A Traveler from Altruria: Romance Part 20

"Very good. Have you caught your hare?"

"No, I haven't yet. And I want you to help me catch him. What do you think is the best way to go about it?"

The banker said he would leave us to the discussion of that question, but Mrs. Makely could count upon him in everything if she could only get the man to talk. At the end of our conference we decided to interview the Altrurian together.

I shall always be ashamed of the way that woman wheedled the Altrurian, when we found him the next morning, walking up and down the piazza, before breakfast--that is, it was before our breakfast; when we asked him to go in with us, he said he had just had his breakfast, and was waiting for Reuben Camp, who had promised to take him up as he pa.s.sed with a load of hay for one of the hotels in the village.

"Ah, that reminds me, Mr. h.o.m.os," the unscrupulous woman began on him at once. "We want to interest you in a little movement we're getting up for the Union Chapel in the village. You know it's the church where all the different sects have their services; alternately. Of course, it's rather an original way of doing, but there is sense in it where the people are too poor to go into debt for different churches, and--"

"It's admirable!" said the Altrurian. "I have heard about it from the Camps. It is an emblem of the unity which ought to prevail among Christians of all professions. How can I help you, Mrs. Makely?"

"I knew you would approve of it!" she exulted. "Well, it's simply this: The poor little place has got so shabby that _I'm_ almost ashamed to be seen going into it, for one; and want to raise money enough to give it a new coat of paint outside and put on some kind of pretty paper, of an ecclesiastical pattern, on the inside. I declare, those staring white walls, with the cracks in the plastering zigzagging every _which_ way, distract me so that I can't put my mind on the sermon. Don't you think that paper, say of a Gothic design, would be a great improvement? I'm sure it would; and it's Mr. Twelvemough's idea, too."

I learned this fact now for the first time; but, with Mrs. Makely's warning eye upon me, I could not say so, and I made what sounded to me like a Gothic murmur of acquiescence. It sufficed for Mrs. Makely's purpose, at any rate, and she went on, without giving the Altrurian a chance to say what he thought the educational effect of wall-paper would be:

"Well, the long and short of it is that we want you to make this money for us, Mr. h.o.m.os."

"I?" He started in a kind of horror. "My dear lady, I never made any money in my life. I should think it _wrong_ to make money."

"In Altruria, yes. We all know how it is in your delightful country, and I a.s.sure you that no one could respect your conscientious scruples more than I do. But you must remember that you are in America now. In America you have to make money, or else--get left. And then you must consider the object, and all the good you can do, indirectly, by a little Talk on Altruria."

He answered, blandly: "A little Talk on Altruria? How in the world should I get money by that?"

She was only too eager to explain, and she did it with so much volubility and at such great length that I, who am good for nothing till I have had my cup of coffee in the morning, almost perished of an elucidation which the Altrurian bore with the sweetest patience.

When she gave him a chance to answer, at last, he said: "I shall be very happy to do what you wish, madam."

"_Will_ you?" she screamed. "Oh, I'm so glad! You _have_ been so slippery about Altruria, you know, that I expected nothing but a point-blank refusal. Of course, I knew you would be kind about it. Oh, I can hardly believe my senses! You can't think what a dear you are." I knew she had got that word from some English people who had been in the hotel; and she was working it rather wildly, but it was not my business to check her.

"Well, then, all you have got to do is to leave the whole thing to me, and not bother about it a bit till I send and tell you we are ready to listen.

There comes Reuben, with his ox-team. Thank you so much, Mr. h.o.m.os. No one need be ashamed to enter the house of G.o.d"--she said Gawd, in an access of piety--"after we get that paint and paper on it; and we shall have them on before two Sabbaths have pa.s.sed over it."

She wrung the Altrurian's hand; I was only afraid she was going to kiss him.

"There is but one stipulation I should like to make," he began.

"Oh, a thousand," she cut in.

"And that is, there shall be no exclusion from my lecture on account of occupation or condition. That is a thing that I can in no wise countenance, even in America; it is far more abhorrent to me even than money-making, though they are each a part and parcel of the other."

"I thought it was that," she retorted, joyously. "And I can a.s.sure you, Mr. h.o.m.os, there shall be nothing of that kind. Every one--I don't care who it is or what they do--shall hear you who buys a ticket. Now, will that do?"

"Perfectly," said the Altrurian, and he let her wring his hand again.

She pushed hers through my arm as we started for the dining-room, and leaned over to whisper jubilantly: "That will fix it. He will see how much his precious lower cla.s.ses care for Altruria if they have to pay a dollar apiece to hear about it. And I shall keep faith with him to the letter."

I could not feel that she would keep it in the spirit; but I could only groan inwardly and chuckle outwardly at the woman's depravity.

It seemed to me, though I could not approve of it, a capital joke, and so it seemed to all the members of the little group whom I had made especially acquainted with the Altrurian. It is true that the minister was somewhat troubled with the moral question, which did not leave me wholly at peace; and the banker affected to find a question of taste involved, which he said he must let me settle, however, as the man's host; if I could stand it, he could. No one said anything against the plan to Mrs.

Makely, and this energetic woman made us take two tickets apiece, as soon as she got them printed, over in the village. She got little hand-bills printed, and had them scattered about through the neighborhood, at all the hotels, boarding-houses, and summer cottages, to give notice of the time and place of the talk on Altruria. She fixed this for the following Sat.u.r.day afternoon, in our hotel parlor; she had it in the afternoon so as not to interfere with the hop in the evening; she put tickets on sale at the princ.i.p.al houses and at the village drug-store, and she made me go about with her and help her sell them at some of the cottages in person.

I must say I found this extremely distasteful, especially where the people were not very willing to buy, and she had to urge them. They all admitted the excellence of the object, but they were not so sure about the means.

At several places the ladies asked who was this Mr. h.o.m.os, anyway; and how did she know he was really from Altruria? He might be an impostor.

Then Mrs. Makely would put me forward, and I would be obliged to give such account of him as I could, and to explain just how and why he came to be my guest; with the c.u.mulative effect of bringing back all the misgivings which I had myself felt at the outset concerning him, and which I had dismissed as too fantastic.

The tickets went off rather slowly, even in our own hotel; people thought them too dear; and some, as soon as they knew the price, said frankly they had heard enough about Altruria already, and were sick of the whole thing.

Mrs. Makely said this was quite what she had expected of those people; that they were horrid and stingy and vulgar; and she should see what face they would have to ask her to take tickets when _they_ were trying to get up something. She began to be vexed with herself, she confessed, at the joke she was playing on Mr. h.o.m.os, and I noticed that she put herself rather defiantly _en evidence_ in his company whenever she could in the presence of these reluctant ladies. She told me she had not the courage to ask the clerk how many of the tickets he had sold out of those she had left at the desk.

One morning, the third or fourth, as I was going in to breakfast with her, the head-waiter stopped her as he opened the door, and asked modestly if she could spare him a few tickets, for he thought he could sell some. To my amazement the unprincipled creature said: "Why, certainly. How many?"

and instantly took a package out of her pocket, where she seemed always to have them. He asked, Would twenty be more than she could spare? and she answered: "Not at all. Here are twenty-five." and bestowed the whole package upon him.

That afternoon Reuben Camp came lounging up toward us, where I sat with her on the corner of the piazza, and said that if she would like to let him try his luck with some tickets for the Talk he would see what he could do.

"You can have all you want, Reuben," she said, "and I hope you'll have better luck than I have. I'm perfectly disgusted with people."

She fished several packages out of her pocket this time, and he asked: "Do you mean that I can have them all?"

"Every one, and a band of music into the bargain," she answered, recklessly. But she seemed a little daunted when he quietly took them.

"You know there are a hundred here?"

"Yes, I should like to see what I can do among the natives. Then there is a construction train over at the junction, and I know a lot of the fellows. I guess some of 'em would like to come."

"The tickets are a dollar each, you know," she suggested.

"That's all right," said Camp. "Well, good-afternoon."

Mrs. Makely turned to me with a kind of gasp as he shambled away. "I don't know about that."

"About having the whole crew of a construction train at the Talk? I dare say it won't be pleasant to the ladies who have bought tickets."

"_Oh_!" said Mrs. Makely, with astonis.h.i.+ng contempt, "I don't care what _they_ think. But Reuben has got all my tickets, and suppose he keeps them so long that I won't have time to sell any, and then throws them back on my hands? _I_ know!" she added, joyously. "I can go around now and tell people that my tickets are all gone; and I'll go instantly and have the clerk hold all he has left at a premium."

She came back looking rather blank.

"He hasn't got a single one left. He says an old native came in this morning and took every last one of them--he doesn't remember just how many. I believe they're going to speculate on them; and if Reuben Camp serves me a trick like that--Why," she broke off, "I believe I'll speculate on them myself. I should like to know why I shouldn't. Oh, I should just _like_ to make some of those creatures pay double, or treble, for the chances they've refused. Ah, Mrs. Bulkham," she called out to a lady who was coming down the veranda toward us, "you'll be glad to know I've got rid of all my tickets. _Such_ a relief!"

"You _have_?" Mrs. Bulkham retorted.

"Every one."

"I thought," said Mrs. Bulkham, "that you understood I wanted one for my daughter and myself, if she came."

"I certainly didn't," said Mrs. Makely, with a wink of concentrated wickedness at me. "But, if you do, you will have to say so now, without any ifs or ands about it; and if any of the tickets come back--I let friends have a few on sale--I will give you two."

"Well, I do," said Mrs. Bulkham, after a moment.

"Very well; it will be five dollars for the two. I feel bound to get all I can for the cause. Shall I put your name down?"