The Christmas Story from David HarumWestcott, Edward Noyes
General
The Christmas Story from David Harum
Westcott, Edward Noyes
Christmas stories
It was consid'able more'n a lot--in fact, a putty
sizable place. She thought the sun rose an' set where Billy P. was, but
she took a crotchit in her head, and wouldn't ever sign no papers fer
that, an' lucky fer him too. The' was a house on to it, an' he had a
roof over his head anyway when he died six or seven years after he
married, an' left her with a boy to raise. How she got along all them
years till Charley got big enough to help, I swan! I don't know. She
took in sewin' an' washin', an' went out to cook an' nurse, an' all
that, but I reckon the' was now an' then times when they didn't overload
their stomechs much, nor have to open the winders to cool off. But she
held on to that prop'ty of her'n like a pup to a root. It was putty well
out when Billy P. died, but the village has growed up to it. The's some
good lots could be cut out on't, an' it backs up to the river where the
current's enough to make a mighty good power fer a 'lectric light. I
know some fellers that are talkin' of startin' a plant here, an' it
ain't out o' sight that they'd pay a good price fer the river front, an'
enough land to build on. Fact on't is, it's got to be a putty valu'ble
piece o' prop'ty, more 'n she cal'lates on, I reckon."
Here Mr. Harum paused, pinching his chin with thumb and index finger,
and mumbling his tobacco. John, who had listened with more attention
than interest--wondering the while as to what the narrative was leading
up to--thought something might properly be expected of him to show that
he had followed it, and said, "So Mrs. Cullom has kept this last piece
clear, has she?"
"No," said David, bringing down his right hand upon the desk with
emphasis, "that's jes' what she hain't done, an' that's how I come to
tell ye somethin' of the story, an' more on't 'n you've cared about
hearin', mebbe."
"Not at all," John protested. "I have been very much interested."
"You have, have you?" said Mr. Harum. "Wa'al, I got somethin' I want ye
to do. Day after to-morro' 's Chris'mus, an' I want ye to drop Mis'
Cullom a line, somethin' like this, 'That Mr. Harum told ye to say that
that morgige he holds, havin' ben past due fer some time, an' no
int'rist havin' ben paid fer, let me see, more'n a year, he wants to
close the matter up, an' he'll see her Chris'mus mornin' at the bank at
nine o'clock, he havin' more time on that day; but that, as fur as he
can see, the bus'nis won't take very long'--somethin' like that, you
understand?"
[Illustration]
"Very well, sir," said John, hoping that his employer would not see in
his face the disgust and repugnance he felt as he surmised what a scheme
was on foot, and recalled what he had heard of Harum's hard and
unscrupulous ways, though he had to admit that this, excepting perhaps
the episode of the counterfeit money, was the first revelation to him
personally. But this seemed very bad indeed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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