UNKNOWN

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3103, 8 June 1881, Page 4

UNKNOWN

. JUSTOMEB. ' Mind the si" — Bunkle. .op, Abijiih,' said Uncle 4 Yes, sir' Uncjp , said Abijah. •who' , Bunkle was an old Englishman v uad lately come to America, unci Abijah ,vas Lie nephew, whom lie had elevated from his father's hay fields to his own counter. It was an elevation in Abijah'a mind for ho had always longed for the'city, whore lie hoped to make a figure. Not only had he a great desire to become a man of fashion, but he wished to figure as a poet. Ho hoped to be a very great man one day, and though measuring calico behind the counter of a third-class dry goods store was not being in the ranks of fashion or on tho roll of fame, still, as Abijah said, lie was on the spot. Someone was sura to notice hi in. Somebody had. A beautiful young lady, with golden hair. Abijah did not know the possibilities of tho ' human hair' establishments.

Melting eyes, with lovely dark lines about them, and ' such a color,' had made small purchases of late, and had looked bewitohingly at Abijah. He felt sure she was in love with him, and his heart went pit-a-pat when he thought of her. 'I would not bo a fortune-hunter for the world,' said Abijah, but if a lady of fortune s7ioidcl fall in love with me, why should I fail to respond ?' It was at this moment that his uncle's voice fell upon bi.s ear.

' Mind the shop, Abijah.' 'Yes, sir,' replied that youth with a start

* You're so 'igh Imp in the moon, as all the riff-raff in Mie street might walk oil' with ha'nvthing,' continued his "uncle, taking up his hat and cane. 'I'm going houh for the hair, rind you'd better come to yourself."

c Yes, sir,' replied Ahijah. ' And mind, cash is mv motto,' repeated Uncle Bunkle. 'Hif any one says ' put hanything in the boot,' tell 'em it's contrary to horders. I sha'nt be back before supper.' Then Uncle Bunkle trotted away. Three or four little girls came in for papers of pins or rjieccs of braid. An aggravating old Dutch woman bought some red flannel, after beating down. In an hour, a matron, followed by many children, came in to inquiro why he gave her Sammy a bad cent in change the other day. It was but a dull life, after all, thought Abijah. The glorious vision that had flashed on him but once might never return again, and all these homed people would— or others like them—and at that moment he saw some one peeping in at tho window, and started and rushed toward it.

It was the golden blonde, and she entered at tho door. She wore a wonderful dress ; Abijah could not in the least understand how she got into it, it was such a fit; and had kid gloves with six buttons, a hat of the one-sided kind, and a parasol, all fringes. She sidled tip to the counter and gave him a melting glance, and asked him to show her blue satin ribbon.

With trembling hands Abijah pi'oduced it from the case, and there was a little flirtation over it, and she bought a piece. Then she looked at black net, and then at dress goods —and bit by bit she made a score of purchases, each one a delight to Abijah, for she lifted her eyes to his and he even touched her fingers once or twice.

Such a flirtation Abijah had never had before. He talked a great deal to. Ho told her where he came from, and who his father was, and that he wrote poetry. And she said that she loved poetry and would like to read some of his ; and then she told him that she was the only daughter and heiress of one of the richest men in New York.

It was actually so. An heiress had fallen in love with him—an heiress and a beauty. ' I should like to hear some of your verses very much,' repeated she ; ' but how could it be done ? You, of course, you never take things home ?" 'It isn't my department. There's a boy," said Abijah; ' but I shall consider it a privilege to fetch home your goods." 'Then I'll be home this evening," said the young lady. ' Bring the thing 3to No. street, before eight, and I'll pay for them then; that will give me an excuse for asking you into the parlor,' and she glided away with a smile. ' Just sold a lot of goods, uncle," said Abijah, as Uncle Bunkle re-entered the shop ; ' fifty dollars' worth.'

' Come, now, that's doing well,' said Uncle Bunekle. ' And they're to go homo this evening, c. o. D.,' said Abijah, ' and as Peter has a long way to go home, and there's nothing else to deliver, I'll take them under my arm myself for a little exercise.'

' Abijah,' said Uncle Bunkle, approvingly, ' you'll make a business man yet. Never be ashamed of the shop and never get lazy. Come to tea.'

The two went to their meal in the back room behind the shop, where Abijah swallowed his tea at a gulph, scalded his throat with it, choked himself with his toast, and rushed up stairs to dress himself.

In afe vv minutes more ho might have been seen dressed in the best he possessed, tugging an enormous bundle down the street.

' Hallo, Bill,' cried his friend, the druggist's clerk, at the corner. ' Nunky set you to doing errands at last, eh ?' But Abijah did not mind. He had all his poems in his vest pocket.

He was soaked in perspiration when he reached No. street. But lie was happy when the servant who opened the door told him that Miss Smith was at home, and added :

' If you are the young man from the store, she said you were to come in, please.' And as he sat in the little fusty parlor, smelling of dust and a past ' boiled dinner,' he did not think that the place w r as rather shabby for the habitation of ' one of the. wealthiest men in New York,' though ar jV one else would have done so.

Finally, Miss Smith came trippir,™ in with her pocketbook. 'You find me residing for a time, with an old nurse, a most worthy person,' sa id she. ' It's not what I'm used to, but it's a help to the poor soul: and so—but you don't care for that. Where ai* e your lovely poems? Do sit down and read them.' And Abijah, trembling wit_ joy, deposited the bundle on a table, to ok his parcel of paper from his bosom, aad. began to read his « Ode to the Moor..' When he was through, she said it was 'lovely ;' then he gave her his ' Sonnet to the Stars,' and she called that 'charming;' then, with some clearing of the throat, he rendered, somewhat dramatically, a longer poem, in which the poet—evidently himself—died of love at the feet of his fair lady. When he had finished, her handkerchief was over her face, and she said: <It was so silly of her to cry ; but that was so touching !' Abijah was almost wild with joy Suddenly the door-bell rang. 'Gracious!' cried Miss Smith, 'that's P a - *V ! , Kj '■ He's so stern, co cruel. Go out the basement way.' She passed Abijah down a precarious set ot steps and out into the street. As he lurked in the shadow of the porch he heard a gruff voice say something, and trembled and slunk down the street. Suddenly ifc occurred to him that he had not been paid for the goods. Ho hurried back and ascended the steps. A great fear of his uncle was upon him. He rang the bell, surely, no one could object to an honest tradesman asking for a lawful bill. No ono answered his ring, biib a head was softly thrust from an upper window after a little while.

Go away now,' said ' Migs gmith Bof fcly> Come to-morrow. Q _ afc __\ % Meanwhile,! th ni-l t ell lnm all. Go, He s loading - . , , , p ~• "sighed Abijah, and went his

But morning brought sober thoughts to Abijah. He entered his uncle's presence with fear and trembling, and he could not tell the truth about last night's work, but he was obliged to say that lie had been told to call again for the money.

' Hand you left the goods ?' cried Uncle Bunkle.

' Why, of course. I felt as if I might be insulting a good customer,' said the wily Abijah. ' It's a very rich lady, uncle.' ' I only 'ope it's right; but hairy 'ow you did wrong,' said Uncle Bunkle. 'Go now and get the money.' ' Oli, it's all right ?' cried Abijah. He rushed away, longing for a glimpse of the golden curls, tho shaded eyes, the scarlet lips.

When he rang the boll of the shabby house lie trembled. Would she open tho door ?

Instead an elderly woman, with her sleeves tucked up, stood before him. 'Miss Smith ?' lie began.

' Went away at six this morning,' said the woman; ' and good riddance of bad rubbish, jf you are the young man witli the bundle tlint came last, night, I suppose you've after money. A lot more has been. She's took 'cm all in. I didn't know anything of her. I let rooms to her and her pa, us she ctdls him. The rooms was to let, and I needed money.'

'Then you're not her old nurse?'cried Abijah. 'Her old fiddlestick?' screamed the matron. 'If I W as her nurse, I'd hcv washed that white and rod off her face and them black lines out of her eyes. A painted ml lor. No; you've been taken in, young man.'

Abijah returned to Uncle Burilde, disconsolate, and Uncle Uunklo made bini yet more miserable by fending him back to his father.

'You may hare sense enough tiweccl turnips,'said he; 'but Invent any'opes of you in the dry goods line,'