"
"Oh, he hasn't anything to do with it. He only brings what your Miss
Caroline has shipped. She shouldn't have sent so much, that's all."
He took the troubling bills again.
"Yo' _sounds_ raght, Mahstah Majah--you suttinly do sound _raght_! Ah
gaiss Ah got a' raise ten hund'ed thousan' pulletts an mo'."
For three more days the juggernaut of Sam Murdock's dray hauled heavy
furniture over the prostrate spirit of Clem. Faster than he could unpack
the stuff was it unpiled at his door. And it was poor stuff, moreover,
in the opinion of Little Arcady. Clem's history was known, of course,
and during these busy days the town made it a point to pass his door in
friendly curiosity about the belongings of his mistress. When these
could not be satisfactorily appraised from the yard, they sauntered up
to the porch and surveyed Clem in the front room at his work of
unpacking and cleaning. Often, indeed, some kindly disposed observer
with time to spare would lend a hand in freeing some heavy bit of
mahogany from its crate or wrappings.
The public opinion, thus advantageously formed, was for once unanimous.
The house overflowed with worthless and unbeautiful junk. To Little
Arcady this was a grievous disappointment.
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