The William Henry Letters Part 22

_Clerk._ Couldn't take a cent less. Cost more by wholesale.

_Woman._ I think I'll look further. (_Going._)

_Clerk._ Well, now seeing it's the last piece, you may have it for two fifty.

_Woman._ I wasn't expecting to give over two dollars a yard. (_Going._)

_Clerk._ Now I'll tell you what I'll do. Say two and a quarter, and take it.

_Woman._ I have decided not to go over two dollars. (_Going._)

_Clerk (crossly)._ Well. You can have it for that. But we lose on it. In fact, we are selling now to keep the trade, nothing else. Twenty-five yards? I'll measure it directly.

_Old Woman._ Have you got any cotton flannel?

_Enter FASHIONABLE LADY._

_Clerk (all attention, bowing)._ Good morning, madam. Can we sell you anything to-day?

_Fashionable Lady._ I am looking at carpets this morning. Have you anything new?

_Clerk._ This way, madam. We have several new lots, just imported.

(_Shows one._)

_Fashionable Lady._ It must light up well, or it will never suit me.

_Clerk._ Lights up beautifully, madam.

_Fashionable Lady._ Is this real tapestry?

_Clerk._ O, certainly, madam. We shouldn't think of showing you any other.

_Fashionable Lady._ What's the price?

_Clerk._ Well, this is a Persian pattern, and we can't offer it for less than six dollars. Mrs. Topothetree bought one off the same piece.

_Fashionable Lady._ 'T is a lovely thing, and when a carpet suits me, the price is no objection.

_Old Woman (coming forward)._ Have you got any remnants? I wanted to get a strip to lay down afore the fire. (_Speaking to Lady._) Goin' to give six dollars a yard for that? Guess you better larn how to make a rag carpet. Fust, take your old coats and trousers, and strip 'em up inter narrer strips, and jine the strips together, and wind all that up in great b.a.l.l.s. That's your warp. Then take coa.r.s.e yarn and color it all colors. That's your fillin'. Then hire your carpet wove, and that carpet'll last.

_Enter POLICEMAN and a GENTLEMAN._

_Gentleman (pointing to Fashionable Lady)._ That is the person.

_Policeman (placing his hand on her shoulder)._ This gentleman, madam, thinks you have--_borrowed_ a quant.i.ty of his lace goods.

_Fashionable Lady (with air of astonishment)._ I? Impossible!

Impossible, sir!

_Gentleman._ I am sure of it.

_Policeman._ Will you have the goodness, madam, to come with us?

_Curtain drops, while all are gazing at each other in amazement._

I procured a copy of the above charade for little Silas. There was a sociable, one evening, at his school, got up for the purpose of raising money to buy a melodeon, or a seraphine, I don't know which. I never do know which is a melodeon and which is a seraphine. I have an idea the first sounds more melodious.

They wanted a charade to act, and I sent them this of William Henry's.

Silas took the character of the fellow from the country. They liked the charade very much. The brake-man had the forward wheels of a baby carriage for his brakes. Of course only one of the wheels was seen, and he made a great ado turning it.

At the end the cars ran off the track, and the curtain fell upon a general smash-up.

_William Henry to his Grandmother._

DEAR GRANDMOTHER,--

The puddles bear in the morning and next thing the pond will, and I want to have my skates here all ready. 'Most all the boys have got all theirs already, waiting for it to freeze. They hang up on that beam in the sink-room chamber. Look under my trainer trousers that I had to play trainer in when I's a little chap, on that great wooden peg, and you'll find 'em hanging up under the trousers. And my sled too, for Dorry and I are going to have double-runner together soon as snow comes. It's down cellar. We went to be weighed, and the man said I was built of solid timber. Dorry he hid some great iron dumb-bells in his pockets for fun, and the man first he looked at Dorry and then at the figures, and then at his weights; he didn't know what to make of it. For I've grown so much faster that we're almost of a size.

First of it Dorry kept a sober face, but pretty soon he began to laugh, and took the dumb-bells out, and then weighed over, and guess what we weighed?

The fellers call us "Dorry & Co." because we keep together so much. When he goes anywhere he says "Come, Sweet William!" and when I go anywhere I say "Come, Old Dorrymas!" There's a flower named Sweet William. There isn't any fish named Dorrymas, but there's one named Gurrymas. We keep our goodies in the same box, and so we do our pencils and the rest of our traps. His bed is 'most close to mine, and the one that wakes up first pulls the other one's hair. One boy that comes here is a funny-looking chap, and wears cinnamon-colored clothes, all faded out.

He isn't a very big feller. He has his clothes given to him. He comes days and goes home nights, for he lives in this town. He's got great eyes and a great mouth, and always looks as if he was just a-going to laugh. Sometimes when the boys go by him they make a noise, sniff, sniff, sniff, with their noses, making believe they smelt something spicy, like cinnamon. I hope you'll find my skates, and send 'em right off, for fear the pond might freeze over. They hang on that great wooden peg in the sink-room chamber, that sticks in where two beams come together, under my trainer trousers; you'll see the red stripes.

Some of us have paid a quarter apiece to get a football, and shouldn't you think 't was real mean for anybody to back out, and then come to kick? One feller did. And he was one of the first ones to get it up too.

"Let's get up a good one while we're about it," says he, "that won't kick right out." Dorry went to pick it out, and took his own money, and all the rest paid in their quarters, and what was over the price we took in peanuts. O, you ought to 've seen that bag of peanuts! Held about half a bushel. When he found the boys were talking about him he told somebody that when anybody said, "Let's get up something," it wasn't just the same as to say he'd pay part. But we say 't is. And we talked about it down to the Two Betseys' shop, and Lame Betsey said 't was mean doings enough, and The Other Betsey said, "Anybody that won't pay their part, I don't care _who_ they be." And I've seen him eating taffy three times and more, too, since then, and figs. And he comes and kicks sometimes, and when they offered some of the peanuts to him, to see if he'd take any, he took some.

Now Spicey won't do that. We said he might kick, but he don't want to, not till he gets his quarter. He's going to earn it. If my skates don't hang up on that wooden peg, like enough Aunt Phebe's little Tommy's been fooling with 'em. Once he did, and they fell through that hole where a piece of the floor is broke out. You'd better look down that hole. I'm going to send home my Report next time. I couldn't get perfect every time. Dorry says if a feller did that, he'd know too much to come to school. But there's some that do. Not very many. Spicey did four days running. I could 'a got more perfects, only one time I didn't know how far to get, and another time I didn't hear what the question was he put out to me, and another time I didn't stop to think and answered wrong when I knew just as well as could be. And another time I missed in the rules. You better believe they are hard things to get. Bubby Short says he wishes they'd take out the rules and let us do our sums in peace, and so I say. And then one more time some people came to visit the school, and they looked right in my face, when the question came to me, and put me out. I shouldn't think visitors would look a feller right in the face, when he's trying to tell something. Dorry says that I blushed up as red as fire-coals. I guess a red-header blushes up redder than any other kind; don't you? I had some taken off my Deportment, because I laughed out loud. I didn't mean to, but I'm easy to laugh. But Dorry he can keep a sober face just when he wants to, and so can Bubby Short. I was laughing at Bubby Short. He was snapping apple-seeds at Old Wonder Boy's cheeks, and he couldn't tell who snapped 'em, for Bubby Short would be studying away, just as sober. At last one hit hard, and W. B.

jumped and shook his fist at the wrong feller, and I felt a laugh coming, and puckered my mouth up, and twisted round, but first thing I knew, out it came, just as sudden, and that took off some.

I shall keep the Report till next time, because this time I'm going to send mine and Dorry's photographs taken together. We both paid half. We got it taken in a saloon that travels about on wheels. 'T is stopping here now. Course we didn't expect to look very handsome. But the man says 't is wonderful what handsome pictures homely folks expect to make.

Says he tells 'em he has to take what's before him. Dorry says he's sure we look very well for the first time taking. Says it needs practice to make a handsome picture. Please send it back soon because he wants to let his folks see it. Send it when you send the skates. Send the skates soon as you can, for fear the pond might freeze over. Aunt Phebe's little Tommy can have my old sharp-shooter for his own, if he wants it.

Remember me to my sister.

Your affectionate Grandson,

WILLIAM HENRY.

As the photograph above mentioned had altogether too serious an expression, a younger one was used in drawing the picture for the frontispiece. Neither of the three do him justice, as neither of the three can give his merry laugh.

_Grandmother to William Henry._