The Boss of Little Arcady/Chapter 13
A catastrophe in furniture
"Miss Cahline comin' this yeh time a' yeah so's 't'll seem mo' soft an' homelike. Ah gaiss she go'n' a' sprighten raght up when she see th' summeh time all pleasant."
Thus Clem said to me a few weeks later, and I praised his thoughtfulness. But I nursed misgivings both for Miss Caroline and for Little Arcady. How would they take each other? I conceived Miss Caroline to be a formidable person whom Little Miss resembled, Clem said, "as aigs look lahk aigs." No further detail could I elicit from him save that his Mistress was "not fleshily inclahned," and that Little Miss was "sweetah'n honey on a rag!"
They would find our summer acceptable, even after a Southern summer heavy-sweet with magnolia and jasmine, honeysuckle and mimosa; with spirea and bridal-wreath and white-blossomed sloe trees. And the house as put to rights by Clem would be found at least endurable. It had not the solid grace nor the columned front of the houses I had somewhat hurriedly admired in the Southland some years before, but its lower rooms were wide, its windows abundant, and outwardly it had escaped the blight of the scroll saw.
But the civilization of Little Arcady would be alien to the newcomers, and I was apprehensive that it would also be difficult.
Further, I suspected that J. R. C. Tuckerman, with all his genius for hard work, lacked the administrative gifts of a true financier. He said a hundred thousand pullets when he should have said twenty-five, and he seemed to consider his banked hoard of gold money to be inexhaustible when it was in fact merely a sum slightly greater than he was wont to juggle with in his darkened mind.
I was not surprised, therefore, when I found him rather dejectedly sunk in figures one afternoon about a week after Miss Caroline's "home-fixin's" had begun to arrive.
These were all about him at the front door, in the hall, and extending far into the rooms, a truly depressing chaos of packing boxes, swathed tables, chairs, bureaus, and barrels of china. Nor was this all; for even as I loitered up to the door the dray of Sam Murdock halted in front with another huge load.
Clem raised his head from a sheet of sprawled figures and regarded this fresh trouble with something like consternation. In one hand he fluttered a packet of receipted freight bills, and he spoke as one in an evil dream.
"Yes, seh, Mahstah Majah, it suttinly do seem lahk them railroad genamen would git monst'ous rich a-runnin' them freight trains about th' kentry th' way lahk they do. Ah allus think them ole freight cyahs look maghty cheap an common a-rattlin' around, but Ah teks mah ole hat off to um yehafteh. Yes, seh, Ah lays Ah will! Them engineahs an' fiahmen an' them Cunnels with gole on they hats, Ah gaiss they go'n' a' have all th' money in th' world maghty shawtly. They looks highly awdinahy an' unpetentious, but they suttinly p'duces th' revenue. Ah sho'ly go'n' a' repoht mahse'f to um ve'y honably when they pass me by yehafteh. Yo' don't gaiss they made a errah, Mahstah Majah?"
He searched my face with a sudden hope:—
"Yo' don't reckon they git a idy them funichas an' home-fixin's ain't been paid foh in th' fust place?"
I took the packet from his hands and glanced over it.
"No, these seem to be all right, Clem—only freight is charged for. But you must remember Virginia is a long way off."
"Yes, seh—it ain't neveh raghtly come upon me befoh."
"And freights are high, of course?"
"Yes, seh, th' freight p'fession does look lahk it ort a' be maghty gainful. Ah gaiss them engineahs go'n' a' do raght well in it, with evabody movin' round considable."
"Well, how many more loads do you expect?"
"Well, seh, Ah don't raghtly know. Ah tell that drivah yestaday Ah already got a gret abundance to mek evabody comf'table, an' a little bit oveh, but he jes' sais, 'Oh, tha's all raght,' an so fothe, an' he still is a-bringin' it. Lohks ve'y strongly lahk he ain't go'n' a' stop at mah implications. Mahstah Majah, maght happen lahk he'd ack mo' reasonin' ef yo' was t' have a good long talk with him."
"Oh, he hasn't anything to do with it. He only brings what your Miss Caroline has shipped. She shouldn't have sent so much, that's all."
He took the troubling bills again.
"Yo' sounds raght, Mahstah Majah—you suttinly do sound raght! Ah gaiss Ah got a' raise ten hund'ed thousan pulletts an mo'."
For three more days the juggernaut of Sam Murdock's dray hauled heavy furniture over the prostrate spirit of Clem. Faster than he could unpack the stuff was it unpiled at his door. And it was poor stuff, moreover, in the opinion of Little Arcady. Clem's history was known, of course, and during these busy days the town made it a point to pass his door in friendly curiosity about the belongings of his mistress. When these could not be satisfactorily appraised from the yard, they sauntered up to the porch and surveyed Clem in the front room at his work of unpacking and cleaning. Often, indeed, some kindly disposed observer with time to spare would lend a hand in freeing some heavy bit of mahogany from its crate or wrappings.
The public opinion, thus advantageously formed, was for once unanimous. The house overflowed with worthless and unbeautiful junk. To Little Arcady this was a grievous disappointment. It had expected elegance, for Clem had been wont to enlarge upon the splendors of his former home. When it was finally known that the long-vaunted furnishings were coming, the town had prepared to be dazzled by sets of black walnut, ornate with gilt lines, by patent rockers done in plush, by fashionable sofas, gay with upholstery of flowered ingrain, by bedroom sets of ash, stencilled adroitly with pink-and-blue flowers, or set with veneered panels of burl; by writing-desks of maple and music-stands of cherry with many spindles and frettings, by sideboards of finest new oak with brass handles and mirrors in the backs.
The town had anticipated, in short, up to its own high and difficult standards. And along had come a ruck of stuff that was dark and dingy and old-fashioned; awkward articles with a vast dull expanse of mahogany, ending in clumsy claw feet; spindle-legged tables inlaid with white wood; old-fashioned mirrors in scarred gilt frames; awkward-looking highboys and the plainest of sofas and lounges. The chief sideboard boasted not the tiniest bit of brass; even the handles were of cheap glass, and Clem had set candle-sticks upon it that were nothing but pewter.
Where Little Arcady had looked for the best Brussels carpets, there came only dull-colored rugs of a most aged and depressing lack of gayety. As for silver, we knew the worst when Aunt Delia McCormick declared, "They haven't even a swinging ice-pitcher—nothing but thin battered old stuff that was made in the year one!"
Aunt Delia had quite the newest and most fashionable furniture in town; her parlor was a feast of color for any eye, and her fine hardwood sideboard alone had cost twenty-two dollars, so she spoke as one having authority.
By the time that Clem's ancient treasures were all unpacked, Little Arcady felt a genuine if patronizing sympathy for his mistress. If that were the boasted elegance of the ante-bellum South, then Tradition had reported falsely. No plush rockers of the newest patent; no chenille curtains; no art chromos; no hat-racks, not even an imitation bronze mantle clock guarded by its mailed warrior. Such clocks as there were left only honest distress in the mind of the beholder,—tall, outlandish old things in wooden cases.
It was believed that Clem had wasted money in paying freight on this stuff. Certainly no one in Little Arcady would have paid those bills to possess the furniture. As to the folly of those who had originally purchased it, the town was likewise a unit.
If Clem was made aware of this public sentiment, he still did not waver in his loyalty to the old pieces. Day after day he unpacked and dusted and polished them with loving devotion. They spoke to him of other days, and when he was quite sure that the last freight bill had been paid, he seemed really to enjoy them. The unexpected drain had reduced his savings to a pittance, but were not the pullets which he could raise absolutely without number?
It was true that Miss Caroline would have to come alone now, leaving Little Miss still to teach in the school at Baltimore until a day of renewed surplus. This much Clem confided to me in sorrow. I sympathized with him, truly, but I felt it was a fortunate circumstance. I thought that one of the ladies at a time would be as much as Little Arcady could assimilate.
Slowly the house grew into a home awaiting its mistress, a home whose furnished rooms overflowed into others not furnished but merely crowded.
I foresaw, not without a certain wicked cheerfulness, that, even after the coming of Miss Caroline, Clem would be forced to pander to my breakfast appetites for the slight betterment it made in his fortunes, even must this be done surreptitiously. And at least one dinner was secured to me beyond the coming of this mistress; for Clem had conveyed to me, with appropriate ceremony, an invitation, which I promptly accepted, to dine with Mrs. Caroline Lansdale at six-thirty on the evening of her arrival, she having gleaned from his letters, it appeared, that I had been a rather friendly adviser of her servant.
In the days that followed I saw that Clem was regarding me with an embarrassed, troubled look. Something of weight lay upon his mind. Nor was it easy to make him speak, but I achieved this at last.
"Well, seh, Mahstah Majah, yo'-all see, Ah ain't eveh told Miss Cahline that yo's a Majah in th' Nawthun ahmy."
"No?" I said.
"No, seh; Ah ain't even said yo's been a common soljah."
"Well?"
"'Cause Miss Cahline's tehible heahtfelt 'bout some mattehs. Th' Lansdales sho'ly kin ca'y a grudge powful long. An' so—seh—Ah ain't neveh tole on yo'."
"But she'll find it out."
"Yes, seh, an' she maght fuhgit it, but—Ah crave yo' pahdon, seh—theh's yo' ahm what's gone."
"It's too late to help that, Clem."
"Well, seh—now Ah was steddyin'—if yo' kin'ly grant yo' grace of pahdon, seh—lahkly 'twould compliment Miss Cahline ef yo' was to git yo'se'f fitted to one a' them unnatchel limbs, seh. Yo' sho'ly go'n' a' pesteh huh rec'lections with that theh saggin' sleeve, Mahstah Majah."
But this kindly meant proposal I felt compelled to reject.
"No, Clem, you'll have to fix it up with Miss Caroline the best you can."
"Ve'y well, seh, thank yo', seh—Ah do mah ve'y best fo' yo'."
But I saw that he had little hope of ever winning for me the favor of his captious owner.