{"product_id":"2940013694002","title":"Queer Judson","description":"Carey Judson swung about on the high stool behind the tall,\u003cbr\u003eink-spattered cherry desk and hitched up one long leg until the heel\u003cbr\u003eof the shoe upon the foot attached to the leg was hooked over the\u003cbr\u003eupper round of the stool.  Then, resting the elbow of a long right\u003cbr\u003earm upon the upraised knee, he lifted a hand--long and thin like\u003cbr\u003ethe rest of him--drew down a lock of hair until it reached the\u003cbr\u003ebridge of his nose, twisted the end of the lock between his thumb\u003cbr\u003eand finger, and gazed drearily out of the office window.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA snapshot of him taken in that attitude would have been a far more\u003cbr\u003echaracteristic likeness than any posed photograph could possibly\u003cbr\u003ehave been.  It would have emphasized the angularity of his figure,\u003cbr\u003ethe every-which-wayness of his thick light brown hair, the odd\u003cbr\u003emanner in which his clothes managed not to fit him, although they\u003cbr\u003ehad been made by a fashionable city tailor.  It might have caught\u003cbr\u003ethe lines between his brows and at the corners of his wide,\u003cbr\u003epleasantly attractive mouth, perhaps a ghost of the expression in\u003cbr\u003ehis eyes, eyes which, in their dreamy wistfulness, were curiously\u003cbr\u003ereminiscent of those of Abraham Lincoln.  In fact, such a snapshot,\u003cbr\u003etaken at this time, would, omitting such details as beard and\u003cbr\u003ecoloring, have been rather like a picture of the great President.\u003cbr\u003eNot, however, as to age, for Carey Judson was only thirty-four.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis full name was James Carey Judson, as had been his father's\u003cbr\u003ebefore him, which was, of course, the reason why he, the son, had\u003cbr\u003ealways been called Carey.  Captain James Carey Judson--HE had\u003cbr\u003ealways been called, locally, \"Cap'n Jim-Carey\"--was dead, had been\u003cbr\u003edead seven years.  Carey had been very fond of his father, but now\u003cbr\u003ehe was thankful that the old gentleman was no longer living.  And,\u003cbr\u003eon the whole, he envied him.  To be comfortably dead must be\u003cbr\u003einfinitely preferable to being uncomfortably alive.  Captain Jim-\u003cbr\u003eCarey had not wanted to die.  He enjoyed every minute of the life\u003cbr\u003eallowed him, and was accustomed to speak enviously of another\u003cbr\u003emariner, Noah, who, he said, \"was spry enough to put to sea in\u003cbr\u003ecommand of the Ark when he was six hundred and odd.  A man,\"\u003cbr\u003eaffirmed the captain, \"was given time enough to learn how to\u003cbr\u003enavigate in those days.  Now, just as a fellow is beginning to\u003cbr\u003ecatch on to the ropes, he is called aloft.\"  Captain Jim-Carey had\u003cbr\u003eno wish to be called aloft; he would have much preferred staying\u003cbr\u003eaboard this world.  His oldest son, on the contrary, would not have\u003cbr\u003eminded dying, but considered himself obliged to live.  An odd fact,\u003cbr\u003eas the son thought of it, but very typical of the kind of world it\u003cbr\u003ewas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe room in which he sat, sprawled upon the high stool behind the\u003cbr\u003etall desk, was the office of J. C. Judson \u0026amp; Co.  The desk and the\u003cbr\u003estool and the old eight-sided clock on the wall were part of the\u003cbr\u003eoffice equipment purchased by Captain Jim-Carey when he gave up\u003cbr\u003egoing to the Banks, in 1851, and set up business there in\u003cbr\u003eWellmouth, his native town.  J. C. Judson \u0026amp; Co. was the name on the\u003cbr\u003eweather-beaten sign over the door of the good-sized building at the\u003cbr\u003efoot of Wharf Lane.  The printed letter and bill heads in the desk\u003cbr\u003edrawer announced that J. C. Judson \u0026amp; Co. were \"Wholesale Dealers in\u003cbr\u003eFresh and Salt Fish.  Terms Thirty Days Net.\"  When Carey was a\u003cbr\u003elittle boy he used vaguely to suppose that the \"Net\" referred to\u003cbr\u003ethe method by which the fish were caught.  The \"Co.\" upon the\u003cbr\u003eletterhead and upon the sign had puzzled him then.  He used to\u003cbr\u003ewonder if Mr. Ben Early, the manager, was the \"Co.\" or was it Jabez\u003cbr\u003eDrew, the wharf boss?  When he asked his father, the latter only\u003cbr\u003elaughed.  When he asked Jabez, Jabez solemnly admitted that he was\u003cbr\u003enot only the \"Co.,\" but the entire establishment.  \"I'm the Company\u003cbr\u003eand the fish, too,\" vowed Mr. Drew.  \"Don't you believe it?  Why--\u003cbr\u003ewhy!  I'm surprised!  Don't I smell as if I was wholesale fish?\"","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47068912746736,"sku":"2940013694002","price":3.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013694002_p0.jpg?v=1763584100","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013694002","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}