Francis Hopkinson Smith

“ Then the lawyers in the village got busy, and pretty soon some builders came down from Boston, only fifty miles away, and then a lot of bricklayers; and some cars were switched off on the siding, loaded with lumber and lath and brick, and next a train-load of machinery, and so the mills were running again with Hiram sole owner and in full charge. One of the first things he did after his arrival—the following morning, really—was to look up Abbie's mother. He gave a littie start when he saw how shabby the cottage looked; no paint for years—steps rotting—window-blinds broken, with a hinge loose. ”

“ The chill of possible desertion suddenly crept over her, (The Genie is often unmindful of others, especially the poor.)
“Leave you! What, now? You darling Mother. As to resigning, I may later. But I'm going to Boston when I get my vacation and stay a week with Maria, and go to the opera if I never do another thing. Oh! just you wait, Mother, you and I will lead a different life after this.”
“And you think, Abbie, you'll make more than six hundred dollars?” Already the mother's veins were expanding—wonderful elixir, this Extract of Gold. ”

“ It was Miss Maria Furgusson, of Boston—summer boarder at the next cottage; second floor, six dollars a week, including washing—that revived, kept alive, in fact, fanned to fever heat, Abbie's first impression of the poster. Maria called for her mail, and the intimacy had gone so far that before the week was out “Miss Todd” had been replaced by “Abbie” and then “Ab,” and Miss Furgusson by “Maria”—the postmistress being too dignified for further abbreviation. ”

“ The next morning Hiram walked into the post-office and called to Abbie, through the square window, to open the door. Once inside he loosened his fur driving-coat, took out a long, black wallet, picked out a thin slip of paper and laid it on Abbie's desk.
“I have been thinking over what I told you yesterday. There's a check drawn to your order for two hundred dollars. All you got to do is to put your name on the back of it and it's money. It's good—never knew one that warn't.”
The girl started back. ”

“ The story was as follows:
“That Boston girl who was boardin' up to Skitson's had a thousand dollars in the bank-made it all in a month—so Abbie Todd, who knew her, said. It was a dead secret how she made it, but Abbie said if she had a few hundred dollars she could get rich, too. Beats all how smart some girls is gettin' to be nowadays.” ”

“ Slipping her hand under her mother's arm, she raised her to her feet, and in a firm, decided voice, quite as a hospital nurse would speak to a restless patient, she said:
“You'd better not sit up any longer, Mother dear. Come, I'll help put you to bed.” ”

“ I ain't crazy; I ain't out of my head—I'm only skeered.”
“But, Mother dear, I can get the money any day I want it. All I've got to do is to telephone them and a check comes the next day.”
“Yes, I know—I know.” She was still trembling, her voice hardly audible. “But that ain't what skeers me; it's Hiram. He done the same thing to me last December. Come in here and laid the bills on that table behind you and begged me to take 'em; he'd heard about the mortgage; he wanted to fix the house up, too. ”

“ Taylor, who stopped his wagon and leaned half out to shake her hand.
“You do look wholesome this morning, and no mistake, Miss Abbie” (he always called her so) . “Don't forget what I told you—lots more where that come from”—and he drove on muttering to himself: “Ain't no finer woman in Taylorsville than Abbie Todd.”
Keep & Co. letters arrived now by almost every mail. With these came a daily stock-list printed on tissue-paper, giving the sales on the exchange. Rock Creek was still holding its own between 13 and 15. ”

“ That's why she didn't think she was going to be postmistress long. Far into the night these talks would continue-long after the other neighbors had gone to bed—nine o'clock maybe—sometimes as late as ten—an unheard-of thing in Taylorsville, where everybody was up at daylight.
Then one day an extraordinary thing happened—extraordinary so far as her modest post-office was concerned. A poster appeared on the wall of her office—a huge card, big as the top of a school desk, bearing in large type this legend: “Rock Creek Copper Company. ”

“ Mr. Keep? Yes.—Yes—I've got it here.” Her face grew deathly white. “What! Selling at twelve!” The man feared she was about to fall. “I thought you told me... A big slump! Well, I don't want to lose if... Yes, I'll mail it right away... Reach you by the 9.10 to-morrow.”
“I hope you ain't got any bad news, have you?” the man asked in a sympathetic voice.
“No,” she answered in a choking voice, as she handed him his letter; then she turned her back and took the certificate from her bosom. ”