The Best American Humorous Short Stories

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The Hotel Experience Of Mr. Pink Fluker


By Richard Malcom Johanston (1822-1898)


[From The Century Magazine, June, 1886; copyright, 1886, by The Century Co.; republished in the volume, Mr. Absalom Billingslea, and Other Georgia Folk (1888), by Richard Malcolm Johnston (Harper & Brothers)]

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I

Mr. Peterson Fluker, generally called Pink, for his fondness for as stylish dressing as he
could afford, was one of that sort of men who habitually seem busy and efficient when
they are not. He had the bustling activity often noticeable in men of his size, and in one
way and another had made up, as he believed, for being so much smaller than most of his
adult acquaintance of the male sex. Prominent among his achievements on that line was
getting married to a woman who, among other excellent gifts, had that of being twice as
big as her husband.

"Fool who?" on the day after his marriage he had asked, with a look at those who had
often said that he was too little to have a wife.

They had a little property to begin with, a couple of hundreds of acres, and two or three
negroes apiece. Yet, except in the natural increase of the latter, the accretions of worldly
estate had been inconsiderable till now, when their oldest child, Marann, was some
fifteen years old. These accretions had been saved and taken care of by Mrs. Fluker, who
was as staid and silent as he was mobile and voluble.

Mr. Fluker often said that it puzzled him how it was that he made smaller crops than most
of his neighbors, when, if not always convincing, he could generally put every one of
them to silence in discussions upon agricultural topics. This puzzle had led him to not
unfrequent ruminations in his mind as to whether or not his vocation might lie in
something higher than the mere tilling of the ground. These ruminations had lately taken
a definite direction, and it was after several conversations which he had held with his
friend Matt Pike.

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Mr. Matt Pike was a bachelor of some thirty summers, a foretime clerk consecutively in
each of the two stores of the village, but latterly a trader on a limited scale in horses,
wagons, cows, and similar objects of commerce, and at all times a politician. His hopes
of holding office had been continually disappointed until Mr. John Sanks became sheriff,
and rewarded with a deputyship some important special service rendered by him in the
late very close canvass. Now was a chance to rise, Mr. Pike thought. All he wanted, he
had often said, was a start. Politics, I would remark, however, had been regarded by Mr.
Pike as a means rather than an end. It is doubtful if he hoped to become governor of the
state, at least before an advanced period in his career. His main object now was to get
money, and he believed that official position would promote him in the line of his
ambition faster than was possible to any private station, by leading him into more
extensive acquaintance with mankind, their needs, their desires, and their caprices. A
deputy sheriff, provided that lawyers were not too indulgent in allowing acknowledgment
of service of court processes, in postponing levies and sales, and in settlement of litigated
cases, might pick up three hundred dollars, a good sum for those times, a fact which Mr.
Pike had known and pondered long.

It happened just about then that the arrears of rent for the village hotel had so
accumulated on Mr. Spouter, the last occupant, that the owner, an indulgent man, finally
had said, what he had been expected for years and years to say, that he could not wait on
Mr. Spouter forever and eternally. It was at this very nick, so to speak, that Mr. Pike
made to Mr. Fluker the suggestion to quit a business so far beneath his powers, sell out,
or rent out, or tenant out, or do something else with his farm, march into town, plant
himself upon the ruins of Jacob Spouter, and begin his upward soar.
Now Mr. Fluker had many and many a time acknowledged that he had ambition; so one
night he said to his wife:

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"You see how it is here, Nervy. Farmin' somehow don't suit my talons. I need to be flung
more 'mong people to fetch out what's in me. Then thar's Marann, which is gittin' to be
nigh on to a growd-up woman; an' the child need the s'iety which you 'bleeged to
acknowledge is sca'ce about here, six mile from town. Your brer Sam can stay here an'
raise butter, chickens, eggs, pigs, an'--an'--an' so forth. Matt Pike say he jes' know they's
money in it, an' special with a housekeeper keerful an' equinomical like you."

It is always curious the extent of influence that some men have upon wives who are their
superiors. Mrs. Fluker, in spite of accidents, had ever set upon her husband a value that
was not recognized outside of his family. In this respect there seems a surprising
compensation in human life. But this remark I make only in passing. Mrs. Fluker,
admitting in her heart that farming was not her husband's forte, hoped, like a true wife,
that it might be found in the new field to which he aspired. Besides, she did not forget
that her brother Sam had said to her several times privately that if his brer Pink wouldn't
have so many notions and would let him alone in his management, they would all do
better. She reflected for a day or two, and then said:

"Maybe it's best, Mr. Fluker. I'm willin' to try it for a year, anyhow. We can't lose much
by that. As for Matt Pike, I hain't the confidence in him you has. Still, he bein' a boarder
and deputy sheriff, he might accidentally do us some good. I'll try it for a year providin'
you'll fetch me the money as it's paid in, for you know I know how to manage that
better'n you do, and you know I'll try to manage it and all the rest of the business for the
best."

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To this provision Mr. Fluker gave consent, qualified by the claim that he was to retain a
small margin for indispensable personal exigencies. For he contended, perhaps with
justice, that no man in the responsible position he was about to take ought to be expected
to go about, or sit about, or even lounge about, without even a continental red in his
pocket.

The new house--I say new because tongue could not tell the amount of scouring,
scalding, and whitewashing that that excellent housekeeper had done before a single stick
of her furniture went into it--the new house, I repeat, opened with six eating boarders at
ten dollars a month apiece, and two eating and sleeping at eleven, besides Mr. Pike, who
made a special contract. Transient custom was hoped to hold its own, and that of the
county people under the deputy's patronage and influence to be considerably enlarged.
In words and other encouragement Mr. Pike was pronounced. He could commend
honestly, and he did so cordially.

"The thing to do, Pink, is to have your prices reg'lar, and make people pay up reg'lar. Ten
dollars for eatin', jes' so; eleb'n for eatin' an' sleepin'; half a dollar for dinner, jes' so;
quarter apiece for breakfast, supper, and bed, is what I call reason'ble bo'd. As for me, I
sca'cely know how to rig'late, because, you know, I'm a' officer now, an' in course I
natchel has to be away sometimes an' on expenses at 'tother places, an' it seem like some
'lowance ought by good rights to be made for that; don't you think so?"

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"Why, matter o' course, Matt; what you think? I ain't so powerful good at figgers. Nervy
is. S'posen you speak to her 'bout it."

"Oh, that's perfec' unuseless, Pink. I'm a' officer o' the law, Pink, an' the law consider
women--well, I may say the law, she deal 'ith men, not women, an' she expect her officers
to understan' figgers, an' if I hadn't o' understood figgers Mr. Sanks wouldn't or darsnt' to
'p'int me his dep'ty. Me 'n' you can fix them terms. Now see here, reg'lar bo'd--eatin' bo'd,
I mean--is ten dollars, an' sleepin' and singuil meals is 'cordin' to the figgers you've sot for
'em. Ain't that so? Jes' so. Now, Pink, you an' me'll keep a runnin' account, you a-chargin'
for reg'lar bo'd, an' I a'lowin' to myself credics for my absentees, accordin' to transion
customers an' singuil mealers an' sleepers. Is that fa'r, er is it not fa'r?"

Mr. Fluker turned his head, and after making or thinking he had made a calculation,
answered:
"That's--that seem fa'r, Matt."

"Cert'nly 'tis, Pink; I knowed you'd say so, an' you know I'd never wish to be nothin' but
fa'r 'ith people I like, like I do you an' your wife. Let that be the understandin', then,
betwix' us. An' Pink, let the understandin' be jes' betwix' us, for I've saw enough o' this
world to find out that a man never makes nothin' by makin' a blowin' horn o' his business.
You make the t'others pay up spuntial, monthly. You 'n' me can settle whensomever it's
convenant, say three months from to-day. In course I shall talk up for the house
whensomever and wharsomever I go or stay. You know that. An' as for my bed," said Mr.
Pike finally, "whensomever I ain't here by bed-time, you welcome to put any transion
person in it, an' also an' likewise, when transion custom is pressin', and you cramped for
beddin', I'm willin' to give it up for the time bein'; an' rather'n you should be cramped too
bad, I'll take my chances somewhars else, even if I has to take a pallet at the head o' the
sta'r-steps."

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"Nervy," said Mr. Fluker to his wife afterwards, "Matt Pike's a sensibler an' a friendlier
an' a 'commodatiner feller'n I thought."

Then, without giving details of the contract, he mentioned merely the willingness of their
boarder to resign his bed on occasions of pressing emergency.

"He's talked mighty fine to me and Marann," answered Mrs. Fluker. "We'll see how he
holds out. One thing I do not like of his doin', an' that's the talkin' 'bout Sim Marchman to
Marann, an' makin' game o' his country ways, as he call 'em. Sech as that ain't right."

It may be as well to explain just here that Simeon Marchman, the person just named by
Mrs. Fluker, a stout, industrious young farmer, residing with his parents in the country
near by where the Flukers had dwelt before removing to town, had been eying Marann
for a year or two, and waiting upon her fast-ripening womanhood with intentions that, he
believed to be hidden in his own breast, though he had taken less pains to conceal them
from Marann than from the rest of his acquaintance. Not that he had ever told her of them
in so many words, but--Oh, I need not stop here in the midst of this narration to explain
how such intentions become known, or at least strongly suspected by girls, even those
less bright than Marann Fluker. Simeon had not cordially indorsed the movement into
town, though, of course, knowing it was none of his business, he had never so much as
hinted opposition. I would not be surprised, also, if he reflected that there might be some
selfishness in his hostility, or at least that it was heightened by apprehensions personal to
himself.

Considering the want of experience in the new tenants, matters went on remarkably well.
Mrs. Fluker, accustomed to rise from her couch long before the lark, managed to the
satisfaction of all,--regular boarders, single-meal takers, and transient people. Marann
went to the village school, her mother dressing her, though with prudent economy, as
neatly and almost as tastefully as any of her schoolmates; while, as to study, deportment,
and general progress, there was not a girl in the whole school to beat her, I don't care who
she was.

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II


During a not inconsiderable period Mr. Fluker indulged the honorable conviction that at
last he had found the vein in which his best talents lay, and he was happy in foresight of
the prosperity and felicity which that discovery promised to himself and his family. His
native activity found many more objects for its exertion than before. He rode out to the
farm, not often, but sometimes, as a matter of duty, and was forced to acknowledge that
Sam was managing better than could have been expected in the absence of his own
continuous guidance. In town he walked about the hotel, entertained the guests, carved at
the meals, hovered about the stores, the doctors' offices, the wagon and blacksmith shops,
discussed mercantile, medical, mechanical questions with specialists in all these
departments, throwing into them all more and more of politics as the intimacy between
him and his patron and chief boarder increased.

Now as to that patron and chief boarder. The need of extending his acquaintance seemed
to press upon Mr. Pike with ever-increasing weight. He was here and there, all over the
county; at the county-seat, at the county villages, at justices' courts, at executors' and
administrators' sales, at quarterly and protracted religious meetings, at barbecues of every
dimension, on hunting excursions and fishing frolics, at social parties in all
neighborhoods. It got to be said of Mr. Pike that a freer acceptor of hospitable invitations,
or a better appreciator of hospitable intentions, was not and needed not to be found
possibly in the whole state. Nor was this admirable deportment confined to the county in
which he held so high official position. He attended, among other occasions less public,
the spring sessions of the supreme and county courts in the four adjoining counties: the
guest of acquaintance old and new over there. When starting upon such travels, he would
sometimes breakfast with his traveling companion in the village, and, if somewhat
belated in the return, sup with him also.

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Yet, when at Flukers', no man could have been a more cheerful and otherwise satisfactory
boarder than Mr. Matt Pike. He praised every dish set before him, bragged to their very
faces of his host and hostess, and in spite of his absences was the oftenest to sit and chat
with Marann when her mother would let her go into the parlor. Here and everywhere
about the house, in the dining-room, in the passage, at the foot of the stairs, he would
joke with Marann about her country beau, as he styled poor Sim Marchman, and he
would talk as though he was rather ashamed of Sim, and wanted Marann to string her
bow for higher game.

Brer Sam did manage well, not only the fields, but the yard. Every Saturday of the world
he sent in something or other to his sister. I don't know whether I ought to tell it or not,
but for the sake of what is due to pure veracity I will. On as many as three different
occasions Sim Marchman, as if he had lost all self-respect, or had not a particle of tact,
brought in himself, instead of sending by a negro, a bucket of butter and a coop of spring
chickens as a free gift to Mrs. Fluker. I do think, on my soul, that Mr. Matt Pike was
much amused by such degradation--however, he must say that they were all first-rate. As
for Marann, she was very sorry for Sim, and wished he had not brought these good things
at all.

Nobody knew how it came about; but when the Flukers had been in town somewhere
between two and three months, Sim Marchman, who (to use his own words) had never
bothered her a great deal with his visits, began to suspect that what few he made were
received by Marann lately with less cordiality than before; and so one day, knowing no
better, in his awkward, straightforward country manners, he wanted to know the reason
why. Then Marann grew distant, and asked Sim the following question:
"You know where Mr. Pike's gone, Mr. Marchman?"

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Now the fact was, and she knew it, that Marann Fluker had never before, not since she
was born, addressed that boy as Mister.

The visitor's face reddened and reddened.

"No," he faltered in answer; "no--no--ma'am, I should say. I--I don't know where Mr.
Pike's gone."

Then he looked around for his hat, discovered it in time, took it into his hands, turned it
around two or three times, then, bidding good-bye without shaking hands, took himself
off.

Mrs. Fluker liked all the Marchmans, and she was troubled somewhat when she heard of
the quickness and manner of Sim's departure; for he had been fully expected by her to
stay to dinner.

"Say he didn't even shake hands, Marann? What for? What you do to him?"

"Not one blessed thing, ma; only he wanted to know why I wasn't gladder to see him."
Then Marann looked indignant.

"Say them words, Marann?"

"No, but he hinted 'em."

"What did you say then?"

"I just asked, a-meaning nothing in the wide world, ma--I asked him if he knew where
Mr. Pike had gone."