To the Highest Bidder. Florence Morse Kingsley
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Название: To the Highest Bidder

Автор: Florence Morse Kingsley

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 4064066201166

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СКАЧАТЬ was—a—a—letter,” the drowsily-sweet little voice went on. “I—forgot——”

      “Jimmy,” said Barbara the next morning, as she brushed the child’s yellow hair, “what was it you said last night about a letter?”

      “Oh, I bringed—no, I brought a letter home to you in my coat pocket, and I forgot to give it to you.”

      “It isn’t in either of your pockets, dear. I looked there last night. Try and think what you did with it.”

      The little boy looked troubled.

      “The man gave it to me, an’ it was blue. An’ he said it was f’om way out west, an’ he asked me who did you know out west; an’ I said I didn’t know; but I’d ask you. I put it in my pocket.”

      “Perhaps it wasn’t anything important,” Barbara said slowly, “but——”

      “No, I guess it wasn’t,” agreed Jimmy placidly. “Say, Barb’ra, can I have two popcorn balls to take to school?”

      “But what do you suppose became of the letter?” persisted Barbara. “Which pocket did you put it in?”

      Jimmy eyed the small garment uncertainly.

      “It was in this one,” he decided; “I ’member I put the letter in my pocket an’ it stuck out, ’cause it was too long.”

      “Did you come straight home from the post-office?” demanded Barbara. “Did you, Jimmy?”

      Jimmy reflected.

      “I walked along,” he said, “an’ ’nen I looked in through the fence to see the deer an’ the shiny blue round things—you know, Barb’ra, when the sun shines you c’n see——”

      “I know,” said the girl, with a touch of impatience.

      “An’ ’nen I saw the horse wiv a short tail come out, an’ I p’tended I was drivin’ an’ goin’ awful fast! But I couldn’t trot real fas’ because the m’lasses spilled. I had to stop an’ lick it off lots of times.”

      “Why, Jimmy!” said the girl rebukingly.

      “Wiv my fingers,” explained Jimmy mildly. “You know you have to do something when it comes out all bubbles ’round the edge; an’—an’ ’nen I——”

      “You must have dropped the letter somewhere along the road,” interrupted his sister.

      “Uh-huh! I guess I did,” assented the culprit. “But I didn’t mean to, Barb’ra. Truly I didn’t.”

      His lip quivered as he looked up at her stormy face.

      The girl controlled herself with an effort.

      “Of course you didn’t mean to, darling,” she said, kissing the rosy mouth, which had begun to droop dolefully at the corners. “Perhaps it was just an advertisement, anyway, and not worth bothering over. I’ll walk along with you and see if we can find it.”

      But the letter, snugly hidden under a clump of unfolding fern, gave no token of its presence as the two walked slowly past it, their eyes searching the road and the tangled growths on either side.

      Barbara walked swiftly to the post-office, after she had left Jimmy at the schoolhouse. It had occurred to her that someone might have returned the missing letter to the office.

      Al Hewett, when questioned, shook his head.

      “Nope,” he said, “the’ ain’t nobody brought it here. ’Course I’d ’a’ saved it fer you if they had. I remember the letter all right, I happened to notice the postmark. It was fo’m Tombstone, Arizony. Know anybody out there?”

      The girl shook her head. “Was there any printing—or—writing on the envelope?” she asked.

      “Not that I recall,” said Mr. Hewlett, mindful of his official state. “Of course you understan’ with the amount of mail we handle in this office that we couldn’t be expected to notice any one letter in pertickler. I’m real sorry, Barb’ra,” he added, with genuine good feeling. “Jimmy’s pretty small t’ deliver mail. He’s a nice little shaver, though. Anythin’ in the line o’ groceries to-day?”

      “Not to-day,” said Barbara, her cheeks flushing.

      Then she looked up with sudden determination. “Is your father here?” she asked, in a low voice. “If he is—I’d like to see him.”

      “Pa’s in the back room makin’ up accounts,” the younger Hewett informed her. “I’ll call him, if you say so.—Pa!”

      “No; don’t, please,” objected Barbara hastily. “I’ll go and speak to him there.”

      But Mr. Abram Hewett had already appeared in answer to the summons and was advancing briskly behind a counter gay with new prints and ginghams. His face stiffened at sight of Barbara, and he darted an impatient look at his son.

      “Could I speak with you—just a moment, Mr. Hewett?” asked Barbara, in a low, determined voice, “on business?”

      The man coldly scrutinized the flushed face the girl lifted to his.

      “If it was ’bout the balance o’ that account o’ yours——” he began, “I was just lookin’ it over, ’long with some others like it. You c’n come in here.”

      Barbara followed his short, bent figure, her heart beating heavily. But she had found a remnant of her vanished self-possession by the time Mr. Hewett had climbed to the high stool behind the long-legged desk, which represented the financial centre of the establishment. “Well?” he said interrogatively, fixing his lowering regard upon her.

      Barbara glanced at the two fly-specked legends which flanked the desk on either side, reading respectively, “My time is money; don’t steal it,” and “This is my busy day.”

      “I didn’t come to finish paying that bill to-day,” she said, a flush of shame mounting to her forehead. “But the hens are beginning to lay now, and——”

      “Eggs is cheap an’ plentiful,” demurred Mr. Hewett, with unconcealed impatience. “I couldn’t agree t’ allow ye much on eggs.”

      “It wasn’t the bill I came to see you about,” said Barbara, with a proud look at him. “I shall pay it in money as soon as I possibly can.”

      “Oh!” interjected Mr. Hewett. Then he added sharply “Humph!” drumming meanwhile on the lid of his desk to denote the lapse of unfruitful minutes.

      Barbara still hesitated, while she strove to find words to introduce the difficult business she had in mind.

      Mr. Hewett cleared his throat suggestively.

      “There’s a mortgage on the farm,” she said slowly, “and we’re going to lose it, unless——”

      “Unless you pay up,” suggested Mr. Hewett briskly. “Yes; jes’ so. I’ve been wonderin’ how you managed СКАЧАТЬ