“I must say that I think I should have liked the canal better,” remarked John as David paused. “You were, at any rate, more or less free—that is, comparatively, I should say.”
“Yes, sir, I did,” said David, “an’ I never see the time, no matter how rough things was, that I wished I was back on Buxton Hill. I used to want to see Polly putty bad once in a while, an’ used to figure that if I ever growed up to be a man, an’ had money enough, I’d buy her a new pair o’ shoes an’ the stuff fer a dress, an’ sometimes my cal’lations went as fur ’s a gold breastpin; but I never wanted to see none o’ the rest on ’em, an’ fer that matter, I never did. Yes, sir, the old ditch was better to me than the place I was borned in, an’, as you say, I wa’n’t nobody’s slave, an’ I wa’n’t scairt to death the hull time. Some o’ the men was rough, but they wa’n’t cruel, as a rule, an’ as I growed up a little I was putty well able to look out fer myself—wa’al, wa’al (looking at his watch), I guess you must ’a’ had enough o’ my meemores fer one sittin’.”
“No, really,” John protested, “don’t go yet. I have a little proposal to make to you,” and he got up and brought a bottle from the bottom of the washstand.
“Wa’al,” said David, “fire it out.”
“That you take another cigar and a little of this,” holding up the bottle.
“Got any glasses?” asked David with practical mind.
“One and a tooth mug,” replied John, laughing. “Glass for you, tooth mug for me. Tastes just as good out of a tooth mug.”
“Wa’al,” said David, with a comical air of yielding as he took the glass and held it out to John, “under protest, stric’ly under protest—sooner than have my clo’es torn. I shall tell Polly—if I should happen to mention it—that you threatened me with vi’lence. Wa’al, here’s lookin’ at ye,” which toast was drunk with the solemnity which befitted it.
XXVI
The two men sat for a while smoking in silence, John taking an occasional sip of his grog. Mr. Harum had swallowed his own liquor “raw,” as was the custom in Homeville and vicinity, following the potation with a mouthful of water. Presently he settled a little farther down in his chair and his face took on a look of amused recollection.
He looked up and gave a short laugh. “Speakin’ of canals,” he said, as if the subject had only been casually mentioned, “I was thinkin’ of somethin’.”
“Yes?” said John.
“E-up,” said David. “That old ditch f’m Albany to Buffalo was an almighty big enterprise in them days, an’ a great thing fer the prosperity of the State, an’ a good many better men ’n I be walked the ole towpath when they was young. Yes, sir, that’s a fact. Wa’al, some years ago I had somethin’ of a deal on with a New York man by the name of Price. He had a place in Newport where his fam’ly spent the summer, an’ where he went as much as he could git away. I was down to New York to see him, an’ we hadn’t got things quite straightened out, an’ he says to me, ‘I’m goin’ over to Newport, where my wife an’ fam’ly is, fer Sunday, an’ why can’t you come with me,’ he says, ‘an’ stay over till Monday? an’ we c’n have the day to ourselves over this matter?’ ‘Wa’al,’ I says, ‘I’m only down here on this bus’nis, an’ as I left a hen on, up home, I’m willin’ to save the time ’stid of waitin’ here fer you to git back, if you don’t think,’ I says, ‘that it’ll put Mis’ Price out any to bring home a stranger without no notice.’
“ ‘Wa’al,’ he says, laughin’, ‘I guess she c’n manage fer once,’ an’ so I went along. When we got there the’ was a carriage to meet us, an’ two men in uniform, one to drive an’ one to open the door, an’ we got in an’ rode up to the house—cottige, he called it, but it was built of stone, an’ wa’n’t only about two sizes smaller ’n the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Some kind o’ doin’s was goin’ on, fer the house was blazin’ with light, an’ music was playin’.
“ ‘What’s on?’ says Price to the feller that let us in.
“ ‘Sir and Lady somebody ’s dinin’ here tonight, sir,’ says the man.
“ ‘Damn!’ says Price, ‘I fergot all about the cussed thing. Have Mr. Harum showed to a room,’ he says, ‘an’ serve dinner in my office in a quarter of an hour, an’ have somebody show Mr. Harum there when it’s ready.’
“Wa’al,” pursued David, “I was showed up to a room. The’ was lace coverin’s on the bed pillers, an’ a silk an’ lace spread, an’ more dum trinkits an’ bottles an’ lookin’-glasses ’n you c’d shake a stick at, an’ a bathroom, an’ Lord knows what; an’ I washed up, an’ putty soon one o’ them fellers come an’ showed me down to where Price was waitin’. Wa’al, we had all manner o’ things fer supper, an’ champagne, an’ so on, an’ after we got done, Price says, ‘I’ve got to ask you to excuse me, Harum,’ he says. ‘I’ve got to go an’ dress an’ show up in the drawin’-room,’ he says. ‘You smoke your cigar in here, an’ when you want to
