Part 10 (1/2)

”No, no,” said Mrs. Munger. ”We want an impartial opinion.”

”I always think as Brother Gerrish thinks,” said Putney. ”I guess you better give up the fandango; hey, Billy?”

”No, sir; no, Mr. Putney,” answered the merchant nervously. ”I can't agree with you. And I will tell you why, sir.”

He gave his reasons, with some abatement of pomp and detail, and with the tremulous eagerness of a solemn man who expects a sarcastic rejoinder. ”It would be a bad precedent. This town is full now of a cla.s.s of persons who are using every opportunity to--to abuse their privileges. And this would be simply adding fuel to the flame.”

”Do you really think so, Billy?” asked the lawyer, with cool derision.

”Well, we all abuse our privileges at every opportunity, of course; I was just saying that I abused mine; and I suppose those fellows would abuse theirs if you happened to hurt their wives' and daughters' feelings. And how are you going to manage? Aren't you afraid that they will hang around, after the show, indefinitely, unless you ask all those who have not received invitations to the dance and supper to clear the grounds, as they do in the circus when the minstrels are going to give a performance not included in the price of admission? Mind, I don't care anything about your Social Union.”

”Oh, but _surely_!” cried Mrs. Munger, ”you _must_ allow that it's a good object.”

”Well, perhaps it is, if it will keep the men away from the rum-holes. Yes, I guess it is. You won't sell liquor?”

”We expect to furnish coffee at cost price,” said Mrs. Munger, smiling at Putney's joke.

”And good navy-plug too, I hope. But you see it would be rather awkward, don't you? You see, Annie?”

”Yes, I see,” said Annie. ”I hadn't thought of that part before.”

”And you didn't agree with Brother Peck on general principles? There we see the effect of residence abroad,” said Putney. ”The uncorrupted--or I will say the uninterrupted--Hatborian has none of those aristocratic predilections of yours, Annie. He grows up in a community where there is neither poverty nor richness, and where political economy can show by the figures that the profligate shop hands get nine-tenths of the profits, and starve on 'em, while the good little company rolls in luxury on the other tenth. But you've got used to something different over there, and of course Brother Peck's ideas startled you. Well, I suppose I should have been just so myself.”

”Mr. Putney has never felt just right about the working-men since he lost the boycotters' case,” said Mr. Gerrish, with a snicker.

”Oh, come now, Billy, why did you give me away?” said Putney, with mock suffering. ”Well, I suppose I might as well own up, Mrs. Munger; it's no use trying to keep it from _you_; you know it already. Yes, Annie, I defended some poor devils here for combining to injure a non-union man--for doing once just what the big manufacturing Trusts do every day of the year with impunity; and I lost the case. I expected to. I told 'em they were wrong, but I did my best for 'em. 'Why, you fools,' said I--that's the way I talk to 'em, Annie; I call 'em pet names; they like it; they're used to 'em; they get 'em every day in the newspapers--'you fools,' said I, 'what do you want to boycott for, when you can _vote_? What do you want to break the laws for, when you can _make_ 'em? You idiots, you,' said I, 'what do you putter round for, persecuting non-union men, that have as good a right to earn their bread as you, when you might make the whole United States of America a Labour Union?' Of course I didn't say that in court.”

”Oh, how delicious you are, Mr. Putney!” said Mrs. Munger.

”Glad you like me, Mrs. Munger,” Putney replied.

”Yes, you're delightful,” said the lady, recovering from the effects of the drollery which they had all pretended to enjoy, Mr. Gerrish, and Mrs.

Gerrish by his leave, even more than the others. ”But you're not candid.

All this doesn't help us to a conclusion. Would you give up the invited dance and supper, or wouldn't you? That's the question.”

”And no s.h.i.+rking, hey?” asked Putney.

”No s.h.i.+rking.”

Putney glanced through a little transparent s.p.a.ce in the ground-gla.s.s windows framing the room, which Mr. Gerrish used for keeping an eye on his sales-ladies to see that they did not sit down.

”h.e.l.lo!” he exclaimed. ”There's Dr. Morrell. Let's put the case to him.” He opened the door and called down the store, ”Come in here, Doc!”

”What?” called back an amused voice; and after a moment steps approached, and Dr. Morrell hesitated at the open door. He was a tall man, with a slight stoop; well dressed; full bearded; with kind, boyish blue eyes that twinkled in fascinating friendliness upon the group. ”n.o.body sick here, I hope?”

”Walk right in, sir! come in, Dr. Morrell,” said Mr. Gerrish. ”Mrs. Munger and Mrs. Gerrish you know. Present you to Miss Kilburn, who has come to make her home among us after a prolonged residence abroad. Dr. Morrell, Miss Kilburn.”

”No, there's n.o.body sick here, in one sense,” said Putney, when the doctor had greeted the ladies. ”But we want your advice all the same. Mrs. Munger is in a pretty bad way morally, Doc.”

”Don't you mind Mr. Putney, doctor!” screamed Mrs. Gerrish.