
accosted him. Sam Twitty had been mate to Captain Abner, and as he had
always been accustomed to stand by his captain, he stood by him when he
left the sea for the land; although they did not live in the same house,
they were great cronies, and were always ready to stand by each other,
no matter what happened. Sam's face and figure were distinguished by a
pleasant plumpness; he was two or three years the junior of Captain
Abner, and his slippered feet were very flat upon the ground. He held
his pipe behind his back in such a position that it hung over the
uncarpeted part of the hallway. A pipe in the married part of the house
was never allowed.

"'Sam,' said Captain Abner, 'you've hove in sight jes at the right
minute, for I'm kind o' puzzled. Here's this conch-shell, which is the
biggest I ever seed, and a king conch-shell at that, and I can't make up
my mind whether she'd like it here in the middle of the mantelpiece, or
whether she'd like to have the gilded idol here, where it would be the
fust thing she'd see when she came into the room. Sometimes I'm inclined
in the way of the heathen idol, and sometimes in the way of the king
conch-shell. And how am I to know which she likes? What do you think
about it?'

"'Well, now, Cap'n Abner,' said Sam, his head cocked a little to one
side, 'that's a pretty hard question to answer, considerin' I don't know
who she is and what kind o' taste she's got. But I'll tell you what I'd
do if I was you. I'd put that king conch-shell on the mantelpiece, or I
would put the gilded idol there, it wouldn't matter much which, and then
I'd put the other one handy, so that when she fust come in, and you
could see she didn't like whatever it was that was in the middle of the
mantelpiece, you could whip it off and put the other thing there almost
afore she knowed it.'

"'Sam,' said Captain Abner, 'that's a real good rule to go by, and it
looks to me as if it might fit other things besides gilded idols and
conch-shells. And now that you're here I'd like you to stay and take
supper with me. I've got something to tell you.'

"After the evening meal, which was prepared by Captain Abner and his
guest, who were both expert maritime cooks and housekeepers, these two
old friends sat down to smoke their pipes, the parlor door having been
carefully shut.

"'Sam,' said the captain, 'I've got everything ready for her that I can
think of. There isn't anything more she'd be likely to want. So now I'm
goin' after her, and I'm goin' to start on Monday mornin'.'

"Sam Twitty was astonished. He had had an idea that Captain Abner would
go on preparing for her to the end of his days, and it was a shock to
him to hear that the work of preparation, in which he had been
interested for so many years, and in which he had so frequently
assisted, should now be brought suddenly to a close.

"'Ready!' he ejaculated. 'I wouldn't have believed it if ye hadn't told
me yourself. And yet, come to think of it, I can't see for the life of
me what else you can do for her.'

"'There ain't nothin' else,' said Abner, 'and on Monday mornin' I'm
settin' out to look for her.'

"'Do you go by land or by water?' asked Sam.

"'Land,' was the answer. 'There ain't no chance of runnin' across her by
sea.'

"'And how are you goin'? Walkin'?'

"'No, sir,' said Abner. 'I'm goin' to hire a horse and a buggy. That's
how I'm goin'.'

"'And where are you goin' to steer fust?' asked Sam.

"'I'm goin' fust to Thompsontown, and after I've took my observations
there I'll fetch a compass and sail every which way, if need be. There's
lots of people of all sorts in Thompsontown, and I don't see why she
shouldn't be one of them.'

"'No more do I,' said Sam Twitty. 'I think it's more'n likely she'll be
one of them.'

"Very early the next morning, almost before the first streaks of dawn,
Captain Abner was awakened by a voice under his window.

"'Shipmate ahoy!' said the voice, which was Sam Twitty's. In a moment
Abner's head was out of the window.

"'Cap'n Abner,' said Sam, 'I'm goin' with you.'

"Abner did not immediately answer, but presently he replied: 'Look here,
Sam Twitty; you come around after breakfast and tell me that ag'in.'

"Promptly after breakfast Sam appeared.

"'Look a' here,' said Captain Abner, when they had lighted their morning
pipes, 'that ain't a bad notion of yours. Somethin' might turn up when
I'd want advice, and you might give me some like you gave me about the
king conch-shell and the gilded idol. It ain't a bad idea, and, as you
say so, I'd like you to come along.'

"Sam did not reply with the alacrity that might have been expected of
him. He puffed silently at his pipe and gazed upon the ground. 'You said
you was a-goin' in a buggy,' he remarked.

"'Yes; that's what I'm expectin' to do.'

"'Then how am I to get back?' inquired Sam.

"'That's so,' said Abner. 'I never thought of that.'

"'Look a' here, cap'n,' said Abner; 'what do you say to a spring-wagon
with seats for four, two in front, and two behind?'

"This suited Captain Abner, and Sam went on to say: 'There'll be
another good thing about that; if you get her and bring her back--'

"'Which is what I'm goin' for and intend to do.'

"'Then,' continued Sam, 'you two could sit on the back seat, and I could
sit in front and drive.'

"'Did you ever drive, Sam?' asked Captain Abner.

"'Not yet; but I wouldn't mind l'arnin'.'

"'But you won't l'arn with me and her,' said Captain Abner.

"'How are you goin' to manage it, then?' asked Sam. 'You won't want me
and her to sit on the back seat, and it wouldn't look jes right for you
an' her to be in front, and me behind all by myself, as if I was
company.'

"'Don't know,' said Captain Abner. 'We'll get her fust, and then let her
sit where she wants to.'

"'There's one thing I wouldn't like to see,' said Sam Twitty, 'and
that's you and me sittin' behind, and her a-drivin'.'

"'There won't be none of that,' said Captain Abner; 'that ain't my
way.'"

"Is that a good beginning?" asked the Master of the House, suddenly
addressing his wife.

"Yes," she replied, "very good; and I see this is to be a real man's
story."

"And so it should be, mamma," said the Daughter of the House. "Men know
more about men than they do about women."

"Don't be too sure of that," said her father. "But no matter. The two
friends started out on Monday morning after breakfast for Thompsontown.
Considerable delay was occasioned at the livery-stable by certain pieces
of advice which Sam Twitty offered to Captain Abner. In the first
place, he objected to a good black horse which had been attached to
the wagon, giving it as his opinion that that looked too much like a
funeral, and that a cheerful-colored horse would be much better adapted
to a matrimonial expedition. A gray horse, slower than the black one,
was substituted, and Sam was quite satisfied. Then a great many things
in the way of provisions and conveniences came into his mind which he
thought would be well to take on the voyage, and he even insisted upon
rigging up an extension at the back of the wagon on which her trunk
could be carried on the home journey.

"At last they got away, and as they drove slowly out of the little
village not one of the inhabitants thereof knew anything about their
intended journey, except that they were going to Thompsontown; for
Captain Abner and Sam Twitty would have as soon thought of boring a hole
in the bottom of a boat in which they were to sail as of telling their
neighbors they were going to look for her and to bring her back in that
spring-wagon.

"The old gray horse jogged very comfortably over the smooth road until a
toll-gate was perceived near by.

"'Now, then, cap'n,' said Sam, as they drew up in front of the little
house by the roadside, 'whatever you pay here you ought to charge to the
expense of gettin' her.'

"'That's so,' said his companion; 'but if she's all right I ain't goin'
to mind no tolls.'

"A pleasant-faced woman now came to the door of the little house and
stood expectant, while Captain Abner thrust his hand into his pocket.

"'How much is it?' said he.

"'It's ten cents,' said she.

"Then Sam Twitty, who did not wish to sit silent, remarked that it was a
fine day, and the toll-gate woman said that indeed it was. Captain Abner
was now looking at some small change in the palm of his hand.

"'I ain't got ten cents,' said he. 'Here's only six, and I can't scrape
up another copper. Sam, can you lend me four cents?'

"Sam searched his pockets. 'Haven't got it,' said he. 'Them little
things we bought jes afore we started cleaned me out of change.'

"'The same thing's happened to me, too,' said Abner; 'and, madam, I'll
have to ask you to change a five-dollar note, which is the smallest I've
got.'

"The toll-gate woman said she was very sorry, but indeed she had not
five dollars in change, either at the toll-gate or in the house where
she lived just behind in a little garden. The day before she had had a
good deal of change, but she had paid it all into the company.

"'Then what are we goin' to do?' asked Sam. 'I suppose you won't let us
go through without payin'?'

"The woman smiled and shook her head. 'I couldn't do that; it's against
the rules. Sometimes when people come along and find they have nothin'
to pay toll with they go back and get the money somewhere. It's our
rules, and if I broke them I might lose my place.'

"'Which we wouldn't think of makin' you do,' remarked Sam.

"'But that's one thing I can't do,' said Captain Abner. 'I can't turn
round and go back. If the folks knew I was turned back because I
couldn't pay toll I'd never hear the end of it.'

"'That's so,' agreed Sam. 'It would never do to go back.'

"The toll woman stood and looked at them and smiled. She was a pleasant
personage, not inclined to worry over the misfortunes of her
fellow-beings.

"'Isn't there a place somewhere near here where I could get a note
changed?' asked Abner.

"'I can't say,' answered the toll woman. 'I don't believe any of the
houses along the road has got five dollars in change inside of them, and
even if you went across the country to any of the farm-houses, you
wouldn't be likely to find that much. But if you are not in a hurry and
wouldn't mind waitin', it's as like as not that somebody will be along
that's got five dollars in change. You don't seem to know this part of
the country,' she added.

"'No,' said Abner; 'when me and my mate travels we generally take the
public conveyances. This is the fust time we've druv on this road.'

"Then up spoke Sam Twitty: 'Does you and your husband live here and keep
the toll-gate, ma'am?'

"The woman looked as though she thought the plump person a little
inquisitive, but she smiled and answered, 'My husband used to keep the
toll-gate, but since he died I've kept it.'

"Captain Abner looked troubled. 'I don't mind so much waitin' myself,'
said he, 'but it's the horse I'm thinkin' about. I promised I'd have him
fed at twelve o'clock sharp every day I have him. He's used to it, and
I don't want him givin' out afore I'm through with him.'

"'When horses is used to bein' fed at regular times,' said the toll-gate
woman, 'they do show it if they don't get fed. But, if you don't mind,
I've got a little stable back there, and some corn, and if you choose to
drive your horse into the yard and give him a feed I'll charge you jes
what anybody else would. And while he's a-feedin' most likely
somebody'll come along that's got five dollars in change.'

"For some minutes Sam Twitty had not said a word, but now he most
earnestly advised his friend to accept this offer, and, jumping to the
ground, he hurried to open the gate so that Captain Abner might drive
in. Abner had not yet made up his mind upon the subject, but, as Sam
stood there by the open gate, he drove in.

"'Look a' here!' said Sam, as they stood by the stable door. 'This is a
jolly good go! Did you take notice of that toll-gate woman? She's tiptop
to look at. Did you see how clean she is, and what a nice way of
smilin', an' a good deal of red in her cheeks, too, and jes about old
enough, I should say, if I was called upon. And, more than that, I
should say, judgin' from what I've seen of her, she's as likely to be as
accommodatin' as any person I ever did see that I had seed for so short
a time. I jes put her into my mind a-goin' into your parlor and sayin'
that conch-shells was jes what she liked on mantelpieces. And I could
put her in jes as well with the gilded idol.'

"'You seem to do a lot of thinkin' in a mighty short time,' said Abner.
'But what's all that got to do with anything?'

"'Do!' exclaimed Sam. 'It's got lots to do. Why wouldn't she be a good
one for _her_? I don't believe you'd find a better one in Thompsontown.'

"'Sam Twitty!' exclaimed Abner, rather testily, 'what are you talkin'
about? Do you suppose I'd paint and paper and clean up and furnish one
side of my house for her, and then start out on a week's cruise to look
for her, and then take and put in her place and give everything I've
been gettin' for her for so many years to the fust woman I meet, and she
a toll-gate woman at that?'"

The Frenchman, who had been listening with great apparent interest, now
looked so inquiringly at the Master of the House that he paused in his
story.

"Excuse my interrupt," he said apologetically; "but what is toll-gate
woman?"

"My conscience!" exclaimed the captain, "you haven't understood a word
of my story!" He then proceeded to explain a toll-gate and its office
and emoluments; but it was at once evident that the Frenchman knew all
about the thing--he did not know the English words which expressed it;
and he had a clear comprehension of the narrative.

"Those two men pull two ways," he said gleefully; "ought to make a good
story."

"It is a good story if my papa tells it," spoke up the Daughter of the
House. And John Gayther was pleased to note a sharpness in her voice.

"Yes, miss; that is just what I say--a very much good story. I long for
the end to come."

"Not exactly the compliment intended," remarked the Mistress of the
House, with a smile.

"How do you think it will end?" asked the Daughter of the House,
impulsively, addressing the Frenchman.

"It is not polite to imagine," he replied.

"But I want to know," she persisted. "It is not impolite to guess."

"Well, then, miss, he marry nobody. Too many women in that Villa
Thompson. But we sadly interrupt! Beg pardon, captain."

"The captain I am telling about in my story," said the Master of the
House, resuming his narrative, "could not silence Sam Twitty.

"'Now I tell you, cap'n,' he said, as he assisted in taking the horse
out of the wagon, 'don't you go and miss a chance. Here's a fust-rate
woman, with red cheeks and mighty pretty hair, and a widow, too. Even if
you don't take her now, it's my advice that you look at her sharp with
the idea that if things don't turn out in Thompsontown as you'd like
them to, it would be mighty comfortin' to you to pick her up on your way
back.'

"When Captain Abner and Sam returned from the stable they looked up and
down the far-stretching road, and then, at the invitation of the
toll-gate woman, they seated themselves on a bench at the back of the
toll-house.

"''Tisn't a very good time for people to be passin',' said she. 'Not
many folks is on the road between twelve and one. They're generally
feedin' themselves and their horses. But if you can make yourselves
comfortable here in the shade, I don't think you'll have to wait very
long. I'll jes step in and see if my dinner ain't cooked. There ain't
nobody in sight.'

"Sam Twitty rubbed his hands together. 'In my opinion,' said he, 'that
woman is a fust-class housekeeper.'

"In a very few minutes she returned. 'If you gentlemen don't mind,' said
she, 'I can give you your dinner here at the same price you'd have to
pay anywhere else. I always cook a lot on Mondays, so's I can have
something cold for the rest of the week. It's on the table now, and you
can go in and wait on yourselves.'

"Sam gave a quick glance at Abner. 'You go in with her,' said he, 'and
eat your dinner. I'm not hungry, and I'll wait out here and keep the
toll-gate. Afterwards I'll get a bite.'

"The toll-gate woman smiled. 'Perhaps it would be better for me to go in
and wait on one of you at a time; but I don't think it's likely there'll
be anybody passin'.'

"Abner did not object--he was hungry; and he followed the toll-gate
woman into her house. Sam Twitty made a motion as if he would dance a
little in his slippered feet.

"'That's jes like runnin' across a dead whale what's jes expired of too
much fat. All you've got to do is to cut it up and try it down. The fust
thing Cap'n Abner does is to run into a widow woman that'll suit him, I
believe, better than anybody he'll meet, if he cruises around
Thompsontown for a week.'

"Sam sat down on the bench and pictured things in his mind: he took the
toll-gate woman all over Captain Abner's house, even into the unmarried
part, and everywhere he saw her the same bright-cheeked, pleasantly
smiling woman she was here in her own house. The picture pleased him so
much that he withdrew his senses from the consideration of everything
else, and therefore it was he did not hear wheels on the road, and was
awakened from his pleasant dreams by a voice outside the door. He
bounced to his slippered feet, and entered the toll-house.

"On the roadway was a buggy and a horse, and in the buggy sat a smiling
young woman. Why she smiled Sam could not imagine; but then, he could
not see the comical expression on his own face on being thus suddenly
aroused to a sense of his duty.

"'How much is the toll?' said the young woman, still smiling.

"Sam looked at her; she was a good-looking young person, and he liked
her smile, for it betokened a sense of humor, and that pleased him. 'How
much?' he repeated. 'A vehicle, a man, and a horse--'

"'But this is a girl and a mare,' she interrupted. 'How much is that?'

"Sam looked up and smiled. This young person certainly had a sense of
humor. 'I wonder how much that would be,' he said. 'I guess I'll have to
get a pencil and paper and work it out.'

"The girl laughed. 'You are not the toll-gate keeper?' she asked.

"'No,' replied Sam. 'I'm keepin' it for her. She's eatin' her dinner.
Don't you know the toll yourself? You've paid it before, haven't you?'

"'No, I haven't,' she replied. 'I am visiting in the neighborhood. But I
won't haggle about being a girl. I'll pay the price for a man, if you
will let me know what it is.'

"An idea came suddenly into Sam Twitty's head: this was a very bright
girl, a very attractive girl, who was visiting in the neighborhood, and
he determined to keep her at the toll-gate a few minutes if he could.

"'I don't want to make any mistake,' he said quickly. 'I'll jes pop into
the house and see what the toll really'll be for you.'

"'Oh, you needn't do that,' said the young woman. 'Of course it is the
same--'

"But Sam was gone; and she laughed and said to herself that the deputy
toll-gate keeper was a very funny person. Sam ran to the house, panting.
He beckoned to Captain Abner to step outside.

"'Look a' here,' he said; 'you hurry out to the gate and take a good
long look at the girl that's there. She's a-visitin' in the
neighborhood. Now mind you take a good look at her, and I'll be there in
a minute.'

"Without exactly understanding the reason for this earnest injunction,
Abner went to the gate. He was accustomed to taking Sam's advice if he
saw no good reason against it.

"The toll-gate woman was on her feet, but Sam detained her, and said
something about the relation between sex and toll.

"'Well, well,' said the woman, 'she must be a queer one. I'll go out to
her.'

"'Oh, no,' cried Sam. 'Sit here and finish your dinner. He's comin'
right back, and I'll collect the toll.' Half-way to the toll-house Sam
met Abner. 'What do you think of her?' he asked hurriedly. 'Did you take
a good look at her?'

"'Yes, I did,' replied his friend, 'and I don't think nothin' of her.
What is there to think about her?'

"'Go back to your dinner,' cried Sam. 'I've got to collect her toll.'

"'I want you to tell me,' said the girl, not smiling now, 'do you keep a
detective here? Do you think I want to cheat the road out of its toll? I
am ready to pay the charge, whatever it is.'

"'Detective!' exclaimed Sam.

"'Yes,' said she; 'that little brown man who came out here and looked at
me as if he were determined to know me the next time he saw me.'

"'Oh, him!' said Sam. 'That's a friend of mine, Cap'n Abner Budlong.
He's no detective, nor nothin' like one. He jes came out to see who was
passin' while I was findin' out about the toll. He's always fond of
seein' people.'

"'I should think he was,' said the young woman. 'In fact, I think you
are a funny lot, toll-gate woman and all. Now here is a quarter; please
take the toll and give me the change, that is, if you know how to
calculate.'

"Sam took the money, but he did not immediately make the change. 'I
don't want you to think hard of any of us,' said he, 'on account of your
bein' kept here a little longer than common. But specially I don't want
you to think hard of my friend Cap'n Abner Budlong, the gentleman who
stepped out here to see who was passin'. Bless your soul, he's no
detective! He's one of the finest fellows I know, and you jes ought to
see his house at Shamrick. It's filled with more things that's nice to
look at and things that's comfortable to use than any other house in
that region. Everything's jes as clean and shipshape--'

"'He must have a good wife,' the young woman interrupted.

"'He hasn't got no wife at all,' said Sam, delighted to get in this
piece of information. 'Never had one.'

"The girl looked at him, and then she laughed merrily. 'I really must go
on,' she said. 'You truly are a funny lot, all of you.' And as she drove
on she looked back, still laughing.

"Sam Twitty rubbed his hands together quite cheerfully, and went into
the house to get his dinner.

"'Did that woman change your five-dollar note?' asked the keeper of the
toll-gate.

"'Bless my soul!' exclaimed Sam. 'I never thought to ask her.'

"'What did you ask her?' cried the woman. 'She was out there for the
longest time, and I thought of course you was gettin' your note
changed.'

"Sam smiled. 'She was very interesting,' said he."

"What a treasure Sam Twitty would be in a matrimonial bureau!" exclaimed
the Mistress of the House.

"Provided he exercised a little more caution in the selection of his
specimens," suggested John Gayther, respectfully. "Some might be too
green and some the other way, you know; he didn't seem over-particular."

"Three travellers passed through," continued the Master of the House,
"but not one of them could change a five-dollar note; and Abner chafed
at the delay.

"'I don't like wastin' time like this,' said he to Sam, as the two
smoked their after-dinner pipes.

"'Wastin'!' exclaimed Sam. 'I don't call this wastin' time. We didn't
start till late this mornin', and here we've got sight of two of her
a'ready. Here's this one, as red-cheeked and sociable as anybody could
expect, and then there's that gal in the buggy.'