Part 2

"Pretty soft walkin', ma'am," said the landlord, after eying Grace's daintily shod feet. "Better let me borrow you my wife's gum shoes; she ain't likely to go out of the house to-day. You ought to have gum boots, though, if you're dead set on walkin' about in winter."

Grace thanked the landlord for his offer and advice, but hurried Phil out of the hotel, after which she said:--

"That was my first visit to a hotel of any kind. Do they improve on acquaintance? Oh, Phil! Don't look so like a thunder-cloud! What can the matter be?"

"I should have been thoughtful enough to come a day or two in advance, and found a proper home for you. I hope Caleb will know of one. Be careful!--the sidewalk is ending. Let me go first."

Two or three successive planks served as continuation of the sidewalk, and their ends did not quite join, but Philip skilfully piloted his wife along them. Beyond, in front of a residence, was a brick walk about two feet wide, after which was encountered soft mud for about fifty linear feet. Philip looked about for bits of board, stone, brick--anything with which to make solid footing at short intervals. But he could see nothing available; neither could he see any person out of doors, so in desperation he took Grace in his arms and carried her to a street-crossing, where to his delight he saw a broad stick of hewn timber embedded in the mud and extending from side to side. After this were some alternations of brick sidewalk, mud, and a short causeway of tan-bark, the latter ending at a substantial pavement in front of a store over which was a weatherbeaten sign bearing the name JETHRO SOMERTON.

"The treasure-house of Her Majesty Grace I., Queen of Claybanks," said Philip. "Shall we enter?"

As Philip opened the door, a small man who was replenishing the stove looked around, dropped a stick of wood, wiped his hands on his coat, came forward, smiling pleasantly, and said:--

"Mr. Somerton, I'm very glad to see you again."

"Thank you, Mr. Wright. Let me make you acquainted with Mrs. Somerton."

Caleb seemed not a bit appalled as he shook hands with Grace. He held her hand several seconds while he looked at her, and seemed to approve of what he saw; then he said:--

"Your uncle told me of your marriage, and thought you'd been very unwise. I reckon he'd change his mind if he was here, though 'twas a hard one to change."

Grace blushed slightly and replied:--

"I hope so, I'm sure. Have you had the entire work of the store since Uncle Jethro died?"

"Uncle--Jethro! I don't believe he'd have died if he'd heard you say that! Well, yes, I've been alone here. Your husband wrote he'd be along pretty soon, an' as the roads was so soft that the farmers didn't come to town much, I didn't think it worth while to get extra help. Come into the back room, won't you? There's chairs there, an' a good fire too."

"Are the farmers your principal customers?" Grace asked, as she sank into a capacious wooden armchair.

"Well, they're the most important ones. They take most time, too, though some of the women-folks in this town can use more time in spendin' a quarter an' makin' up their minds--principally the latter, than--well, I don't s'pose you can imagine how they wait, an' fuss, an' turn things over, an'--"

"Oh, indeed I can," said Grace; "for once I was a country girl, and in New York I was a saleswoman in a store, and have waited on just such customers half an hour at a time without making a sale, though the store was one of the biggest in the city, and its prices were as low as any."

"I want to know!" exclaimed Caleb, whose eyes had opened wide while Grace talked. "You?--a country gal?--an' a saleswoman? I wouldn't have thought it!"

"Why not? Don't I look clever enough?"

"Oh, that ain't it, but--"

"Some day, when you and Philip are real busy," suggested Grace, "perhaps you'll let me help you behind the counter."

"Mrs. Somerton is a great joker," explained Philip, as Caleb continued to look incredulous.

"But I wasn't joking," said Grace. "I'll really help in the store some day when--"

"When your husband lets you, you said," remarked Philip.

"Well," drawled Caleb, slowly regaining his customary expression, "I shouldn't wonder if Mrs. Somerton's the kind that's let to do pretty much as she likes."

Philip laughed, and replied:--

"You're a quick judge of human nature, Mr. Wright. But before we talk business I want some advice and assistance. We can't live at that hotel; for my wife would have to sit in a cold room all day, which isn't to be thought of. Can't you suggest a boarding place, in a private family?"

"Scarcely, I'm afraid," Caleb replied after a moment of thought. "I don't b'lieve any families here ever took boarders, or would know how to do it to your likin'. What's the matter with your takin' your uncle's house an' livin' in it? It's plain, but comfortable, an' just as he left it."

"Is there a servant in it?"

"Oh, no; there hasn't been since his wife died, an' _she_ wasn't what you city folks call a servant. 'Helper' is what you want to say in these parts. They're hard to get, too, an' if they're not treated same as if they was members of the family, they won't stay. About your uncle,--well, you see he took his meals at the hotel, an' done his own housework, which didn't amount to much except makin' his bed ev'ry mornin' an' makin' fire through the winter. S'pose you take a look at it, when you're good and ready. It's on the back of the store-lot, and the key is in the desk here. Your furniture an' things, that come by rail, I had put in the warehouse behind the store, not knowin' just what you'd want to do."

Philip and Grace looked at each other, and exchanged a few words about possible housekeeping. Caleb looked at both with great interest, and improved the first moment of silence to say:--

"An' she's--you've--been a shop-girl!" Philip frowned slightly, and Caleb hastened to add, "I ort to have said a saleswoman. But who would have thought it!"

"Caleb is a character," Grace said as soon as she and her husband left the store. "I'm going to be very fond of him."

"Very well; do so. I'll promise not to be jealous. He's certainly hearty, and 'tis good for us that he's honest; for we and all we have are practically in his hands and will remain there until I get a grip on the business. But I do wish Uncle Jethro hadn't been so enragingly non-committal about the chap's peculiarities. I shall be on pins and needles until I know what the old gentleman was hinting at. Besides, he may have been entirely mistaken. A mind that could imagine that this out-of-the-world hole-in-the-ground must one day become a city could scarcely have been entirely trustworthy about anything."

III--INTRODUCED

THE house in which the late Jethro Somerton had lived was a plain wooden structure, entered by a door opening directly into a room which had been used as a sitting room. Behind this was a kitchen, beside which was a bedroom, while in front, beside the sitting room, was a "best room" or parlor. There was a second floor, in which were four rooms, some of which had never been used. The ceilings throughout the house were so low that Philip, who was quite tall, could touch them with his finger-tips when he stood on tiptoe. The walls of the sitting room and parlor were hard-finished and white; all the other walls were rough and whitewashed.

"This is quite out of the question, as a home," said Philip. "No hall, no--"

"Why not make believe that the sitting room is a square hall?" Grace asked. "They're the rage in the swell villages around New York."

"But there's no bath room."

"We can make one, on the upper floor, where we've rooms to spare."

"Perhaps; but 'tis very improbable that the town has a water service."

"Then have a tank, fed from the roof or by a pump, as Aunt Eunice has in her cottage, smaller than this and in a town no larger than Claybanks."

"No furnace, of course, to warm the house, and--ugh!--I don't believe the town knows of the existence of coal, for both stoves at the store are fed with wood."

"So they were, and--oh, I see! Here are fireplaces in the sitting-room--or hall, I suppose I should say--and in the parlor! Think how unutterably we longed for the unattainable--that is, an open wood fire--in our little flat in the city!"

"But, dear girl, a fireplace grows cold at night."

"Quite likely; but don't you suppose the principal merchant in town could economize on something so as to afford enough quilts and blankets to keep his family from freezing to death while they sleep?"

"You angel, you've all the brains of the family. Where did you learn so much about houses? And about what to do when you don't find what you want in them? And who taught you?"

"I suppose necessity taught me," Grace replied, with a laugh, "and within the past few minutes, too. For, don't you see, we must live in this house. There seems to be no other place for us. And I suppose 'tis instinct for women, rather than men, to see the possibilities of houses, for a woman has to spend most of her life indoors."

Then she walked slowly toward the kitchen, where she contemplated the stove, two grease-spotted tables, and four fly-specked walls. Philip followed her, saying:--

"What a den! Money must be spent here at once, and--oh, Grace! You're crying? Come here--quick! I never before saw tears in your eyes!"

"And you never shall again," Grace sobbed. "I don't see what can be the matter with me; it must be the cold weather that has--"

"This forlorn barn of a house and this shabby, God-forsaken town have broken your heart!" exclaimed Philip. "I wish I too could cry. I assure you my heart has been in my boots, though I've tried hard to keep it in its proper place. Don't let's remain here another hour. I'll gladly abandon my inheritance to the benevolent societies. We'll hurry back to the city and let our things follow us."

"But we can't, Phil, for we've burned our bridges behind us. We can take only such money as will get us back, and we would not be certain of employment on reaching the city. Besides, we told our acquaintances of our good fortune, but not of its conditions; if we go back, they will suspect you and pity me."

"You're right--you're right!" said Philip, from behind tightly closed jaws. "Why hadn't I sense to get leave of absence for a week, and look at the gift before accepting it? Still, we're alive; we have the money, and the first and best use of it is to make you comfortable. I'll get Caleb to get me some men at once,--one of them to make fires, and the others to bring over and unpack our goods. In the meanwhile, you shall at least keep warm in the office of the store. You'll have only barrels of molasses and vinegar and bales of grain-sacks for company, but--"

"But my husband won't be farther away than the next room," Grace said, "and the door between shall remain open."

Then Philip kissed the tears from her eyes, and Grace called herself an unreasonable baby, and Philip called himself an unpardonable donkey, and they returned together to the store, entering softly by the back door, so that Caleb should not see them and join them at once. But dingy though the back windows of the office were, Caleb, standing behind one of them, said to himself:--

"Rubbin' her face with her handkerchief!--that means she's been cryin'. Well, I should think she would, if city houses are anythin' like the picture-papers make 'em out to be."

Caleb retired to the store, where Phil joined him after a few moments, and said:--

"We shall live in the old house, Mr. Wright. My wife and I have been looking it over, and we see how it can be made very comfortable."

"You do, eh?" Caleb replied; at the same time his face expressed so much astonishment that Philip laughed, and said:--

"You mustn't mistake us for a pair of city upstarts. My wife, as she told you, was a country girl; she went to New York only a few years ago, and 'twas only four years since I passed through here on my way to the city. We're strong enough and brave enough to take anything as we find it, if we can't make it better. That reminds me that the old house can be bettered in many ways. Is there a plumber in the town?"

"No, sir!" replied Caleb, with emphasis, and a show of indignation such as might have been expected were he asked if Claybanks supported a gambling den. "We've read about 'em, in the city papers, an' I reckon one of 'em would starve to death if he come out here, unless the boys run him out of town first."

"H'm! I'm going to beg you to restrain the boys when I coax a plumber here from the nearest city, for a few days' work in the house. And I've another favor to ask; you know people here, and I don't, as yet. Won't you find me two or three men, this morning--at once--to unpack my things that came from the city, and put them into the house? When they're ready to move them, I wish you'd make some excuse to coax my wife out here, so that I can slip down to the house, without her knowledge, and prepare a surprise for her by placing all our belongings about as they were in our rooms in the city."

"Good for you! Good for you!" exclaimed Caleb, rubbing his hands. "If you're that kind o' man, I reckon you're deservin' of her. Most men's so busy with their own affairs, or so careless, that women comin' to a new country have a back-breakin' time of it, an' a heart-breakin' too. I dunno, though, that I can keep her away from you long enough. From her ways,--the little I've seen of 'em,--I reckon she's one o' the kind o' wives that sticks to her husband like hot tar to a sheep's wool."

"Oh, you'll have no trouble, for she already has taken a great liking to you."

"I recippercate the sentiment," said Caleb, again rubbing his hands. "I don't know much, but a man can't work in a country store about twenty year or more without sizin' up new specimens of human nature powerful quick, an' makin' mighty few mistakes at it. You'll find out how it is. All of a sudden, some day, a new settler, that you never saw before, 'll come in an' want to be trusted for goods--sca'cely any of 'em has any cash, an' you have to wait for your pay till they can raise some kind of produce, an' bring it in. If you can't read faces, you're likely to be a goner, to the amount of what you sell, an' if you refuse, you may be a thousan' times wuss a goner; for if the man's honest, an' also as proud as poor folks usually be, he'll never forgive you, and some other storekeeper'll get all his trade. Or, a stranger passin' through town wants to sell a hoss; you don't know him or the hoss either, or whether they come by each other honestly, an'--But this ain't what you was talkin' about. I'll stir about and see what help I can pick up. I reckon you won't have no trouble in the store while I'm gone; prices is marked on pretty much everythin'. Want to get settled to-day?"

"Yes, if possible."

"Reckon I'll see to makin' fires in the house, then, so's to warm things up. If any customer comes in that you don't quite understand, or wants any goods that bothers you, try to hold him till I get back. 'Twon't be hard. Folks in these parts ain't generally in a drivin' hurry."

"All right. I used to lounge in the stores in our town; I know their ways pretty well, and I remember many prices."

"That's good. Well, if you get stuck, get your wife to help you. There's a good deal in havin' been behind a counter, besides what Mrs. Somerton is of her own self."

Then Caleb turned up his coat-collar and sauntered out.

"Grace," shouted Philip, as soon as the door had closed, "do come here! Allow me to congratulate you on having made a conquest of Caleb Wright. He kindly tolerates me, but 'tis quite plain that he regards you as the head of the family. I was going to replace that shabby old sign over the door, but now I fear that Caleb will demand that the new one shall read 'Mrs. Somerton & Husband.'"

Grace's face glowed as merrily as if it had not been tear-stained half an hour before, and she replied:--

"I've not seen a possible conquest--since I was married--that would give me greater pleasure; for I am you, you know, and you are me, and the you-I would be dreadfully helpless if we hadn't such a man to depend upon."

"'You-I'! That's a good word--a very good one. You ought to be richly paid for coining it."

"Pay me, then, and promptly!" Grace replied.

Some forms of payment consume much time when the circumstances do not require haste: they also have a way of making the payer and payee oblivious to their surroundings, so Philip and Grace supposed themselves alone until they heard the front door close with a loud report, and saw a small boy who seemed to consist entirely of eyes. Grace quickly and intently studied the label of an empty powder keg on the counter, while Philip said:--

"Good morning, young man. What can we do for you?"

"Wantapoundo'shinglenails," was the reply, in nasal monotone.

Philip searched the hardware section of the store, at the same time searching his memory for the price, in his native town, of shingle nails. The packing of the nails, in soft brown paper, was a slow and painful proceeding to a man whose hands in years had encountered nothing harder or rougher than a pen-holder, but when it was completed, the boy, taking the package, departed rapidly.

"He forgot to pay for them," said Grace.

"Yes," Philip replied. "I hope his memory will be equally dormant in other respects."

But it wasn't; for little Scrapsey Green stopped several times, on the way home, to tell acquaintances that "up to Somerton's store ther was a man a-kissin' a woman like all-possessed, an' he wasn't Caleb, neither."

The aforesaid acquaintances made haste to spread the story abroad, as did Scrapsey's own family; so when Caleb returned, an hour later, the store was jammed with apparent customers, and Philip was behind one counter, and Grace behind the other, and the counters themselves were strewn and covered with goods of all sorts, at which the people pretended to look, while they gazed at the "man and woman" of whom they had been told.

"You must be kind o' tuckered out," said Caleb, softly, behind Grace's counter, as he stood an instant with his back to the crowd, and pretended to adjust a shelf of calicoes. "Better take a rest in the back room. I'll relieve you."

Grace responded quickly to the suggestion, while Caleb, leaning over the goods on the counter, said, again softly, to the women nearest him:--

"That's the new Mr. Somerton's wife--an' that's him, at t'other counter."

"Mighty scrumptious gal!" commented a middle-aged woman.

"Yes, an' she's just as nice as she looks. Clear gold an' clear grit, an' her husband's right good stuff, too."

Within two or three minutes Caleb succeeded in signalling Philip to the back room; five minutes later the store was empty, and Caleb joined the couple, and said:--

"Sell much?"

"Not a penny's worth," Grace replied, laughing heartily. "We've been comparing notes."

"Sho!" exclaimed Caleb, although his eyes twinkled. "I met Scrapsey Green up the road, with a pound of shingle-nails that he said come from here, an' I didn't s'pose Scrapsey would lie, for he's one o' my Sunday-school scholars." Philip and Grace quickly reddened, while Caleb continued, "Well, might's well be interduced to the gen'ral public one time's another, I s'pose, 'specially if you can be kept busy, so's not to feel uncomfortable. Besides," he said, after a moment of reflection, "if a man hain't got a right to kiss his own wife, on his own property, whose wife has he got a right to kiss, an' where'bouts?" Then Caleb looked at the account books on the desk, and continued: "Reckon you forgot to charge the nails. Well, I don't wonder."

IV--HOME-MAKING

"I WISH the Doctor would stop in," said Caleb, in a manner as casual as if his first call that morning had not been on Doctor and Mrs. Taggess, whom he told of the new arrivals, declaring that Philip and Grace were "about as nice as the best, 'specially her, an' powerful in need of a cheerin' up," and begging Mrs. Taggess to invite Grace to midday dinner at once, so that Philip might be free to prepare his surprise for Grace.

"The Doctor?" Grace echoed. "Why, Mr. Wright, which of us looks ill?"

"Neither one nor t'other, at present," Caleb replied; "but this country's full of malary, an' forewarned is forearmed. Besides, our doctor's the kind to do your heart good, an' his wife's just like him. They're good an' clever, an' hearty, an' sociable, an' up to snuff in gen'ral. Fact is, they're the salt of the earth, or to as much of it as knows 'em. Sometimes I think that Claybanks an' the round-about country would kind o' decay an' disappear if it wasn't for Doc Taggess an' his wife. Doc's had good chances to go to the city, for he's done some great cures that's got in the medical papers, but here he stays. He don't charge high, an' a good deal of the time it don't do him no good to charge, but here he sticks--says he knows all the people an' their constitutions, an' so on, an' a new doctor might let some folks die while he was learnin' the ropes, so to speak. How's that for a genuine man?"

"First-rate," said Philip, and Grace assented. Caleb continued to tell of the Doctor's good qualities, and suddenly said:--

"Speak of angels, an' you hear their buggy-wheels, an' the driver hollerin' 'Whoa!' I think I just heard the Doctor say it, out in front."

A middle-aged couple bustled into the store; Grace hastily consulted a small mirror in the back room, and Caleb whispered to Philip:--

"If they ask you folks to ride or do anythin', let your wife go, an' you make an excuse to stay. There's a powerful lot of your New York stuff to be fixed, if you expect to do it to-day. Come along! Doctor an' Mrs. Taggess, this is my new boss, an' here comes his wife."

"Glad to meet you," said the Doctor, a man of large, rugged, earnest face, extending a hand to each.

Mrs. Taggess, who was a motherly-looking woman, exclaimed to Grace:--

"You poor child, how lonesome you must feel! So far from your home!"

"Oh, no,--only the length of the store-yard," Grace replied.

"Eh? Brave girl!" said the Doctor. "That's the sort of spirit to have in a new country, if you want to be happy. Well, I can't stop more than a minute,--I've a patient to see in the back street. I understand you're stopping at the hotel, and as, for the reputation of the town, we shouldn't like you to get a violent attack of indigestion the first day, we came down to ask you to dine with us at twelve. Mrs. Somerton can ride up now and visit with my wife, and her husband can come up when he will. Caleb can give him the direction."

"So kind of you!" murmured Grace, and Philip said:--

"I shall be under everlasting obligations to you for giving my wife a view of some better interior than that of a store or that dismal hotel, but I daren't leave to-day. Caleb has arranged for several men to see me."

"Well, well, I'll catch you some other day," said the Doctor. "I must be going; hope you'll find business as brisk as I do. You may be sure that Mrs. Taggess will take good care of your wife, and see that she gets safely back. Good day. I'll drop in once in a while. Hope to know you better. I make no charge for social calls."