THE TALE OF THE LOST LAND
CHAPTER 31: MARCO
(continued)
Our new money was not only handsomely circulating, but its language
was already glibly in use; that is to say, people had dropped
the names of the former moneys, and spoke of things as being worth
so many dollars or cents or mills or milrays now. It was very
gratifying. We were progressing, that was sure.
I got to know several master mechanics, but about the most interesting
fellow among them was the blacksmith, Dowley. He was a live man
and a brisk talker, and had two journeymen and three apprentices,
and was doing a raging business. In fact, he was getting rich,
hand over fist, and was vastly respected. Marco was very proud of
having such a man for a friend. He had taken me there ostensibly
to let me see the big establishment which bought so much of his
charcoal, but really to let me see what easy and almost familiar
terms he was on with this great man. Dowley and I fraternized
at once; I had had just such picked men, splendid fellows, under
me in the Colt Arms Factory. I was bound to see more of him, so
I invited him to come out to Marco's Sunday, and dine with us.
Marco was appalled, and held his breath; and when the grandee
accepted, he was so grateful that he almost forgot to be astonished
at the condescension.
Marco's joy was exuberant--but only for a moment; then he grew
thoughtful, then sad; and when he heard me tell Dowley I should
have Dickon, the boss mason, and Smug, the boss wheelwright, out
there, too, the coal-dust on his face turned to chalk, and he lost
his grip. But I knew what was the matter with him; it was the
expense. He saw ruin before him; he judged that his financial
days were numbered. However, on our way to invite the others,
I said:
"You must allow me to have these friends come; and you must also
allow me to pay the costs."
His face cleared, and he said with spirit:
"But not all of it, not all of it. Ye cannot well bear a burden
like to this alone."
I stopped him, and said:
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