CHAPTER VI.
PEGGY PRESENTS HIS BILL.
Millville waited in agonized suspense for three days for tangibleevidence that "the nabob was in their midst," as Nib Corkins poeticallyexpressed it; but the city folks seemed glued to the farm and no one ofthem had yet appeared in the village. As a matter of fact, Patsy andUncle John were enthusiastically fishing in the Little Bill, far up inthe pine woods, and having "the time of their lives" in spite of theirscant success in capturing trout. Old Hucks could go out beforebreakfast and bring in an ample supply of speckled beauties for Mary tofry; but Uncle John's splendid outfit seemed scorned by the finny folk,and after getting her dress torn in sundry places and a hook in thefleshy part of her arm Patsy learned to seek shelter behind a treewhenever her uncle cast his fly. But they reveled in the woods, andwould lie on the bank for hours listening to the murmur of the brook andthe songs of the birds.
The temper of the other two girls was different. Beth De Graf hadbrought along an archery outfit, and she set up her target on the amplegreen the day following her arrival. Here she practiced persistently,shooting at sixty yards with much skill. But occasionally, when Louisetired of her novel and her cushions in the hammock, the two girls wouldplay tennis or croquet together--Beth invariably winning.
Such delightful laziness could brook no interference for the first daysof their arrival, and it was not until Peggy McNutt ventured over onMonday morning for a settlement with Mr. Merrick that any from thelittle world around them dared intrude upon the dwellers at theWegg farm.
Although the agent had been late in starting from Millville and NickThorne's sorrel mare had walked every step of the way, Peggy was obligedto wait in the yard a good half hour for the "nabob" to finish hisbreakfast. During that time he tried to decide which of the twostatements of accounts that he had prepared he was most justified inpresenting. He had learned from the liveryman at the Junction that Mr.Merrick had paid five dollars for a trip that was usually made for two,and also that the extravagant man had paid seventy-five cents more toLucky Todd, the hotel keeper, than his bill came to. The knowledge ofsuch reckless expenditures had fortified little McNutt in "marking up"the account of the money he had received, and instead of charging twodollars a day for his own services, as he had at first intended, he putthem down at three dollars a day--and made the days stretch as much aspossible. Also he charged a round commission on the wages of Lon Taftand Ned Long, and doubled the liveryman's bill for hauling the goodsover from the Junction. Ethel Thompson had refused to accept any paymentfor what she had done, but Peggy bravely charged it up at good roundfigures. When the bill was made out and figured up it left him amagnificent surplus for his private account; but at the last his heartfailed him, and he made out another bill more modest in its extortions.He had brought them both along, though, one in each pocket, vacillatingbetween them as he thought first of the Merrick millions and then of therighteous anger he might incur. By the time Uncle John came out to him,smiling and cordial, he had not thoroughly made up his mind whichaccount to present.
"I must thank you for carrying out my orders so intelligently," beganthe millionaire. "Without your assistance I might have found things inbad shape, I fear."
McNutt was reassured. The nabob would stand for bill No. 1, without adoubt.
"I tried fer to do my best, sir," he said.
"And you did very well," was the reply. "I hope you kept yourexpenditures well within bounds?"
The agent's heart sank at the question and the shrewd, alert look thataccompanied it. Even millionaires do not allow themselves to beswindled, if they can help it. Bill No. 2 would be stiff enough; hemight even have to knock a few dollars off from that.
"Most things is high in Millville," he faltered, "an' wages has gone upjest terr'ble. The boys don't seem to wanter do nuthin' withoutbig pay."
"That is the case everywhere," responded Mr. Merrick, thoughtfully; "andbetween us, McNutt, I'm glad wages are better in these prosperous times.The man who works by the day should be well paid, for he has to pay wellfor his living. Adequately paid labor is the foundation of allprosperity."
Peggy smiled cheerfully. He was glad he had had the forethought to bringBill No. 1 along with him.
"Hosses is high, too," he remarked, complacently, "an' lumber an' nailsis up. As fer the live-stock I bought fer ye, I found I had to pay likesixty for it."
"I suppose they overcharged you because a city man wanted the animals.But of course you would not allow me to be robbed."
"Oh, 'course not, Mr. Merrick!"
"And that nag in the stable is a sorry old beast."
Peggy was in despair. Why in the world hadn't he charged for "thebeast"? As it was now too late to add it to the bill he replied,grudgingly:
"The hoss you mention belongs to the place, sir. It went with the farm,'long o' Old Hucks an' Nora."
"I'm glad you reminded me of those people," said Uncle John, seriously."Tell me their history."
Louise sauntered from the house, at this juncture, and sank gracefullyupon the grass at her uncle's feet. She carried a book, but did notopen it.
"Ain't much to tell, sir, 'bout them folks," replied the agent. "Cap'nWegg brung the Huckses with him when he settled here. Wegg were asea-cap'n, ye see, an' when he retired he Wanted to git as far from thesea's he could."
"That was strange. A sailor usually loves to be near salt water all hisdays," observed Uncle John.
"Wall, Wegg he were diff'rent. He come here when I were a boy, bringin'a sad-faced young woman an' Ol' Hucks an' Nora. I s'pose Hucks were asailor, too, though he never says nuthin' 'bout that. The Cap'n boughtthis no'count farm an' had this house built on it--a proceedin' that, efI do say it, struck ev'rybody as cur'ous."
"It _was_ curious," agreed Mr. Merrick.
"But the cur'ous'est thing was thet he didn't make no 'tempt at farmin'.Folks said he had money to burn, fer he loaded it into this fool housean' then sot down an' smoked all day an' looked glum. Ol' Hucks plantedthe berry patch an' looked arter the orchard an' the stock; but Cap'nWegg on'y smoked an' sulked. People at Millville was glad to leave himalone, an' the on'y friend he ever had were crazy Will Thompson."
"Crazy?"
"As a loon." The agent hitched uneasily on the lawn bench, where he wasseated, and then continued, hastily: "But thet ain't neither here nerthere. A baby was born arter a time, an' while he was young thesad-faced mother sickened an' died. Cap'n Wegg give her a decent fun'ralan' went right on smokin' his pipe an' sulkin', same as ever. Thenhe--he--died," rather lamely, "an' Joe--thet's the boy--bein' then aboutsixteen, dug out 'n' run away. We hain't seen him sense."
"Nice boy?" asked Uncle John.
"Joe were pretty well liked here, though he had a bit o' his dad'ssulkiness. He 'n' Ethel Thompson--crazy Will's gran'daughter--seemedlike to make up together; but even she don't know what drav himoff--'nless it were the Cap'n's suddint death--ner where he went to."
Uncle John seemed thoughtful, but asked no more questions, and McNuttappeared to be relieved that he refrained. But the bill ought to beforthcoming now, and the agent gave a guilty start as hispatron remarked:
"I want to settle with you for what you have done. I'm willing to pay aliberal price, you understand, but I won't submit to being robbedoutrageously by you or any of your Millville people."
This was said so sternly that it sent McNutt into an ague of terror. Hefumbled for the smallest bill, tremblingly placed it in Mr. Merrick'shand, and then with a thrill of despair realized he had presented thedreadful No. 1!
"It's--it's--a--'count of what I spent out," he stammered.
Uncle John ran his eye over the bill.
"What are Plymouth Rocks?" he demanded.
"He--hens, sir."
"Hens at a dollar apiece?"
"Thoroughbreds, sir. Extry fine stock. I raised 'em myself."
"H-m. You've charged them twice."
"Eh?"
"Here's an item: 'Twelve Plymouth Rocks, twelve dollars;' and fartherdown
: 'Twelve Plymouth Rocks, eighteen dollars.'"
"Oh, yes; o' course. Ye see, I sold you a dozen first, of the dollarkind. Then I thought as how, bein' fine young birds, you'd be temptedfer to eat 'em, an' a dozen don't go fur on the table. So I up an' soldye another dozen, extry ol' stock an' remarkable high-bred, fer adollar-an'-a-half each. Which is dirt cheap because they's too old toeat an' jest right fer layers."
"Are they here?"
"Every one of 'em."
"Very good. I'm glad to have them. The cow seems reasonably priced, fora Jersey."
"It is. Jest extror'nary!" exclaimed Peggy, reassured.
"And your people have all done work of an unusual character in apainstaking manner. I am very much pleased. There seems to be a hundredand forty dollars my due, remaining from the five hundred I sent you."
"Here it is, sir," responded McNutt, taking the money from hispocket-book. In another place he had more money, which he had intendedto pay if the smaller bill had been presented.
Uncle John took the money.
"You are an honest fellow, McNutt," said he. "I hadn't expected a dollarback, for folks usually take advantage of a stranger if he gives themhalf a chance. So I thank you for your honesty as well as for yourservices. Good morning."
The agent was thoroughly ashamed of himself. To be "sech a duffer" as toreturn that money, when by means of a little strategy he might have keptit, made him feel both humiliated and indignant. A hundred and fortydollars; When would he have a chance to get such a windfall again? Pah!he was a fool--to copy his identical thoughts: "a gol dumblithering idjit!"
All the way home he reflected dismally upon his lack of businessforesight, and strove to plan ways to get money "out'n thet easy mark."
"Didn't the man rob you, Uncle?" asked Louise, when the agent haddisappeared.
"Yes, dear; but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing Irealized it."
"That was what I thought. By the way, that Wegg history seems bothromantic and unusual," she said, musingly. "Don't you scent some mysteryin what the man said of it?"
"Mystery!" cried Uncle John. "Lordy, no, Louise. You've been readin' toomany novels. Romances don't grow in parts like these."
"But I think this is where they are most likely to grow, Uncle,"persisted the girl, "just consider. A retired sea captain hides inland,with no companions but a grinning sailor and his blind housekeeper--except his pale wife, of course; and she is described as sad andunhappy. Who was she, do you think?"
"I don't think," said Uncle John, smiling and patting the fair check ofhis niece. "And it don't matter who she was."
"I'm sure it does. It is the key to the whole mystery. Even her babycould not cheer the poor thing's broken heart. Even the fine house theCaptain built failed to interest her. She pined away and died, and----"
"And that finished the romance, Louise."
"Oh, no; that added to its interest. The boy grew up in this dismalplace and brooded on his mother's wrongs. His stern, sulky old fatherdied suddenly. Was he murdered?" in a low voice; "did the son revengehis mother's wrongs?"
"Figglepiff, Louise! You're getting theatric--and so early in themorning, too! Want to saddle my new farm with a murder, do you? Well,it's rubbish. Joe Wegg ran away from here to get busy in the world.Major Doyle helped him with my money, in exchange for this farm, whichthe boy was sensible to get rid of--although I'm glad it's now mine. TheMajor liked Joe Wegg, and says he's a clean-cut, fine young feller. He'san inventor, too, even if an unlucky one, and I've no doubt he'll makehis way in the world and become a good citizen."
With these words Uncle John arose and sauntered around to the barn, tolook at the litter of new pigs that just then served to interest andamuse him. The girl remained seated upon the grass, her hands claspedover her knee and a look of deep retrospection upon her face.