Eben Holden Part 20

'See 'n a minute,' he said. Then he continued his sawing and his song, '"Says I Dan Skinner, I thank yer mighty mean"--what d' ye want it fer?'

he asked stopping abruptly.

'Going to make a ruler,' I answered.

'"T' sen' me up the river with a seven dollar team,"' he went on, picking out a piece of smooth planed lumber, and handing it to me.

'How much is it worth?' I enquired.

He whistled a moment as he surveyed it carefully.

"Bout one cent,' he answered seriously.

I handed him the money and sat down awhile to watch him as he went on with his work. It was the cheapest amus.e.m.e.nt I have yet enjoyed. Indeed Sol Rollin became a dissipation, a subtle and seductive habit that grew upon me and on one pretext or another I went every Sat.u.r.day to the shop if I had not gone home.

'What ye goin' t' be?'

He stopped his saw, and looked at me, waiting for my answer.

At last the time had come when I must declare myself and I did.

'A journalist,' I replied.

'What's that?' he enquired curiously.

'An editor,' I said.

'A printer man?'

'A printer man.'

'Huh!' said he. 'Mebbe I'll give ye a job. Sairey tol' me I'd orter t'

'ave some cards printed. I'll want good plain print: Solomon Rollin, Cappenter 'n J'iner, Hillsborough, NY--soun's putty good don't it.'

'Beautiful,' I answered.

'I'll git a big lot on 'em,' he said. 'I'll want one for Sister Susan 'at's out in Minnesoty--no, I guess I'll send 'er tew, so she can give one away--an' one fer my brother, Eliphalet, an' one apiece fer my three cousins over 'n Vermont, an' one fer my Aunt Mirandy. Le's see-tew an'

one is three an' three is six an' one is seven. Then I'll git a few struck off fer the folks here--guess they'll thank I'm gittin' up 'n the world.'

He shook and snickered with antic.i.p.ation of the glory of it. Pure vanity inspired him in the matter and it had in it no vulgar consideration of business policy. He whistled a lively tune as he bent to his work again.

'Yer sister says ye're a splendid scholar!' said he. 'Hear'n 'er braggin' 'bout ye t'other night; she thinks a good deal o' her brother, I can tell ye. Guess I know what she's gain' t' give ye Crissmus.'

'What's that?' I asked, with a curiosity more youthful than becoming.

'Don't ye never let on,' said he.

'Never,' said I.

'Hear'n 'em tell,' he said,' 'twas a gol' lockup, with 'er pictur' in it.'

'Oh, a locket!' I exclaimed.

'That's it,' he replied, 'an' pure gol', too.'

I turned to go.

'Hope she'll grow up a savin' woman,' he remarked. "Fraid she won't never be very good t' worlt.'

'Why not?' I enquired.

'Han's are too little an' white,' he answered.

'She won't have to,' I said.

He cackled uproariously for a moment, then grew serious.

'Her father's rich,' he said, 'the richest man o' Faraway, an I guess she won't never hev anything t' dew but set'n sing an' play the melodium.'

'She can do as she likes,' I said.

He stood a moment looking down as if meditating on the delights he had pictured.

'Gol!' he exclaimed suddenly.

My subject had begun to study me, and I came away to escape further examination.

Chapter 18

I ought to say that I have had and shall have to chronicle herein much that would seem to indicate a mighty conceit of myself. Unfortunately the little word 'I' throws a big shadow in this history. It looms up all too frequently in every page for the sign of a modest man. But, indeed, I cannot help it, for he was the only observer of all there is to tell.

Now there is much, for example, in the very marrow of my history--things that never would have happened, things that never would have been said, but for my fame as a scholar. My learning was of small account, for, it must be remembered, I am writing of a time when any degree of scholars.h.i.+p was counted remarkable among the simple folk of Faraway.

Hope took singing lessons and sang in church every Sunday. David or Uncle Eb came down for us often of a Sat.u.r.day and brought us back before service in the morning. One may find in that town today many who will love to tell him of the voice and beauty and sweetness of Hope Brower those days, and of what they expected regarding her and me. We went out a good deal evenings to concerts, lectures at the churches or the college, or to visit some of the many people who invited us to their homes.

We had a recess of two weeks at the winter holidays and David Brower came after us the day the term ended. O, the great happiness of that day before Christmas when we came flying home in the sleigh behind a new team of greys and felt the intoxication of the frosty air, and drove in at dusk after the lamps were lit and we could see mother and Uncle Eb and Grandma Bisnette looking out of the window, and a steaming dinner on the table! I declare! it is long since then, but I cannot ever think of that time without wiping my gla.s.ses and taking a moment off Tip Taylor took the horses and we all came in where the kettle was singing on the stove and loving hands helped us out of our wraps. The supper was a merry feast, the like of which one may find only by returning to his boyhood. Mack! that is a long journey for some of us.

Supper over and the dishes out of the way we gathered about the stove with cider and b.u.t.ternuts.

'Well,' said Hope, 'I've got some news to tell you--this boy is the best scholar of his age in this county.'

'Thet so?' said David.

Uncle Eb stopped his hmnmer that was lifted to crack a b.u.t.ternut and pulled his chair close to Hope's. Elizabeth looked at her daughter and then at me, a smile and a protest in her face.

'True as you live,' said Hope. 'The master told me so. He's first in everything, and in the Town Hall the other night he spelt everybody down.'

'What! In Hillsborough?' Uncle Eb asked incredulously.