The latter items you have to find yourself. But you could fetch up the nails mallet and shovel and a thousand notions more from Handerson and Panderson, foremost merchants and our first delivery of the day. Asa hardly needed steering to take us to H and P – he knew from habit that a candy awaited him there. Asa were incorrigible on the question of sugar. There had been instances of his looking into private windows and doors if he sniffed sweets. Even as I hitched him up outside the merchants’, I saw a madman look in his great brown eyes.
As Mr Job untied the ropes around the boxes, I ducked into the cool darkness of the emporium – a man-made wilderness of merchandise. Barrels stuffed with tools and garlands strung with bedpans. Dressmakings and hats and cheeses hanging overhead between shelves groaning with bottles of I do not know what. You felt lost in all the possibility. From somewhere inside the thicket, I heard either Handerson or Panderson greet me.
HULLOA, SIR
It were a trick to tell their voices apart.
WE HAVE GOT A MILE OF NEW CALICOES BUG BANE CONGRESS WATER MILK OF ROSES A SCORE OF NEWYORK SHIRTS A GROSS OF GOOD CLAY PIPES
Telling Handerson from Panderson did not matter to anyone but their wives. They were two fleshes with a single mind.
BROADCLOTH LINEN AND WORSTED DRILLINGS WORKED COLLARS AND CAPES A CAREFULLY SELECTED ASSORTMENT OF FAMILY GROCERIES THE VERY BEST OF TEAS AND OLD JAVA COFFEE RAISINS
You can see their single mind had a single idea.
SHEETING AND SHIRTING VERY CHOICE CARPETS AND RUGS TOBACC—
This would go on if you did not bust in.
Coffins are here
Before my lips were still, a long thin arm – Handerson’s – shot out from a heap of bonnets, clutching a peppermint stick for Asa.
* * *
A memory told to me by Mr Job. As a boy Mr Philo Fish were a maniac for speed. He run through meals and run through chores and even run the words out of his mouth in a startled chirrup. Philo were at perpetual rebellion against standing still. He were not running away, but only preferred as much dispatch as he could get – in line with the national attitude. Why walk when you might run?
He raced that way through fifteen years until a horse dropped dead on top of him. The weight of the deceased broke Philo’s right leg up and down. No more running for a time. Bed rest did not suit Philo and he did not give his leg time to heal proper. It proved that the leg were weary of Philo’s huphup, and took gangrene rather than go back to running everywhere. It were deemed best that the boy and his leg part ways. At their farewell, the surgeon poured some whiskey over his implement and handed the jug to the boy for courage.
Philo drank down half of the jug and has been racing through them since.
He never much mourned the leg, which Pa Fish wanted to bury with Christian manners. Philo only said to give it to the night pigs and took up learning leatherwork. Ever since he has made a calling from rigging harnesses and saddles and every other notion that kept a horse or other creature in place. Folks knew better than to pity Philo for his lameness. He would spit on that.
* * *
Big and Agnes made a straight line to Mr Philo’s shop with the busted harness. Today were the day for rigging the whole world.
Hidy Phi
Mr Philo hidyed back by a froggy belch. Partly from whiskey and partly from nature, Philo lacked for parlor manners.
Mrs Tabitha would have this harness fixed up Big held the harness up like it were meat for the pot.
Philo were getting around on his one natural leg and a cane. He liked to save his false leg for formal occasions. By a tilt of his head he instructed Big to add the harness to a pile in the corner. Big done as he were told and turned back – meaning to ask Mr Philo to take him as an apprentice.
Instead he were struck in the chest with a pair of shoes.
Take those to the Dog and fetch me back the jugs he swapped me
I surely will, Phi
As Big slung the shoes over his neck, he engined his courage up some.
And I might say another word to you Phi
Big never wore hats on account of vanity of his hair, but he still reached up like he were removing an imaginary one out of respect. Agnes looked in from the open window as if to encourage Big’s asking.
Mr Fish
Philo had not been paying him any mind since throwing the shoes. He were taking a loud p___ into one of his empty jugs. After an awful long time Mr Philo finished with a ceremonial braraapgh and clomped back to his workbench.
What is it Big? Philo were still holding the jug of his own water.
Now my brother came unstuck— Mr Philo I have gottohavemoneytowedCloe I will work for it Have you gotworkforme? Teach me leatherwork Mr Philo You have known me since I were a tadpole Have you work for me?
Mr Philo set down the jug of p___ slow and scratched behind his ear.
I was wondering if you ever meant to hitch Cloe up
I mean to Phi I do To make a wife of her and a honest man of myself
Mind your wishes
Big twisted his lips around to grab the next words. Before he found any, Philo answered.
I haven’t got s___ for you to do
Big shrunk down some.
And if I did have s___, I would not give it You have got a higher purpose than to sit and fart all day, Big
* * *
It were no puzzle to tell Handerson from Panderson with your eyes. Handerson were as skinny as a foal’s legs and Panderson were just the opposite. It were round Panderson that came charging out of the emporium to direct Mr Job and me as we unloaded the order of coffins.
SET THEM ON END THERE LIKE THEY ARE STANDING UP TO GREET FOLKS IF YOU WOULD
As soon as we had one stood up, it were Handerson writing on it with a chalk – Panderson had vanished back into the thicket in pursuit of a customer. As Handerson bent from the waist to scrawl the price of FOUR DOLLARS on the coffin, he looked like a vast grasshopper – even his green suitclothes encouraged the likeness.
Mr Job looked troubled by thoughts as we stood up the next coffin.
Handerson—
It were round Panderson back again somehow, puffing at a cigar.
—Panderson you have got your numbers wrong You are selling these for less than you paid for them
From inside a round cloud come THE READYMADE COFFINS IS ONLY TO LOOSEN UP POCKETBOOKS ONCE A MAN THINKS HE HAS A BARGAIN, HE LOSES HIS DISCERNMENT
Mr Job had a particular silence he took when he thought a person foolish. I could see him buttoning that silence on, plain as Panderson’s smoke. As we tied up the remaining load, Mr Job forgot his silence to hidy Miss Sarahjoseph gliding past, her feet hidden in skirts. She were the maid of Mr Clark, the richest man in Ohio.
Mr Job Mr Meed Mr Panderson— Each name came with a violent curtsy of the neck.
Back came Handerson, bowing in his grasshopper way, nearly putting his nose to the front of Sarahjoseph’s bonnet.
MA’AM ATYOURSERVICE MA’AM WE HAVE GOT MILES OF CALI—
Oh it is alright Mr Handerson I do not need the whole show I am only come for more brandied fruits Mr Clark is gustatory today