what is the point of difference?'
"'I'll put the whole thing before you.' said he, 'for of course youmust understand it or you can't talk properly to Timothy. Now, you see,in the manufacture of my Boilene I need a great quantity of good yellowgravel, and Timothy Barker has got a gravel pit of that kind. Two yearsago I agreed with Timothy that he should furnish me with all the gravelI should want for one-eighth of one per cent. of the profits on theBoilene. We didn't sign no papers, for which I am sorry, but that wasthe agreement; and now Timothy says that one-eighth of one per cent.isn't enough. He has gone wild about it, and actually wants ten percent., and threatens to sue me if I don't give it to him.'
"'Are you obliged to have gravel? Wouldn't something else do for yourpurpose?'
"'There's nothing as cheap,' said Spotkirk. 'You see I have to have lotsand lots of it. Every day I fill a great tank with the gravel and letwater onto it. This soaks through the gravel, and comes out a littlepipe in the bottom of the tank of a beautiful yellow color; sometimes itis too dark, and then I have to thin it with more water.'
"'Then you bottle it,' I said.
"'Yes,' said Spotkirk; 'then there is all the expense and labour ofbottling it.'
"'Then you put nothing more into it,' said I.
"'What more goes into it before it's corked,' said Spotkirk, 'is mybusiness. That's my secret, and nobody's been able to find it out.People have had Boilene analyzed by chemists, but they can't find outthe hidden secret of its virtue. There's one thing that everybody whohas used it does know, and that is that it is a sure cure for boils. Ifapplied for two or three days according to directions, and at the properstage, the boil is sure to disappear. As a proof of its merit I havesold seven hundred and forty-eight thousand bottles this year.'
"'At a dollar a bottle?' said I.
"'That is the retail price,' said he.
"'Now, then, Mr. Spotkirk,' said I, 'it will not be easy to convinceTimothy Barker that one-eighth of one per cent. is enough for him. Isuppose he hauls his gravel to your factory?'
"'Hauling's got nothing to do with it,' said he; 'gravel is only tencents a load anywhere, and if I choose I could put my factory right inthe middle of a gravel pit. Timothy Barker has nothing to complain of.
"'But he knows you are making a lot of money,' said I, 'and it will be ahard job to talk him over. Mr. Spotkirk, it's worth every cent of fiftydollars.'
"'Now look here,' said he; 'if you get Barker to sign a paper that willsuit me, I'll give you fifty dollars. I'd rather do that than have himbring a suit. If the matter comes up in the courts those rascallylawyers will be trying to find out what I put into my Boilene, and thatsort of thing would be sure to hurt my business. It won't be so hard toget a hold on Barker if you go to work the right way. You can just lethim understand that you know all about that robbery at Bonsall'sclothing-store, where he kept the stolen goods in his barn, covered upwith hay, for nearly a week. It would be a good thing for Timothy Barkerto understand that somebody else beside me knows about that business,and if you bring it in right, it will fetch him around, sure.'
"I kept quiet for a minute or two, and then I said:--
"'Mr. Spotkirk, this is an important business. I can't touch it under ahundred dollars.' He looked hard at me, and then he said:--
"'Do it right, and a hundred dollars is yours.'
"After that I went to see Timothy Barker, and had a talk with him.Timothy was boiling over, and considered himself the worst-cheated manin the world. He had only lately found out how Spotkirk made hisBoilene, and what a big sale he had for it, and he was determined tohave more of the profits.
"'Just look at it!' he shouted; 'when Spotkirk has washed out my gravelit's worth more than it was before, and he sells it for twenty-fivecents a load to put on gentlemen's places. Even out of that he makes ahundred and fifty per cent. profit.'
"I talked a good deal more with Timothy Barker, and found out a goodmany things about Spotkirk's dealings with him, and then in an off-handmanner I mentioned the matter of the stolen goods in his barn, just asif I had known all about it from the very first. At this Timothy stoppedshouting, and became as meek as a mouse. He said nobody was as sorry ashe was when he found the goods concealed in his barn had been stolen,and that if he had known it before the thieves took them away he shouldhave informed the authorities; and then he went on to tell me how he gotso poor and so hard up by giving his whole time to digging and haulinggravel for Spotkirk, and neglecting his little farm, that he did notknow what was going to become of him and his family if he couldn't makebetter terms with Spotkirk for the future, and he asked me veryearnestly to help him in this business if I could.
"Now, then, I set myself to work to consider this business. Here was arich man oppressing a poor one, and here was this rich man offering meone hundred dollars--which in my eyes was a regular fortune--to help himget things so fixed that he could keep on oppressing the poor one. Now,then, here was a chance for me to show my principles. Here was a chancefor me to show myself what you, madam, call rigid; and rigid I was. Ijust set that dazzling one hundred dollars aside, much as I wanted it.Much as I actually needed it, I wouldn't look at it, or think of it. Ijust said to myself, 'If you can do any good in this matter, do it forthe poor man;' and I did do it for Timothy Barker with his poor wife andseven children, only two of them old enough to help him in the gravelpit. I went to Spotkirk and I talked to him, and I let him see that ifTimothy Barker showed up the Boilene business, as he threatened to do,it would be a bad day for the Spotkirk family. He tried hard to talk meover to his side, but I was rigid, madam, I was rigid, and the businessended in my getting seven per cent. of the profits of Boilene for thatpoor man, Timothy Barker, and his large family; and their domesticprosperity is entirely due--I say it without hesitation--to my effortson their behalf, and to my rigidity in standing up for the poor againstthe rich."
"Of course," I here remarked, "you don't care to mention anything aboutthe money you squeezed out of Timothy Barker by means of your knowledgethat he had been a receiver of stolen goods, and I suppose the Boileneman gave you something to get the percentage brought down from ten percent. to seven."
The tall burglar turned and looked at me with an air of saddenedresignation.
"Of course," said he, "it is of no use for a man in my position toendeavour to set himself right in the eyes of one who is prejudicedagainst him. My hope is that those present who are not prejudiced willgive my statements the consideration they deserve."
"Which they certainly will do," I continued. Turning to my wife and AuntMartha, "As you have heard this fine story, I think it is time for youto retire."
"I do not wish to retire," promptly returned Aunt Martha. "I was nevermore awake in my life, and couldn't go asleep if I tried. What we haveheard may or may not be true, but it furnishes subjects forreflection--serious reflection. I wish very much to hear what that manin the middle of the bench has to say for himself; I am sure he has astory."
"Yes, ma'am," said the stout man, with animation, "I've got one, and I'dlike nothin' better than to tell it to you if you'll give me a littlesomethin' to wet my lips with--a little beer, or whiskey and water, oranything you have convenient."
"Whiskey and water!" said Aunt Martha with severity. "I should thinknot. It seems to me you have had all the intoxicating liquors in thishouse that you would want."
"But I don't think you're the kind of person who'd doctor the liquor.This is the first gentleman's house where I ever found anything of thatkind."
"The worse for the gentleman," I remarked. The man grunted.
"Well, ma'am," he said, "call it anything you please--milk, cider, or,if you have nothin' else, I'll take water. I can't talk withoutsomethin' soaky."
My wife rose. "If we are to listen to another story," she said, "I wantsomething to keep up my strength. I shall go into the dining-room andmake some tea, and Aunt Martha can give these men some of that if shelikes."
The ladies now left the room, followed by Alice. Presently they call
edme, and, leaving the burglars in charge of the vigilant David, I went tothem. I found them making tea.
"I have been upstairs to see if George William is all right, and now Iwant you to tell me what you think of that man's story," said my wife.
"I don't think it a story at all," said I. "I call it a lie. A story isa relation which purports to be fiction, no matter how much like