When Abner reached the house he was surprised at the commotion which was taking place in the dooryard. A big truck was standing there, loaded with provisions. It had just arrived and the driver was asking Mrs. Andrews where he should put the stuff. The latter was somewhat bewildered, and was trying to make the man understand that there must have been some mistake, and that the goods could not be intended for them."But it's all marked for Abner Andrews, of Ash Point," the man insisted. "There's no mistake about that. I've brought it, and here it's going to stay.""Very well, then," Mrs. Andrews replied. "Here comes my husband, and you can talk with him."Abner was greatly astonished at the truck-load of goods and questioned the driver most closely. He could only learn, however, that the supplies had been sent from Dill & McBain, leading grocers of Glucom, and that was all he knew about it."It's for you, though, Mr. Andrews," the driver insisted. "I'm certain. I have made no mistake. Mr. Dill himself looked after the stuff, which is unusual for him, and he warned me not to leave it anywhere else.""It sartinly is queer," and Abner scratched his head in perplexity. "Can't imagine where it all came from. Howsomever, here it is, an' so ye might as well dump it off, while I stow it away. Plenty of room's about the only thing which we have about this place at present."As the driver unloaded the goods Abner stored them away in the woodhouse adjoining the room fitted up for the children. There were several barrels of flour, sides of ham, slabs of bacon, sugar, rice, and boxes filled with all kinds of things.When they were at last stored away and the driver had departed, Abner and his wife stood looking at the articles with a puzzled expression upon their faces."Well, I'll be blessed if I kin understand this!" Abner exclaimed. "Where de ye s'pose them things have come from?""They came from town, all right," Mrs. Andrews replied. "But I'd like to know who sent them. Maybe you'll get a bill later, Abner. You haven't been doing any more of your crazy actions, have you? Are you sure you didn't order these things, thinking you were old man Astor, or some other rich ancestor?""Should say not. I don't know no more about 'em than you do, Tildy. It may have been one of me wealthy ancestors, though," he mused. "Ye kin never tell what them spirits are goin' to do next.""H'm, I guess the spirits who sent all those things are flesh and blood like ourselves, and know how badly off we are. But here comes Belle. She may know something about them."Belle was alone, and Jess and Royden were nowhere to be seen. She was delighted when she saw the provisions, and her eyes danced."Oh, I am so glad they have come," she exclaimed. "You won't have to worry any more now, will you?" and she turned to Abner."Worry! How did you know we was worryin'?" Abner asked in amazement."Oh, I know a thing or two," and the girl smiled. "I am not altogether blind, even though I am a little giddy at times.""An' de ye know where them things came from?""I have a fairly good idea,""Ye have!""Why, yes," and again Belle smiled at Abner's astonishment. "I think my father sent them.""He did! Ye'r father! How in blazes did he know how we was fixed?""I write to him, don't I? It was only natural that I should tell him about the boys we have here, and how the people of Glucom acted about that Orphans' Home, wasn't it?""Sure, sure. An' ye'r dad didn't send them things out of charity, did he?""Charity to the children, of course," was Belle's evasive reply. "He knows how greatly interested I am in the boys, and he sent those things merely to help along the work. My father is fond of doing such things and he wouldn't like it one bit if he knew that I have told on him. If you want to save me from a big scolding don't say anything to him about it. I shall write at once and tell him that they have arrived, and so that will be enough. Now, you must both promise me that you won't say anything to my father about what he has done. You will, won't you?"As neither Abner nor Mrs. Andrews made any reply, Belle looked keenly into their faces, thinking that perhaps they were offended. Great was her surprise to see tears stealing slowly down Mrs. Andrews' cheeks. She brushed them hurriedly away, but not before Belle had seen her emotion."Oh, Mrs. Andrews, I didn't mean to offend you," Belle explained. "I'm afraid I have hurt your feelings. I thought you would understand. I am so sorry."In reply, Mrs. Andrews threw her arms about the girl's neck, and began to weep, a most unusual thing for her."You dear good girl," she sobbed. "You have not offended us. But I am completely overcome by your kindness."Abner turned his face away and softly hummed, "When Bill Larkins made his money." Belle touched him gently on the arm."Are you offended, Mr. Andrews?" she asked.Abner swung suddenly around, and there was a mistiness in his eyes."Offended!" he repeated. "I'm not offended one bit, but I have a queer, creepy feelin', which I haven't had since the first time I saw Jess, when she was put in me arms as a tiny little mite. Why, I nearly blubbered right out, an' me a big strong man at that! Jist think of it!""I am so glad that you're not offended," Belle replied. "And if you feel as you say you do, then everything is all right.""Why, I couldn't help feelin' any other way. Guess them peaceful spirits of mine must be hoverin' round by the appearance of things. Billy didn't think so, though, this afternoon, did he?""Oh, I forgot all about that man," and Belle looked around, as if she expected to see him."He couldn't have made much impression on ye, eh?" and Abner's eyes twinkled. "He's got it bad, Billy has; but I guess he won't commit suicide yit awhile.""Where did he go to, anyway?" Belle asked. "He didn't come to the house, did he?""Should say not. I had a quiet little interview with him down on the shore. I had a heart to heart talk with him; told him that he was in danger of injurin' the morals of the kids, an' that 'distance lends enchantment,' as old Parson Shaw uster to say.""Was he willing to go?""Willin'! Well, he wasn't overly anxious at first, but he soon changed his mind, let me tell ye that. When he saw that me warlike ancestors were gittin' busy, an' that they were inspirin' me, he more'n took the hint, an' lit out. Ye won't have no more bother with him, Belle. If ye do, jist let me know; that's all ye have to do.""Thank you, Mr. Andrews," was the reply. "I don't want to see him again. He gives me a creepy feeling, very different from yours, though."At that moment Jess and Royden appeared, looking very happy and animated. They had enjoyed the afternoon and evening, and Billy's troubles did not in the least mar their pleasure.CHAPTER XXVLAFFIN'-GAS"Hello, Lost Tribes!" Abner accosted. "What's the matter? Not sick, are ye?""Do I look sick?" Zebedee asked, as he took his pipe from his mouth, and glared at his neighbor."Well, I can't altogether say that ye have the appearance of dyin'," Abner replied, as he sat down by Zeb's side on the workshop steps. "But ye don't look as spry as a skippin' lamb, an' ye'r face ain't as bright as a shiny mug. What's wrong?""Nuthin'.""H'm, so that's it, eh? It's no wonder ye look glum. Nuthin' wrong! Everythin' runnin' as smooth as molasses in summer time. That's sartinly too bad. Nuthin wrong! What's the nuthin', Zeb?""You," was the unexpected reply."Me!" Abner exclaimed in astonishment."Sure. You're the nuthin', an' it's you that's wrong.""Thanks fer the compliment, Zeb. 'Tisn't every day I git handed one so free an' easy like. What's started ye? Wife cranky, or is it indigestion ye've got?"Zebedee did not deign to reply for a few minutes, but pulled steadily at his pipe, and gazed out over the fields."Say, Abner," he at length began, "what's the meanin' of ye'r actions, anyway?""Actions! What actions?""Why, you ought to know. How many customers de ye expect to have?""Customers!""Sure. Haven't ye started store-keepin'? Didn't I see a big truck at ye'r back door last night, loaded with enough goods to keep a lumber camp fer a month?""Oh, I see," and Abner's eyes twinkled with amusement as light began to dawn upon his mind. "Why shouldn't I start store-keepin'?""Why? Simply because ye would ruin ye'rself in a few weeks.""I would, eh?""Certainly. Where would ye git the customers, I'd like to know?""They'd flock from all parts, of course. Half of Glucom 'ud be here in no time.""H'm," Zeb sniffed in disgust. "Ye'r mistaken there, Abner. It wouldn't work.""What'll ye bet?""I won't bet. It wouldn't be fair.""That's not it, Zeb. Ye wouldn't dare to bet, fer ye know ye'd lose.""Quit ye'r foolin', Abner, an' let's git down to business. Are ye goin' crazy, man, to start store-keepin' in a place like this? Ye can't afford to do sich a thing. If ye have any money to throw away ye'd better keep it fer that trial of yours.""But I need money, Zeb, an' if I can't git it one way I'll have to try another.""Well, leave store-keepin' alone.""I intend to.""Ye do?""Sure. Never thought of it till ye put the notion into me head. It might be a good scheme, though.""Well, what's all that stuff at your place fer, then?""Oh, that's a gift. Belle's dad sent it fer the kids.""He did!" Zeb's eyes opened wide in amazement.Abner smiled. He was enjoying himself immensely now."It shook ye'r timbers, did it?" he queried. "Thought I was goin' store-keepin'. No, I don't intend to start that at present. I've somethin' else on me mind.""Ye have? Some more fool-nonsense, I s'pose.""No, this is the real thing, first class an' up to date. I'm goin' to make money hand-over-fist. Listen to this."Fumbling in his vest pocket, Abner brought forth a newspaper clipping and unfolded it with great care."I cut it fromThe Family Herald an' Weekly Star," he explained. "Read it last night, an' I've been laffin' ever since. Say, it's a great idea, an' struck me all at once, like that ram did Tom Bentley. Ye ought to readThe Herald, Zeb. It tells ye most everything an' what it doesn't tell isn't worth knowin'.""Well, fer pity sakes what is it, Abner?""Oh, haven't I told ye? Why, I thought I had. Here it is, then. It tells about an old feller who lived thousands of years ago, though I can't make out his name. It's a funny one, an' I never heard of that ancestor of mine before. Kin ye give it the right twist, Zeb?""Spell it, Abner. My eyes ain't good, an' me glasses are in the house.""It's the darndest word I ever sot me eyes on. It goes this way: D-i-o, now that spells Dio. The next is g-e-n; that's gen, all right. The last two letters are e-s, and the hull bunch put together gives us D-i-o-g-e-n-e-s, Dio-genes. Ain't that a whopper, though? I dare say Jess knows the hang of it, but blamed if I do.""Tut, man, I've heard of that feller before. It's pronounced Diogenes," Zeb explained. "Ye'r not so smart after all, are ye, even though ye do readThe Family Herald. But what are ye drivin' at, Abner?""He's one of me ancestors, ye see, an' it's nice to know the hang of his name. It's a great one, isn't it? Diogenes! Gee! that sounds high class.""Ancestors be hanged! What good are sich ancient critters, I'd like to know?""Look here, Zeb," and Abner looked thoughtfully at his neighbor. "Haven't I been inspired by me ancestors all me life? First the warlike ones overshaddered me, an' then the peaceful spirits hovered round. Now, ain't that so?""Wouldn't be surprised at anythin'," Zeb agreed. "Ye seem to have sich a dang lot of ancestors that I don't know which ones ye'r goin' to follow next.""I sartinly have, Zeb. That's the time ye hit the nail on the head. I try out one bunch, an' when I git tired of them I shift to another. That's why I'm keen on that old feller, what's his name?""Diogenes?""Yes, that's him, though I guess you'd better do the pronouncin'. It doesn't seem to come handy to me, nohow. Well, I'm much interested in that old feller I've been laffin', as I told ye, ever since I read that piece inThe Family Herald.""What did he do that was so funny, Abner?""Do! He set the hull world laffin' to split its sides, that's what he did.""In what way? Fer pity sakes, git on with ye'r yarn.""Yes, he sartinly did funny things. He lived in a tub, jist think of that. How would you like to have a tub fer a house, Zeb? Wouldn't it be great! There'd be no house-cleanin' days, an' no carpets to beat, an' sich unnecessary things to attend to.""What did he do in the tub?" Zeb inquired, now becoming much interested."What did he clo? Why, he made the hull world laff, of course. Wasn't that enough?""But how did he do it, Abner? I don't see anythin' so funny about that. Anybody could set in a tub, couldn't they?""Sure. But, ye see, that old feller lived in the tub, ate his meals in it, an' slept there. When folks came to see him he showed 'em his house, kitchen, dinin'-room, parlor an' bedroom, all in one. After they was shown around, so to speak, they nearly all died laffin'. Ye see, they thought he was luney. Then when they stopped laffin' long enough, he up an' says, 'Now jist look at all the things I do not need. It doesn't take much to keep a man goin', does it?' That's what he says.""I s'pose they thought he was crazy, Abner?""Not a bit of it after that. They had more sense. They called him a philosopher, or some sich name, an they all flocked to see him an' to hear his wisdom.""They did!""Sure. They came in crowds, an' though they laffed an' laffed at the queer old feller, they paid attention to what he said. Even the king came to see him.""Ye don't tell!""Yes, Alexander the Great, they called him. He came too, an' he asked the old feller if he could do anythin' fer him. An' what de ye s'pose me ancient ancestor said?""I couldn't guess.""Sure, ye couldn't, an' no one else. Now, you or me, Zeb, would have asked fer a hull lot of things if the King of England came by an' wanted to do somethin' fer us. We would ask him fer some soft government persition, wouldn't we?""Most likely we would.""But that old feller didn't ask fer no sich things. He looked at the king, squinted his eyes a little, an' says he, 'Yes, Alec, ye kin do me a great favor.'""'An' what is it?' says the king, soft an' pleasant like, expectin' to be asked fer somethin' great.""'Ye kin jist stand from between me an' th' sun,' says the old feller. 'Ye'r hidin' the light, an' I feel chilly.' That's what he says to the king.""And wasn't the king hoppin' mad?" Zeb asked."Mad! Not a bit of it. He grinned, an' went away. I bet ye'r boots he told his wife about it, an' they both had a good laff, the first they'd had, I reckon, fer a long time. Ye see, it did 'em good. That's what they needed to cheer 'em up. An' look here, Zeb, that's what people need to-day. If they'd laff more they'd feel a darned sight better, let me tell ye that. You'd feel better ye'rself, Zeb.""I feel better, already, Abner," was the reply. "I'm jist holdin' me sides to keep from splittin', ye'r story was so funny.""H'm, I guess if ye saw an' heard me when I was real funny ye'd be tied up in a knot in no time. If the spirits of me humorous ancestors got busy there'd be somethin' doin' worth while. An' they're really needed. It 'ud do people a world of good if they could be affected jist fer a day by them wonderful spirits.""What are ye talkin' about, anyway, Abner? What could the spirits of ye'r ancestors do?""Do? Why, they could cure all kinds of diseases, an make people well an' strong.""Fiddlesticks! Ye'r talkin' nonsense, Abner. How could they do sich things?""With laffin'-gas, that's how.""Laffin'-gas?""Sure. Ye see, people don't laff enough. They go round with faces as long as Miss Julie Tomkins' tongue an' that's some length, skiddy-me-shins if it ain't. Most of the folks ye meet now-a-days look as if they was about dyin', or had lost their best friends. They need to be stimulated by a good laff once in a while. It 'ud help their digesters an' make life more pleasant.""An' so ye think ye'r ancestors could make people laff, do ye?" Zeb enquired."Sartin! They'll work through me, an' I feel 'em gittin' busy jist now. They've given me the power, an' I'm ready to try it upon anybody. Anythin' wrong with you, Zeb? Tooth-ache, stummick-ache, heart-ache, boils, or any dang thing ye might mention. I'm a specialist on all.""Good Lord, no!" Zeb exclaimed. "I know enough of ye'r spirit-movin' business, Abner. Try it on someone else, but I warn ye to leave me alone unless ye want an ache that all ye'r spirits combined couldn't cure.""There now, don't git cranky an' sassy, Zeb. It was only fer ye'r welfare that I offered me services. But if ye won't accept 'em then I'll have to try it on others.""An' de ye think people would come to be treated by you?""Why not? They want to be cured, don't they?""I s'pose they do, most of 'em at any rate. But they prefer to go to someone who knows what he's talkin' about.""An' de ye think I don't know? De ye imagine I'm jist spoutin' to hear meself?""I wouldn't like to say that, Abner. But people wouldn't come to you. They'd laff at you an' call ye a fool.""Let 'em call me whatever they like, Zeb. But they'd laff, an' that's jist what they need, as I told ye.""H'm, I don't doubt about their laffin', providin' they'd come. They couldn't help splittin' their sides when they looked at ye.""An' so ye think they wouldn't come, eh?""I'm certain they wouldn't.""What'll ye bet?""Well, I wouldn't bet much with you, Abner, fer ye couldn't stand to lose anythin'.""But I'll not lose. Now see here, I'll bet ye a fig of terbaccer; how'll that do?""I'll take ye, Abner.""That's right, Zeb, fer I'm hard up fer a plug of terbaccer at this present minute. I'll borrow a little on account, if ye don't mind. Me pipe's gone out.""How de ye plan to start?" Zeb asked, as he handed over a part of a fig of T. & B."I'm thinkin' of puttin' an ad. inThe Live Wire," Abner replied, as he thoughtfully whittled off several liberal slices of tobacco. "Wish ye'd write it out fer me, Zeb. Ye'r good at sich things. Ye often write ads. about ye'r 'Society' pigs, don't ye?"Zeb pulled a note-book and pencil from his vest pocket and told his companion to go ahead."Go ahead ye'rself," Abner ordered. "Jist say that I'm a specialist on diseases, an' will treat anyone wot comes to me next Saturday evenin' after supper. That's the grain an' you know how to grind it up."After much thought and head scratching Zeb managed to write out an advertisement which he thought would do. Then he read it aloud:DISEASE SPECIALIST"Abner Andrews, of Ash Point, has a new remedy for all kinds of diseases. For the sum of twenty-five cents he will treat all who come to him. Office Hours, Saturday afternoon, from 6 o'clock to midnight.""There, how does that suit ye?" Zeb asked, when he had finished reading."It's a master-piece, all right," Abner replied. "But haven't ye made the fee rather low?""Guess it's enough fer the first time. If ye find ye'r rushed ye kin put up the price.""Sure. Anyway, I'll make up in numbers, all right. Better have that terbaccer ready, Zeb, for I'll want it to soothe me nerves when I git through with the gang.""Seems to me ye'r partly paid already, Abner. Ye've pocketed the plug I jist let ye have.""Well, I declare! Good job ye reminded me, Zeb," and Abner chuckled as he handed back his neighbor's property."I feel so sure of winnin' the bet that I thought I owned that plug. Now ye mention office hours in that ad. Where am I to git an office?""In ye'r own house, of course. That's the right place.""H'm, I s'pose it is. But, ye see, I'm afraid Tildy an' the gals might object to havin' a crowd around. Let me have this place, will ye, Zeb?""My workshop!""Sure. Ye kin sweep it up a bit, an' it'll do fine. Ye won't be usin' it Saturday night, will ye?""Seems to me, Abner, ye'r gittin' me too much into this affair. I don't want people to think that I've lost me senses, even if you have. But ye'r welcome to the place fer all the good it'll do ye.""Thank ye, Zeb. An' ye'll be sure an' send that ad. toThe Wire, won't ye? I'm hard up fer cash jist now. I'll pay ye out of what I make. We'll be pardners, ye see."Zeb looked at his neighbor in astonishment."Well, if you haven't enough gall to start a vinegar factory then I'll be jiggered," he exclaimed. "Pardners, eh? An' I'm to run the hull durned shootin'-match!""Don't worry, Zeb," Abner replied, as he rase to his feet. "I'll do all the shootin' that's necessary. But, there, I must git home to dinner. Then I'll have to look after me laffin'-gas. S'long, Zeb, an' don't fergit that ad. Ten cents a line, remember, an' twenty cents fer a header."CHAPTER XXVIHEART TROUBLEWhen the advertisement appeared inThe Live Wirethe next day it did not attract much attention. People who read it laughed, called Abner a fool, and then forgot all about it. Most likely it would have ended at that if the assistant editor of the paper had not seized upon it for a special editorial the following morning. He was anxious to hit back at the man who had produced such havoc in the office and given him so much extra work to do. Since the editor in chief had been unable to attend to his duties he had been called upon to do the work of two men, and this was all due to Abner Andrews, who was now posing as a specialist on all kinds of diseases.The article was a scathing one under the caption of"A FOOL AND HIS TRICKS."It ridiculed the idea of a man like Abner Andrews setting himself up as a specialist, and warned people to beware of his wiles. The advertisement proved most conclusively that the man was either a fool or a deep-dyed villain. He was a fool to make such a pretence at healing all kinds of diseases. If not a fool, he was pretending to be one. The article then told of the serious charge which was hanging over the farmer, and this advertisement of his might be a ruse to make people think that he was not responsible for his actions, and thus act as a blind to his real villainous character. It closed with a second warning to all, and strongly suggested that the law should step in and prohibit the man from such actions.This article aroused people much more than the advertisement, and the talk was most general around town about this peculiar farmer. People became curious to go to Ash Point to see for themselves what the "specialist" would do and say, and to learn more about his methods of healing. The interest increased on Friday, especially among certain young men, who saw in Abner an object for considerable sport. Even staid business men, knowing something about Abner's odd ways, smiled to themselves, or discussed the matter with one another. They, too, longed for a little excitement, and when they mentioned it to their wives they found a ready response. Thus a number of the leading citizens of Glucom planned a trip to Ash Point Saturday evening. Of course they would not visit the man, but merely drive by, or stop and listen to what he had to say. It would be great fun, so they imagined.It was Lawyer Rackshaw, however, who saw most in the advertisement. Here was a chance to get more than even with the man he hated. He was so elated that he invited Hen Whittles into his office Friday night, upon the special promise that there would be no more rats present. They drank, played cards, and discussed Abner Andrews."That man is crazy," Hen declared."Not crazy, but a fool," was the emphatic reply. "Only a fool would do what he has done, and to cap it all, to put such an ad. as that in the paper! But it's just what I need. My, it gives me a fine opening to get even with him.""In what way?" Hen asked.Rackshaw smiled as he threw down an ace, and then helped himself to another drink."Oh, I've a plan," he at length replied. "I'll fix that old fool this time, all right. He'll get patients he's not looking for.""But do you think people will go to be treated?" Hen asked."Go? Sure, they'll go. Why, it's the talk of the town, as you must know.""But, will sick people go?""Sure. I've been talking to several already, and they're so sick they can hardly get along. Ho, ho!" and Rackshaw leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily."Where's the joke?" Hen was becoming impatient now. "You seem to have something funny up your sleeve.""I have. Listen.""By Jove!" Hen exclaimed, when Rackshaw had explained his purpose. "That's a good one, all right. You're a wonder, for sure. I'd never have thought of that. Ha, ha, the old cuss will get more'n he bargains for if I'm not mistaken. But you must be careful though. Remember the rats.""There'll be no come-back this time, mind you," was the decided reply. "I hold the trump cards in this game, so don't worry."Zeb read the scathing editorial in the paper and smiled. He showed it to Abner and asked him what he thought of it."It's jist what I wanted," was the enthusiastic reply. "Jist what ye wanted!" Zeb exclaimed. "How de ye make that out?""Don't ye know? Haven't ye enough sense left to see wot that article will do? Why, it'll bring a hull crowd here Saturday night quicker'n anythin' else.""H'm, so that's the way ye look at it, eh? But don't be too sure, Abner.""Never ye mind about that, Zeb. I wish I was as sartin of goin' to heaven as I am of that gang comin'.""Got ye'r tub all ready?" Zeb bantered. "An' what about ye'r laffin'-gas? Ye mustn't fergit that.""An' 'ye'r brains,' why don't ye say? Yes, every dang thing's in shape, even me old shot-gun.""De ye expect to have to use that?""One kin never tell. This dodge of mine is somethin' out of the ordinary, an' the crowd might git a bit unruly. It's jist as well to be on the safe side.""Seems to me, Abner, the safest side fer you to-morrow night will be the other side of sun-down. I wish to goodness ye hadn't started this thing.""Keep ye'r shirt on, Zeb, an' don't worry. But, there, I must git home an' see how me laffin'-gas is comin' along."Saturday evening was bright and warm. Not a breath of wind was astir, and the river was like one huge mirror. But the people who came to Ash Point from Glucom were not thinking of such things. They were more concerned about seeing Abner Andrews and his method of healing than all the beautiful things of Nature. Had they been with Moses when he was tending the sheep, they would have been much more interested in watching two rams fighting than in studying the burning bush and heeding its divine message.Abner was in the workshop, and Zeb was out on the road as director of ceremonies, or "office-boy" as Abner termed him, when the vanguard arrived. There were waggons and autos which went slowly by and then returned later. The occupants craned their necks in their efforts to see something out of the ordinary. Several made enquiries of Zeb, and when the latter pointed to the workshop, they laughed and went on their way.This looked at first as if all intended to do the same, and Zeb chuckled as he thought of Abner's disappointment, and the fig of tobacco he would have to hand over.At length, however, an auto, containing four young men and women, sped up the road and stopped near Zeb."Where is the specialist?" the driver laughingly enquired."Eight over there," and Zeb pointed to the workshop. "Go in that door.""Queer office, that," was the reply. "A new stunt, eh?"There was much laughing and joking as they moved away, and Zeb watched them with keen interest.Abner was waiting to receive his patients, and had with much difficulty twisted his long legs into the tub by the time the visitors were at the door. By his side on the work-bench he had a number of ginger-beer bottles, all tightly corked. His face was wreathed with his most engaging smile as he motioned the young people to sit down."Glad to see yez," he told them, when they were at length seated upon the chairs Zeb had brought from his house. "Now what kin I do fer yez?""We're very sick," the driver explained, "and seeing your ad. in the paper, we've come to you for help."With considerable difficulty his companions kept from laughing outright, and this Abner noted. But he pretended to be deeply concerned, and studied the four most critically."Yez sartinly do look sick," he agreed, "an' it's lucky that yez have come this evenin'. Now, what seems to be the matter, an' where is the trouble?""Eight here," and the spokesman placed his hand upon his heart in a most solemn manner."H'm, heart trouble, eh? Well, that's serious. Are yez all affected the same way?""Yes, all of us. We can't work or do anything, the attacks are so bad."The young women were forced to turn away their heads at these words, while one stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth to keep from laughing outright."My, my!" and Abner thoughtfully stroked his chin. "But look here, young gal, it'll be ye'r stummick that'll be troublin' ye instid of ye'r heart if ye swaller that handkerchief. I can't do nuthin' with that kind of trouble."The girl's face grew scarlet as she hurriedly withdrew her handkerchief, while her companions laughed heartily."Laff all yez like," Abner encouraged. "That's part of me cure. It's jist what yez need.""But is that all you have to say about our real trouble?" the spokesman demanded."Well, now, first of all I want the fees. Twenty-five cents fer each; that'll make a dollar. Thank yez. That's better," he continued, as he slipped the hill into his pocket, "I kin now prescribe fer yez. But, remember, yez must follow the directions I give yez, or else yez'll git a dang sight worse than yez are at present.""Fire ahead," was the reply. "We're all willing to do as you say.""That's good. I allus like obedient patients. Now, the first thing I want yez to do is to go an' git two licences. Ye'll have to pay five dollars apiece fer 'em. The Government's more expensive than I am."The young women now became visibly embarrassed, and wished that they had not come."The next thing yez must do," Abner went on, "is to go an' see some parson. Ye'll have to pay him, too, remember. But as fer curin' heart trouble any parson kin do it quicker'n anything yez ever saw. I had it afore I married Tildy, an' a bad attack it was. But after old Parson Shaw had hitched us together with that double an' twisted knot of his, I've never had a touch of heart trouble since. It sartinly did work wonders with me."The consternation upon the faces of the patients was most amusing to Abner. He liked the way the girls blushed, and the young men turned red to the roots of their hair. He knew that they were merely out for fun and were getting more than they had expected."Don't go yit," he ordered, as he saw the young women move toward the door. "I haven't given yez the full prescription.""But suppose the parson doesn't cure our heart trouble, what then?" the second young man at length found courage to ask. "It might not work on everyone as it did on you.""Don't ye worry about that, young man," Abner replied. "The symptoms may hang on fer a while, but as soon as ye git several extra mouths to feed, ye'll find that all trouble will pass away. It did in my case, I know, an' I guess it'll be so with you."By this time the girls were at the door, blushing more furiously than ever. They were far from enjoying the interview, and longed to be outside. The young men were about to follow, when Abner hailed them."Say, ye've fergot somethin'. I've given yez the prescriptions, but I'd like fer yez to take somethin' with yez to use when yez set up house-keepin'." Here he reached up and lifted a bottle from off the work-bench. "Now this is the greatest stuff out," he explained. "Jist keep it handy in the pantry or on the kitchen shelf where ye'll know where to find it in a jiffy. On wash days or when things go crooked jist open this an' take a little whiff, an' it'll make yez all good natured in no time. If the baby gits cranky or gits wind on its little stummick, all yez need do is to give it a smell of that bottle, an' ye'll be surprised to see how soon it'll begin to—— But, good gracious! What's wrong with them gals? They've gone, blamed if they ain't!"They had all gone except the young man who had last spoken. He was angry, and expressed his opinion in no mild language. The young women had been insulted, so he said, and he called upon Abner to apologize."Apologize, eh?" was the reply. "What is there to apologize about? Yez came here in order to make fun of me, an' because I handed out wot was coinin' to yez I'm expected to apologize! Not on ye'r life, young man, an' ye kin jist tell them things to the one who sent yez.""How do you know that anyone sent us?" the young man evasively queried."H'm, I'm not altogether a fool. I've a little brains left yit. Come now, on y'er word of honor, didn't Lawyer Rackshaw put yez up to this job?"Abner smiled as the young man made no reply. He was certain now that his surmise had been correct, and he was satisfied."That'll do. Ye may go. Ye needn't answer if ye don't want to. But remember the prescriptions, an' also yours truly, Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint."The young man looked as if he would like to do more than express his feelings in words. But Abner seemed exceptionally big just then, as he lifted himself out of the tub and stood before him. He decided that retreat was the better part of valor, so in no enviable frame of mind he joined his companions who were waiting for him in the car. In a few seconds they were hurrying down the road, a defeated and angry quartet.They had not gone far, however, when they met a truck filled with a number of reckless young men. They stopped, and in a few words aired their grievances. Shouts of laughter and cheers came from the new-comers."Well fix the old fellow," they shouted, as they hurried on. "Leave him to us."Abner saw them coming, and hearing the noise they were making, knew what to expect. Peering through the little window facing the road, he watched them as they approached. Then in an instant a regular bombardment of balls of mud, rotten eggs, and stones were hurled at the building. One stone crashed through the window and struck Abner a glancing blow above the eye. With yells of delight the crowd passed and then all was still.Abner's blood was now up. Seizing his shot-gun, he stood just within the door and waited. He saw Zeb coming toward him, and called to him to keep back."Let me handle the bunch," he shouted. "I'll fix 'em.""Be careful," was the reply. "Don't shoot. Here they come agin."As the car was almost opposite the workshop, and the youths were about to make another bombardment, Abner stepped quickly out of the building and ordered them to stop. As the driver hesitated for an instant, Abner threw his gun into position and threatened to shoot if he did not obey. This had the desired effect, and soon the car was motionless.The occupants were speechless, and their faces betrayed their complete consternation at this sudden turn of affairs. They dropped the eggs, mud, and stones they had ready to hurl, and stared at the man with the gun."Why don't yez go ahead?" Abner asked. "Now's ye'r chance. Tired of ye'r fun, eh? Well, then, jist hop out an' run that Tin-Lizzie into the yard here. Git a hustle on," he ordered, as the youths hesitated.Seeing that Abner meant business, the joy-riders scrambled out and stood in the road while the car was run into the yard."There, that's better," was Abner's comment, when this had been accomplished. "Now, yez kin hustle.""But what about the car?" the driver asked, as he alighted. "It doesn't belong to us. We hired it.""Yez did, eh? Well, then, it's safer here than with sich reckless kids. Scoot along now. I'll keep the car fer damages rendered to that buildin' an' to my dignity.""Damages!" the driver exclaimed. "Why, we were only having a little fun.""Is that so? Fun, was it? Well, ye'r fun'll cost ye jist five dollars apiece, an' not a cent less. I'm a specialist, ye see, on all kinds of diseases. You fellers are troubled with swelled heads an' want of brains, so five dollars out of y'er inside pockets will be the best cure that I kin recommend."By this time the joy-riders were very angry, and their language was far from Scriptural. They vowed that they wouldn't pay a cent, and that they would have Abner arrested for threatening to shoot them."Go ahead," Abner announced. "But before yez git ye'r Tin-Lizzie ye'll fork out that money. I'll give yez jist five minutes to make up ye'r minds. Come here, Zeb," he called. "I might want ye."The young men were now in a fix, and they discussed the matter in an excited manner."We haven't the money," they at length announced."All right, then, me hearties, I'll keep the car.""Will you take two dollars apiece?" Abner was asked."It's five or nuthin'," was the reply. "Hustle up there, fer time's most up."Finding that their captor was relentless, with many protests and threatening words the needed forty dollars were at length produced and handed forth."There, that's better," Abner chuckled, as he pocketed the money. "There's ye'r car, so take it an' git."Abner and Zeb stood and watched the crestfallen joyriders as they scrambled on board."Don't fer git to send in ye'r bill to ye'r lawyer," Abner called out, as the visitors sped away. He then turned to his companion."Where's that plug of T. & B, Zeb?" he asked. "I'm dyin' fer a smoke. Me nerves are pretty shaky."I don't believe ye have sich things as nerves," Zeb replied, as he pulled a fig of tobacco from his pocket. "How in the name of all creation kin ye do sich things??"Brains, gall, an' luck, that's how, with a little laffin'-gas thrown in. Ho, ho! But, say, there's Tildy an the gals!"
When Abner reached the house he was surprised at the commotion which was taking place in the dooryard. A big truck was standing there, loaded with provisions. It had just arrived and the driver was asking Mrs. Andrews where he should put the stuff. The latter was somewhat bewildered, and was trying to make the man understand that there must have been some mistake, and that the goods could not be intended for them.
"But it's all marked for Abner Andrews, of Ash Point," the man insisted. "There's no mistake about that. I've brought it, and here it's going to stay."
"Very well, then," Mrs. Andrews replied. "Here comes my husband, and you can talk with him."
Abner was greatly astonished at the truck-load of goods and questioned the driver most closely. He could only learn, however, that the supplies had been sent from Dill & McBain, leading grocers of Glucom, and that was all he knew about it.
"It's for you, though, Mr. Andrews," the driver insisted. "I'm certain. I have made no mistake. Mr. Dill himself looked after the stuff, which is unusual for him, and he warned me not to leave it anywhere else."
"It sartinly is queer," and Abner scratched his head in perplexity. "Can't imagine where it all came from. Howsomever, here it is, an' so ye might as well dump it off, while I stow it away. Plenty of room's about the only thing which we have about this place at present."
As the driver unloaded the goods Abner stored them away in the woodhouse adjoining the room fitted up for the children. There were several barrels of flour, sides of ham, slabs of bacon, sugar, rice, and boxes filled with all kinds of things.
When they were at last stored away and the driver had departed, Abner and his wife stood looking at the articles with a puzzled expression upon their faces.
"Well, I'll be blessed if I kin understand this!" Abner exclaimed. "Where de ye s'pose them things have come from?"
"They came from town, all right," Mrs. Andrews replied. "But I'd like to know who sent them. Maybe you'll get a bill later, Abner. You haven't been doing any more of your crazy actions, have you? Are you sure you didn't order these things, thinking you were old man Astor, or some other rich ancestor?"
"Should say not. I don't know no more about 'em than you do, Tildy. It may have been one of me wealthy ancestors, though," he mused. "Ye kin never tell what them spirits are goin' to do next."
"H'm, I guess the spirits who sent all those things are flesh and blood like ourselves, and know how badly off we are. But here comes Belle. She may know something about them."
Belle was alone, and Jess and Royden were nowhere to be seen. She was delighted when she saw the provisions, and her eyes danced.
"Oh, I am so glad they have come," she exclaimed. "You won't have to worry any more now, will you?" and she turned to Abner.
"Worry! How did you know we was worryin'?" Abner asked in amazement.
"Oh, I know a thing or two," and the girl smiled. "I am not altogether blind, even though I am a little giddy at times."
"An' de ye know where them things came from?"
"I have a fairly good idea,"
"Ye have!"
"Why, yes," and again Belle smiled at Abner's astonishment. "I think my father sent them."
"He did! Ye'r father! How in blazes did he know how we was fixed?"
"I write to him, don't I? It was only natural that I should tell him about the boys we have here, and how the people of Glucom acted about that Orphans' Home, wasn't it?"
"Sure, sure. An' ye'r dad didn't send them things out of charity, did he?"
"Charity to the children, of course," was Belle's evasive reply. "He knows how greatly interested I am in the boys, and he sent those things merely to help along the work. My father is fond of doing such things and he wouldn't like it one bit if he knew that I have told on him. If you want to save me from a big scolding don't say anything to him about it. I shall write at once and tell him that they have arrived, and so that will be enough. Now, you must both promise me that you won't say anything to my father about what he has done. You will, won't you?"
As neither Abner nor Mrs. Andrews made any reply, Belle looked keenly into their faces, thinking that perhaps they were offended. Great was her surprise to see tears stealing slowly down Mrs. Andrews' cheeks. She brushed them hurriedly away, but not before Belle had seen her emotion.
"Oh, Mrs. Andrews, I didn't mean to offend you," Belle explained. "I'm afraid I have hurt your feelings. I thought you would understand. I am so sorry."
In reply, Mrs. Andrews threw her arms about the girl's neck, and began to weep, a most unusual thing for her.
"You dear good girl," she sobbed. "You have not offended us. But I am completely overcome by your kindness."
Abner turned his face away and softly hummed, "When Bill Larkins made his money." Belle touched him gently on the arm.
"Are you offended, Mr. Andrews?" she asked.
Abner swung suddenly around, and there was a mistiness in his eyes.
"Offended!" he repeated. "I'm not offended one bit, but I have a queer, creepy feelin', which I haven't had since the first time I saw Jess, when she was put in me arms as a tiny little mite. Why, I nearly blubbered right out, an' me a big strong man at that! Jist think of it!"
"I am so glad that you're not offended," Belle replied. "And if you feel as you say you do, then everything is all right."
"Why, I couldn't help feelin' any other way. Guess them peaceful spirits of mine must be hoverin' round by the appearance of things. Billy didn't think so, though, this afternoon, did he?"
"Oh, I forgot all about that man," and Belle looked around, as if she expected to see him.
"He couldn't have made much impression on ye, eh?" and Abner's eyes twinkled. "He's got it bad, Billy has; but I guess he won't commit suicide yit awhile."
"Where did he go to, anyway?" Belle asked. "He didn't come to the house, did he?"
"Should say not. I had a quiet little interview with him down on the shore. I had a heart to heart talk with him; told him that he was in danger of injurin' the morals of the kids, an' that 'distance lends enchantment,' as old Parson Shaw uster to say."
"Was he willing to go?"
"Willin'! Well, he wasn't overly anxious at first, but he soon changed his mind, let me tell ye that. When he saw that me warlike ancestors were gittin' busy, an' that they were inspirin' me, he more'n took the hint, an' lit out. Ye won't have no more bother with him, Belle. If ye do, jist let me know; that's all ye have to do."
"Thank you, Mr. Andrews," was the reply. "I don't want to see him again. He gives me a creepy feeling, very different from yours, though."
At that moment Jess and Royden appeared, looking very happy and animated. They had enjoyed the afternoon and evening, and Billy's troubles did not in the least mar their pleasure.
CHAPTER XXV
LAFFIN'-GAS
"Hello, Lost Tribes!" Abner accosted. "What's the matter? Not sick, are ye?"
"Do I look sick?" Zebedee asked, as he took his pipe from his mouth, and glared at his neighbor.
"Well, I can't altogether say that ye have the appearance of dyin'," Abner replied, as he sat down by Zeb's side on the workshop steps. "But ye don't look as spry as a skippin' lamb, an' ye'r face ain't as bright as a shiny mug. What's wrong?"
"Nuthin'."
"H'm, so that's it, eh? It's no wonder ye look glum. Nuthin' wrong! Everythin' runnin' as smooth as molasses in summer time. That's sartinly too bad. Nuthin wrong! What's the nuthin', Zeb?"
"You," was the unexpected reply.
"Me!" Abner exclaimed in astonishment.
"Sure. You're the nuthin', an' it's you that's wrong."
"Thanks fer the compliment, Zeb. 'Tisn't every day I git handed one so free an' easy like. What's started ye? Wife cranky, or is it indigestion ye've got?"
Zebedee did not deign to reply for a few minutes, but pulled steadily at his pipe, and gazed out over the fields.
"Say, Abner," he at length began, "what's the meanin' of ye'r actions, anyway?"
"Actions! What actions?"
"Why, you ought to know. How many customers de ye expect to have?"
"Customers!"
"Sure. Haven't ye started store-keepin'? Didn't I see a big truck at ye'r back door last night, loaded with enough goods to keep a lumber camp fer a month?"
"Oh, I see," and Abner's eyes twinkled with amusement as light began to dawn upon his mind. "Why shouldn't I start store-keepin'?"
"Why? Simply because ye would ruin ye'rself in a few weeks."
"I would, eh?"
"Certainly. Where would ye git the customers, I'd like to know?"
"They'd flock from all parts, of course. Half of Glucom 'ud be here in no time."
"H'm," Zeb sniffed in disgust. "Ye'r mistaken there, Abner. It wouldn't work."
"What'll ye bet?"
"I won't bet. It wouldn't be fair."
"That's not it, Zeb. Ye wouldn't dare to bet, fer ye know ye'd lose."
"Quit ye'r foolin', Abner, an' let's git down to business. Are ye goin' crazy, man, to start store-keepin' in a place like this? Ye can't afford to do sich a thing. If ye have any money to throw away ye'd better keep it fer that trial of yours."
"But I need money, Zeb, an' if I can't git it one way I'll have to try another."
"Well, leave store-keepin' alone."
"I intend to."
"Ye do?"
"Sure. Never thought of it till ye put the notion into me head. It might be a good scheme, though."
"Well, what's all that stuff at your place fer, then?"
"Oh, that's a gift. Belle's dad sent it fer the kids."
"He did!" Zeb's eyes opened wide in amazement.
Abner smiled. He was enjoying himself immensely now.
"It shook ye'r timbers, did it?" he queried. "Thought I was goin' store-keepin'. No, I don't intend to start that at present. I've somethin' else on me mind."
"Ye have? Some more fool-nonsense, I s'pose."
"No, this is the real thing, first class an' up to date. I'm goin' to make money hand-over-fist. Listen to this."
Fumbling in his vest pocket, Abner brought forth a newspaper clipping and unfolded it with great care.
"I cut it fromThe Family Herald an' Weekly Star," he explained. "Read it last night, an' I've been laffin' ever since. Say, it's a great idea, an' struck me all at once, like that ram did Tom Bentley. Ye ought to readThe Herald, Zeb. It tells ye most everything an' what it doesn't tell isn't worth knowin'."
"Well, fer pity sakes what is it, Abner?"
"Oh, haven't I told ye? Why, I thought I had. Here it is, then. It tells about an old feller who lived thousands of years ago, though I can't make out his name. It's a funny one, an' I never heard of that ancestor of mine before. Kin ye give it the right twist, Zeb?"
"Spell it, Abner. My eyes ain't good, an' me glasses are in the house."
"It's the darndest word I ever sot me eyes on. It goes this way: D-i-o, now that spells Dio. The next is g-e-n; that's gen, all right. The last two letters are e-s, and the hull bunch put together gives us D-i-o-g-e-n-e-s, Dio-genes. Ain't that a whopper, though? I dare say Jess knows the hang of it, but blamed if I do."
"Tut, man, I've heard of that feller before. It's pronounced Diogenes," Zeb explained. "Ye'r not so smart after all, are ye, even though ye do readThe Family Herald. But what are ye drivin' at, Abner?"
"He's one of me ancestors, ye see, an' it's nice to know the hang of his name. It's a great one, isn't it? Diogenes! Gee! that sounds high class."
"Ancestors be hanged! What good are sich ancient critters, I'd like to know?"
"Look here, Zeb," and Abner looked thoughtfully at his neighbor. "Haven't I been inspired by me ancestors all me life? First the warlike ones overshaddered me, an' then the peaceful spirits hovered round. Now, ain't that so?"
"Wouldn't be surprised at anythin'," Zeb agreed. "Ye seem to have sich a dang lot of ancestors that I don't know which ones ye'r goin' to follow next."
"I sartinly have, Zeb. That's the time ye hit the nail on the head. I try out one bunch, an' when I git tired of them I shift to another. That's why I'm keen on that old feller, what's his name?"
"Diogenes?"
"Yes, that's him, though I guess you'd better do the pronouncin'. It doesn't seem to come handy to me, nohow. Well, I'm much interested in that old feller I've been laffin', as I told ye, ever since I read that piece inThe Family Herald."
"What did he do that was so funny, Abner?"
"Do! He set the hull world laffin' to split its sides, that's what he did."
"In what way? Fer pity sakes, git on with ye'r yarn."
"Yes, he sartinly did funny things. He lived in a tub, jist think of that. How would you like to have a tub fer a house, Zeb? Wouldn't it be great! There'd be no house-cleanin' days, an' no carpets to beat, an' sich unnecessary things to attend to."
"What did he do in the tub?" Zeb inquired, now becoming much interested.
"What did he clo? Why, he made the hull world laff, of course. Wasn't that enough?"
"But how did he do it, Abner? I don't see anythin' so funny about that. Anybody could set in a tub, couldn't they?"
"Sure. But, ye see, that old feller lived in the tub, ate his meals in it, an' slept there. When folks came to see him he showed 'em his house, kitchen, dinin'-room, parlor an' bedroom, all in one. After they was shown around, so to speak, they nearly all died laffin'. Ye see, they thought he was luney. Then when they stopped laffin' long enough, he up an' says, 'Now jist look at all the things I do not need. It doesn't take much to keep a man goin', does it?' That's what he says."
"I s'pose they thought he was crazy, Abner?"
"Not a bit of it after that. They had more sense. They called him a philosopher, or some sich name, an they all flocked to see him an' to hear his wisdom."
"They did!"
"Sure. They came in crowds, an' though they laffed an' laffed at the queer old feller, they paid attention to what he said. Even the king came to see him."
"Ye don't tell!"
"Yes, Alexander the Great, they called him. He came too, an' he asked the old feller if he could do anythin' fer him. An' what de ye s'pose me ancient ancestor said?"
"I couldn't guess."
"Sure, ye couldn't, an' no one else. Now, you or me, Zeb, would have asked fer a hull lot of things if the King of England came by an' wanted to do somethin' fer us. We would ask him fer some soft government persition, wouldn't we?"
"Most likely we would."
"But that old feller didn't ask fer no sich things. He looked at the king, squinted his eyes a little, an' says he, 'Yes, Alec, ye kin do me a great favor.'"
"'An' what is it?' says the king, soft an' pleasant like, expectin' to be asked fer somethin' great."
"'Ye kin jist stand from between me an' th' sun,' says the old feller. 'Ye'r hidin' the light, an' I feel chilly.' That's what he says to the king."
"And wasn't the king hoppin' mad?" Zeb asked.
"Mad! Not a bit of it. He grinned, an' went away. I bet ye'r boots he told his wife about it, an' they both had a good laff, the first they'd had, I reckon, fer a long time. Ye see, it did 'em good. That's what they needed to cheer 'em up. An' look here, Zeb, that's what people need to-day. If they'd laff more they'd feel a darned sight better, let me tell ye that. You'd feel better ye'rself, Zeb."
"I feel better, already, Abner," was the reply. "I'm jist holdin' me sides to keep from splittin', ye'r story was so funny."
"H'm, I guess if ye saw an' heard me when I was real funny ye'd be tied up in a knot in no time. If the spirits of me humorous ancestors got busy there'd be somethin' doin' worth while. An' they're really needed. It 'ud do people a world of good if they could be affected jist fer a day by them wonderful spirits."
"What are ye talkin' about, anyway, Abner? What could the spirits of ye'r ancestors do?"
"Do? Why, they could cure all kinds of diseases, an make people well an' strong."
"Fiddlesticks! Ye'r talkin' nonsense, Abner. How could they do sich things?"
"With laffin'-gas, that's how."
"Laffin'-gas?"
"Sure. Ye see, people don't laff enough. They go round with faces as long as Miss Julie Tomkins' tongue an' that's some length, skiddy-me-shins if it ain't. Most of the folks ye meet now-a-days look as if they was about dyin', or had lost their best friends. They need to be stimulated by a good laff once in a while. It 'ud help their digesters an' make life more pleasant."
"An' so ye think ye'r ancestors could make people laff, do ye?" Zeb enquired.
"Sartin! They'll work through me, an' I feel 'em gittin' busy jist now. They've given me the power, an' I'm ready to try it upon anybody. Anythin' wrong with you, Zeb? Tooth-ache, stummick-ache, heart-ache, boils, or any dang thing ye might mention. I'm a specialist on all."
"Good Lord, no!" Zeb exclaimed. "I know enough of ye'r spirit-movin' business, Abner. Try it on someone else, but I warn ye to leave me alone unless ye want an ache that all ye'r spirits combined couldn't cure."
"There now, don't git cranky an' sassy, Zeb. It was only fer ye'r welfare that I offered me services. But if ye won't accept 'em then I'll have to try it on others."
"An' de ye think people would come to be treated by you?"
"Why not? They want to be cured, don't they?"
"I s'pose they do, most of 'em at any rate. But they prefer to go to someone who knows what he's talkin' about."
"An' de ye think I don't know? De ye imagine I'm jist spoutin' to hear meself?"
"I wouldn't like to say that, Abner. But people wouldn't come to you. They'd laff at you an' call ye a fool."
"Let 'em call me whatever they like, Zeb. But they'd laff, an' that's jist what they need, as I told ye."
"H'm, I don't doubt about their laffin', providin' they'd come. They couldn't help splittin' their sides when they looked at ye."
"An' so ye think they wouldn't come, eh?"
"I'm certain they wouldn't."
"What'll ye bet?"
"Well, I wouldn't bet much with you, Abner, fer ye couldn't stand to lose anythin'."
"But I'll not lose. Now see here, I'll bet ye a fig of terbaccer; how'll that do?"
"I'll take ye, Abner."
"That's right, Zeb, fer I'm hard up fer a plug of terbaccer at this present minute. I'll borrow a little on account, if ye don't mind. Me pipe's gone out."
"How de ye plan to start?" Zeb asked, as he handed over a part of a fig of T. & B.
"I'm thinkin' of puttin' an ad. inThe Live Wire," Abner replied, as he thoughtfully whittled off several liberal slices of tobacco. "Wish ye'd write it out fer me, Zeb. Ye'r good at sich things. Ye often write ads. about ye'r 'Society' pigs, don't ye?"
Zeb pulled a note-book and pencil from his vest pocket and told his companion to go ahead.
"Go ahead ye'rself," Abner ordered. "Jist say that I'm a specialist on diseases, an' will treat anyone wot comes to me next Saturday evenin' after supper. That's the grain an' you know how to grind it up."
After much thought and head scratching Zeb managed to write out an advertisement which he thought would do. Then he read it aloud:
DISEASE SPECIALIST
"Abner Andrews, of Ash Point, has a new remedy for all kinds of diseases. For the sum of twenty-five cents he will treat all who come to him. Office Hours, Saturday afternoon, from 6 o'clock to midnight."
"There, how does that suit ye?" Zeb asked, when he had finished reading.
"It's a master-piece, all right," Abner replied. "But haven't ye made the fee rather low?"
"Guess it's enough fer the first time. If ye find ye'r rushed ye kin put up the price."
"Sure. Anyway, I'll make up in numbers, all right. Better have that terbaccer ready, Zeb, for I'll want it to soothe me nerves when I git through with the gang."
"Seems to me ye'r partly paid already, Abner. Ye've pocketed the plug I jist let ye have."
"Well, I declare! Good job ye reminded me, Zeb," and Abner chuckled as he handed back his neighbor's property.
"I feel so sure of winnin' the bet that I thought I owned that plug. Now ye mention office hours in that ad. Where am I to git an office?"
"In ye'r own house, of course. That's the right place."
"H'm, I s'pose it is. But, ye see, I'm afraid Tildy an' the gals might object to havin' a crowd around. Let me have this place, will ye, Zeb?"
"My workshop!"
"Sure. Ye kin sweep it up a bit, an' it'll do fine. Ye won't be usin' it Saturday night, will ye?"
"Seems to me, Abner, ye'r gittin' me too much into this affair. I don't want people to think that I've lost me senses, even if you have. But ye'r welcome to the place fer all the good it'll do ye."
"Thank ye, Zeb. An' ye'll be sure an' send that ad. toThe Wire, won't ye? I'm hard up fer cash jist now. I'll pay ye out of what I make. We'll be pardners, ye see."
Zeb looked at his neighbor in astonishment.
"Well, if you haven't enough gall to start a vinegar factory then I'll be jiggered," he exclaimed. "Pardners, eh? An' I'm to run the hull durned shootin'-match!"
"Don't worry, Zeb," Abner replied, as he rase to his feet. "I'll do all the shootin' that's necessary. But, there, I must git home to dinner. Then I'll have to look after me laffin'-gas. S'long, Zeb, an' don't fergit that ad. Ten cents a line, remember, an' twenty cents fer a header."
CHAPTER XXVI
HEART TROUBLE
When the advertisement appeared inThe Live Wirethe next day it did not attract much attention. People who read it laughed, called Abner a fool, and then forgot all about it. Most likely it would have ended at that if the assistant editor of the paper had not seized upon it for a special editorial the following morning. He was anxious to hit back at the man who had produced such havoc in the office and given him so much extra work to do. Since the editor in chief had been unable to attend to his duties he had been called upon to do the work of two men, and this was all due to Abner Andrews, who was now posing as a specialist on all kinds of diseases.
The article was a scathing one under the caption of
"A FOOL AND HIS TRICKS."
It ridiculed the idea of a man like Abner Andrews setting himself up as a specialist, and warned people to beware of his wiles. The advertisement proved most conclusively that the man was either a fool or a deep-dyed villain. He was a fool to make such a pretence at healing all kinds of diseases. If not a fool, he was pretending to be one. The article then told of the serious charge which was hanging over the farmer, and this advertisement of his might be a ruse to make people think that he was not responsible for his actions, and thus act as a blind to his real villainous character. It closed with a second warning to all, and strongly suggested that the law should step in and prohibit the man from such actions.
This article aroused people much more than the advertisement, and the talk was most general around town about this peculiar farmer. People became curious to go to Ash Point to see for themselves what the "specialist" would do and say, and to learn more about his methods of healing. The interest increased on Friday, especially among certain young men, who saw in Abner an object for considerable sport. Even staid business men, knowing something about Abner's odd ways, smiled to themselves, or discussed the matter with one another. They, too, longed for a little excitement, and when they mentioned it to their wives they found a ready response. Thus a number of the leading citizens of Glucom planned a trip to Ash Point Saturday evening. Of course they would not visit the man, but merely drive by, or stop and listen to what he had to say. It would be great fun, so they imagined.
It was Lawyer Rackshaw, however, who saw most in the advertisement. Here was a chance to get more than even with the man he hated. He was so elated that he invited Hen Whittles into his office Friday night, upon the special promise that there would be no more rats present. They drank, played cards, and discussed Abner Andrews.
"That man is crazy," Hen declared.
"Not crazy, but a fool," was the emphatic reply. "Only a fool would do what he has done, and to cap it all, to put such an ad. as that in the paper! But it's just what I need. My, it gives me a fine opening to get even with him."
"In what way?" Hen asked.
Rackshaw smiled as he threw down an ace, and then helped himself to another drink.
"Oh, I've a plan," he at length replied. "I'll fix that old fool this time, all right. He'll get patients he's not looking for."
"But do you think people will go to be treated?" Hen asked.
"Go? Sure, they'll go. Why, it's the talk of the town, as you must know."
"But, will sick people go?"
"Sure. I've been talking to several already, and they're so sick they can hardly get along. Ho, ho!" and Rackshaw leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.
"Where's the joke?" Hen was becoming impatient now. "You seem to have something funny up your sleeve."
"I have. Listen."
"By Jove!" Hen exclaimed, when Rackshaw had explained his purpose. "That's a good one, all right. You're a wonder, for sure. I'd never have thought of that. Ha, ha, the old cuss will get more'n he bargains for if I'm not mistaken. But you must be careful though. Remember the rats."
"There'll be no come-back this time, mind you," was the decided reply. "I hold the trump cards in this game, so don't worry."
Zeb read the scathing editorial in the paper and smiled. He showed it to Abner and asked him what he thought of it.
"It's jist what I wanted," was the enthusiastic reply. "Jist what ye wanted!" Zeb exclaimed. "How de ye make that out?"
"Don't ye know? Haven't ye enough sense left to see wot that article will do? Why, it'll bring a hull crowd here Saturday night quicker'n anythin' else."
"H'm, so that's the way ye look at it, eh? But don't be too sure, Abner."
"Never ye mind about that, Zeb. I wish I was as sartin of goin' to heaven as I am of that gang comin'."
"Got ye'r tub all ready?" Zeb bantered. "An' what about ye'r laffin'-gas? Ye mustn't fergit that."
"An' 'ye'r brains,' why don't ye say? Yes, every dang thing's in shape, even me old shot-gun."
"De ye expect to have to use that?"
"One kin never tell. This dodge of mine is somethin' out of the ordinary, an' the crowd might git a bit unruly. It's jist as well to be on the safe side."
"Seems to me, Abner, the safest side fer you to-morrow night will be the other side of sun-down. I wish to goodness ye hadn't started this thing."
"Keep ye'r shirt on, Zeb, an' don't worry. But, there, I must git home an' see how me laffin'-gas is comin' along."
Saturday evening was bright and warm. Not a breath of wind was astir, and the river was like one huge mirror. But the people who came to Ash Point from Glucom were not thinking of such things. They were more concerned about seeing Abner Andrews and his method of healing than all the beautiful things of Nature. Had they been with Moses when he was tending the sheep, they would have been much more interested in watching two rams fighting than in studying the burning bush and heeding its divine message.
Abner was in the workshop, and Zeb was out on the road as director of ceremonies, or "office-boy" as Abner termed him, when the vanguard arrived. There were waggons and autos which went slowly by and then returned later. The occupants craned their necks in their efforts to see something out of the ordinary. Several made enquiries of Zeb, and when the latter pointed to the workshop, they laughed and went on their way.
This looked at first as if all intended to do the same, and Zeb chuckled as he thought of Abner's disappointment, and the fig of tobacco he would have to hand over.
At length, however, an auto, containing four young men and women, sped up the road and stopped near Zeb.
"Where is the specialist?" the driver laughingly enquired.
"Eight over there," and Zeb pointed to the workshop. "Go in that door."
"Queer office, that," was the reply. "A new stunt, eh?"
There was much laughing and joking as they moved away, and Zeb watched them with keen interest.
Abner was waiting to receive his patients, and had with much difficulty twisted his long legs into the tub by the time the visitors were at the door. By his side on the work-bench he had a number of ginger-beer bottles, all tightly corked. His face was wreathed with his most engaging smile as he motioned the young people to sit down.
"Glad to see yez," he told them, when they were at length seated upon the chairs Zeb had brought from his house. "Now what kin I do fer yez?"
"We're very sick," the driver explained, "and seeing your ad. in the paper, we've come to you for help."
With considerable difficulty his companions kept from laughing outright, and this Abner noted. But he pretended to be deeply concerned, and studied the four most critically.
"Yez sartinly do look sick," he agreed, "an' it's lucky that yez have come this evenin'. Now, what seems to be the matter, an' where is the trouble?"
"Eight here," and the spokesman placed his hand upon his heart in a most solemn manner.
"H'm, heart trouble, eh? Well, that's serious. Are yez all affected the same way?"
"Yes, all of us. We can't work or do anything, the attacks are so bad."
The young women were forced to turn away their heads at these words, while one stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth to keep from laughing outright.
"My, my!" and Abner thoughtfully stroked his chin. "But look here, young gal, it'll be ye'r stummick that'll be troublin' ye instid of ye'r heart if ye swaller that handkerchief. I can't do nuthin' with that kind of trouble."
The girl's face grew scarlet as she hurriedly withdrew her handkerchief, while her companions laughed heartily.
"Laff all yez like," Abner encouraged. "That's part of me cure. It's jist what yez need."
"But is that all you have to say about our real trouble?" the spokesman demanded.
"Well, now, first of all I want the fees. Twenty-five cents fer each; that'll make a dollar. Thank yez. That's better," he continued, as he slipped the hill into his pocket, "I kin now prescribe fer yez. But, remember, yez must follow the directions I give yez, or else yez'll git a dang sight worse than yez are at present."
"Fire ahead," was the reply. "We're all willing to do as you say."
"That's good. I allus like obedient patients. Now, the first thing I want yez to do is to go an' git two licences. Ye'll have to pay five dollars apiece fer 'em. The Government's more expensive than I am."
The young women now became visibly embarrassed, and wished that they had not come.
"The next thing yez must do," Abner went on, "is to go an' see some parson. Ye'll have to pay him, too, remember. But as fer curin' heart trouble any parson kin do it quicker'n anything yez ever saw. I had it afore I married Tildy, an' a bad attack it was. But after old Parson Shaw had hitched us together with that double an' twisted knot of his, I've never had a touch of heart trouble since. It sartinly did work wonders with me."
The consternation upon the faces of the patients was most amusing to Abner. He liked the way the girls blushed, and the young men turned red to the roots of their hair. He knew that they were merely out for fun and were getting more than they had expected.
"Don't go yit," he ordered, as he saw the young women move toward the door. "I haven't given yez the full prescription."
"But suppose the parson doesn't cure our heart trouble, what then?" the second young man at length found courage to ask. "It might not work on everyone as it did on you."
"Don't ye worry about that, young man," Abner replied. "The symptoms may hang on fer a while, but as soon as ye git several extra mouths to feed, ye'll find that all trouble will pass away. It did in my case, I know, an' I guess it'll be so with you."
By this time the girls were at the door, blushing more furiously than ever. They were far from enjoying the interview, and longed to be outside. The young men were about to follow, when Abner hailed them.
"Say, ye've fergot somethin'. I've given yez the prescriptions, but I'd like fer yez to take somethin' with yez to use when yez set up house-keepin'." Here he reached up and lifted a bottle from off the work-bench. "Now this is the greatest stuff out," he explained. "Jist keep it handy in the pantry or on the kitchen shelf where ye'll know where to find it in a jiffy. On wash days or when things go crooked jist open this an' take a little whiff, an' it'll make yez all good natured in no time. If the baby gits cranky or gits wind on its little stummick, all yez need do is to give it a smell of that bottle, an' ye'll be surprised to see how soon it'll begin to—— But, good gracious! What's wrong with them gals? They've gone, blamed if they ain't!"
They had all gone except the young man who had last spoken. He was angry, and expressed his opinion in no mild language. The young women had been insulted, so he said, and he called upon Abner to apologize.
"Apologize, eh?" was the reply. "What is there to apologize about? Yez came here in order to make fun of me, an' because I handed out wot was coinin' to yez I'm expected to apologize! Not on ye'r life, young man, an' ye kin jist tell them things to the one who sent yez."
"How do you know that anyone sent us?" the young man evasively queried.
"H'm, I'm not altogether a fool. I've a little brains left yit. Come now, on y'er word of honor, didn't Lawyer Rackshaw put yez up to this job?"
Abner smiled as the young man made no reply. He was certain now that his surmise had been correct, and he was satisfied.
"That'll do. Ye may go. Ye needn't answer if ye don't want to. But remember the prescriptions, an' also yours truly, Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint."
The young man looked as if he would like to do more than express his feelings in words. But Abner seemed exceptionally big just then, as he lifted himself out of the tub and stood before him. He decided that retreat was the better part of valor, so in no enviable frame of mind he joined his companions who were waiting for him in the car. In a few seconds they were hurrying down the road, a defeated and angry quartet.
They had not gone far, however, when they met a truck filled with a number of reckless young men. They stopped, and in a few words aired their grievances. Shouts of laughter and cheers came from the new-comers.
"Well fix the old fellow," they shouted, as they hurried on. "Leave him to us."
Abner saw them coming, and hearing the noise they were making, knew what to expect. Peering through the little window facing the road, he watched them as they approached. Then in an instant a regular bombardment of balls of mud, rotten eggs, and stones were hurled at the building. One stone crashed through the window and struck Abner a glancing blow above the eye. With yells of delight the crowd passed and then all was still.
Abner's blood was now up. Seizing his shot-gun, he stood just within the door and waited. He saw Zeb coming toward him, and called to him to keep back.
"Let me handle the bunch," he shouted. "I'll fix 'em."
"Be careful," was the reply. "Don't shoot. Here they come agin."
As the car was almost opposite the workshop, and the youths were about to make another bombardment, Abner stepped quickly out of the building and ordered them to stop. As the driver hesitated for an instant, Abner threw his gun into position and threatened to shoot if he did not obey. This had the desired effect, and soon the car was motionless.
The occupants were speechless, and their faces betrayed their complete consternation at this sudden turn of affairs. They dropped the eggs, mud, and stones they had ready to hurl, and stared at the man with the gun.
"Why don't yez go ahead?" Abner asked. "Now's ye'r chance. Tired of ye'r fun, eh? Well, then, jist hop out an' run that Tin-Lizzie into the yard here. Git a hustle on," he ordered, as the youths hesitated.
Seeing that Abner meant business, the joy-riders scrambled out and stood in the road while the car was run into the yard.
"There, that's better," was Abner's comment, when this had been accomplished. "Now, yez kin hustle."
"But what about the car?" the driver asked, as he alighted. "It doesn't belong to us. We hired it."
"Yez did, eh? Well, then, it's safer here than with sich reckless kids. Scoot along now. I'll keep the car fer damages rendered to that buildin' an' to my dignity."
"Damages!" the driver exclaimed. "Why, we were only having a little fun."
"Is that so? Fun, was it? Well, ye'r fun'll cost ye jist five dollars apiece, an' not a cent less. I'm a specialist, ye see, on all kinds of diseases. You fellers are troubled with swelled heads an' want of brains, so five dollars out of y'er inside pockets will be the best cure that I kin recommend."
By this time the joy-riders were very angry, and their language was far from Scriptural. They vowed that they wouldn't pay a cent, and that they would have Abner arrested for threatening to shoot them.
"Go ahead," Abner announced. "But before yez git ye'r Tin-Lizzie ye'll fork out that money. I'll give yez jist five minutes to make up ye'r minds. Come here, Zeb," he called. "I might want ye."
The young men were now in a fix, and they discussed the matter in an excited manner.
"We haven't the money," they at length announced.
"All right, then, me hearties, I'll keep the car."
"Will you take two dollars apiece?" Abner was asked.
"It's five or nuthin'," was the reply. "Hustle up there, fer time's most up."
Finding that their captor was relentless, with many protests and threatening words the needed forty dollars were at length produced and handed forth.
"There, that's better," Abner chuckled, as he pocketed the money. "There's ye'r car, so take it an' git."
Abner and Zeb stood and watched the crestfallen joyriders as they scrambled on board.
"Don't fer git to send in ye'r bill to ye'r lawyer," Abner called out, as the visitors sped away. He then turned to his companion.
"Where's that plug of T. & B, Zeb?" he asked. "I'm dyin' fer a smoke. Me nerves are pretty shaky.
"I don't believe ye have sich things as nerves," Zeb replied, as he pulled a fig of tobacco from his pocket. "How in the name of all creation kin ye do sich things??
"Brains, gall, an' luck, that's how, with a little laffin'-gas thrown in. Ho, ho! But, say, there's Tildy an the gals!"