Paul the Peddler; Or, The Fortunes of a Young Street Merchant by Jr. Horatio Alger (best finance books of all time TXT) 📕

It will be inferred, from the preceding conversation, that Mrs. Montgomery was not likely to be shocked by the lack of honesty in her husband. Her conscience was as elastic as his; and she was perfectly willing to help him spend his unlawful gains.

“How soon are you going to sell the ring?” she asked.

“I should like to dispose of it at once, Maria.”

“You will need to. Mrs. Flagg wants her bill paid at once.”

“I quite understand the necessity of promptness, my dear. Only, you know, one has to be cautious about disposing of articles obtained in this way.”

“You say you left the boy locked up. It seems to me, you'd better sell the ring before he has a chance to get out and interfere.”

“I don't know but you're right, my dear. Well, we'll get ready.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Yes; it will disarm suspicion if you are with me. I think I'll go as a country parson.”

“Country parsons are not apt to have diamond rings to dispose of.”

“Very true, my dear. The remark does credit to your good judgment and penetration. But I know how to get over that.”

“As how?”

“Be a little more particular about your speech, my dear. Remember, you are a minister's wife, and must use refined expressions. What is easier than to say that the ring was given me by a benevolent lady of my congregation, to dispose of for the benefit of the poor?”

“Well thought of, Tony. You've got a good head-piece.”

“You're right, my dear. I don't like to indulge in self-praise, but I believe I know a thing or two. And now for the masquerade. Where are the duds?”

“In the black trunk.”

“Then we'd better lose no time in putting them on.”

Without describing the process of transformation in detail, it will be sufficient to say that the next twenty minutes wrought a decided change in the appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Felix Montgomery. The former was arrayed in a suit of canonical black, not of the latest cut. A white neckcloth was substituted for the more gaudy article worn by the jeweler from Syracuse, and a pair of silver-bowed spectacles, composed of plain glass, lent a scholarly air to his face. His hair was combed behind his ears, and, so far as appearance went, he quite looked the character of a clergyman from the rural districts.

“How will I do, my dear?” he asked, complacently.

“Tiptop,” answered the lady. “How do I look?”

Mrs. Montgomery had put on a dress of sober tint, and scant circumference, contrasting in a marked manner with the mode then prevailing. A very plain collar encircled her neck. Her hands were incased in brown silk gloves, while her husband wore black kids. Her bonnet was exceedingly plain, and her whole costume was almost Quaker-like in its simplicity.

Her husband surveyed her with satisfaction.

“My dear,” he said, “you are a fitting helpmeet for the Rev. Mr. Barnes, of Hayfield Centre. By Jove, you do me credit!”

“'By Jove' is not a proper expression for a man of your profession, Mr. Barnes,” said the new minister's wife, with a smile.

“You are right, my dear. I must eschew profanity, and cultivate a decorous style of speech. Well, are we ready?”

“I am.”

“Then let us set forth on our pilgrimage. We will imagine, Mrs. Barnes, that we are about to make some pastoral calls.”

They emerged into the street. On the way downstairs they met Mrs. Flagg, the landlady, who bowed respectfully. She was somewhat puzzled, however, not knowing when they were let in.

“Good-morning, madam,” said Mr. Barnes. “Are you the landlady of this establishment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have been calling on one of your lodgers—Mr. Anthony Blodgett (this was the name by which Mr. Felix Montgomery was known in the house). He is