Part 9 (2/2)

”Thank ye kindly, sir,” said she; ”I'll be goin' now. I've med up me moind, if that bit of land is wort all that money t' yees, it's wort more to me. Thank ye kindly!” and she fled from the presence of the tempter.

”The town is full of Biddy Collinses,” commented Jim. ”Well, we can't land everything, and couldn't handle the catch if we did. In fact, for present purposes, isn't it better to have her refuse?”

This incident was the hint upon which our ”Syndicate,” as it came to be called, acted from time to time, in making fabulous offers to every Biddy Collins in town. ”Offer twenty thousand,” Jim would say. ”The more you bid the less apt is he to accept; he's a Biddy Collins.” And whatever Mr. Elkins advised was done.

There were eight or ten of us in the ”Syndicate,” dubbed by Jim ”The Crew,” among whom were Tolliver, Macdonald, and Will Lattimore. But the inner circle, now drawing closer and closer together, were Elkins, our ruling spirit; Hinckley, our great force in the banking world; and myself. Soon, I was given to understand, Mr. Cornish was to take his place as one of us. He and Jim had long known each other, and Mr. Elkins had the utmost confidence in Mr. Cornish's usefulness in what he called ”the thought-transference department.”

Elkins & Barslow kept their offices open night and day, almost, and the number of typewriters and bookkeepers grew astoundingly. I became almost a stranger to my wife. I got hurried glimpses of Miss Trescott and her mother at the hotel, and knew that she and Alice were becoming fast friends; but so far the social prominence which the _Herald_ had predicted for us had failed to arrive.

This, to be sure, was our own fault. Miss Addison soon gave us up as not available for the church and Sunday-school functions to which she devoted herself. Her family connections would have made her _the_ social leader had it not been for the severity of her views and her a.s.sumption of the character of the devotee--in spite of which she protestingly went almost everywhere. Antonia Hinckley, however, was frankly fond of a good time, and with her das.h.i.+ng and almost hoydenish character easily took the leaders.h.i.+p from Miss Addison; and Miss Hinckley sought diligently for means by which we could be properly launched. As I left the office one day, a voice from the curb called my name. It was Miss Hinckley in a smart trap, to which was harnessed a beautiful horse, standard bred, one could see at a glance. I obeyed the summons, and stepped beside the equipage.

”I want to scold you,” said she. ”Society is being defrauded of the good things which your coming promised. Have you taken a vow of seclusion, or what?”

”I've been spinning about in the maelstrom of business,” I replied. ”But do not be uneasy; some time we shall take up the matter of inflicting ourselves, and pursue it as vigorously as we now follow our vocation.”

”Wouldn't you like to get into the trap, and take a spin of another sort?” said she. ”I'll deposit you safely with Mrs. Barslow in time for tea.”

I got in, glad of the drive, and for ten minutes her horse was sent at such a pace that conversation was difficult. Then he was slowed down to a walk, his head toward home. We chatted of casual things--the scenery, the horse, the splendid color of the sunset. I was becoming interested in her.

”I had almost forgotten that there were such things in Lattimore,” said I, referring to the topics of our talk. ”I have become so saturated with lands and lots.”

”I don't know much about business,” said she, ”and I think I'll improve my opportunity by learning something. And, first, aren't men sometimes losers by the dishonesty of those who act for them--agents, they are called, aren't they?”

Such, I admitted, was unfortunately the case.

”I should be sorry for--any one I liked--to be injured in such a way....

Now you must understand how the things you men are interested in permeate the society of us women. Why, mamma has almost forgotten the enslavement of our s.e.x, in these new things which have changed our old town so much; so you mustn't wonder if I have heard something of a purely business nature. I heard that Captain Tolliver was about to sell Mr. Elkins the land where the old foundry is, over there, for twenty thousand dollars. Now, papa says it isn't worth it; and I know--Sadie Allen and I were in school together, and she comes over from Fairchild several times a year to see me, and I go there, you know; and that land is in her father's estate--I know that the executor has told Captain Tolliver to sell it for ever so much less than that. And it seemed so funny, as the Captain was doing the business for both sides--isn't it odd, now?”

”It does seem so,” said I, ”and it is very kind of you. I'll talk with Mr. Elkins about it. Please be careful, Miss Hinckley, or you'll drop the wheel in that washout!”

She reined up her horse and began speeding him again. I could see that this conversation had embarra.s.sed her somehow. Her color was high, and her grip of the reins not so steady as at starting. This attempt to do Jim a favor was something she considered as of a good deal of consequence. I began to note more and more what a really splendid woman she was--tall, fair, her tailor-made gown rounding to the full, firm curves of her figure, her fearless horsemans.h.i.+p hinting at the possession of large and positive traits of character.

”We women,” said she, ”might as well abandon all the things commonly known as feminine. What good do they do us?”

”They gratify your sense of the beautiful,” suggested I.

”You know, Mr. Barslow,” said she, ”that it's not our own sense of the beautiful, mainly, that we seek to gratify; and if the eyes for which they are intended are looking into ledgers and blind to everything except dollar-signs, what's the use?”

”Go down to the seash.o.r.e,” said I, ”where the people congregate who have nothing to do.”

”Not I,” said she; ”I'll go into real estate, and become as blind as the rest!”

Jim paid no attention to my chaffing when I spoke of his conquest, as I called Antonia. In fact, he seemed annoyed, and for a long time said nothing.

”You can see how the Allen estate proposition stands,” said he, at last.

”To let that sell for less than twenty thousand might cost us ten times that amount in lowering the prevailing standard of values. The old rule that we should buy in the cheapest market and sell in the dearest is suspended. Base is the slave who pays--less than the necessary and proper increase.”

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