Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  “But who were the gentlemen?”

  “Oh, there was Jay Gould, an’ — ”

  “Who?”

  “Well, they called him Jay, anyhow. And he was a daisy, too, and swung around Miss Smitherses hired lady till she most fainted. An’ then there was Dill-ole-man — ”

  “Who?”

  “That’s what they called him. An’ a feller named Toothpicks, an’ a lot more o’ the swell boys. But I guess some on ‘em was nervous, for I heerd Jay Gould — — or whatever his name is — say to Toothpicks,” Oh lor’! if they ever know as we’ve been here!” So I guess they must have some wives to home, or some gals as they didn’t bring, anyhow. Don’t go, colonel, you haven’t had your pie yet.”

  “What kind is it?”

  “Mince, Colonel.”

  “H’m. And the mince meat — did you buy it — ”

  “Oh, I made it myself this blessed mornin’.”

  “Very well, Mrs. Bilkins,” returned the colonel, as he took his hat and coat from the stand, “I’m not very hungry, anyway, and in view of your being so flustered today I believe I’ll forego the pleasure of the pie.”

  And the doctor and Tom, with resigned looks, followed his example, while the landlady, gazing wistfully after them, remarked:

  “There’s no great loss without some small gain — it’ll do for tomorrow, anyhow.”

  PETE

  She outdoes Nellie Bly and Makes a Trip around Aberdeen in 72 minutes and 6 seconds

  15 February 1890

  “Good heavings,” cried our landlady, with a two-for-a-nickel look on her face and a sigh that burst her apron strings: “if I ain’t done up then there never was a critter as was!”

  “You do look tired,” agreed the colonel, as the boarders gathered around the tea-table, “been excercising, ma’am?”

  “Exercising!” snapped the landlady, indignantly, “well I should say so! Why that ‘ere bold female named Bly warn’t a patch on the way as I had to flummux around this blessed arternoon! You see our church serciety appinted me a c’mittee fer to get subscriptions to supply the poor heathen women in Africanistan with hairpins, an’ tonight I’ve got to report, an’ I had’nt done a single thing towards gettin’ a penny o’ money together to report with. An’ so I says to myself, why if them tarnal fools o’ men go to these church sociables an’ pay a dollar or two a night fer just amusement, they’ll be willin’ to give me a few pennies fer the poor heathen wimmin in Africanistan. An’ so at nine minutes arter four o’clock I sot out on my errant o’ mercy, an’ I had ter git back in time to git supper, and you can better believe it was quick work.”

  “Mrs. Bilkins,” interrupted the doctor mournfully, “will you kindly tell me what this stuff is in the tea?”

  The landlady looked surprised, and the colonel and Tom, as men will, instantly tasted their tea to see what was wrong.

  “It’s plaster!” screamed Tom, while the colonel sank back and gasped that he was poisoned.

  “Nothing of the kind!” sniffed the landlady, angrily, as she peered into the cream jug, “it’s just my clear starch as I mistook for the milk, that’s all, an’ considerin’ the flurry as I were in it ain’t to be wondered at!”

  “Certainly not, ma’am,” quoth the doctor resignedly, “but if you will accomodate us with a little lacteal fluid instead we shall be greatly obliged.”

  “And the pickles, ma’am, have a strong odor of kerosene,” complained Tom. “Oh, that’s nothin’,” protested the landlady, “I must ha’ set the dish right under the hangin’ lamp, an’ the blamed thing will leak ile in spite of all I can do. Try another piece, sir; that one might ha’ caught it all.”

  “But did you get any subscriptions?” asked the colonel, when harmony was finally restored.

  “Well, you see I thought as I’d do it thorough,” replied the landlady, settling back in her chair and picking her teeth reflectively with the carving fork, “so an’ I started in at the Northwestern bank buildin’. The lawyers was busy. I found Johnny Adams a settin’ with his feet on a high desk an’ recitin’ Pat. Henry’s speech in a tremblin’ voice; and Georgie Jenkins practisin’ short-hand with a type-writer, an’ Judge Crofoot an’ Phil. Skilman a argufyin’ as how far the sun were from the moon, an’ — ”

  “Did they give you anything?”

  “Nary cent. Johnnie he felt fer a nickel an’ could’nt find it, an’ Georgie he said as practisin’ short-hand had made him short, and the Jedge he said excuse me a momint an’ he went outer one door, an’ Phil says excuse me fer a momint an’ he went outer a nuther door and I waited some time and they did’nt come back, so I excused myself an’ went down an’ saw Major Barrett. An’ he says as how he was just makin’ a new bill fer the city printin’ and I’d have ter wait til he collected it, and then he opened the ‘cyclopedia fer to write his editorial an’ I took the hint an’ left. An’ I stepped inter Al. Ward’s an’ he said if I wanted a mince pie fer the heathen, ter take it along, but as fer hairpins he did’nt go a cent on ‘em. But I knew Al’s pies was tew rich fer the heathen’s blood. And I went up to the Dakota Bildin’ and Loan assassination an’ found Genajewell a scribblin’ L.J. on the blottin’ paper an’ not a penny to be got outen’ the whole crowd. An’ then I met Sill an’ he said as Slosser were kickin’ on payin’ him because he’d a hurt Fred Kile’s feelin’s what edits the Warner Schoolboy’s Bugle an’ because Billy Kid thinks as he’s too fresh an’ he knows hisself that he ain’t, an’ so I did’nt get any money there. An’ Billy Paulhamus, as I come to next, said he’s jest sent Susan B. Anthony a diamont necklace fer a birthday present and he hain’t no spare cash. An’ I met Sam Vroom, as is makin’ sich a reckerd as the brittle statesman of Columbia, an’ he’d spent his last cent fer a crowbar fer the boys to kill snakes with at ther county seat. An’ Dave Strauss wanted to figger out how many women there was in Africanistan as had hair, an’ how many hair pins it took to each head, an’ how much hairpins was a gross an’ how much it would cost to supply each woman, an’ it took so long I came away an’ left him. An’ Ed. Randall said if it was guage pins it might interest him, but hairpins did’nt. An’ Harvey Jewett wanted to know what kind of a snap it would be to send Dill out there with a cord o’ clothspins, an’ Scott wanted me to cash a wheat check an’ pay him the balance, an’ then I looked at the clock an’ saw I’d just time to skip home an’ git supper, an’ when I got here I found I’d been gone jest seventy two minits an’ six seconds, an’ I’d been all round the town. I can almost sympathize with that Bly gal.”

  “And how much did you get?”

  “Nary cent. But I’ve one satisfaction, anyhow,” she continued, with a sigh, “I’ve a did my duty; and if the heathens in Africanistan want hairpins arter this, why, they can rustle for ‘em themselves!”

  She Insists on Her Boarders Keeping Lent, With Indifferent Success

  22 February 1890

  “I suppose,” said the landlady, furtively eying an ink-stain on the carpet and smoothing the ample wrinkles out of her ample gown with her ample hands, “I suppose, gentlemen, as you’re all good ‘Piskipalians.”

  The doctor colored, and answered, “I frequently attend that church, and — yes, I may say that I am an Episcopalian.”

  “Ever sense that Jumper sociable!” remarked the landlady, sarcastically.

  “I myself feel strongly drawn to that excellent — would you call it religion? or sect? or — ”

  “Call it the Guilded Clique!” chuckled the landlady, to the Colonel’s no small confusion.

  “And Tom -”

  “I was brought up in the tenets of the church,” replied that languid young man. “I don’t know what the tenets were, but I was brought up in ‘em.”

  “Then they was probably red flannels an’ diapers,” answered the landlady, absent-mindedly, while Tom turned to the photograph of Susan B. to enable him to regain his self-possession. For poor Susan has always possessed herself.

  “Therefore,” says the landla
dy, with a smile of satisfaction, “you are all ‘Piskiples. Of course you’ll keep lent.”

  The boarders looked at each other in surprise and uneasiness.

  “I think I shall deny myself something,” remarked the colonel; “I shall either smoke nickle cigars instead of imported ones or take to a pipe. I haven’t dicided which.”

  “And I,” said the doctor, cheerfully, “shall economise on horse feed. My mare has really had too liberal an allowance of oats lately. What shall you do, Tom?” and they all looked curiously at the dyed-in-the-wool Episcopalian.

  “Oh, there is one course of denial which I always follow,” says this interesting youth. “I deny myself postage stamps and write to all my friends on postals. It’s inconvenient, ye know, but the lenten season must be duly observed.”

  The landlady smiled an Act III. Scene III smile, for the climax was approaching, and led them without a word to the dinner table.

  “Mrs. Bilkins,” said the colonel, when all were seated. “I am a little rushed today, as I have a client awaiting my return to renew a note. Please fetch on the dinner.”

  “The dinner,” replied the landlady, trying to repress a fiendish look of triumph, “is on. This is ash We’nsday. Most landladys who has ‘Piskiple boarders has nothin’ but ashes fer to eat today, but I ain’t that sort. Good ‘Piskiples, as’ tends the Guild socials so reglar, mustn’t be starved, altho’ they should be incouraged in them tenements o’ the church as Mr. Tom were brought up in. So I’ve got some nice mush an’ milk for you, and if your conscience don’t prick you, — fall to an’ eat hearty!”

  The boarders were conquered. They turned their hollow eyes and mouths and pink suffused brows upon the mush, and naught save the rattle of the spoons against the bowls broke the ominous silence which was the only thing that had reigned in Aberdeen since winter set in.

  “I once knew a woman,” remarked the colonel at last, spitefully, “so mean that she put holes in her fried-cakes to economise.”

  “Did she die a horrible death?” asked Tom.

  “She did.”

  The landlady was unmoved.

  “And an old woman with whom I boarded chopped her hash so fine that she had to press the atmosphere over the platter to keep it from floating in the air.”

  “That was in lent,” beamed the landlady, good-naturedly.

  Here the doctor distinguished himself.

  “One good thing about this season,” said he, “is that boarding house keepers never ask you for any money, because they know it’s lent!”

  Mrs. Bilkins turned pale, and left the room abruptly, while the boarders made the best of their meagre fare and started for town in a brighter mood.

  The landlady looked after them through the crack in the kitchen door.

  “It’ll be a heap o’ savin’ just now, this lent business; but I’m afeared,” with a sigh that came from the darns on the heels of her socks, “I’m afeared they’ll more n’ make it up at Yeaster!”

  She Gets a Letter from her Brother in Harriman that Nearly Breaks up the Establishment

  1 March 1890

  “Mrs. Bilkins,” gasped the Colonel, in amazement, “what does this mean? You’ve actually given us tenderloin steak for supper!”

  “Dear me!” cried the landlady, “is it possible I’m that flustered? — but never mind! Eat it an’ welcome, for tonight I give ye all warnin’!”

  “Warning!” quoth Tom, “warning of what?”

  “To go away — to find another boardin’ place, for this ‘ere old ranch ceases to exist termorrer!”

  The boarders turned their wondering eyes upon the landlady. There she stood, her round face red with excitement, and wringing her hands convulsively together as she nodded her head at them as if it was worked by a Keely motor.

  “May I ask,” remarked the doctor, in a voice he strove to render calm, “may I ask, ma’am, where you are going?”

  The landlady’s agitation increased. “To Tennessee!” she managed to reply at last. For a moment there was dead silence.

  “Harriman?”

  The landlady nodded.

  “This is Jim Ringrose’s work,” remarked Tom, tragically, “he’s jealous of your reputation, ma’am. You’d better give up the idea and stick to Aberdeen.”

  “No such thing!” returned Mrs. Bilkins, indignantly. “Do you s’pose there’s nobody there ‘xcept from Aberdeen? My brother’s there, gents, an’ he’s a writ me a letter about it, an’ he says it’s a wonderful openin’ fer a hotel. If ye’ll jest listen, I’ll read it to ye.”

  “By all means,” acquiesced the doctor, leaning back and picking his teeth, while the landlady drew the precious document from her bosom with trembling hands, adjusted her glasses, and began:

  “I asked the boys from Aberdeen if they was lookin’ fer a fust-class hotel, ‘cause they was still carryin’ their gripsacks, and one on ‘em pulls me aside an’ says:

  “‘My fren’,’ says he, ‘is this here a prohibition state?’

  “An’ I says, ‘ole hoss,’ says I, ‘you’re welcome to do anything in Harriman but pray.’ An’ he turned to a fine lookin’ man as was tryin’ to get a cork out o’ a bottle an’ says:

  “‘Hank, what’d I tell you? It’ll take longer’n this ter git the Brown Brothers grip on Harriman! Drink ‘arty!’ An’ they did. An’ another, he says:

  “‘Where’ll we sleep, Jim?’ and the feller he spoked to wiped his mouth an’ says:

  “‘Fred,’ says ‘e,’ less buy a claim an’ sleep on that.’

  “‘Claim!’ says the Bared boy, ‘why these’ ere ain’t claims, — they’s lots.’

  “‘Then,’ says a pleasant-faced gentl’man what they calls Jump, ‘then,’ says ‘e,’ less buy a lot of em!’

  “‘This won’t do,’ says a’nuther wot looks like a preacher, ‘we’ve got to go to a hotel.’

  “‘Hotels,’ says a solemn feller with his han’s in his vest pockets, ‘must be patronized. I’ve got one on my han’s now.’ But I didn’t see nothin’ on his han’s but warts. Then they all agrees, an’ ses to me to lead ‘em to the best hotel in town. An’ away I goes. There ain’t but one, an’ it can’t feed more’n a hundred people a day, an’ there’s anyhow 5000 here, an’ so I tole ‘em.

  “‘Jest give us a chance to put our names on the register,’ says the hansom man, ‘an’ we’ll russle fer the vittles! I hain’t lived in Columbia all winter fer nothin’.’ An’ so I takes ‘em to the hotel an’ manages to get their luggage put in a corner o’ the wash room. There was six gripsacks, — little ones, a champaigan basket marked ‘Fred. Bared,’ a case o’ beer marked ‘me an’ ringrose’s,’ an’ a big jimmyjohn marked ‘Free-fer-all.’ There was a little package marked ‘poison’ in big letters, and writ on with a ledpencil was ‘Comps of Al. Ward — Somethin’ to make the boys think o’ home.’

  “After a while I got ‘em a room, an’ they called me up an’ asked what I thought of Harriman fer an investment.

  “‘Fust class,’ says I. ‘I’ve a knowed it fer twenty year. It’s a nice gap in the mountains, which is the only place as a railroad can get through — if it ever takes it into its head that it wants to get through at all. It’s also the only place as a cyclone can get through, an’ that gets through pretty lively oncet in a while an’ blows every shanty in Harriman down the other side o’ the mountains. But I ferget, gentlemen; I promised the estate agent as I wouldn’t mention that.’

  “‘Boys,’ says one feller, ‘if my wife knewed I was in danger o’ cyclones, she’d go crazy. Ye see,’ he says, turnin’ to me, ‘we don’t have high winds in Dakota.’” Then the hansom man asked what lots was bringin’. I told him ‘bout a thousan’ dollars each. Then they looked at each other an’ wanted ter know if ye could buy a quarter of a lot.

  “‘No,’ says I, ‘but yes can buy as many lots as ye want to.’

  “‘Less buy a lottery ticket,’ says Jump.

  “But they didn’t anser.

  “
They jest asked me to go out and see what I could buy an option on one little lot fer.

  “Now, my dear sister, I write all this to let ye see how high the excitement is. You can make dollars here where ye could cents in Aberdeen. Come right along, an’ bring all yer friends.”

  The landlady’s trembling voice ceased, an’ looking up she asked triumphantly, “What do ye say to that, gentlemen?”

  “Go!” replied the colonel, dejectedly, “go by all means.”

  “I’ve half a mind,” said the doctor, timidly, “to go with you!”

  “What would it cost?” asked Tom, catching the excitement.

  “Well,” replied the landlady, “my brother mentions that. He says: ‘If any more Aberdeen ducks want some o’ this pudden, and want ter know how much money it takes to invest in Harriman, you can show ‘em this slip o’ paper, which I picked up on the floor of the room the Aberdeen boys hangs out in. He probably dropped it by mistake, as it looks like a expense account.’ Read it, colonel,” added the landlady. The colonel took it and read as follows:

  “Railroad ticket — $96.25

  Sinch — 11.00

  Sleeper — 1.50

  Cigars — 1.00

  Sinch — 16.50

  Lunch — 10

  Refreshments — — 12.00

  Sinch (a bad one) — — 51.00

  Cigars — 2.00

  Refreshments — 2.00

  Sinch — — 17.00

  Refreshments — 1.50

  Lent Ringrose — — 10.00

  Sinch — 9.00

  Lunch — — 05

  Sleeper — 2.00

  Cigars — 2.25

  Lent Brown — — 15.00

  Refreshments — — 14.00

  Hotel Bill — 16.00

  1/8 interest in one outside lot — 125.00

  Total 835.15

  SUMMARY

  Bro’t from Home — $1000.00

  P’d out as above — 835.15

  Got left — 164.85

  Will cost to get back — 100.00