Tilda and the Gangster 8

As the cart came into Holdingford, curiosity drove people into the streets to see what was happening.
        There's a neat little still at the foot of the hill
        Where the smoke curls up to the sky
        By a whiff of the smell you can plainly tell
        That there's poteen boys close by.
        For it fills the air with a perfume rare
       And betwixt both me and you
       As home we roll, we can drink a bowl
       Or a bucketful of mountain dew.
People stared in amazement at the shriveled women driving the very homely pair of cart horses. She was singing at the top of her lungs and in a less than melodic tone.

"What are yous staring at," Mrs Higgins cackled at those standing nearest, as she pulled up to the curb in front to the hardware store and crept carefully from her perch. She waved her walking stick at the bystanders. "Yous can just go on about your business. An old woman is entitled to her own private transactions when she gets to town."

Mrs. Higgins hobbled into the hardware store and wandered among the merchandise.

"What can I get for you ma'am?" asked Mr. Brundy, who operated the store.

Mrs. Higgins looked at him mysteriously. She slowly examined Mr. Brundy from head to toe through squinted eyes. He appeared to be a representative of the store, but her hearing was such that she hadn't actually heard his question.

"Well," began Mrs. Higgins in her scratchy voice. She tried to speak quietly. "I've driven 15 miles today in the hopes you can help me. I have a matter of a somewhat delicate nature to discuss with you. I had some visitors recently from St. Paul, who offered me a business proposition. These St. Paul gentlemen suggested you might be the best place to find certain items I need for starting up this business venture."

"Do you take my meaning?"   She continued after a pause.  "And speak up.  I don't hear so good."

"Indeed, I do understand your situation quite clearly."  Mr. Brundy almost hollered.  "I am Mr. Brundy. I run this hardware store.  I also help facilitate a few other businesses around town.  Who do I have the honor of addressing?"

After introductions were made, Mr. Brundy helped Mrs. Higgins assemble her merchandise. He loaded her cart with a large copper barrel, a substantial length of copper tubing, three oak barrels and a handful of other items. He handed her a note to take down the block to the farmers co-op where she was told to ask for a Mr. Schwartzinger.

Mr. Schwartzinger, after reading the note from Mr. Brundy, chuckled to himself. He looked at Mrs. Higgins' diminutive frame and chuckled again. "Do you think you can handle this occupation, ma'am? Not meaning any slight, but you're not a very big lady." 

"Speak up, son, my hearing isn't what it used to be. And no, I don't need a new handle on my ice box.  Do I look like I'd spend good money on such?"

Mr. Schwartzinger guffawed.  He tried again, "You... don't... look ...very ...big."

Mrs. Higgins cackled in response to this. "I may not be very big, but I'm tough. You can put your money on me. Those city gentlemen did, after all." And she cackled again.

Mr. Schwartzinger added two bushels of Minnesota 13 seed corn, four pounds of yeast and six 50 pound bags of sugar to the other items in her cart. Just as she was getting ready to leave, Mr. Brundy from the hardware store came to see how she was getting along. Mrs. Higgins shook hands with both gentlemen.

"I'll be seeing yous again when I need a little re-stock in my supplies. I thank yous for your discreet assistance." 

"We will look forward to it, ma'am,"  answered Mr. Schwartzinger for both of them.  

Mrs. Higgins gave a whoop and a holler as she struggled onto the cart seat. "Giddup, horsies!"

        As home we roll, we can drink a bowl
        Or a bucketful of mountain dew.

The two men shook their heads at the awful sound. They watched as she drove slowly out of town.

Mr. Brundy turned to the other man, "What good will our discretion go with that caterwauling following her around.?"