Charlotte messenger. [volume] (Charlotte, Mecklenburg Co., N.C.) 1882-18??, 1883-04-21


Hard times" said Pete, looking
moodily at the little red stove. whats
your trader"
"Pve been sailor" said the man,
filling his pipe-a process Pete watched
greedily, for his own tobacco box was
empty. Twenty years before the
mast. l should have been a captain
before this me-but there's jealousies.
So l got sick of it. I call myself a
landsman now."
You don't have the look of a
sailor" said Pete, his eyes travelling
from the shabby fur cap and the dark
face with rather narrow, bold, black
eyes down over the shabby suit of
brown.
The man gave slight start and
glanced at him keenly: "You don't
think SO? Well, I've besn on land
some time now. Salt waters easy to
shake off. What might your name be?"
Haydon-Pete Haydon."
"And mines Job Whettles. Queer
name, amt it? Don't believe there's
another like it IN the country. Good
day, mate. If Pm round this way
again I'll look in on you.'
And he did.
One day, as Pete was soldering a
milk-pah for Mrs. Burge, this time
whisting a little, having work to
whistle over, the man came in without
warning of rap or voice.
Thought you's twenty-five mile
away afore this said Pete, plying his
iron. "Take seat"
"Things don't please me much over
that way" said the fellow, pompously,
again beginning to cut his tobacco,
perhaps as cover to his furtive
glances. 81 may stay round here a
spell. Perhaps I'll do a bit of work on
somebody's farm"
Cant get it," said Pete, briefly,
viewing his completed job with ap-
proval. "Ain't no farm-work to be
had just now."
"Well, doing chores, mean-light
work. I'm not particular how little |
do for my board" with coarse laugh.
"Folks do their own work round
here" said Pete. "Some of 'em have
got money encagh to pay, but they're
able-bodied, as it happens, and don't
want hired man round in the winter.
"Seems a pity = don't it?-that
things can't be equally divided, so that
you and l could have our SHARE" said
the stranger, putting industriously at
his pipe, but not forgetting to watch
the tinker. II should like to help my
self to somebody's pile; now, shouldn't
you? Honestly enough, of course,
man. You needn't jump. l mean, sup
pose the young fellow that owns the
big farm over there--Poysett should
say, 'Whettles, take half my bank
stock. / don't need it all?' do you
think ! should say 'no'?"
OF course the tinker laughed at the
fanciful notion. He was sunny-tem-
pered fellow; it hardly needed very
bright thing to provoke his mirth.
Where Whettles stayed at night was
a mystery. Sometimes Pete suspected
he might have slept in a barn, he
turned up so tousled in the morning;
often he guessed that Toppan, the
saloonkeeper, had given him lodging,
from the fumes that fingered about
his shabby person. He had money at
times, for again and again he treated
Pete to glass of whisky. Pete was
not used to frequenting the saloon; he
did not in the least approve OF it; but
IL happened that about this time this
evil bird of prey sought his company
more persistently than did any more
respectable person. And Whettles
was sociable fellow; he could tell
more stories in half an hour than any
six of the honest people Pete knew
taken together. He was, so Pete con-
cluded, nobody's enemy but his own.
1t would take more time than you are
willing to give, and a deeper knowl'
edge of mental intTfcacies than pos
sess, to detail the process through
which Pete was brought to the point
Of promising to creep into the Poysett
farmhouse and rifle the old desk that
stood between the sitting-room
windows. The grocer's bill was grow
ing longer, his wife was paler, and she
worried him by entreaties to let
Whettles alone and forsake Toppan's;
the aggregate of such straws is not
small.
The opportunity came, fitting the
mood as exactly as if the mood hal
made it. Frank Poysett was going to
Boston to meet Jonn Wiley; the
"women folks" would be alone.
"You take Poysett's," said Whet-
ties you know the lay of the land
thnre and the same night III try Tur-