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Read Ebook: Make or Break; or The Rich Man's Daughter by Optic Oliver
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Ebook has 798 lines and 28622 words, and 16 pages
than his manner indicated.
Mrs. Wittleworth went home.
A SUCCESS IN THE MOUSE BUSINESS.
"Now, Tom, if you will draw the wagon, I will steady the house, and see that the mice don't get out and run away," said Leo, when he had drawn the chariot of the beauties a short distance.
"Small loss if they do," replied Tom Casey, who had already made up his mind that they were going on a fool's errand.
"Not a bit of it, Tom. These mice are worth fifty cents a pair," added Leo, as he placed himself by the house, and his companion took the pole of the wagon.
"Fifty cints--is it? Sure who'd give fifty cints for those bits o' crayturs? I wouldn't give fifty cints for a tousand of 'em, let alone a pair of 'em."
"When I come back with five or six dollars in my pocket, which I shall get for this establishment, you will change your tune, Tom."
"Well, the house is foist rate, and you may get five dollars for that. Sure I think it's worth it; but I wouldn't give two cints for all the mice that's in it."
"Perhaps you wouldn't, Tom. You haven't any taste for white mice."
"Taste--is it? Sure, would anyone ate 'em?"
Tom Casey was a recent importation from the Green Isle, and the emerald dust had not been rubbed off him by the civilizing and humanizing influence of the public schools; but he brought with him from Ireland a big heart, which was worth more than polish and refinement, though both go very well together. In spite of the grave responsibility which rested upon him, Leo laughed heartily at the blunder, and took the trouble to explain the meaning of taste in its artistic sense.
The procession--for the crowd of boys and girls was augmented continually when the mouse-car reached High Street--advanced towards its destination, and Leo had all he could do to keep the youngsters from crowding upon and upsetting the wagon, in their eagerness to see the mice and their magnificent dwelling-house.
"Just twig 'em, Jimmy!" shouted one who had tipped over half a dozen of his companions in his enthusiasm. "Their tails is as long as Seven's rope."
"Hotel dees mice," said another, spelling out the sign over the grand parade. "What does that mean, Billy?"
"They're going to take 'em to a hotel to make soup of. I guess there's some Chinamen at the Tremont. They say them coveys eats rats. Twig the red eyes they has!"
Leo kept the youngsters at bay as well as he could, and hurried Tom along, till they reached State Street, where he took a stand in front of the Exchange. A crowd of curious merchants, clerks, and curb-stone brokers immediately gathered around the palace to examine the structure and its inhabitants. It was a novel establishment, and excited no little attention.
"What have you there, my boy?" asked a well-dressed gentleman, working his way into the interior of the ring.
"White mice, sir," replied Leo.
"They are cunning little creatures," added the gentleman, bending down and looking into the grand parade, where the mice were now feeding on canary seed.
They had become somewhat accustomed to the crowd, and, as if conscious that they were for sale, put the best foot forward.
"What's the price of them?" asked the gentleman.
"Six dollars for the mice and house," replied Leo; but the words almost choked him.
"Six dollars!" exclaimed the questioner, edging off. "That's a very modest price, young man."
"The mice bring fifty cents a pair, and there's a great deal of work in the house, besides the stock."
"But you don't expect any one to give you six dollars for a trap like that, with half a dozen rats in it--do you?"
"I think it is worth that, sir. Do you wish to buy it?"
"I thought it would amuse my children; but I can't think of giving anything like six dollars for it," added the gentleman, shaking his head.
"What would you be willing to give for it?"
"I'll give you a dollar for it."
"No, sir, I couldn't think of selling it at any such price as that. I would give it away before I would sell it for that," replied Leo, indignant at having his work so grossly undervalued.
"I will give you two dollars for it. I have a little lame boy at home, who can't go out, and I am willing to give two for it."
"I will not sell it for less than five dollars, sir."
"Why, that's a rascally price!" exclaimed the proposed purchaser. "Five dollars for a mere rat-trap!"
"That's my lowest price, sir. If you don't want it, the law don't compel you to take it," added Leo, vexed to have the person run down his handiwork.
The "mouse business" did not seem so prosperous as Leo had anticipated. He had been confident that a dozen persons would want the elegant establishment, and he was not quite sure there would not be a quarrel among them for the possession of it at the price he named. He could not see why these rich merchants and bankers should haggle at six dollars if they had any children at home. His heart began to feel heavy in his bosom, for he had expected to sell his present stock of merchandise as soon as he named the price, and to find half a dozen more who would want them badly enough to give him advance orders.
There appeared to be a discount on the mouse business. The gentlemen in State Street were singularly cold and wanting in enthusiasm on the subject of white mice. It began to look like a failure, and Tom Casey seemed to be a true prophet. What an inglorious termination to his career as a mouse merchant it would be to drag the palace back to No. 3 Phillimore Court, and tell Maggie that no one would buy it, even at the moderate price of five dollars!
But Leo soon realized that he was becoming chicken-hearted; that he was almost in despair even before he had been half an hour in the field. This was not his usual style, and he was ashamed of it, as he considered his weakness.
The effect of this slapping of the chest and this stiffening of the frame was immediately apparent in his demeanor, for they were the visible manifestations of a firm will. He was more cheerful, answered inquiries more briskly, and was less affected by adverse criticism of his handicraft. Men asked the price, sneered, and turned away. There were plenty to admire his workmanship, but as yet none to buy. While Leo was thus struggling against the tide of fortune, the crowd opened, and Mr. Checkynshaw appeared within the ring. He was a great man, and he showed it in his manner--perhaps more in his manner than in any other way.
Mrs. Wittleworth had taken leave of the banker an hour before, and since that time he had been alone in his private office, only occasionally interrupted by a business call. Mr. Checkynshaw was troubled. Fitz was a thorn in his flesh and a stumbling-block in his path. Doubtless it was very annoying for the father of Marguerite to break up the educational and social relations she had sustained from early childhood. Doubtless it was very wicked of Fitz to put him to all this trouble for nothing. Perhaps it was rash in him to discharge his clerk; but Fitz was so airy and impudent, that a decent self-respect would not permit him to tolerate his insolence.
"What have you here, boy?" he asked, when he recognized Leo.
"White mice, sir. My father can't work now, and I am going to try and make something by selling them," replied Leo, cheerfully.
"What is the price?" demanded the banker, rather curtly.
"Six dollars, sir."
"I'll take it, boy," replied Mr. Checkynshaw, with a promptness which astonished the young mechanic.
The banker took the money from his pocket-book and handed it to Leo.
"Good on your head!" whispered Tom Casey, his eyes opening as wide as teacups when he saw the bank bills; and his dark prophecy was suddenly demolished.
"You know where I live?" interrogated Mr. Checkynshaw.
"Yes, sir."
"Take it up to the house, then," added the banker.
"I will, sir;" and Leo thought the great man, as his first customer, was worthy of his reputation.
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