The depot master and his friend, Mr. Phinney, were not the only ones whose souls were troubled that evening. Obed Gott, as he stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the meeting place of the "club," was vexed and worried. His cousin, Captain Stitt, had gone into the house and up to his room, and Obed, after seeing him safely on his way, had returned to the club. But, instead of entering immediately, he stood in the Higgins doorway, thinking, and frowning as he thought. And the subject of his thought was the idol of feminine East Harniss, the "old-school gentleman," Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee.
The Major first came to East Harniss one balmy morning in March--came, and created an immediate sensation. "Redny" Blount, who drives the "depot wagon," was wrestling with a sample trunk belonging to the traveling representative of Messrs. Braid & Gimp, of Boston, when he heard a voice--and such a voice--saying:
"Pardon me, my dear sir, but may I trouble you for one moment?"
Now "Redny" was not used to being addressed as "my dear sir." He turned wonderingly, and saw the Major, in all his glory, standing beside him. "Redny's" gaze took in the tall, slim figure in the frock coat tightly buttoned; took in the white hair, worn just long enough to touch the collar of the frock coat; the long, drooping white mustache and imperial; the old-fashioned stock and open collar; the black and white checked trousers; the gaiters; and, last of all, the flat brimmed, carefully brushed, old-fashioned silk hat. Mr. Blount gasped.
"Huh?" he said.
"Pardon me, my dear sir," repeated the Major, blandly, smoothly, and with an air of--well, not condescension, but gracious familiarity. "Will you be so extremely kind as to inform me concerning the most direct route to the hotel or boarding house?"
The word "hotel" was the only part of this speech that struck home to "Redny's" awed mind.
"Hotel?" he repeated, slowly. "Why, yes, sir. I'm goin' right that way. If you'll git right into my barge I'll fetch you there in ten minutes."
There was enough in this reply, and the manner in which it was delivered, to have furnished the station idlers, in the ordinary course of events, with matter for gossip and discussion for a week.
Mr. Blount had not addressed a person as "sir" since he went to school. But no one thought of this; all were too much overcome by the splendor of the Major's presence.
"Thank you," replied the Major. "Thank you. I am obliged to you, sir. Augustus, you may place the baggage in this gentleman's conveyance."
Augustus was an elderly negro, very black as to face and a trifle shabby as to clothes, but with a shadow of his master's gentility, like a reflected luster, pervading his person. He bowed low, departed, and returned dragging a large, old style trunk, and carrying a plump valise.
"Augustus," said the Major, "you may sit upon the seat with the driver. That is," he added, courteously, "if Mr.--Mr.--"
"Blount," prompted the gratified "Redny."
"If Mr. Blount will be good enough to permit you to do so."
"Why, sartin. Jump right up. Giddap, you!"
There was but one passenger, besides the Major and Augustus, in the "depot wagon" that morning. This passenger was Mrs. Polena Ginn, who had been to Brockton on a visit. To Mrs. Polena the Major, raising his hat in a manner that no native of East Harniss could acquire by a lifetime of teaching, observed that it was a beautiful morning. The flustered widow replied that it "was so." This was the beginning of a conversation that lasted until the "Central House" was reached, a conversation that left Polena impressed with the idea that her new acquaintance was as near the pink of perfection as mortal could be.
"It wa'n't his clothes, nuther," she told her brother, Obed Gott, as they sat at the dinner table. "I don't know what 'twas, but you could jest see that he was a gentleman all over. I wouldn't wonder if he was one of them New York millionaires, like Mr. Williams--but SO different. 'Redny' Blount says he see his name onto the hotel register and 'twas 'Cuthbertson Scott Hardee.' Ain't that a tony name for you? And his darky man called him 'Major.' I never see sech manners on a livin' soul! Obed, I DO wish you'd stop eatin' pie with a knife."
Under these pleasing circumstances did Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee make his first appearance in East Harniss, and the reputation spread abroad by Mr. Blount and Mrs. Ginn was confirmed as other prominent citizens met him, and fell under the spell. In two short weeks he was the most popular and respected man in the village. The Methodist minister said, at the Thursday evening sociable, that "Major Hardee is a true type of the old-school gentleman," whereupon Beriah Higgins, who was running for selectman, and therefore felt obliged to be interested in all educational matters, asked whereabouts that school was located, and who was teaching it now.
It was a treat to see the Major stroll down Main Street to the post office every pleasant spring morning. Coat buttoned tight, silk hat the veriest trifle on one side, one glove on and its mate carried with the cane in the other hand, and the buttonhole bouquet--always the bouquet--as fresh and bright and jaunty as its wearer himself.
It seemed that every housekeeper whose dwelling happened to be situated along that portion of the main road had business in the front yard at the time of the Major's passing. There were steps to be swept, or rugs to be shaken, or doorknobs to be polished just at that particular time. Dialogues like the following interrupted the triumphal progress at three minute intervals:
"Good-morning, Mrs. Sogberry. GOOD-morning. A delightful morning.
Busy as the proverbial bee once more, I see. I can never cease to admire the industry and model neatness of the Massachusetts housekeeper. And how is your charming daughter this morning?
Better, I trust?"
