"Ain't none," said Issy."Besides, where'd your granddad's profits be if you spent money hirin' extry teams to haul that little mite of stuff? I've been in this business a good long spell, and I tell you--"He did not get a chance to tell it, for Albert walked off and left him.At half-past twelve that afternoon he engaged "Vessie" Young--christened Sylvester Young and a brother to the driver of the depot wagon--to haul the Calvin lumber in his rickety, fragrant old wagon.Simpson Mullen--commonly called "Simp"--was to help in the delivery.
Against violent protests from Issy, who declared that Ves Young's rattle-trap wan't fit to do nothin' but haul fish heads to the fertilizer factory, the Calvin beams and boards were piled high on the wagon and with Ves on the driver's seat and Simp perched, like a disreputable carrion crow on top of the load, the equipage started.
"There!" exclaimed Albert, with satisfaction."He can't say it wasn't delivered this time according to promise.""Godfreys!" snorted Issy, gazing after the departing wagon."He won't be able to say nothin' when he sees that git-up--and smells it.Ves carts everything in that cart from dead cows to gurry barrels.Whew! I'd hate to have to set on that porch when 'twas built of that lumber.And, unless I'm mistook, Ves and Simp had been havin' a little somethin' strong to take, too."Mr.Price, as it happened, was not "mistook." Mr.Young had, as the South Harniss saying used to be, "had a jug come down" on the train from Boston that very morning.The jug was under the seat of his wagon and its contents had already been sampled by him and by Simp.The journey to the Calvin cottage was enlivened by frequent stops for refreshment.
Consequently it happened that, just as Mrs.Calvin's gathering of Welfare Workers had reached the cake and chocolate stage in their proceedings and just as the Reverend Mr.Calvin had risen by invitation to say a few words of encouragement, the westerly wind blowing in at the open windows bore to the noses and ears of the assembled faithful a perfume and a sound neither of which was sweet.
Above the rattle and squeak of the Young wagon turning in at the Calvin gate arose the voices of Vessie and Simp uplifted in song.
"'Here's to the good old whiskey, drink 'er daown,'" sang Mr.
Young.
"'Here's to the good old whiskey, Drink 'er daown!
Here's to the good old whiskey, It makes you feel so frisky, Drink 'er--'
Git up there, blank blank ye! What the blankety blank you stoppin'
here for? Git up!"
The horse was not the only creature that got up.Mrs.Calvin rose from her chair and gazed in horror at the window.Her husband, being already on his feet, could not rise but he broke off short the opening sentence of his "few words" and stared and listened.
Each Welfare Worker stared and listened also.
"Git up, you blankety blank blank," repeated Ves Young, with cheerful enthusiasm.Mr.Mullen, from the top of the load of lumber, caroled dreamily on:
"'Here's to the good old rum, Drink 'er daown!
Here's to the good old rum, Drink 'er daown!
Here's to the good old rum, Ain't you glad that you've got some?
Drink 'er daown! Drink 'er daown!
Drink 'er daown!'"
And floating, as it were, upon the waves of melody came the odor of the Young wagon, an odor combining deceased fish and late lamented cow and goodness knows what beside.
The dissipated vehicle stopped beneath the parlor windows of the Calvin cottage.Mr.Young called to his assistant.
"Here we be, Simp!" he yelled."A-a-ll ashore that's goin' ashore!
Wake up there, you unmentionably described old rum barrel and help unload this everlastingly condemned lumber."Mr.Calvin rushed to the window."What does this mean?" he demanded, in frothing indignation.
Vessie waved at him reassuringly."'Sall right, Mr.Calvin," he shouted."Here's your lumber from Ze-lotes Snow and Co., South Harniss, Mass., U.S.A.'Sall right.Let 'er go, Simp! Let 'er blankety-blank go!"Mr.Mullen responded with alacrity and a whoop.A half dozen boards crashed to the ground beneath the parlor windows.Mrs.
Calvin rushed to her husband's side.
"This is DREADFUL, Seabury!" she cried."Send those creatures and--and that horrible wagon away at once."
The Reverend Calvin tried to obey orders.He commanded Mr.Young to go away from there that very moment.Vessie was surprised.
"Ain't this your lumber?" he demanded.
"It doesn't make any difference whether it is or not, I--""Didn't you tell Z.Snow and Co.that this lumber'd got to be delivered to-day or you'd cancel the order?""Never mind.That is my business, sir.You--""Hold on! Ho-o-ld on! _I_ got a business, too.My business is deliverin' what I'm paid to deliver.Al Speranzy he says to me:
'Ves,' he says, 'if you don't deliver that lumber to old man Calvin to-day you don't get no money, see.Will you deliver it?' Says I, 'You bet your crashety-blank life I'll (hic) d'liver it! What Isay I'll do, I'll do!' And I'm deliverin' it, ain't I? Hey?
Ain't I? Well, then, what the--" And so forth and at length, while Mrs.Calvin collapsed half fainting in an easy-chair, and horrified Welfare Workers covered their ears--and longed to cover their noses.
The lumber was delivered that day.Its delivery was, from the viewpoint of Messrs.Young and Mullen, a success.The spring meeting of the Welfare Workers was not a success.
The following day Mr.Calvin called at the office of Z.Snow and Co.He had things to say and said them.Captain Zelotes, who had returned from Boston, listened.Then he called his grandson.
"Tell him what you've just told me, Mr.Calvin," he said.
The reverend gentleman told it, with added details.
"And in my opinion, if you'll excuse me, Captain Snow," he said, in conclusion, "this young man knew what he was doing when he sent those drunken scoundrels to my house.He did it purposely, I am convinced."Captain Zelotes looked at him.
"Why?" he asked.
