Part 12

For some reason--perhaps excitement over the bath-house, or surprise at the uniforming of his Grand Army command, or the heat, or the debilitating effect of old wounds--Philip pretended to believe it was the effect of Grace's ice-cream upon a system not inured to such compounds--Caleb suddenly became disabled by a severe malarial attack with several complications. He did not take to his bed, but his movements were mechanical, his manner apathetic, and his tongue almost silent. He did not complain; and when questioned, he insisted that he suffered no pain. Philip and Grace endeavored to tempt his appetite, for he ate scarcely anything, and they tried to rally him by various mental means, but without effect. He noted their solicitude, and its sincerity impressed him so deeply that he said one day:--

"The worst thing about this attack is that I can't get words to tell you how good you both are bein' to me. But I'm the same as a man that's been hit with a club."

Then Philip and Grace insisted that Doctor Taggess should do something for Caleb, and the Doctor said nothing would give him more pleasure; for anything that would restore Caleb to health would probably be serviceable in other cases of the same kind, of which there were several on his hands. After listening to much well-meant but worthless suggestion, the Doctor said:--

"There's a new treatment of which I've heard encouraging reports, but it is quite costly. It is called the sea treatment. It is said, on good authority, that a month at sea, anywhere in the temperate zone, will cure any chronic case of malaria, and that the greater the attack of sea-sickness, the more thorough will be the cure."

"Caleb shall try it, no matter what the cost," said Philip.

The Doctor smiled, shook his head doubtfully, and said:--

"What if he won't? He is so bound up in you and your business, and his own many interests and duties, that he will make excuses innumerable."

"Quite likely, but I ought to be ingenious enough to devise some way of making it appear a matter of duty."

"I hope you can, and that you'll begin at once, if only for my sake, professionally, so that I may study the results."

Then, for a day, Philip became almost as silent as Caleb, and Grace assisted him. The next morning, he said:--

"Caleb, I want to start a new enterprise that will revolutionize this part of the country and part of Europe, too, if it succeeds, but it won't work unless you join me in it."

"You know I'm yours to command," Caleb replied, at the same time forcing a tiny gleam of interest.

"That's kind of you, but this project of mine is so unusual that I almost fear to suggest it. You know that the farmers of this section plant far more corn than anything else."

"Yes, 'n always will, I reckon, no matter how small the price of what they can't put into pork. The idee o' corn-plantin' 's been with 'em so long that I reckon it's 'petrified in their brain structure,' as a scientific sharp I once read about, said about somethin' else."

"Quite so, and we can't hope to change it unless labor and horses should suddenly become cheaper and more plentiful. Now I propose that we take advantage of this state of affairs by making some money and getting some glory, besides indirectly helping the farmers, by increasing the future demand for corn. You yourself once told me that if the people of Europe could learn to eat corn-bread, 'twould be money in their own pockets, relieve corn-bins here of surplus stock, and perhaps lessen the quantity of the corn spoiled by being made into whiskey."

"That's a fact," said Caleb.

"Very well. Corn never was cheaper here than it is now,--so I'm told,--nor were the mills ever so idle. I can buy the best of corn-meal, barrelled, and deliver it in London or Liverpool, freight paid, at less than two dollars per barrel, and I can buy all I want of it on my note at six months. If you'll go into the enterprise with me, every barrel shall be labelled 'Claybanks Western Corn-Flour: trademark registered by Philip Somerton.'"

"Hooray for Claybanks! Hooray for the West!" shouted Caleb, becoming more like his old self.

"Thank you. But as I've quoted to you about your bath-house project, 'You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.' Meal has often been sent to the English market, and some dealers have even sent careful cooking and bread-making directions. The different methods of making good food from corn-meal must, I am satisfied, be shown, practically, before the eyes of possible consumers. So my plan is this: to send over, say, two hundred barrels to London; hire for a month a small shop in a district thickly inhabited by people who know the value of a penny saved, cook in various forms--hasty pudding, hoe-cake, dodgers, muffins, corn-bread, etc., at the rate of a barrel of meal a day, or as much as can be sold, or even given away as an advertisement of the 'Claybanks Western Corn-Flour'--meanwhile persuading grocers in the vicinity to keep the meal for sale to persons who are sensible enough to appreciate it. And finally, as you know how to make all sorts of good things of corn-meal, I'd like you to go over to England and manage the entire business."

"Wh-e-e-e-e-e-ew!"

"That's somewhat non-committal, isn't it?"

"Well!" said Caleb, "I reckon the malary's knocked plumb out o' me!"

"I hope so; but if it isn't, it will be; for Doctor Taggess says that a month at sea is the newest treatment prescribed for malaria, and that is said to be a sure cure. The trip over won't take a month, but a week or ten days of the ocean ought to make a beginning, and show you how 'twill act, and if the enterprise makes a hit, I'll show my appreciation by standing the expense of a trip up the Mediterranean and back by direct steamer to the United States. By the way, while you're up the Mediterranean, you might join one of Cook's tourist parties, and see the Holy Land. How does the entire plan strike you?"

"How--does it--strike me?" drawled Caleb. Then he pulled himself together and continued: "Why, it's struck me all of a heap. Say, Philip, you've got a mighty long head--do you know it? I ain't sayin' that I can't do the work middlin' well, though I have heard that it takes a pickaxe an' a corkscrew to get any new idee into the commoner kinds of the English skull. An' a trip through the Holy Land! But say--who'd look after my Sunday-school class while I was away?"

"Oh, I will, if you can't find a better substitute. You've been doing your best to get me into church work--you know you have, you sly scamp. Now's your chance."

"To break you into that sort o' work," said Caleb, slowly, "I'd be willin' to peddle ice in Greenland, an' live on the proceeds. But there's my other class--though I s'pose I could farm that out for a spell. Then there's a lot o' folks that's been lookin' to me for one thing an' another so long that--"

"That perhaps 'twould do them good to be obliged to depend upon themselves for a few weeks."

"Phil dear, don't be heartless! Caleb, couldn't you trust those people to a woman for a little while?"

"Oh, couldn't I! An' I thank you from the bottom of my heart besides. London! Then I could see Westminster Abbey, an' the Tower o' London, an' go to John Wesley's birthplace, an'--"

"Yes," said Philip, "and you could run over to Paris, too."

"No, sir!" exclaimed Caleb. "When I want to see Satan an' his kingdom, I won't have to travel three thousan' mile to do it. But--"

"But me no more buts, Caleb--unless you would rather not go."

"Rather not, indeed! If I was dyin' as hard of malary as I'm dyin' to see some things in England, I guess I'd turn up in kingdom-come in about three days, almanac-time. What I was 'buttin'' about was only this: are you plumb sure that I'm the right man for the job?"

"Quite sure; for you're entirely honest, industrious, and persistent; you're as corn-crazy as any other Western man; you've taught my wife and me how to work a lot of unsuspected delicacies out of corn-meal; and, more important than all else, for this purpose, you've the special Western faculty of taking a man's measure at once and treating him accordingly. If that won't work with the English,--and the worst of them can't be any stupider than certain people here,--nothing will. So the matter is settled, and you're to start at once--to-morrow, if possible; for first I want you to buy me a lot of goods in New York. My wife and I have determined to carry a larger stock and more variety, and--"

"Start to-morrow!" interrupted Caleb, incredulously.

"Yes; the longer you wait, the longer 'twill take you to get away. Besides, I want to keep the corn-meal enterprise a secret, and you're so honest that it'll leak from you if you don't get off at once."

"But I can't get--"

"Yes, you can, no matter what it is. And while you are attending to business in New York you must sleep down by the seaside, so that the sea air shall begin its fight with the malaria as soon as possible. I shall engage a room for you by telegraph to-day; you can reach it by rail within an hour from any part of the city, and return in the morning as early as you like."

"But, man alive, you haven't got the corn-meal yet."

"I shall have a lot of it on the rail by a week from to-day; the rest can follow. You'll need a fortnight in New York, to do the buying and see the sights, for the town is somewhat larger than Claybanks. Besides, no self-respecting American should go abroad until he has seen Niagara Falls, Independence Hall, Bunker Hill Monument, and the National Capital. The Falls are directly on your route East, Washington is a short and cheap trip from New York, with Philadelphia between the two cities, and you can take a steamer from Boston. Now pack your gripsack at once--there's a good fellow, and don't say a single good-by. I'm told they're dreadfully unlucky. After you've started, I'll explain to every one that you've gone East to buy some goods for me. At present I'll settle down to making you a route-book, with information about all sorts of things that you may wish, after you're off, that you'd asked about."

Caleb retired slowly to his room over the store; Philip and Grace took turns for an hour in watching the street for Doctor Taggess and in sending messengers in every direction for him, and when the Doctor arrived, they unfolded to him, under injunctions of secrecy, the entire plan regarding Caleb. The Doctor listened with animated face and twinkling eyes, until the story ended; then he relieved himself of a long, hearty laugh, and said:--

"What would your Uncle Jethro say to such an outlay of money?"

"If he's where I hope he is," Philip replied, "he knows that Caleb richly deserves it in addition to his salary, for his many years of service. Besides, we've earned the money, in excess of any previous half-year of trade; so even if the commercial project fails I shall be out only three or four hundred dollars."

"And without doubt," said the Doctor, "'twill be the remaking of Caleb."

"I hope so," Philip replied, "for he has been remaking me."

XVIII--THE TABBY PARTY

ALL of Grace's spare hours for a fortnight after Caleb's departure were spent in recalling and applying the makeshift furniture devices of her native village and those described in back numbers of "Ladies' Own" papers and magazines, as well as all the upholstery and other decorative methods of her sister-saleswomen in the days when she and they had far more taste than money. Chairs and lounges were extemporized from old boxes and barrels, cushioned with straw or corn-husks, and covered with chintz. A roll of cheap matting, ordered from the city, drove the rugs from the sitting room and parlor, and the cheapest of hangings replaced the lace curtains at the windows. All of the framed pictures were sent upstairs, and upon the walls were affixed, with furniture tacks, many borderless pictures, plain and colored, from the collection which Philip and Grace had made, in past years, from weekly papers and Christmas "Supplements."

The vases, too, disappeared, though substitutes for them were found. Dainty tables, brackets, etc., were replaced by some made from fragments of boxes, the completed structures being stained to imitate more costly woods, and instead of the couple's darling bric-à-brac appeared oddities peculiar to the country--some birds and small animals stuffed by Black Sam, birds'-nests, dried flowers, a mass of heads of wheat, oats, rye, and sorghum arranged as a great bouquet, some turkey-tail fans, and so many other things that had attracted Grace in her drives and walks that there seemed no room on mantel, tables, and walls for all of them.

"There!" Grace exclaimed, as she ushered her husband into the parlor at the end of a day expended on finishing touches. "What do you think of it?"

"Bless me!" Philip exclaimed. "Absolutely harmonious in color, besides being far fuller than it was before. 'Tis quite as pretty, too, in general effect. Don't imagine for a moment, however, that your selected list of old cats will appreciate it."

"I _shall_ imagine it, and I don't believe I shall be disappointed. All human nature is susceptible to general effect. Besides, Mrs. Taggess is to be here, and all of them are fond of her, and she will say many things that I can't. I shall boast only when they tell me that they suppose my husband did most of the work--if any of them are clever enough to detect the difference between what is here and what the G. A. R. men and other guests have reported."

The invitations were given informally, though long in advance, to a midday dinner on the first day of "Court-week,"--a day set apart by common consent in hundreds of counties, for a general flocking to town. The guests selected were--according to Caleb, who was consulted when the plan was first formed--the ten most virulent feminine gossips in the county. Black Sam's wife had been employed to assist for the day at cooking and serving, and among the dishes were many which would be entirely new to the guests. At one end of the table sat Grace, "dressed," as one of the guests said afterwards, "as all-fired as a gal that was expectin' her feller, an' was boun' to make him pop the question right straight off." At the other end of the table was Mrs. Taggess, plainly attired, except for her habitual smile, and at either side sat five as differing shapes--except for sharp features and inquiring eyes--as could be found anywhere. One wore black silk with much affectation of superiority to the general herd, but the others seemed to have prepared for a wild competition in colors of raiment and ribbons, and one had succeeded in borrowing for the day the original and many-colored silk of Mrs. Hawk Howlaway, described in an early chapter of this narrative.

The guests did full justice to the repast. One by one they became mystified by the number of courses, for they had expected pie or pudding to follow the first dish. Some began to be apprehensive of the future, but with the fine determination characteristic of "settlers," good and bad alike, they continued to ply knife and fork and spoon. For some time the efforts of the hostess and Mrs. Taggess to encourage conversation were unrewarded, though some of the guests exchanged questions and comments in guarded tones. All acted with the apparent unconcern of the North American Indian; but curiosity, a tricky quality at best, suddenly compelled one gaunt woman to exclaim, as she contemplated the dish before her and raised it to her prominent nose:--

"What on airth is that stuff, I'd like to know?"

"That is lobster salad," Grace replied.

"Oh! I couldn't somehow make out what kind of an animile the meat come off of."

"Nuther could I," said her vis-à-vis, with a full mouth, "but I'm goin' to worry my ole man to raise some of 'em on the farm, for it's powerful good, an' no mistake."

A buzz of assent went round the table; the ice was broken, so another guest said:--

"Mis' Somerton, I've been dyin' to know what that there soup was made of that we begun on. I never tasted anythin' so good in all my born days."

"Indeed? I'm very glad you liked it. 'Twas made of crawfish."

A score of knives and forks clattered upon plates, and ten women assumed attitudes of amazement and consternation. Finally one of them succeeded in gasping:--

"Them little things that bores holes 'longside the crick? the things that boys makes fish-bait of?"

"The same, though only millionnaires' sons could afford to use them for bait in the East. Crawfish meat in New York costs as much as--oh, a single pound of it costs as much as a big sugar-cured ham. I never dreamed of buying it--I never dared hope that I might taste it--until I came out here."

The appearance of a new course checked conversation on the subject, but one of the guests eyed suspiciously a tiny French chop, the tip of its bone covered with paper, and said to the woman at her right:--

"Don't appear to know what we're bein' fed with here. Wonder what this is? It's little enough to be a side bone o' cat. Must be all right, though; Mis' Taggess is eatin' hern."

A form of blanc-mange was another mystery. Said one woman to another:--

"It must be the ice-cream the soldiers told about, for it's powerful cold, besides bein' powerful good."

"That's so," was the reply; "but 'pears to me I didn't hear the men say nothin' about there bein' gravy poured on theirn."

Some of the guests were becoming full to their extreme capacity,--a condition which stimulates geniality in some natures, ugliness in others. They had come to criticise--to learn of their hostess's extravagance. They had remained in the parlor only long enough to be entirely overcome by its magnificence and to exchange whispered remarks about the shameful waste of money wrung from the hard-working farmers.

The dinner had been good beyond their wildest expectations; not the best Fourth of July picnic refreshments, or even the memorable dinner given by Squire Burress, the richest farmer in the county, when his daughter was married, compared with it. What was so good must also have been very expensive. Criticism must begin with something, and the blanc-mange seemed a proper subject to one woman, who was reputed to be very religious. So she groaned:--

"This--whatever it is--is so awful good that it must ha' been sinful costly--actually sinful."

"Yes, indeed," sighed another. "One might say, a wicked waste o' money."

"Blanc-mange?--costly?" Grace said, curbing an indignant impulse; "why, 'tis nothing but corn-starch, milk, sugar, and a little flavoring. I wonder what dessert dish could be cheaper!"

"You don't say!" exclaimed a woman less malevolent or more practical than the others. "Now, I just ain't a-goin' to give you no peace till you give me the receipt for it."

"I'll give it, with pleasure; or better still, you shall have a package of the corn-starch,--'tis worth only a few cents,--with full directions on the label. I might possibly forget some part of them, you know."

"Me too," said several women as one, and criticism was temporarily abated. Before a new excuse for reviving it could be found, the ice-cream--the real article, and without gravy, of course--made its appearance. It was consumed in silence, in as much haste as possible with anything so cold, and also with evident enjoyment. Then the opponent of sinful extravagance remarked:--

"It's awful good--too good! It 'pears wicked to enjoy any earthly thing so much. Besides, you needn't tell me that _it_ ain't awful costly, 'cause I shan't believe it."

"If my word is of so doubtful quality," said Grace, with rising color, "perhaps Mrs. Taggess, with whom you're better acquainted, will inform you."

"'Tis nothing but milk, cream, and sugar," said Mrs. Taggess, who had borrowed Grace's freezer and experimented with it, "and most of you know very well that you've so much milk that you feed some of it to your pigs. The cream in what all of you have eaten would make, perhaps, a single pound of butter, which you would be glad to sell for fifteen cents. The sugar cost not more than five or six cents, and the flavoring, to any one with raspberries in their own garden, would have cost nothing."

The guests gasped in chorus, but the tormentor quickly said:--

"But the ice! Us poor farmin' folks can't afford ice; it's only them that makes their livin' out of us--"

"Excuse me," said Mrs. Taggess, "but many of the farmers, your husband among them, have been telling Doctor Taggess recently that they were going to put up ice-houses next winter, and that they were foolish or lazy for not having already done so before. I'm sure that all of you who have enjoyed the cream so greatly will keep your husbands in mind of it, especially as ice-cream, made at home, is as cheap as the poorest food that any farmer's family eats."

The coming of the coffee caused conversation to abate once more, for in each cup floated a puff of whipped cream--a spectacle unfamiliar to any of the gossips, some of whom hastily spooned and swallowed it, in the supposition that it was ice-cream, put in to cool the coffee somewhat. Those who followed the motions of their hostess and Mrs. Taggess stirred the whipped cream into the coffee, and enjoyed the result, but again the voice of the tormentor arose:--

"We buy all our coffee at your store, but we don't never have none that tastes like this here."

"Indeed?" Grace said, with an air of solicitude. "I wonder why, for there is but one kind in the store, and this was made from it. Perhaps we prepare it in different ways."

"I bile mine a plumb half-hour," said the tormentor, "so's to git ev'ry mite o' stren'th out o' it."

"Oh! I never boil mine."

She never boiled coffee! Would the wonders of this house and its housekeeper never cease?

"For pity sakes, how does any one make coffee without boilin', _I'd_ like to know?" said a little woman with a thin, aquiline nose and a piercing voice.

"I used to do it," said Grace, "by putting finely ground coffee in a strainer, and letting boiling water trickle through it, but the strainer melted off one day, through my carelessness, so now I put the coffee in a cotton bag, tie it, throw it into the pot, pour on boiling water, set it on the cooler part of the stove, and let it stand without boiling for five minutes. Then I take out the bag and its contents, to keep the coffee from getting a woody taste. My husband, who often makes the coffee in the morning, throws the ground coffee into cold water, lets it stand on the stove until it comes to a boil, and removes it at once. I'm not yet sure which way is the best."

"Nor I," said Mrs. Taggess, "although I've tasted it here made in both ways, and seen it made, too."

The guests were so astonished that each took a second cup--not that they really wanted it, as one explained to two others, but to see whether it really was as good as it had seemed at first. Then Grace arose, and led the way to the parlor. Some of the guests were loath to follow, among them the tormentor, who said:--

"I s'pose if I'd talked about these crockery dishes, she'd have faced me down, an' tried to make me believe they didn't cost as much as mine."

"Oh, no, she wouldn't," said Mrs. Taggess, who overheard the remark; "but I think 'twas very kind of her to set out her very best china, don't you? Most people do that only for their dearest friends--never for people who forget the manners due to the woman of the house, whoever she may be."

"I don't see what you mean by that, Mis' Taggess, I'm sure. I only--"

"Ah, well, try not to 'only' in the parlor, for Mrs. Somerton is trying very hard to make us feel entirely at home."

"Well, _I_ think she's just tryin' to show off, 'cause she's come into old Jethro's money."

"Show off with what? Do tell me."