Part 13 (1/2)

Dud and Jim made for the resident streets, where old Colonial mansions stood amid velvety lawns, and queer little low-roofed houses were buried in vines and flowers. But Dan and Freddy kept to the sh.o.r.e and the cliff, where the old fishermen had their homes, and things were rough and interesting. They stopped at an old weather-beaten house that had in its low windows all sorts of curious things--models of s.h.i.+ps and boats, odd bits of pottery, rude carvings, old bra.s.ses and mirrors,--the flotsam and jetsam from broken homes and broken lives that had drifted into this little eddy.

The proprietor, a bent and grizzled old man, who stood smoking at the door, noticed the young strangers.

”Don't do business on Sundays; but you can step in, young gentlemen, and look about you. 'Twon't cost you a cent: and I've things you won't see any-whar else on this Atlantic coast,--bra.s.s, pottery, old silver, old books, old papers, prints of rare value and interest. A Harvard professor spent two hours the other day looking over my collection.”

”Is it a museum?” asked Freddy politely, as he and Dan peered doubtful over the dusky threshold.

”Wal, no, not exactly; though it's equal to that, sonny. Folks call this here Jonah's junk-shop,--Jonah being my Christian name. (I ain't never had much use for any other.) I've been here forty years, and my father was here before me,--buying and selling whatever comes to us. And things do come to us sure, from copper kettles that would serve a mess of sixty men, down to babies' bonnets.”

”Babies' bonnets!” laughed Dan, who, with Freddy close behind him, had pushed curiously but cautiously into the low, dark room, from which opened another and another, crowded with strangely a.s.sorted merchandise.

”You may laugh,” said the proprietor, ”but we've had more than a dozen trunks and boxes filled with such like folderols. Some of 'em been here twenty years or more,--shawls and bonnets and ball dresses, all frills and laces and ribbons; baby bonnets, too, all held for duty and storage or wreckage and land knows what. Flung the whole lot out for auction last year, and the women swarmed like bees from the big hotels and the cottages. Got bits of yellow lace, they said, for ten cents that was worth many dollars. The men folks tried to 'kick' about fever and small-pox in the old stuff, but not a woman would listen. Look at that now!” And the speaker paused under a chandelier that, even in the dusky dimness, glittered with crystal pendants. ”Set that ablaze with the fifty candles it was made to hold, and I bet a hundred dollars wouldn't have touched it forty years ago. Ye can buy it to-morrow for three and a quarter. That's the way things go in Jonah's junk-shop.”

”And do you ever really sell anything?” asked Dan, whose keen business eye, being trained by early bargaining for the sharp needs of life, could see nothing in Jonah's collection worth a hard-earned dollar. Mirrors with dingy and broken frames loomed ghost-like up in the dusky corners; tarnished epaulets and sword hilts told pathetically of forgotten honors; there were clocks, tall and stately, without works or pendulum.

”Sell?” echoed the proprietor. ”Of course, sonny, we sell considerable, specially this time of year when the rich folks come around,--folks that ain't looking for stuff that's whole or s.h.i.+ny. And they do bite curious, sure. Why, there was some sort of a big man come up here in his yacht a couple of years ago that gave me twenty-five dollars for a furrin medal,--twenty-five dollars cash down. And it wasn't gold or silver neither. Said he knew what it was worth, and I didn't.”

”Twenty-five dollars!” exclaimed the astonished Freddy,--”twenty-five dollars for a medal! O Dan, then maybe yours is worth something, too.”

”Pooh, no!” said Dan, ”what would poor old Nutty be doing with a twenty-five dollar medal?”

The dull eyes of the old junk dealer kindled with quick interest.

”Hev you got a medal?” he asked. ”Where did you get it?”

”From a batty old sailor man who thought I had done him some good turns,”

answered Dan. ”Where he got it he didn't say. I don't think he could remember.”

And Dan, whose only safe deposit for boyish treasures was his jacket pocket, pulled out the gift that Freddy had refused, and showed it to this new acquaintance, who, holding it off in his h.o.r.n.y hand, blinked at it with practised eye.

”Portugee or Spanish, I don't know which it says on that thar rim. Thar ain't much of it silver. I'd have to rub it up to be sure of the rest.

Date, well as I can make out, it's 1850.”

”It is,” said Dan. ”I made that much out myself.”

Old Jonah shook his head.

”Ain't far enough back. Takes a good hundred years to make an antique.

Still, you can't tell. The ways of these great folks are queer. Last week I sold for five dollars a bureau that I was thinking of splitting up into firewood; and the woman was as tickled as if she had found a purse of money. Said it was Louey Kans. Who or what she was I don't know; mebbe some kin of hers. I showed her the break plain, for I ain't no robber; but she said that didn't count a mite,--that she could have a new gla.s.s put in for ten dollars. Ten dollars! Wal, thar ain't no telling about rich folks'

freaks and foolishness; so I can't say nothing about that thar medal. It ain't the kind of thing I'd want to gamble on. But if you'd like to leave it here on show. I'll take care of it, I promise you; and mebbe some one may come along and take a notion to it.”

”Oh, what's the good?” said Dan, hesitating.

”Dan, do--do!” pleaded Freddy, who saw a chance for the vacation pocket money his chum so sorely lacked. ”You might get twenty-five dollars for it, Dan.”

”He might,” said old Jonah; ”and then again he mightn't, sonny. I ain't promising any more big deals like them I told you about. But you can't ever tell in this here junk business whar or when luck will strike you. It goes hard agin my old woman to hev all this here dust and cobwebs. She has got as tidy a house as you'd ask to see just around the corner,--flower garden in front, and everything s.h.i.+ny. But if I'd let her in here with a bucket and broom she'd ruin my business forever. It's the dust and the rust and the cobwebs that runs Jonah's junk-shop. But it's fair and square. I put down in writing all folks give me to sell, and sign my name to it. If you don't gain nothing, you don't lose nothing.”