Collected Works of Booth Tarkington

by Booth Tarkington

  Florence resumed the peeling of her orange.

  “Who do you think gave Gammire to Aunt Julia?” she asked.

  “I ain’t stedyin’ about it.”

  “Yes, but who do you guess?”

  “I ain’t — —”

  “Well, but if you had to be burned to death or guess somebody, who would you guess?”

  “I haf to git burn’ up,” said Kitty Silver. “Ev’y las’ caller whut comes here is give her some doggone animal awready. Mista Sammerses, he give her them two Berjum cats, an’ ole Mister Ridgways whut los’ his wife, he give you’ Aunt Julia them two canaries that tuck an’ hopped out the cage an’ then out the window, las’ week, one day, when you’ grampaw was alone in the room with ’em; an’ Mista George Plummers, he give her that Airydale dog you’ grampaw tuck an’ give to the milkman; an’ Mista Ushers, he give her them two pups whut you’ grampaw tuck an’ skeer off the place soon as he laid eyes on ’em, an’ thishere Mista Clairidge, he give her that ole live allagatuh from Florida whut I foun’ lookin’ at me over the aidge o’ my kitchen sink — ugly ole thing! — an’ you’ grampaw tuck an’ give it to the greenhouse man. Ain’t none nem ge’lmun goin’ try an’ give her no mo’ animals, I bet! So how anybody goin’ guess who sen’ her thishere Gammire? Nobody lef’ whut ain’t awready sen’ her one an’ had the gift spile.”

  “Yes, there is,” said Florence.

  “Who?”

  “Noble Dill.”

  “That there li’l young Mista Dills?” Kitty Silver cried. “Listen me! Thishere dog ‘spensive dog.”

  “I don’t care; I bet Noble Dill gave him to her.”

  Mrs. Silver hooted. “Go way! That there young li’l Mista Dills, he ain’ nev’ did show no class, no way nor no time. He be hunderd year ole b’fo’ you see him in autamobile whut b’long to him. Look at a way some nem fine big rich men like Mista Clairidge an’ Mista Ridgways take an’ th’ow they money aroun’! New necktie ev’y time you see ’em; new straw hat right spang the firs’ warm day. Ring do’ bell. I say, I say: ‘Walk right in, Mista Ridgways.’ Slip me dollah bill dess like that! Mista Sammerses an’ Mista Plummers, an’ some nem others, they all show class. Look Mista Sammerses’ spectickles made turtle back; fancy turtle, too. I ast Miss Julia; she tell me they fancy turtle. Gol’ rim spectickles ain’t in it; no ma’am! Mista Sammerses’ spectickles — jes’ them rims on his spectickles alone — I bet they cos’ mo’n all whut thishere young li’l Mista Dills got on him from his toes up an’ his skin out. I bet Mista Plummers th’ow mo’ money aroun’ dess fer gittin’ his pants press’ than whut Mista Dills afford to spen’ to buy his’n in the firs’ place! He lose his struggle, ‘cause you’ Aunt Julia, she out fer the big class. Thishere Gammire, he dog cos’ money; he show class same you’ Aunt Julia. Ain’t neither one of ’em got to waste they time on nobody whut can’t show no mo’ class than thishere li’l young dish-cumbobbery Mista Dills!”

  “I don’t care,” Florence said stubbornly. “He could of saved up and saved up, and if he saved up long enough he could of got enough money to buy a dog like Gammire, because you can get money enough for anything if you’re willing to save up long enough. Anyway, I bet he’s the one gave him to her.”

  Herbert joined Kitty Silver in laughter. “Florence is always talkin’ about Noble Dill,” he said. “She’s sort of crazy, anyway, though.”

  “Herbert attempted to continue the drowning out. He bawled, ‘She made it up! It’s somep’n she made up herself! She — —’”

  “It runs in the family,” Florence retorted, automatically. “I caught it from my cousins. Anyhow, I don’t think there’s a single one of any that wants to marry Aunt Julia that’s got the slightest co’parison to Noble Dill. I admire him because he’s so uncouth.”

  “He so who?” Kitty Silver inquired.

  “Uncouth.”

  “Yes’m,” said Mrs. Silver.

  “It’s in the ditchanary,” Florence explained. “It means rare, elegant, exquisite, obs, unknown, and a whole lot else.”

  “It does not,” Herbert interposed. “It means kind of countrified.”

  “You go look in the ditchanary,” his cousin said severely. “Then, maybe, you’ll know what you’re talkin’ about just for once. Anyhow, I do like Noble Dill, and I bet so does Aunt Julia.”

  Kitty Silver shook her head. “He lose his struggle, honey! Miss Julia, she out fer the big class. She ain’t stedyin’ about him ‘cept maybe dess to let him run her erran’s. She treat ’em all mighty nice, ‘cause the mo’ come shovin’ an’ pushin’ each other aroun’, class or no class, why, the mo’ harder that big class got to work to git her — an’ the mo’ she got after her the mo’ keeps a-comin’. But thishere young li’l Mista Dills, I kine o’ got strong notion he liable not come no mo’ ‘tall!” Her tone had become one of reminiscent amusement, which culminated in a burst of laughter. “Whee!” she concluded. “After las’ night, I reckon thishere Mista Dills better keep away from the place — yes’m!”

  Florence looked thoughtful, and for the time said nothing. It was Herbert who asked: “Why’d Noble Dill better stay away from here?”

  “You’ grampaw,” Mrs. Silver said, shaking her head. “You’ grampaw!”

  “What about grandpa?” said Herbert. “What’d he do last night?”

  “‘Do’? Oh, me!” Then Mrs. Silver uttered sounds like the lowing of kine, whereby she meant to indicate her inability to describe Mr. Atwater’s performance. “Well, ma’am,” she said, in the low and husky voice of simulated exhaustion, “all I got to say: you’ grampaw beat hisse’f! He beat hisse’f!”

  “How d’you mean? How could he — —”

  “He beat hisse’f! He dess out-talk hisse’f! No, ma’am; I done hear him many an’ many an’ many’s the time, but las’ night he beat hisse’f.”

  “What about?”

  “Nothin’ in the wide worl’ but dess thishere young li’l Noble Dills whut we talkin’ about this livin’ minute.”

  “What started him?”

  “Whut start him?” Mrs. Silver echoed with sudden loudness. “My goo’niss! He b’en started ev’ since the very firs’ time he ev’ lay eyes on him prancin’ up the front walk to call on Miss Julia. You’ grampaw don’ like none nem callers, but he everlas’n’ly did up an’ take a true spite on thishere li’l Dills!”

  “I mean,” said Herbert, “what started him last night?”

  “Them cigareets,” said Kitty Silver. “Them cigareets whut thishere Noble Dills smoke whiles he settin’ out on the front po’che callin’ on you’ Aunt Julia. You’ grampaw mighty funny man about smellin’! You know’s well’s I do he don’t even like the smell o’ violet. Well, ma’am, if he can’t stan’ violet, how in the name o’ misery he goin’ stan’ the smell nem cigareets thishere Dills smoke? I can’t hardly stan’ ’em myse’f. When he light one on the front po’che, she sif’ all through the house, an’ come slidin’ right the whole way out to my kitchen, an’ bim! she take me in the nose! You’ grampaw awready tole Miss Julia time an’ time again if that li’l Dills light dess one mo’ on his front po’che he goin’ to walk out there an’ do some harm! Co’se she nev’ tuck an’ pay no ‘tention, ‘cause Miss Julia, she nev’ pay no ‘tention to nobody; an’ she like caller have nice time — she ain’ goin’ tell ’em you’ grampaw make such a fuss. ‘Yes, ‘deed, kine frien’,’ she say, she say, when they ast her: ‘Miss Julia, ma’am,’ they say, ‘I like please strike a match fer to light my cigareet if you please, ma’am.’ She say: ‘Light as many as you please, kine frien’,’ she say, she say. She say: ‘Smell o’ cigareet dess deligh’ful li’l smell,’ she say. ‘Go ‘head an’ smoke all you kin stan’,’ she say, ‘‘cause I want you injoy you’se’f when you pay call on me,’ she say. Well, so thishere young li’l Dills settin’ there puffin’ an’ blowin’ his ches’ out and in, an’ feelin’ all nice ‘cause it about the firs’ time this livin’ summer he catch you’ Aunt Julia alone to hiss
e’f fer while — an’ all time the house dess fillin’ up, an’ draf’ blowin’ straight at you’ grampaw whur he settin’ in his liberry. Ma’am, he sen’ me out an’ tell her come in, he got message mighty important fer to speak to her. So she tell thishere Dills wait a minute, an’ walk in the liberry. Oh, ladies!”

  “What’d he say?” Herbert asked eagerly.

  “He di’n’ say nothin’,” Mrs. Silver replied eloquently. “He hollered.”

  “What did he holler?”

  “He want know di’n’ he never tell her thishere Dills can’t smoke no mo’ cigareets on his property, an’ di’n’ he tell her he was’n’ goin’ allow him on the place if he did? He say she got to go back on the po’che an’ run thishere li’l Dills off home. He say he give her fair choice; she kin run him off, or else he go on out and chase him away hisse’f. He claim li’l Dills ain’ got no biznuss roun’ callin’ nowhere ‘t all, ‘cause he on’y make about eighteen dollars a week an’ ain’t wuth it. He say — —”

  She was confirmed in this report by an indignant interruption from Florence. “That’s just what he did say, the old thing! I heard him, myself, and if you care to ask me, I’ll be glad to inform you that I think grandpa’s conduck was simply insulting!”

  “‘Deed it were!” said Mrs. Silver. “An’ dess whut he claim hisse’f he mean it fer! But you tell me, please, how you hear whut you’ grampaw say? He mighty noisy, but you nev’ could a-hear him plumb to whur you live.”

  “I wasn’t home,” said Florence. “I was over here.”

  “Then you mus’ ‘a’ made you’se’f mighty skimpish, ‘cause I ain’t seen you!”

  “Nobody saw me. I wasn’t in the house,” said Florence, “I was out in front.”

  “Whurbouts ‘out in front’?”

  “Well, I was sitting on the ground, up against the latticework of the front porch.”

  “Whut fur?”

  “Well, it was dark,” said Florence. “I just kind of wanted to see what might be going on.”

  “An’ you hear all whut you’ grampaw take on about an’ ev’ything?”

  “I should say so! You could of heard him lots farther than where I was.”

  “Lan’ o’ misery!” Kitty Silver cried. “If you done hear him whur you was, thishere li’l Dills mus’ a-hear him mighty plain?”

  “He did. How could he help it? He heard every word, and pretty soon he came down off the porch and stood a minute; then he went on out the gate, and I don’t know whether he went home or not, because it was too dark to see. But he didn’t come back.”

  “Yo’ right he didn’!” exclaimed Mrs. Silver. “I reckon he got fo’thought ‘nough fer that, anyhow! I bet he ain’t nev’ goin’ come back neither. You’ grampaw say he goin’ be fix fer him, if he do.”

  “Yes, that was while he was standing there,” said Florence ruefully. “He heard all that, too.”

  “Miss Julia, she s’picion’ he done hear somep’m ‘nother, I guess,” Kitty Silver went on. “She shet the liberry do’ right almos’ on you’ grampaw’s nose, whiles he still a-rampin’, an’ she slip out on the po’che, an’ take look ‘roun’; then go on up to her own room. I ‘uz up there, while after that, turn’ down her bed; an’ she injoyin’ herse’f readin’ book. She feel kine o’ put out, I reckon, but she ain’t stedyin’ about no young li’l Dills. She want ’em all to have nice time an’ like her, but she goin’ lose this one, an’ she got plenty to spare. She show too much class fer to fret about no Dills.”

  “I don’t care,” said Florence. “I think she ought to whether she does or not, because I bet he was feeling just awful. And I think grandpa behaved like an ole hoodlum.”

  “That’ll do,” Herbert admonished her sternly. “You show some respect for your relations, if you please.”

  But his loyalty to the Atwater family had a bad effect on Florence. “Oh, will I?” she returned promptly. “Well, then, if you care to inquire my opinion, I just politely think grandpa ought to be hanged.”

  “See here — —”

  But Florence and Kitty Silver interrupted him simultaneously.

  “Look at that!” Florence cried.

  “My name!” exclaimed Kitty Silver.

  It was the strange taste of Gammire that so excited them. Florence had peeled her orange and divided it rather fairly into three parts, but the vehemence she exerted in speaking of her grandfather had caused her to drop one of these upon the ground. Gammire promptly ate it, “sat up” and adjusted his paws in prayer for more.

  “Now you listen me!” said Kitty Silver. “I ain’t see no dog eat orange in all my days, an’ I ain’t see nobody else whut see dog eat orange! No, ma’am, an’ I ain’t nev’ hear o’ nobody else whut ev’ see nobody whut see dog eat orange!”

  Herbert decided to be less impressed. “Oh, I’ve heard of dogs that’d eat apples,” he said. “Yes, and watermelon and nuts and things.” As he spoke he played with the tennis ball upon his racket, and concluded by striking the ball high into the air. Its course was not true; and it descended far over toward the orchard, where Herbert ran to catch it — but he was not quick enough. At the moment the ball left the racket Gammire abandoned his prayers: his eyes, like a careful fielder’s, calculating and estimating, followed the swerve of the ball in the breeze, and when it fell he was on the correct spot. He caught it.

  Herbert shouted. “He caught it on the fly! It must have been an accident. Here — —” And he struck the ball into the air again. It went high — twice as high as the house — and again Gammire “judged” it; continuously shifting his position, his careful eyes never leaving the little white globe, until just before the last instant of its descent he was motionless beneath it. He caught it again, and Herbert whooped.

  Gammire brought the ball to him and invited him to proceed with the game. That there might be no mistaking his desire, Gammire “sat up” and prayed; nor did he find Herbert anything loth. Out of nine chances Gammire “muffed” the ball only twice, both times excusably, and Florence once more flung her arms about the willing performer.

  “Who do you s’pose trained this wonderful, darling doggie?” she cried.

  Mrs. Silver shook her marvelling head. “He mus’ ‘a’ come thataway,” she said. “I bet nobody ‘t all ain’ train him; he do whut he want to hisse’f. That Gammire don’ ast nobody to train him.”

  “Oh, goodness!” Florence said, with sudden despondency. “It’s awful!”

  “Whut is?”

  “To think of as lovely a dog as this having to face grandpa!”

  “‘Face’ him!” Kitty Silver echoed forebodingly. “I reckon you’ grampaw do mo’n dess ‘face’ him.”

  “That’s what I mean,” Florence explained. “I expect he’s just brute enough to drive him off.”

  “Yes’m,” said Mrs. Silver. “He git madder ev’y time somebody sen’ her new pet. You’ grampaw mighty nervous man, an’ everlas’n’ly do hate animals.”

  “He hasn’t seen Gammire, has he?”

  “Don’t look like it, do it?” said Kitty Silver. “Dog here yit.”

  “Well, then I — —” Florence paused, glancing at Herbert, for she had just been visited by a pleasant idea and had no wish to share it with him. “Is Aunt Julia in the house?”

  “She were, li’l while ago.”

  “I want to see her about somep’n I ought to see her about,” said Florence. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SHE RAN INTO the house, and found Julia seated at a slim-legged desk, writing a note.

  “Aunt Julia, it’s about Gammire.”

  “Gamin.”

  “What?”

  “His name is Gamin.”

  “Kitty Silver says his name’s Gammire.”

  “Yes,” said Julia. “She would. His name is Gamin, though. He’s a little Parisian rascal, and his name is Gamin.”

  “Well, Aunt Julia, I’d rather call him Gammire. How much did he cost?”


  “I don’t know; he was brought to me only this morning, and I haven’t asked yet.”

  “But I thought somebody gave him to you.”

  “Yes; somebody did.”

  “Well, I mean,” said Florence, “how much did the person that gave him to you pay for him?”

  Julia sighed. “I just explained, I haven’t had a chance to ask.”

  Florence looked hurt. “I don’t mean you would ask ’em right out. I just meant: Wouldn’t you be liable to kind of hint around an’ give ’em a chance to tell you how much it was? You know perfeckly well it’s the way most the fam’ly do when they give each other somep’n pretty expensive, Christmas or birthdays, and I thought proba’ly you’d — —”

  “No. I shouldn’t be surprised, Florence, if nobody ever got to know how much Gamin cost.”

  “Well — —” Florence said, and decided to approach her purpose on a new tack. “Who was it trained him?”

  “I understand that the person who gave him to me has played with him at times during the few days he’s been keeping him, but hasn’t ‘trained’ him particularly. French Poodles almost learn their own tricks if you give them a chance. It’s natural to them; they love to be little clowns if you let them.”

  “But who was this person that gave him to you?”

  Julia laughed. “It’s a secret, Florence — like Gamin’s price.”

  At this Florence looked piqued. “Well, I guess I got some manners!” she exclaimed. “I know as well as you do, Aunt Julia, there’s no etiquette in coming right square out and asking how much it was when somebody goes and makes you a present. I’m certainly enough of a lady to keep my mouth shut when it’s more polite to! But I don’t see what harm there is in telling who it is that gives anybody a present.”

  “No harm at all,” Julia murmured as she sealed the note she had written. Then she turned smilingly to face her niece. “Only I’m not going to.”