A Few Minutes with the Grocer

by Mary Stewart Cutting

A FEW MINUTES WITH THE GROCER

BY MARY STEWART CUTTING

GLAD to see you, Mr. Saunders! Yes, indeed, your chair is always ready for you behind the stove when you feel you can walk so far from the boarding-house. It don't quite seem like you got your strength as you'd ought to, in this air. What say? Boardin' house wears on you? No, I ain't never set down to the table with thirteen women at a time; I guess five or six has been my limit. Just stand over here for a moment, if you please. Mr. Steers, now that young lady's gone you were waitin' on, if you can take time from settlin' your necktie, I'd like you to help Jacob run those tubs of butter to the back of the store. What? Where they always go, by the lamp chimneys and the moth balls. Now, Mr. Saunders, you can set.

Didn't expect to see you down here this cold day, your wife looks after you so thorough. Joined the Woman's Club, has she? You don't say! Well, I guess it will be a mighty good thing for her. Yes, indeed, she'll get just what she feels to want for her mind. Yes, gives her something to talk about. Brings real tnterestin' subjects into the home, too; Venus, and Paul Jones, and what they dig up out of those old educational countries—keeps you from getting narrow. Yes, that's so, a great many ladies find a difficulty in using their minds like they'd like to use 'em; lots of 'em would be right intellectual if they only saw their way to it. Housekeepin' balls 'em all up at times; it's the strain that does it. Well, yes, we do have an opportunity of seein' that; there's days when they have to be helped out quite some.

What say, sir? The lady with red cheeks and brown hair? Oh, there! That's Mrs. Fairlie, one of the salt of the earth she is, but—all right, Mr. Steers, I'm comin'. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Saunders——

Good-afternoon, Mrs. Fairlie, we don't see you very often these days. My wife asks me every little while. Seen Mrs. Fairlie lately? She ain't forgot your kindness to her when our little boy was sick. Well, she thought a sight of it, anyway! Mr. Fairlie keeps well, I hope. Yes, indeed, this weather does take a lot of strength out of some people, keeping up their vitality the way they have to. Affects Mr. Fairlie like that! Well, I suppose even a sneeze can show which way the wind blows. Well, yes, it does seem too bad he has to go down-town every day; if he could only stay home every time you felt to want him to I presume it might he beneficial, still—Well, a man does feel he has to work! Worries you, though, doesn't it? I shouldn't wonder if the cold did press onto your brains, as you say. My sister-in-law suffers from the cold more'n most any one I ever knew. She doesn't circulate properly. No, it's not her head. She's troubled with cold feet. Can't do a thing but sit by the stove with a shawl around her, her extremities are so sensitive—no feelin' in 'em. That was her husband was in here with the baby just now. Was there anything you wanted, Mrs. Fairlie? Oh! There's quite a number forgets just that way, as soon as they get inside the door—seems to go right from 'em. You'll remember in a minute or two. Tryin' ever since you came in—you don't say! I'm sure I wish I could help you recollect it. Wanted it in a hurry, did you? Something to eat. That's what we mostly keep, things to eat. Yes, indeed, with a dressmaker in the house time is expensive. Jacob, don't you know better than to sweep up the floor onto the lady? If you'd just step one side, ma'am—not that way, this way. Thank you. It hasn't come to you yet, Mrs. Fairlie? Well, that's too bad. Yes, caterin' for a large family is a strain. Oh, no, ma'am, you're not keeping me, don't let that trouble you, Mr. Steers can wait on those two ladies in a moment, I guess.

Let me see—what you wanted wasn't butter?—nor eggs?—nor tea?—nor sugar? Hm—nothing of that kind. Nothin' in packages—nothing canned. Oh! something that begins with a W. Mr. Steers, can you think of anything that begins with a W? Not walnuts. Nor washing powder. Something that begins with a W.—W—No, ma'am, that begins with an H, but if—Oh, of course not. With—a W or an H. Well, yes ma'am, it is real confusin'— Mr. Steers, this little boy's been waitin' a long time, be wants one of those ten cent packages of molasses candy—in that case by the hair brushes. Well, it is singular how you can't remember it. Perhaps you had better let it go for the present. Oh, yes, we have quite a number of new things that's novelties, that Mr. Fairlie might like. Hm—well, I presume the Stock Exchange does wear on the stomach more'n he realizes. Worries you, doesn't it? Here's a health product that's highly recommended for those that's weak in their digestions; prunes stuffed with nut meats and olive pits. They claim that in three days you won't know there's been anything the matter with you at all. It doesn't appeal to you? Hm-Mr. Steers, will you hand me down that purple and gilt package—Now here's a fine thing. Royal Acorns—just put on the market. They claim there's the elements of most everything you want in a Royal Acorn—supplies the brain. Yes, ma'am, that's right—our oaks, strongest trees we have, grow from acorns. It says right here on the package that if you take for your dinner every night a little clear soup, a slice of rare roast beef or mutton, a couple of well-cooked vegetables, some simple pudding with cream and a toasted Royal Acorn, you build up tissue right along. Sounds real appetizing, don't it? Makes you eat what you had oughter, anyway. Think you don't care for it? Oh, yes, ma'am, we have baked beans in cans. Yes, he might like 'em to-night, as it's so long since he's had them, still—Yes, ma'am, that's just the way it happens, he'll most probable have et 'em for lunch to-day in the city. Last week I got my mind so set on oyster stew that I stopped into Salter's on my way home and filled up on two steamin' plates. When I got into the house my wife comes smilin' up to say, "I've got something you'll like for supper this cold night, something we ain't had for most a year."

Yes, ma'am, of course, it was oyster stew. Oh, no, I didn't let on—no, ma'am—I didn't dare. She had her eyes on me. But I never realized there was so much liquid to a stew before. Well, ma'am, my brother-in-law came in afterwards, and he says out loud: "Enjoyed that stew you had at Salter's before supper?" I don't know's my wife's got over it yet. Well, ma'am, maybe so, but it seems that if you were transferrin' your thoughts to each other, as you say, it might be done more satisfactory. Hasn't come to you yet, Mrs. Fairlie, what you wanted? A-all right, if you stop here on your way back I'll have the beans ready for you. What say, Mr. Saunders? Well, it does, some—makes you feel like you do when you've been up all night in your clothes.

— — — Wait a moment there, ma'am, till I help you over the door-sill with that baby carriage. Fine child you've got there. As young as that! You surprise me. My sister-in-law's little boy's the same age, but he's puny; she tries a new food on him two or three times a week, yet he don't gain.

What did you want, ma'am? All right, I'll have 'em done up so's you can take 'em with you. Where shall I send the flour? Oh, I know the neighborhood very well, Mrs.—— Bowers? Thank you. Yes, Mr. Bowers, no healthier place in the country for babies. Oh, if you're once here, you'll stay. Yes, ma'am, once people come here they don't leave it. I know a lady who came twenty years ago to stay overnight, and she's a grandmother now; been here ever since! Well, of course, it takes time to do that, but you'll like it. You wouldn't want any mouse traps, or insect powder? Well, a house that's been empty so long is apt to have them in to some degree. Now don't let it weigh on you, a mite. Why, certainly, if the agent said it was all right, that settles it. Yes, I know him, I know Mr. Blowwell. Shall I put these packages in the baby carriage for you, ma'am? Oh, there's a chicken in front of the baby—been to market, I see. Yes, there's plenty of room; I'll just tuck the mustard and pickles under his little legs, and lay the bacon at his back, where it won't fall out. Perhaps you'd better carry the cream cheese. Yes, ma'am. You said cream cheese. Well, that's what I understood you to say. Shoe polish, you meant? Yes, ma'am, here it is. I should have known what you meant, shouldn't I? I guess we was both of us to Dreamland. What is it? No, I didn't see your pocket-book in your hand when you came in. Mr. Steers, will you look over there? This lady can't find her pocket-book. Well, now, that is too bad. Can't think what you did with it. Well, now, maybe if you'll let your mind alone it'll clear up of itself—a great many ladies tries that.—Oh, don't worry about what you've bought now—you can pay for 'em with the flour in the morning. Mr. Steers, will you help this lady over the door-sill with the baby carriage?

Back again, Mrs.Fairlie? Remembered what you come for; well, that's encouragin', isn't it? It wasn't something to eat after all! Well, we was both wrong, wasn't we? Oh, it was the bill you wanted to speak about. Larger than you expected. Well, now, I shouldn't wonder; it does often happen that way, don't it? Certainly, if there's any mistake we'll fix it all right. Why yes, when the family's smaller it should make a difference! Yes, I don't wonder you were astonished, so particular as you are, to see a bill of this size. Hm. Mr. Steers says you did only order a yeast cake that morning, but after lunch the cook telephoned for a barrel of flour, ten pounds of butter, a pound of tea, a case of tomatoes and fourteen pounds of sugar—and the next day there was an order for lemons and fancy biscuits in the afternoon. Yes, ma'am, that was the day it rained. You had all the children in from next door, did you, for a party? Well, I guess their mother must have been pretty thankful to you, she's been sick so long. Yes, it is hard to keep track of everything—worries you, though, doesn't it? If you'll send in your pass-book, Mrs. Fairlie, we'll straighten out things for you. Oh, I don't think it's here. No, ma'am. Mr. Steers, will you look up Mrs. Fairlie's pass-book and see if it's here? Not been here for three weeks, he says. The cook couldn't find it? Well, ma'am, that's what she told him. She says the one you had before she came must have lost it. Hm. Well, I don't wonder you feel that way about it. Hm. Wears you all out, don't it? Yes, ma'am, harder to get every day, that's what everyone says. Mrs. Walker was speaking about it to me this morning, she's had a Slav and she's had a Fin and she expects an Esquimaux on Monday for the winter. She says she doesn't care as long as she can get somebody that'll take an interest. Yes, that's what people mostly want, somebody that'll take an interest. No, ma'am, I'm afraid I don't know of one. There was Mrs. Rich's girl, but there's been twenty-one ladies after her already and you have to get a letter of introduction. Yes, Mrs. Rich did come home last month, but she's gone away again, she has to have changes of scene, or else she goes right down; it's what they call nervous prosperity, her mind gives way under her, A-a-ll right, Mrs. Fairlie, we'll straighten out that little bill for you. You don't think you'll take the beans after all. A-a-ll right, Mrs. Fairlie. Takes up all the time you have; I should think so. Housekeepin' does strain you, there's no mistake about it. Thank you, I'll give my wife your message. Why yes, the little fellow's grown considerable. She'll be glad to think I've seen you remembering all you did for him. Well, she thought a sight of it anyway! Good-afternoon, Mrs. Fairlie.