Those Times and These. Cobb Irvin Shrewsbury
was nearly everybody else in Red Gravel County; and when he came in to make a purchase it was never the senior member of the firm but always one of the clerks who served him. At such times Mr. Felsburg, from the back part of the store, would watch Mr. Albritton steadily. He never approached him, never offered to speak to him; but he watched him.
One day, not so very long after the date when Mr. Felsburg privately took over the mortgages on the Albritton place, Albritton drove in with a load of tobacco for the Buckner & Keys Warehouse; and, leaving his team and loaded wagon outside, he went into the Oak Hall to buy something. Adolph Dreifus, one of the salesmen, waited on him as he often had before.
The owners of the establishment were at the moment engaged in conference in the rear of the store. Mr. Ike Felsburg was urging, with all the eloquence at his command, the advisability of adding a line of trunks and suit cases to the stock – a venture which he personally strongly favoured – when he became aware that his brother was not heeding what he had to say. Instead of heeding, Mr. Herman was peering along a vista of counters and garment racks to where Adolph Dreifus stood on one side of a show case and Tom Albritton stood on the other. There was a queer expression on Mr. Felsburg’s face. His eyes were squinted and his tongue licked at his lower lip.
“Hermy,” said the younger man, irritated that his brother’s attention should go wandering afar while a subject of such importance was under discussion, “Hermy, would you please be so good as to listen to me what I am saying to you?”
There was no answer. Mr. Herman continued to stare straight ahead. Mr. Ike raised his voice impatiently:
“Hermy!”
The older man turned on him with such suddenness that Mr. Ike almost slipped off the stool upon which he was perched.
“What’s the idea – yelling in my ear like a graven image?” demanded Mr. Herman angrily. “Do you think maybe I am deef or something?”
“But, Hermy,” complained Mr. Ike, “you ain’t listening at all. Twice now I have to call you; in fact, three times.”
“Is that so?” said Mr. Herman with elaborate sarcasm. “I suppose you think I got nothing whatever at all to do except I should listen to you? If I should spend all my time listening to you where would this here Oak Hall Clothing Emporium be? I should like to ask you that. Gabble, gabble, gabble all day long – that is you! Me, I don’t talk so much; but I do some thinking.”
“But this is important, what I am trying to tell you, Hermy. Why should you be watching yonder, with a look on your face like as if you would like to bite somebody? Adolph Dreifus ain’t so dumb in the head but what he could sell a pair of suspenders or something without your glaring at him every move what he makes.”
“Did I say I was looking at Adolph Dreifus?” asked Mr. Herman truculently.
“Well, then, if you ain’t looking at Adolph, why should you look so hard at that Albritton fellow? He don’t owe us any money, so far as I know. For what he gets he pays cash, else we positively wouldn’t let him have the goods. I’ve seen you acting like this before, Hermy. Every time that Albritton comes in this place you drop whatever you are doing and hang round and hang round, watching him. I noticed it before; and I should like to ask – ”
“Mister Ikey Felsburg,” said Mr. Herman slowly, “if you could mind your own business I should possibly be able to mind mine. Remember this, if you please – I look at who I please. You are too nosey and you talk too damn much with your mouth! I am older than what you are; and I tell you this – a talking jaw gathers no moss. Also, I would like to know, do my eyes belong to me or do they maybe belong to you, and you have just loaned ‘em to me for a temporary accommodation?”
“But, Hermy – ”
“Ike, shut up!”
And Mr. Ike, warned by the tone in his brother’s voice, shut up.
One afternoon, perhaps six months after this passage between the two partners, Mr. Herman crossed the street from the Oak Hall to the Commonwealth Bank to make a deposit.
Through his wicket window Herb Kivil, the cashier, spoke to him, lowering his voice: “Oh, Mr. Felsburg; you remember that Albritton matter you were speaking to me about week before last?”
Mr. Felsburg nodded.
“Well, the last interest payment is more than a month overdue now; and, on top of that, Albritton still owes the payment that was due three months before that. There’s not a chance in the world of his being able to pay up. He practically admitted as much when he was in here last, asking for more time. So I’ve followed your instructions in the matter.”
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