Arthur O. Friel

“ And he liked Mercy awful well. Old men had married young gals before now, and then died and left them mighty well off. And then—Eely wouldn't mind marrying a handsome young widder with a lot of money! But still, Mercy was a funny gal, with funny notions, and kind of set into her ways; probably she wouldn't have sense enough to marry for money, and would git mad if coaxed to do so. And that Tobe Hoggs hanging around drat him! No, Mercy couldn't be depended on. ”

“ Thirty days after the death of Elias Skinner, on a witchingly soft afternoon of early spring, a youth and a maid sat very close together under old Abe's favorite maple.
The girl absently held a pair of worn knit slippers, in the toes of which were a thimble and a spool of stout thread.
“Wal, we've waited thutty days,” reminded Tobe. “That's long 'nough to show all the respect that's necessary to the dead. Tomorrer we're a-goin' down an' git married.”
“What makes ye think so?” Mercy saucily tilted her head. ”

“ That reason was the man himself—a slippery creature whose appetite for meat and money was ever voracious, and whose ability for squirming out of trouble was remarkable. Gifted with an oily tongue and a smooth cunning carefully hidden under a jovial exterior, he could, and did, slip more than one hill farm out of the hands of its possessors and into his own tight grip. ”

“ As for physical retaliation—Eely's knees weakened at the mere thought of it, and he knew they would collapse under him if he should attempt to outface the Tobe Boggs eye and the Tobe Boggs fists. Thus he was left literally without a leg to stand on.
Worse yet, his egotism—founded on his reputation for sharp trading—suffered a jolt.
Mandy Boggs talked; the tale of Eely's humbling spread all about The Traps; and for many a day hilarious hillmen greeted him with “Hi, Eely! Lendin' any money on farms today?” ”

“ Furthermore, she forthwith baked a delicious berry pie, carried it to Abe, and expressed her candid opinion regarding the matter. Thereafter she formed the habit of making little dainties for the old man—a practice of which Eely pointedly disapproved, since he felt himself capable of eating all tidbits prepared in his home, but which he found himself powerless to stop. The girl, he had learned, had a spirit of her own; and he dared not be too tyrannical, lest he suddenly find himself minus an excellent cook. So, despite opposition, Mercy continued to visit the Billings house. ”

“ There was a silence.
“Awful nice gal,”” mused Abraham, after a time. “Wisht I had a darter like her. But”—dryly—“seein' I ain't, or no other relation wuth havin', I guess I'll jest have to go 'long like I be.”
“Uh-huh.” Eely soberly nodded. Then, as if struck by a sudden new thought: “By mighty! Why, say, Abe, why don't ye come an' live 'long of us? We'd be awful glad to have ye. Honest! Mercy'd be tickled to death, an' so'd I. We've got room 'nough. By gorry, Abe, that'd be fine! I—I couldn't let Mercy come up here an' keep house for ye—I'm her guardeen, an' I need her ”

“ Once a month, regularly, the old man hitched up his horse—also a boarder at a stated rate—and drove down into the valley. Despite all overtures at companionship, he went always alone. On his return from one of these pilgrimages he dropped a bank book. Eely picked it up. By the time he handed it back he knew the amount of Abraham Billings' balance in bank; twenty-four thousand odd. His head swam for an instant. Gosh, what a jag o' money! At the thought that all of it might yet go to despised and almost unknown relatives he broke into a cold sweat.
“Abe!” ”

“ On the due date, another twenty dollars went back to the lender.
“Right onto time, Abe, like I promised,” proclaimed the borrower. “Twenty dolars, an' three cents int'rest. An' here's a good see-gar besides. An' I'm much 'bliged.”
After counting the bills, looking at the pennies and smelling the cigar, the old man nodded. The note was restored to its maker. They sat, smoked and talked. When Eely was gone Abe once more counted the bank notes, then thinly smiled.
“Most men's honest—when they've got to be,” he remarked to his tall clock. “Even Eely dasn't try to beat his note.” ”

“ There's three grandnephews that git a little slice, but they live down-state, so they won't be here to the readin'; I'll tend to them through the proper channels. Everybody else lives in The Traps. Friday afternoon at three o'clock, Skinner. Good day.”
To expostulation and argument he turned a deaf ear. Chagrined, Eely departed. Yet, as he went he visioned the gatherin' at his home, with himself as the center of importance—richest man into The Traps, now, by mighty! That would be doing it in style—everybody there envying him Judge Watts reading solemnly. Yes, he'd have everyone there! ”

“ I guess ye know I'm good for twenty dollars, don't ye?”
“I know ye be—if ye can't squeal outen it some way,” was the tart rejoinder. “An' ye'll have to squeal bloody murder to beat a note. If ye don't pay up I'll give it to Jedge Watts, down to Port, an' let him git it outen ye. Ye'll pay then, an' costs, too. Oh, I know ye, Eely, don't make no mistake 'bout that.”
“Haw, haw! Right ye are, Abe! I'm a business man, an' so are you. Wal, now; s'posin' I come up tomorrer mornin' an' give ye yer note, can I have the money right off?” ”

“ But o' course I'm yer best friend, ye might say, an'—wal, I'm glad ye've got things fixed!”
Eely mopped his brow. His eyes were avid for full and explicit details, but, somehow, he shrank from asking. The habit of handling his boarder gingerly had become strongly ingrained.
“I've got 'em fixed,“nodded the oldster. “I left a mite to them relations o' mine, jes' so's they couldn't say they was cut off 'thout nothin', an' bust the will. Everything else goes to them that deserves it. An' now I don't want to hear no more 'bout wills—now or never.”
Nor did he, except from Mercy. ”

“ I'm swappin' some land down Clove way, an' I got to give the feller a hundred dollars to boot. If I don't put it over quick it's a goner. Le's have a pen, will ye, an'——”
“Hol' on!” expostulated Abe. “Think I'm a bank? Hundred dollars! Ye're crazy. I ain't got no hundred dollars into this house, now or no other time. Give the feller yer note or sumpthin'.”
“Gorry mighty. I can't, Abe; he won't take notes. He's a dago feller an' he wants cash, an' he wants it quick. What'll I do? I—I'll give ye double int'rest, Abe; I got to have that money right now! Twelve per cent, Abe. ”

“ While his back was turned Eely had softly laid them in his regular dining chair, concealed by the dangling red tablecloth.
Since it is no easy matter for an aged hillman to replace broken spectacles, the old man perforce did without them until such time as he should descend into the lowlands. ”

“ They were witnesses to the outsmarting of the shrewdest old-timer of the hills, purveyors of a joke which would make the stony Traps rumble with mirth. “Thirty days after death”—haw, haw, haw!
“Guess ye was a leetle hasty-like, wasn't ye, Abe?” twitted Eely. “That note ain't due for a long time yit—I'm li'ble to live a good many years; an' o' course ye don't expect no pay before it comes due. Ye know, Abe, I wouldn't take advantage o' nobody—I'm jest a pore, honest young feller a-tryin' to git along—but business is business, an' a feller's got to be shrewd.” ”

“ All that ails him is, he gobbles too much.” A diagnosis which, incidentally, was quite accurate, for Eely's only ailment was indigestion. 'An' he's a-goin' to git a darn sight sicker, 'less'n he coughs up my mom's farm.”
Old Abe's frosty eyes twinkled.
“Hum! Wal, s'posin' we wake up Eely,” he proposed, “an' then git to the bottom o' that farm business. I'm kind o' curious 'bout that, my own self. Mercy, gal, jest dump some water onto him an' bring him round.”
The girl vanished into the kitchen. Tobe demanded, sotto voce: “Who's she?” ”

“ Wal, I s'pose mebbe we might as well git it over with.” Her tone was resigned, but her dancing eyes provoked him into a hug that left her gasping. With mock severity she added, “Don't muss me no more, ye big lummox! I've got some mendin' to do.”
With a deep happy laugh he subsided. His gaze rested on the slippers.
“Poor ol' Abe!” he murmured. “I bet he got lots o' comfort out o' them things. Kep' 'em by him all the time, didn't he?”
“M-m. An' I'm goin' to keep 'em. Why, that's funny! What makes 'em so lumpy, like?” She pinched one soft leather sole, then the other. ”