The Trials of the Soldier's Wife

by Alex. St. Clair Abrams

  CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.

  THE APPEAL FOR CREDIT

  The first call of the little boy, when he awoke in the morning, wasfor bread. He was doubly hungry now. Thirty-six hours had passed sincehe had eaten the last mouthful of food that remained in the room. Mrs.Wentworth on that night of vigils, had determined to make an appealfor help to the man she had purchased the furniture from, on herarrival at Jackson, and in the event of his refusing to assist her, tosell the bed on which her children were wont to sleep. Thisdetermination had not been arrived at without a struggle in the heartof the soldier's wife. For the first time in her life she was about tosue for help from a stranger, and the blood rushed to her cheeks, asshe thought of the humiliation that poverty entails upon mortal. It istrue, she was not about to ask for charity, as her object was only toprocure credit for a small quantity of provisions to feed her childrenwith. The debt would be paid, she knew well enough, but still it wasasking a favor, and the idea of being obligated to a stranger, wasgalling to her proud and sensitive nature.

  "Mother," exclaimed the child, as he rose from his bed, "it is morningnow; aint I going to get some bread?"

  "Yes," she replied, "I will go out to the shop directly and get yousome."

  About an hour afterwards she left the room, and bidding Ella to takecare Of her brother, while she was absent, bending her steps towardsthe store of Mr. Swartz. This gentleman had become, in a few shortweeks, possessed of three or four times the wealth he owned when wefirst introduced him to our readers. The spirit of speculation hadseized him among the vast number of the southern people, who weredrawn into its vortex, and created untold suffering among the poorerclasses of the people. The difference with Mr. Swartz and the greatmajority of southern speculators, was the depth to which he descendedfor the purpose of making money. No article of trade, however petty,that he thought himself able to make a few dollars by, was passedaside unnoticed, while he would sell from the paltry amount of a poundof flour to the largest quantity of merchandize required. Like allpersons who are suddenly elevated, from comparative dependence, towealth, he had become purse proud and ostentatious, as he was humbleand cringing before the war. In this display of the mushroom, could beeasily discovered the vulgar and uneducated favorite of friklefortune. Even these displays could have been overlooked and pardoned,had he shown any charity to the suffering poor. But his heart was ashard as the flinty rocks against which wash the billows of theAtlantic. The cry of hunger never reached the inside of his breast. Itwas guarded with a covering of iron, impenetrable to the voice ofmisery.

  And it was to this man that Mrs. Wentworth, in her hour of bitter needapplied. She entered his store and enquired of the clerk for Mr.Swartz.

  "You, will find him in that room," he replied, pointing to a chamberin the rear of the store.

  Mrs. Wentworth entered the room, and found Mr. Swartz seated before adesk. The office, for it was his private office, was most elegantlyfurnished, and exhibited marks of the proprietor's wealth.

  Mr. Swartz elevated his brows with surprise, as he looked at thecare-worn expression and needy attire of the woman before him.

  "Vot can I do for you my coot voman," he enquired, without evenextending the courtesy of offering her a seat.

  Mrs. Wentworth remained for a moment without replying. She wasembarrassed at the uncourteous reception Mr. Swartz gave her. She didnot recollect her altered outward appearance, but thought only of thefact that she was a lady. Her intention to appeal to him for credit,wavered for awhile, but the gaunt skeleton, WANT, rose up andheld her two children before her, and she determined to subdue pride,and ask the obligation.

  "I do not know if you recollect me," she replied at last, and thenadded, "I am the lady who purchased a lot of furniture from you a fewweeks ago."

  "I do not remember," Mr. Swartz observed, with a look of surprise."But vot can I to for you dis morning?"

  "I am a soldier's wife," Mrs. Wentworth commenced hesitatingly. "Myhusband is now a prisoner in the North, and I am here, a refugee fromNew Orleans, with two small children. Until a short time ago I hadsucceeded in supporting my little family by working on soldiers'clothing, but the Quartermaster's department having ceased tomanufacture clothing, I have been for several days without work." Hereshe paused. It pained her to continue.

  Mr. Swartz looked at her with surprise, and the idea came into hismind that she was an applicant for charity.

  "Vell, vot has dat got to do vid your pisness," he observed in a coldtone of voice, determined that she should see no hope in his face.

  "This much," she replied. "For over twenty-four hours my two littlechildren and myself have been without food, and I have not a dollar topurchase it."

  "I can't do anything for you," Mr. Swartz said with a frown.

  "Dere is scarce a day but some peoples or anoder vants charity andI--"

  "I do not come to ask for charity," she interrupted hastily. "I haveonly come to ask you a favor."

  "Vat is it?" he enquired.

  "As I told you before, my children and myself are nearly starving,"she replied. "I have not the means of buying food at present, butthink it more than likely I will procure work in a few days. I havecalled to ask if you would give me credit for a few articles of fooduntil then, by which I will be able to sustain my family."

  "I thought it vas something like charity you vanted," he observed,"but I cannot do vat you vish. It is te same ting every tay mit tesogers' families. Dey comes here and asks for charity and credit,shust as if a man vas made of monish.--Gootness gracious! I don'tpelieve dat te peoples who comes here every tay is as pad off as teyvish to appear."

  "You are mistaken, sir," Mrs. Wentworth replied, "if you think I havecome here without being actually in want of the food, I ask you to letme have on credit. Necessity, and dire necessity alone, has promptedme to seek an obligation of you, and if you require it I am willing topay double the amount you charge, so that my poor children are savedfrom starvation."

  "I reckon you vill," Mr. Swartz said, "but ven you vill pay ish tequestion."

  "I could not name any precise day to you," answered Mrs. Wentworth. "Ican only promise that the debt will be paid. If I cannot even pay itmyself, as soon as my husband is exchanged he will pay whatever youcharge."

  "Dat ish a very doubtful vay of doing pisness," he remarked. "I cannotdo as you ask."

  "Consider, sir," she replied. "The amount I ask you to credit me foris but small, and even if you should not get paid (which I am certainyou will) the loss cannot be felt by a man of your wealth."

  "Dat makes no differenish. I can't give you credit. It ish against myrules, and if I proke tem for you I vill have to do so for everybody."

  Mrs. Wentworth's heart sank within her at the determined manner inwhich he expressed his refusal. Without replying she moved towards thedoor, and was about to leave the room when she thought of thebedstead, on the sale of which she now depended. He may loan money onit she thought, and she returned to the side of his desk. He looked upat her impatiently.

  "Vell," he remarked, frowning as he uttered the single word.

  "As you won't give me credit," said Mrs. Wentworth, "I thought you maybe willing to loan me some money if I gave a security for itspayment."

  "Vat kind of security?" he enquired.

  "I have, at my room, a bedstead I purchased from you some time ago,"she replied. "Will you lend a small sum of money on it?"

  "No" he answered. "I am not a pawnbroker."

  "But you might accommodate a destitute mother," remarked Mrs.Wentworth. "You have refused to give me credit, and now I ask you toloan me a small sum of money, for the payment of which I offersecurity."

  "I cannot do it," he answered. "Ven I says a ting I means it."

  "Will you buy the bedstead then?" asked Mrs. Wentworth in despair.

  "Vat can I do mit it?" he enquired.

  "Why you can sell again," replied Mrs. Wentworth. "It will always finda purchaser, particularly now that the price of everything hasincreased
so largely."

  "Veil, I vill puy te pedstead," he said, and then enquired: "How muchmonish do you vant for it?"

  "What will you give me?" she asked.

  "I vill give you forty tollars for it," he replied.

  "It must be worth more than that," she remarked. "The price ofeverything is so increased that it appears to me as if the bedsteadshould command a higher price than that offered by you."

  "Shust as you like, my goot voman," Mr. Swartz remarked, shrugging hisshoulders. "If you vant at mine price, all veil and goot; if not, youcan leave it alone. I only puy te piece of furniture to accommodateyou, and you should pe tankful."

  "I suppose I will be obliged to take your price," replied Mrs.Wentworth, "although I believe I could get more for it, did I know anyone in town who purchased such things."

  He made no reply, but calling his clerk ordered him to bring fortydollars from the safe. The clerk having brought the money retired, andleft them alone again.

  "Vere is te pedstead?" asked Swartz.

  "It is at home," Mrs. Wentworth replied.

  "Den you must pring it round here before I can pay for it," heobserved.

  "I am in want of the money now to buy bread," she answered. "If youwill pay me and let your clerk follow with a dray, I would return homeimmediately and have the bedstead taken down and sent to you."

  Mr. Swartz called the clerk again, and ordered him to bring a dray tothe front of the store. The clerk did as he was requested, and soonafter returned with the intelligence that the dray was ready.

  "Do you follow dis voman to her house, and she vill give you apedstead. Bring it down here," and then he added, speaking to theclerk who had not yet left the room: "Vat does te trayman sharge."

  "One dollar and a half," was the reply.

  Taking up the forty dollars which had been previously brought to him,Mr. Swartz counted out thirty-eight and a half dollars, and handedthem to Mrs. Wentworth.

  "De von tollar and a half out ish to pay for te trayage," he remarkedas she received the money.

  She made no reply, but left the room followed by the clerk, when, withthe drayman, they soon arrived at her room. The bedstead was soontaken down and removed to Mr. Swartz's store.

  "Sharge one huntred tollars for dat pedstead," he remarked to hisclerk as soon as it had arrived.

  While he was rejoicing at the good speculation he had made, thesoldier's wife sat on a box in her room feeding her half famishedchildren. The room was now utterly destitute of furniture, but theheart of the mother rejoiced at the knowledge that for a couple ofweeks longer her children would have food.