Part 14 (2/2)

Maybe you'd like to look at it, gener'l,” continued Goolsby, stiffening up a little. ”If I do say it myself, it's in-about the best book that a man'll git a chance to thumb in many a long day.”

”What book is it, Goolsby?” the general inquired.

Goolsby sprang up, waddled rapidly to where he had left his satchel, and returned, bringing a large and substantial-looking volume.

”It's a book that speaks for itself any day in the week,” he said, running the pages rapidly between his fingers; ”it's a history of our own great conflict--'The Rise and Fall of the Rebellion,' by Schuyler Paddleford. I don't know what the blamed publishers wanted to put in 'Rebellion' for. I told 'em, says I: 'Gentlemen, it'll be up-hill work with this in the Sunny South. Call it ”The Conflict,”' says I. But they wouldn't listen, and now I have to work like a blind n.i.g.g.e.r splittin'

rails. But she's a daisy, gener'l, as sh.o.r.e as you're born. She jess reads right straight along from cover to cover without a bobble. Why, sir, I never know'd what war was till I meandered through the sample pages of this book. And they've got your picture in here, gener'l, jest as natural as life--all for five dollars in cloth, eight in liberry style, and ten in morocker.”

General Garwood glanced over the specimen pages with some degree of interest, while Goolsby continued to talk.

”Now, betwixt you and me, gener'l,” he went on confidentially, ”I don't nigh like the style of that book, particular where it rattles up our side. I wa'n't in the war myself, but blame me if it don't rile me when I hear outsiders a-cussin' them that was. I come mighty nigh not takin'

holt of it on that account; but 'twouldn't have done no good, not a bit.

If sech a book is got to be circulated around here, it better be circulated by some good Southron--a man that's a kind of antidote to the pizen, as it were. If I don't sell it, some blamed Yankee'll jump in and gallop around with it. And I tell you what, gener'l, betwixt you and me and the gate-post, it's done come to that pa.s.s where a man can't afford to be too plegged particular; if he stops for to scratch his head and consider whether he's a gentleman, some other feller'll jump in and s.n.a.t.c.h the rations right out of his mouth. That's why I'm a-paradin'

around tryin' to sell this book.”

”Well,” said General Garwood in an encouraging tone, ”I have no doubt it is a very interesting book. I have heard of it before. Fetch me a copy when you come to Azalia again.”

Goolsby smiled an unctuous and knowing smile. ”Maybe you think I ain't a-comin',” he exclaimed, with the air of a man who has invented a joke that he relishes. ”Well, sir, you're getting the wrong measure. I was down in 'Zalia Monday was a week, and I'm a-goin' down week after next.

Fact is,” continued Goolsby, rather sheepishly, ”'Zalia is a mighty nice place. Gener'l, do you happen to know Miss Louisa Hornsby? Of course you do! Well, sir, you might go a week's journey in the wildwood, as the poet says, and not find a handsomer gal then that. She's got style from away back.”

”Why, yes!” exclaimed the general in a tone of hearty congratulation, ”of course I know Miss Lou. She is a most excellent young lady. And so the wind sits in that quarter? Your blushes, Goolsby, are a happy confirmation of many sweet and piquant rumors.”

Goolsby appeared to be very much embarra.s.sed. He moved about uneasily in his seat, searched in all his pockets for something or other that wasn't there, and made a vain effort to protest. He grew violently red in the face, and the color gleamed through his closely cropped hair.

”Oh, come now, gener'l!” he exclaimed. ”Oh, pshaw! Why--oh, go 'way!”

His embarra.s.sment was so great, and seemed to border so closely on epilepsy, that the general was induced to offer him a cigar and invite him into the smoking apartment. As General Garwood and Goolsby pa.s.sed out, Helen Eustis drew a long breath.

”It is worth the trouble of a long journey to behold such a spectacle,”

she declared. Her aunt regarded her curiously. ”Who would have thought it?” she went on--”a Southern secessionist charged with affability, and a book-agent radiant with embarra.s.sment!”

”He is a coa.r.s.e, ridiculous creature,” said Miss Tewksbury sharply.

”The affable general, Aunt Harriet?”

”No, child; the other.”

”Dear aunt, we are in the enemy's country, and we must ground our prejudices. The book-agent is pert and crude, but he is not coa.r.s.e. A coa.r.s.e man may be in love, but he would never blush over it. And as for the affable general--you saw the negro woman cry over him.”

”Poor thing!” said Miss Tewksbury, with a sigh. ”She sadly needs Instruction.”

”Ah, yes! that is a theory we should stand to, but how shall we instruct her to run and cry after us?”

”My dear child, we want no such disgusting exhibitions. It is enough if we do our duty by these unfortunates.”

”But I do want just such an exhibition, Aunt Harriet,” said Helen seriously. ”I should be glad to have some fortunate or unfortunate creature run and cry after me.”

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