The Whip Hand: A Tale of the Pine CountryMerwin, Samuel
General
The Whip Hand: A Tale of the Pine Country
Merwin, Samuel
Great Lakes Region (North America) -- Fiction; Love stories; Lumber trade -- Fiction
“John has been away,” said Mr. Higginson.
There was a pause, and Halloran, seeing his opportunity, girded up his
courage and plunged forward. “It's been a pretty important trip to me,”
he began. This was clumsy, but it was go ahead or nothing with him
now, and he went ahead. “Since I went away--I went down to see
Margaret Davies, of Evanston; she has been staying down there, in the
mountains--and she has promised to be my wife.”
The words were out. Mr. Higginson sat up straight in his chair and
stared at him. Mrs. Higginson leaned back and stared. Halloran could
only turn red. Finally, Mrs. Higginson, the first to recover, repeated
the name, “Margaret Davies! I've never heard any Evanston people speak
of her. Has her family lived there long?”
“Yes, all her life”
“Um--it's not a wealthy family, I suppose?”
“I guess so. They have a fine old place on the Ridge.”
Again Mrs. Higginson's tongue failed her, and she rose to go. “I hope
you won't mind if I tell Mamie, Mr. Halloran. She will be interested.”
“Oh, no; not at all. It's not a secret.”
“We are all very glad to hear it. It's rather a sudden affair, isn't
it?”
“Oh, dear, no. It's years old.”
“Years--indeed? I hope you'll do some very careful thinking. It is
asking a good deal of a woman to bring her here to Wauchung--a city
woman especially, with culture and refined tastes. I hope you aren't
making a mistake. It would be such a pity for her life to turn out
unhappily.” She went out; and Halloran, after fidgeting a moment, began
to think that the best thing he could do would be to go, too. But Mr.
Higginson checked him. “Sit down, John; sit down. So you're going to
be married? Well, I'm glad to hear it. Let me shake hands with you.”
Halloran was nervous and he rose again.
“Wait a minute; I haven't said what I wanted to see you about yet.
There's a matter that's been in my mind a good deal while I've been
lying here, and I guess this is a good time to bring it up. I jotted
down some memoranda this morning--there on the table, those folded
papers. I wish you'd take them with you and look them over. I want your
opinion on them before we do anything about it.”
Halloran took the papers, opened the first one, and ran his eye over it.
At the first words he started, flushed, muttered something, and looked
up, speechless with gratitude. “Why--why------”
“That's all right,” Mr. Higginson interrupted. “Never mind giving your
decision now. Go home and think it over. If you see anything about it
that you think could be improved, talk it over with me the next time you
come around and I guess we won't make much difficulty over it. Higginson
& Halloran doesn't look quite so well as Higginson & Co. A shorter name
would look better. But we never did go in much for looks.”
“I don't need to think over this, Mr. Higginson.”
“Take it along; take it along. I guess I've talked enough for this
afternoon. I'm a little tired.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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