Checkers: A Hard-luck Story

"Well, that's what a father has to expect," remarked Checkers. "If ever I have a son, I 'll begin storing up veal on the day that he's born – I'll need it if he takes after 'papa.'"

Arthur laughed and laid his hand caressingly upon Checker's shoulder. "Old man," he said, "I like you and I want you to stay here and be my chum. We 'll have some bully times together, and you 'll like it when you get used to the place. You 've treated me mighty white all through, and I want to tell you that I appreciate it."

Checkers grew red. He felt embarrassed, and hesitated for a reply. Arthur knew his story, or such of it as Checkers had seen fit to relate to him. But Checkers had never intimated that he was hopelessly dependent. He had spoken vaguely of relatives; of drawing a draft on Uncle Giles; of telegraphing to Chicago for money; it lent him respectability.

It must be remembered that at this time Checkers had not been through the most trying part of the experiences of which he had spoken while dining with me at Kinsley's that night. And while by no means Arthur's equal in the social scale, he was still very far from being the hardened tout, whom two years later, I met at the race-track, Derby Day.

Nevertheless, he himself felt a difference intuitively, and though he had exercised to the full his talent for making himself companionable, it had proved a very difficult task to fully break through Arthur's reserve. This sudden show of sentiment, therefore, upon Arthur's part, affected and pleased him; and reaching up to the hand on his shoulder, he grasped it warmly. "I 'll go you," he said. And the two friends smiled into each other's eyes.

V

A very few days sufficed to make Checkers feel thoroughly at home in his new surroundings. The Kendall house was a roomy, frame structure set upon one of the highest of the Ozark Mountains, to which the road from Clarksville was a gradual, and almost constant ascent. From his window Checkers could see for miles down into the valley, across the dense growth of mountain-pines, the many shaded green and yellow squares of fields and farm lands beyond, and away in the distance the Arkansas River glistening in the sun like a silver snake.

Immediately surrounding the house were the orchards, their trees almost breaking with the wealth of their red and yellow fruit.

Checkers had found ready favor with Mr. Kendall by evincing an enthusiastic interest, confessing at the same time an ignorance which allowed the old gentleman full opportunity for enlarging upon his favorite hobbies. Aunt Deb's smiles were as quickly won by a deft word in praise of the table.

Just how Arthur had explained the presence of his friend to the household, Checkers did not know. But it was evident, as he remarked to himself, that "the explanation went," and he bothered himself about it no further.

At the store it was found that Checkers' talents were those of a salesman par excellence.

He quickly learned the run of the goods, and his chief delight, to use his own words, was "to jolly the jays into buying something they absolutely had no need of."

Arthur and Mr. Bradley would sometimes stand almost convulsed with silent laughter, listening to the dialogue between Checkers and some country customer.

He was quick at reading character, and his intuitions were remarkably keen. He was able, therefore, to ingratiate himself with nearly every class of purchaser, by starting a genial conversation upon the topic he deemed most fit, letting it take its course through all the vagaries of a country mind, until at last it veered around to the subject of a possible purchase. Then, in the most disinterested way, and as though rather sorry to end the talk, he would go behind the counter and pleasantly show forth a number of things that had n't been asked for, as though it was only as a special favor that he had gone to the trouble of getting the articles down. Such consideration, backed by a judicious talk, seldom failed of the most substantial results; and Checkers' fame soon went abroad as "a nice, young feller and a smart 'un, too."

It was during his first few days at the store that he acquired the soubriquet of "Checkers." It was a piece of rude, bucolic wit, but the name stuck to him, as such names will, and followed him through his many vicissitudes.

Time was at a discount in Clarksville, Everyone had time to spend, but few had money for such a purpose. And generally at the Kendall store, some six or eight of the local talent might be found lounging comfortably in the chairs outside, chaffing one another, chewing tobacco, and waiting for something new to turn up.

This was particularly the case on Saturdays, when the farmers came to town with their apples, vegetables and eggs for barter, made their necessary purchases, and consumed the balance of the day in standing around, talking crops and politics.

Although there were no saloons in the place, the greater part of the assemblage always delayed their shopping until the last possible moment, which naturally made a considerable rush at the various stores as evening approached.

It was Checkers' first Saturday there, and while endeavoring to be as helpful as possible, he was nevertheless rather awkward, as a result of his unaccustomedness.

This did not fail to be observed by the natives, to whom he was an object of much curiosity, and to whom his presence among the Kendalls was a matter of wide and varied conjecture. The younger element especially showed an undisguised interest in all that he did, whispering and laughing among themselves in a way which, to Checkers, was most exasperating.

There is something about a city-bred youth – his manner, his clothes, his well-groomed look, his unconscious air of superiority – which is antagonistic to country prejudice. Such prejudice is not hard to remove, and generally disappears upon short acquaintance. But the initiation is very trying, and Checkers felt the ordeal keenly.

"Say, Arthur," he said, as Kendall passed, "if some of those guys do n't chase themselves, and quit whisperin' around, and givin' me the rah-rah, there 's going to be a fight or a foot race, and your Uncle Dudley won't be in front."

"Why, they're all right," said Arthur, soothingly. "They're interested in you, because you 're a stranger. But they do n't mean the slightest harm. You know 'a cat may look at a king.'"

"Yes, I know 'a cat may look at a king,' but she 'd better not see any flies on the king, if she wants to keep her health and strength," and Checkers continued arranging a show-case.

In order to save his clothes while working, Checkers had brought to the store an old suit of a loud, checked pattern, and peculiar cut, which, nevertheless, was very becoming.

Towards evening the crowd began to increase, and Mr. Bradley, Arthur, two assistants and Checkers were all as busy as it was possible to be. Those who were being waited on took none the less time in making their purchases, because there were others awaiting their turn. As a consequence, there was chafing and grumbling among the procrastinators, who were now in a hurry.

Uncle Jerry Halter, from the back woods – a character; shrewd, crabbed and as close as the next minute – was foremost among these, and at last he discovered our friend, Mr. Campbell, checked suit and all, returning from having washed his hands, after a not very successful attempt at filling a large brown jug with molasses.

The old man crowded through to the counter, leaning over it expectantly, but Checkers passed him by unheeded, making his way toward a pretty girl.

"Hey there!" exclaimed Uncle Jerry indignantly – his voice was loud and very nasal. "Hey! 'Checkers,' or whatever your name is – I'm in a hurry, and I want to go."

Instantly there was a general laugh, and Checkers stopped and turned around.

"Well, go if you want to – you're not tied down," he retorted, and the laugh was on Uncle Jerry.

The old man colored to the roots of his hair. "You 're very fresh, young feller," he snarled.

"Yes; warranted to keep in any climate," said Checkers, smiling good-naturedly at him.

Arthur happened along just then, and soothed and waited upon Uncle Jerry, getting him peaceably out of the store.

In the morning at breakfast he related the incident to Mr. Kendall, who he knew would appreciate it.

"There is only one man about here meaner than old Jerry Halter," said Mr. Kendall, addressing Checkers, "and that is the father of Arthur's little friend, Miss Barlow. I once heard a friend of mine say of him that 'he wouldn't smile unless it was at another man's expense,' and I quite believe it. Arthur could tell you no end of humorous things about him, if he only would. But I suppose he does n't want to relate what may some day be family secrets. How is that, Arthur?"

Arthur looked annoyed, but did not reply to this bit of parental humor.

"As soon as Pert and Sadie come home you must take Mr. Campbell to call on them, Arthur," said Aunt Deb. "They are two lovely girls," she continued, turning to Checkers. "They 've been away to school; to a seminary up in Illinois. School's out now, of course, but they 're visiting somewhere – in St. Louis, I believe. They 're expected home this week, though; so you 'll have the pleasure of meeting them soon."

"Sisters?" asked Checkers.

"No; not sisters, but cousins, and almost inseparable. Sadie is n't as pretty as Pert, but she 's just as sweet as sweet can be, and a perfect treasure about a house. Are you fond of young ladies, Mr. Campbell?"

Checkers hardly knew what to say. "I 'm a great admirer of girls in general," he replied, after a moment's hesitation, "and they 've always struck me as being a mighty nice thing to kind of have around. But I 've had very little experience with them – that is, at least, in the last two years."

The truth was, that the friends with whom Checkers had gone to live in Chicago, after his mother's death, had been people of true worth and refinement. They were poor – a widowed mother and two daughters – and the liberal sum which Checkers insisted upon paying them for his monthly maintenance was to them a matter of grateful benefit. But they, in return, had exercised a restraining influence over him; had taught him to be courteous and gentlemanly, deferential to his elders, and respectful toward women, or, at least to maintain such an outward semblance, which answered all general purposes.

He had conceived a boyish adoration for the elder daughter, four years his senior, which had aided her materially in her influence over him for good. And it was only as he began to realize the utter hopelessness of his passion, and at the same time found himself being supplanted by the bearded man who some months after married her and took her away, that he grew dissatisfied with working and found the excitement that he craved in racing and kindred gambling devices.

For several years he had lived this life, gradually growing hard and careless. But now that he found himself once more an inmate of a respectable family circle, he resumed his gentleness of manner, as it had been a half-forgotten rôle.

"I had been keeping the girls as a little surprise for him, Aunt Deb," said Arthur rather reproachfully. "To meet a girl who has been described to you is like listening to a joke which is told point first."

"I warrant he 'll find plenty to be interested in after he meets them, for all we may tell him," replied Aunt Deb.

"Yes," said Mr. Kendall, "there is something about each girl one meets a little different from any other. At least it was so when I was a boy. I never found any two quite alike."

"I never found one alike any two times," said Arthur, very feelingly; "but their uncertainty, I suppose, is their charm. Come, let's go out and loaf under the trees."

"Thank God, Sunday comes once a week," said Checkers. "I could stand two a week without straining myself."

"The girls are to be home Friday," said Arthur. "Friday night we 'll go down and call, if you'd like to."