The Quicksands of Pactolus, Parts X-XI [pp. 513-529]

THE QUICKSANDS OF PACTOLUS.
Wal, Mastcr Dick, she's tol'able.
She works kinder hard fer a lady. Tl'her
ain't a lazy bone in her body. An'
work tells on good looks. If Miss
Phyllis marries that ther noospaper man,
she'11ll be a wreck, the first thing ye
know. That young feller'11 never keep
a hired girl fer his wife."
"Newspaper man!" cried Helen.
"Why, Dick, here is a romance. Tell
us about your newspaper man, Uncle
Joseph."
"Won't ye come in an' sit down,
Miss Helen? "
"No, no, we cannot stay long. Answer my question, Uncle Jospeh. Who
is this newspaper man?"
" Who indeed?" replied Mr. Claggett
with a loud sniff. "Why, it's Cassius
Quirk. He's around the most o' the
time too. Talkin', singin', laughin', an'
playin' the guitar."
"Damn him," murmured Dick. He
was not jealous. In poor Cassius with
his long-tailed coat and lank legs he
scented no rival, but he wished his divinity hedged from the attentions of impecunious hacks. Cassius might be one
of nature's noblemen in disguise, but the
fact remained that his fingers were inkstained; that his hair was smoothed
with a wet brush; that his linen was
dingy; that he habitually draped his
thoughts in slang and that, in a word, he
was an "outsider "- a Boeotian.
"What a delightful lover," laughed
Helen. "I hope I shall meet Mr.
Cassius Quirk."
"Why, Miss Helen, yer jokin'. Yer
don't want ter meet that feller!"
This speech irritated Dick. It emphasized the difference between Phyllis
Murray and his sister.
"Why not, Uncle Joseph? This is a
republic, you know. We are all equal.
I think I should like Mr. Quirk immensely. He is evidently full of life. Sing
ing, danciing, playing the guitar,- a
glittering description surely."
"Miss Helen, ye'r mighty smart, but
I'm goin' ter give yer a pinter. All is
not gold that glitters. If I'd'a' known
that when I was young it would've
saved me a heap o' trouble. All is not
gold that glitters."
"Is that your own, Uncle Joseph?"
said Dick, his mouth twitching. He had
recovered his good humor, and Uncle
Joseph was so terribly in earnest.
"It's not my own, so to speak, Master Dick. "It's a maxim. But I've
took it fer a motter. Ye'11 bear it in
mind, Miss Helen, when the time comes
fer pickin' a husband. Them dudes up
to the city air glitterin',-ther's no denyin' that,-with their plug hats, an'
imported seegars, an' spring bottom pants,
an' "
"White satin waistcoats, Uncle Joseph.
Don't forget white satin waistcoats."
"An' buttonhole boquets, an' goldheaded canes. Pshaw! it makes a workin man ache in all his bones jest ter see
the style them fellers put on, an' if ye'd
strip'em "
"Oh, Uncle Joseph!"
Mr. Claggett blushed. He liked to
hear himself talk, but he feared he had
committed an indiscretion.
"Miss Helen, ye know what I mean.
I'm speakin' jest wal, semaphorically.
I would n't touch the critters with a ten
foot pole!"
"Come on, Helen," cried Dick, waxing impatient. "I'm afraid of Uncle
Joseph. I don't know what he'11 say
next."
"Master Dick, I ve fixed up Mrs.
Murray's yard. It looks first rate."
"Mind you keep it so. Goodby."
The brother and sister found Mrs.
Murray and Phyllis sewing busily.' Both
women belonged to a Dorcas society,
and although almost every minute of
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