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Read Ebook: The Blunders of a Bashful Man by Victor Metta Victoria Fuller
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Ebook has 969 lines and 39850 words, and 20 pages
ould "make a note of it," and I was too everlastingly embarrassed to deny it.
"John," said father, about four o'clock in the afternoon the day after the fair--"John, did you buy all these things?"--the front part of the store was piled and crammed with my unwilling purchases.
"Father, I don't know whether I did or not."
"How much is the bill?"
".17."
"How are you going to pay it?"
"I've got the hundred dollars in bank grandmother gave me when she died."
"Draw the money, pay your debts, and either get married at once and make these things useful, or we'll have a bonfire in the back yard."
"I guess we'd better have the bonfire, father. I don't care for any girl but Belle, and she won't have me."
"Won't have you! I'm worth as much as Squire Marigold any day."
"I know it, father; but I took her down to supper last night, and I was so confused, with all the married ladies looking on, I made a mess of it. I put two teaspoonfuls of sugar in her oyster stew, salted her coffee, and insisted on her taking pickles with her ice-cream. She didn't mind that so much, but when I stuffed my saucer into my pocket, and conducted her into the coal-cellar instead of the hall, she got out of patience. Father, I think I'd better go to Arizona in the spring. I'm--"
"Go to grass! if you want to," was the unfeeling reply; "but don't you ever go to another fair, unless I go along to take care of you."
But I think the bonfire made him feel better.
HE COMMITS SUICIDE.
Two days after the fair , some time during the afternoon, I found myself alone in the store. Business was so dull that father, with a yawn, said he guessed he'd go to the post-office and have a chat with the men.
"Be sure you don't leave the store a moment alone, John," was his parting admonition.
Of course I wouldn't think of such a thing--he need not have mentioned it. I was a good business fellow for my age; the only blunders I ever made were those caused by my failing--the unhappy failing to which I have hitherto alluded.
In the midst of my dark and vengeful resolutions I heard merry voices on the pavement outside.
Hastily raising my head from the pile of calicoes, I saw at least five girls making for the store door--a whole bevy of them coming in upon me at once. They were the same rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, deceitful, shameless creatures who had persuaded me into such folly at the fair. There was Hetty Slocum, the girl who coaxed me into buying the doll; and Maggie Markham, who sold me the quilt; and Belle, and two others, and they were chatting and giggling over some joke, and had to stop on the steps until they could straighten their faces. I grew fire-red--with indignation.
In a minute I wished myself out of that; but the minute had been too much--the bevy had entered and approached the counter, at the very place behind which I lay concealed. I was so afraid to breathe; the cold sweat started on my forehead.
"Why! there's no one in the store!" exclaimed Belle's voice.
"Oh, yes; there must be. Let us look around and see," responded Maggie, and they went tiptoeing around the room, peeping here and there, while I silently tore my hair. I was so afraid they would come behind the counter and discover me.
In three minutes, which seemed as many hours, they came to the starting-point again.
"There isn't a soul here."
"La, how funny! We might take something."
"Yes, if we were thieves, what a fine opportunity we would have."
"I'll bet three cents it's John's fault; his father would never leave the store in this careless way."
"What a queer fellow he is, anyway!"
"I never was so tickled in my life as when he bought that quilt."
"I thought I would die laughing when he took me into the coal-cellar, but I kept a straight face."
"That's just what I think. Oh, isn't it too good to see the way he nurses that little mustache of his? I'm going to send him a magnifying-glass, so that he can count the hairs with less trouble."
"If you will, I'll send a box of cold cream; we can send them through the post-office, and he'll never find out who they came from."
"Much good it'll do him, girls! Do you suppose I wouldn't marry that simpleton if he was made of gold."
"Did you ever see such a red face as he has? I would be afraid to come near it with a light dress on."
"And his ears!"
"Monstrous! and always burning."
"And the awkwardest fellow that ever blundered into a parlor. You know the night he waited on me to Hetty's party? he stepped on my toes so that I had to poultice them before I went to bed; he tore the train all off my pink tarlatan; he spilled a cup of hot coffee down old Mrs. Ballister's back, and upset his saucer of ice-cream over Ada's sweet new book-muslin. Why, girls, just as sure as I am standing here, I saw him cram the saucer into his pocket when Belle came up to speak with him! I tell you, I was glad to get home that night without any more accidents."
"They say he always puts the tea-napkins into his pocket when he takes tea away from home. But it's not kleptomania, it's only bashfulness. I never heard before of his pocketing the saucers."
"Well, he really did. It's awful funny. I don't know how we'd get along without John this winter--he makes all the fun we have. What's that?"
"I don't know, it sounded like rats gnawing the floor."
"Did you ever notice his mouth?--how large it is."
"Yes, it's frightful. I don't wonder he's ashamed of himself with that mouth."
The last speaker seized the yard-stick and thumped on the counter directly over my head.
"Oh, girls! let's go behind, and see how they keep things. I wonder how many pieces of dress-silk there are left!"
"I guess I'll go behind the counter, and play clerk. If any one comes in, I'll go, as sure as the world! and wait on 'em. Won't it be fun? There comes old Aunty Harkness now. I dare say she is after a spool of thread or a paper of needles. I'm going to wait on her. Mr. Flutter won't care--I'll explain when he comes in. What do you want, auntie?" in a very loud voice.
My head buzzed like a saw--my heart made such a loud thud against my side I thought stars! she wanted "an ounce o' snuff," and that article was kept in a glass jar in plain sight on the other side of the store. There was a movement in that direction, and I recovered partially, I half resolved to rise up suddenly--pretend I'd been hiding for fun--and laugh the whole thing off as a joke. But the insulting, the ridiculous comments I had overheard, had made me too indignant. Pretty joke, indeed! But I wished I had obeyed the dictates of prudence and affected to consider it so. Father came bustling in while the girls were trying to tie up the snuff, and sneezing beautifully.
"What! what! young ladies! Where's John?"
"That's more than we know--tschi-he! We've been waiting at least ten minutes. Auntie Harkness wanted some stch-uff, and we thought we'd do it for her. I s'pose you've no objections, Mr. Flutter?"
"What shall I show you, young ladies?"
"Some light kid gloves, No. 6, please."
"Yes, certainly--here they are. I do believe there's a strange dog under the counter! Get out--get out, sir, I say!" and my cruel parent gave me a vicious kick.
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