Ole Bill Hardy... Ole Bill Hardy
Ole Bill Hardy
Cal’lateI never seed the likes of Ole Bill Hardy. Yep—he was a humdinger alrite. Thar were a heap of shrewd peddlers ’round about in my day, young feller, and b’lieve me, they were the cagiest bunch of fellers y’ ever see. Y’ had ter watch yer step when y’ were bargainin’ withum, yesseree sir, else ye’d find yerself holdin’ the shy end of the stick. But the feller that uster drive the sharpest dickers was Ole Bill Hardy. ’Twa’nt many wimmin, or men folks either, ’round here that hadn’t been spliced at one time or nuther by Ole Bill.
I ’member one time in partic’lar—happened right here in the village, it did. ’Twas quite a spell ago, when you were no more than a twinkle in the divil’s eye. Wal, seems the folks ’round here were gittin’some purty high flyin’ idees. Th’ town had a hearse—and a durn good one too—that’d bin used for buryin’s for near thuty years. And some uv these folks begun t’ think that mebbee the old mariah ’twa’nt quite toney enuff for ’em, so they sashayed over to town meetin’ and voted to buy a new one.
One day Ole Bill was a’ drivin’ by the old hearse house. Fust S’lectman Bijah Gibbs was loafin’ round the doorway and spied Bill a’comin’. Thought he’d see ifen he could get Ole Bill’s goat. He hollered out, “Say thar, Bill, what’ll y’ give us fer the old hearse?” But Bill didn’t bite. He jest looked Bijah rite in th’ eye and said, “Wal, I dunno. Don’t seem rightly that yer ought ter sell the mariah. Some folks in town ain’t even had a chanct ter ride in it yit. But if ye be of a mind ter sell it, dunnor ifen I might give five dollars fer it.” And sure nuff, Bill bought the old hearse, hitched it onter hind end of his wagon and druv off.
He wuz drivin’ along, proud as yer please, when he passed Miz Tizra Small. Miz Small was alus collectin’ and buyin’ old stuff—antiques, she called ’em. Ole Bill pulled up near her and hollers, “Here’s nuther antique for ye, Miz Small.” Miz Small didn’t think much of the hearse hitched onto the hind end of his wagon. She wuz mad as a wet hen. “Shet up, you old fool,” she says, and sallied off down the street. Bill jest kinda chuckled.
Wal the next thing y’ know, Ole Bill was using the old hearse for a peddler cart, and the women folk were so scandalized they got up a meetin’ to complain about it. Seems they thought it kinda improper that the hearse thetud carried their mothers and fathers to the grave was bein’ used to cart old brooms and tinware.So they raised twenty-five dollars and bought it back from Ole Bill. He didn’t care a mite. He’d made twenty dollars. The old hearse was put back in the hearse house, and stayed there ’til it rotted apart.
’Member nuther time too. Evryone knew Ole Bill would sell anythin’. One day he was drivin’ along and met two young scalawags who thought they’d have a bit o’ fun with him. They up an’ asked him what he’d take for the pants he was wearin’. “Two dollars,” says Bill, ’thout winkin’ an eyelash. And durned if he didn’t peel ’em right off and hand ’em over to the two young fellers, who were kinda taken back, I can tell ye. “Geeyap,” says Bill, and off he druv down the road, all wrapped up in an ole hoss blanket.
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