CHAPTER IX.
THE LIVES OF THE SAINTS.
On Wednesday afternoon McNutt drove the sad-eyed sorrel mare over to theWegg farm again. He had been racking his brain for a way to get moremoney out of the nabob, for the idea had become a veritable passion withhim and now occupied all his thoughts.
That very morning an inspiration had come to him. Among otheroccupations he had at one time adopted that of a book-agent, and by dintof persistent energy had sold numerous copies of "Radford's Lives of theSaints" to the surrounding farmers. They had cost him ninety cents acopy and he had sold them at three dollars each, netting a fine profitin return for his labor. The books were printed upon cheap paper,fearfully illustrated with blurred cuts, but the covers were bound inbright red with gold lettering. Through misunderstandings three of thesecopies had come back to him, the subscribers refusing to accept them;and so thorough had been his canvassing that there remained no otheravailable customers for the saintly works. So Peggy had kept them on ashelf in his "office" for several years, and now, when his eye chancedto light upon them, he gave a snort of triumph and pounced upon themeagerly. Mr. Merrick was a newcomer. Without doubt he could be inducedto buy a copy of Radford's Lives.
An hour later McNutt was on his mission, the three copies, which hadbeen carefully dusted, reclining on the buggy seat beside him. Arrivedat the Wegg farm, he drove up to the stile and alighted.
Louise was reading in the hammock, and merely glanced at the little man,who solemnly stumped around to the back door with the three red volumestucked underneath his arm. He had brought them all along to make hiserrand "look like business."
"Where's the nabob?" he asked blind Nora.
"What's that, Mr. McNutt?" she inquired, as if puzzled. She knew hisvoice, as she did that of nearly everyone with whom she had ever beenbrought in contact.
"Why, the nabob; the boss; Mr. Merrick."
"Oh. He's in the barn with Tom, I guess."
McNutt entered the barn. Uncle John was seated upon an overturned pailwatching Old Hucks oil Joe's harness. The agent approached him with adeferential bow.
"Sir," said he, "you'll 'scuse my comin' agin so soon to be a-botherin';but I hev here three copies of Radford's famis wucks on the Lives o' theSaints, in a edishun dee looks----"
"A what?"
"A edishun dee looks, which means extry fine. It's a great book an'they's all out'n print 'cept these three, which I hain't no doubt manyfolks would be glad to give their weight in gold fer, an' some over."
"Stand out of the light, McNutt."
The agent shifted his position.
"Them books, sir----"
"Oh, take 'em away."
"What!"
"I don't read novels."
McNutt scratched his head, perplexed at the rebuff. His "dee looks"speech had usually resulted in a sale. An idea flashed across hisbrain--perhaps evolved by the scratching.
"The young lady, sir--"
"Oh, the girls are loaded with books," growled the nabob.
The agent became desperate.
"But the young lady in the hammick, sir, as I jest now left, says totell ye she wants one o' these books mighty bad, an' hopes you'll buy itfor her eddificationing."
"Oh; she does, eh?"
"Mighty bad, sir."
Uncle John watched Thomas polish a buckle.
"Is it a moral work?" he asked.
"Nuthin' could be moraler, sir. All 'bout the lives o'--"
"How much is it?"
"Comes pretty high, sir. Three dollars. But it's--"
"Here. Take your money and get out. You're interrupting me."
"Very sorry, sir. Much obleeged, sir. Where'll I leave the book?"
"Throw it in the manger."
McNutt selected a volume that had a broken corner and laid it carefullyon the edge of the oat-bin. Then he put his money in his pocket andturned away.
"Morn'n' to ye, Mr. Merrick."
"Stop a bit," said Uncle John, suddenly.
The agent stopped.
"I believe I paid you ten dollars for Miss Ethel Thompson's services. Isthat correct?"
"Ye--yes, Mr. Merrick."
McNutt's heart was in his shoes and he looked guiltily at his accuser,the pale blue eyes bulging fearfully.
"Very well; see that she gets it."
"Of course, Mr. Merrick."
"And at once. You may go."
McNutt stumped from the barn. He felt that a dreadful catastrophe hadovertaken him. Scarcely could he restrain the impulse to sob aloud. Tendollars!--Ten dollars gone to the dogs as the result of his visit to thenabob that morning! To lose ten dollars in order to gain three was verybad business policy. McNutt reflected bitterly that he would have beenbetter off had he stayed at home. He ought to have been contented withwhat he had already made, and the severe manner the nabob had used inaddressing him told the agent plainly that he need not expect furtherpickings from this source.
In the midst of his despair the comforting thought that Ethel wouldsurely refuse the money came to sustain him; so he recovered somewhathis former spirits. As he turned the corner of the house he observedLouise still reading in the hammock.
In some ways McNutt was a genius. He did not neglect opportunities.
"Here's my las' chance at these idjits," he muttered, "an' I'll learnthet nabob what it costs, to make Marsh McNutt stand out'n his light."
Then he hastened over to the hammock.
"'Scuse me, miss," said he, in his most ingratiating voice. "Is yeruncle 'round anywheres?"
"Isn't he in the barn?" asked the girl, looking up.
"Can't find him, high ner low. But he ordered a book of me t'otherday--'Radford's Lives o' the Saints'--an' perhaps you'll take it an' payme the money, so's I kin go home."
Louise gazed at the man musingly. He was one of the people she intendedto pump for information concerning the mystery of Captain Wegg, and shemust be gracious to him in order to win his good-will and induce him tospeak freely. With this thought in mind she drew out her purseand asked:
"How much were you to be paid for the book?"
"Three dollars, miss."
"Here is the money, then. Tell me--your name is McNutt, isn't it?--howlong have you lived in this place?"
"All my life, miss. Thank 'e, miss. Good day to ye, miss."
He placed the book in the hammock beside her.
"Don't go, please." said the girl. "I'd like you to tell me somethingabout Captain Wegg, and of his poor wife who died, and--"
"Nuther time, miss, I'll be glad to. Ye'll find me in my orfice, anytime. Jest now I'm in the dumdest hurry ye ever knew. Good day to ye,miss," he repeated, and stumped quickly to the buggy awaiting him. Nextmoment he had seized the reins and was urging the sorrel mare along thestony lane at her best pace.
Louise was both astonished and disappointed, but after a little thoughtshe looked after the departing agent with a shrewd smile.
"He's afraid to talk," she murmured, "and that only confirms mysuspicions that he knows more than he cares to tell."
Meantime McNutt was doing his best to get away from the premises beforethe discovery was made that he had sold two "Lives of the Saints" to onefamily. That there might be future consequences to follow his deceptionnever occurred to him; only the immediate necessity for escapeoccupied his mind.
Nor were his fears altogether groundless. Turning his head from time totime for a glance behind, he had seen Mr. Merrick come from the barnwith a red book in his hand and approach the hammock, whereupon theyoung lady arose and exhibited a second book. Then they both dropped thebooks and ran into the lane and began shouting for him to stop--theman's voice sounding especially indignant and imperative.
But McNutt chose to be deaf. He did not look around again, and wascongratulating himself that he would soon be out of earshot when asudden apparition ahead caused the mare to halt abruptly. It also causedthe cold chills to run down the agent's back. Beth and Patsy had steppedinto the lane from a field, being on their w
ay home from theirdaily walk.
"They're calling to you, sir," said Patsy to the agent. "Didn't you hearthem?"
"I--I'm a little deaf, miss," stammered McNutt, who recognized the youngladies as Mr. Merrick's nieces.
"I think they wish you to go back," remarked Beth, thoughtfully watchingthe frantic waves of Uncle John's chubby arms and Louise's energeticbeckonings. They were too far off to be heard plainly, but their actionsmight surely be understood.
McNutt with reluctance looked over his shoulder, and a second shudderwent through him.
"I hain't got time to go back," he said, as an inspiration came to him;"but I guess you kin do jest as well. This book here," picking up thelast of the three from the seat, "I offered to sell yer uncle fer fivedollars; but he wanted it fer four. I ain't no haggler, you understan',so I jest driv away. Now Mr. Merrick has changed his mind an' is willin'to give five fer it; but there ain't nuthin' small about me. Ef yougals'll jest give me the four dollars ye kin take the book to yer uncle,with my compliments; an' I won't hev t' go back. I'm in adrea'ful hurry."
Patsy laughed at the little man's excited manner.
"Fortunately I have some money with me," she said; "but you may as welltake the five dollars, for unless Uncle had been willing to pay it hewould not have called you back."
"I think so, myself, miss," he rejoined, taking the money and handingher the volume.
Uncle John and Louise, glaring at the distant group, saw the third redbook change hands, and in answer to their renewed cries and gesturesPatsy waved the "Lives of the Saints" at them reassuringly and came onat a brisk walk, followed by Beth.
McNutt slapped the sorrel with the ends of the reins so energeticallythat the mare broke into a trot, and before the girls had come withinspeaking distance of their uncle, the agent was well out of sight andexulting in the possession of eleven dollars to pay for his morning'swork. Even if Ethel accepted that ten, he reflected, he would still be adollar ahead. But he was sure she would tell him to keep it; and he'd"jest like to see thet air nabob git a penny back agin."
Meantime Uncle John's wrath, which was always an effervescent qualitywith the little gentleman, had changed to wonder when he saw his niecesapproaching with the third red-and-gold book. Louise was leaning againstthe rail fence and laughing hysterically, and suddenly a merry smileappeared and spread over her uncle's round face as he said:
"Did you ever hear of such an audacious swindle in all your born days?"
"What will you do, Uncle?" asked the girl, wiping the tears of merrimentfrom her eyes. "Have the man arrested?"
"Of course not, my dear. It's worth the money just to learn what talentsthe fellow possesses. Tell me, Patsy," he continued, as the other niecesjoined them, "what did you pay for your book?"
"Five dollars. Uncle. He said--"
"Never mind what he said, my dear. It's all right. I wanted it to add tomy collection. So far I've got three 'Lives of the Saints'--and I'mthankful they're not cats, or there'd be nine lives for me toaccumulate."