The Architecture of the Arkansas Ozarks - Donald Harington [45]
Several pupils raised their hands. Jacob called on one, who offered the possibility that it was a congenital defect; another suggested that he might have a foreign object in his eye; another wondered if the case might be that he had enemies who were following him, and he was looking out for them. Jacob was required to call upon his star pupil, Octavia Swain, in hopes of the correct answer.
“He’s jist casing the joint,” Octavia observed, “to see if you got anything he might want to swap ye out of.”
“Kee-reck,” Jacob complimented her. “Now, these here Peddler fellers is also slick talkers. They say things like—”
“I beg your pardon…” Eli Willard interrupted.
“They say things like ‘I beg your pardon,’” Jacob went on, “and ‘Good evening, sir’ and ‘Good morning, madam,’ and ‘Permit me to serve you in any manner I can,’ and ‘This is a most unexpected pleasure,’ and ‘I beg your acceptance of my very hearty thanks for doing me the honor to inquire if I shall have the opportunity to appreciate most cordially your extremely welcome response to my gratitude for your kindness in obliging my hope that you anticipate my wishes for—’”
“Do you want your confounded window glass, or not?” Eli Willard demanded.
“Bring it in,” Jacob said to him, and while Eli Willard was outside unloading the glass from his saddlebags, Jacob told his students, “Now directly we’ll git a chance to watch how a real Peddler operates. I want you’uns to watch and listen real careful. He’ll bring in them thar winder panes, which is costin me ever cent I’ve got to my name, and then he’ll say somethin like, ‘It grieves me to have to report that the current quotation on pane glass is even more frightfully dear than I had previously imagined…’ and then he’ll soak me for all I kin raise between now and the next time he shows up, and then he’ll give me the glass, but it will turn out that the glass don’t fit my winders, it’s too big and has to be cut with God knows what, and he’ll git this big smile on his face and whip out this little gizmo from his pocket and hold it up and say, ‘Presto! A magic Acme Damascus Coal Carbon Disc Wheel Glass Cutter! In limited supply and for a short time only, ten dollars each.’ And dodgast me if I don’t pay. Here he comes. Watch careful, class.”
Eli Willard reentered, bearing a sheaf of random-sized glass sheets packed in excelsior. He cleared his throat and began, “It grieves me to have to report—”
All seventeen of Jacob’s pupils chimed in, “—THAT THE CURRENT QUOTATION ON PANE GLASS IS EVEN MORE FRIGHTFULLY DEAR THAN I HAD PREVIOUSLY IMAGINED.”
Eli Willard stared at the boys and girls, then he beseeched Jacob, “Call off your dogs,” and whispered into Jacob’s ear the new revised exorbitant figure, and told him, “Take it or leave it.”
“I aint got much choice,” Jacob observed. “But look. Them there glass pieces is too big to fit my panes.”
Eli Willard smiled and reached into his pocket and brought out a little gizmo which he held up. “Presto—” he began.
“OH LOOK!” chorused the class. “A MAGIC ACME DAMASCUS COAL CARBON DISC WHEEL GLASS CUTTER!”
“In limited—”
“—SUPPLY FOR A SHORT TIME ONLY, TEN CENTS EACH!”
“Ten dollars,” Eli Willard corrected them.
“TEN CENTS,” they reaffirmed.
“Dollars.”
“CENTS.”
“My compliments to your well-drilled academy,” Eli Willard said to Jacob.