AUNT RACHEL’S WILL, 337
LIVING TOO FAST;
OR,
THE CONFESSIONS OF A BANK OFFICER.
_CHAPTER I._
GETTING A SITUATION.
[Illustration]
“I DON’T wish to stand in your way, Tom Flynn.”
“And I don’t wish to stand in your way, Paley Glasswood,” replied Tom,
with a refreshing promptness, which was intended to assure me, and did
assure me, that he was my friend, and that he was unwilling to take any
unfair advantage of me.
Tom and myself were applicants for the situation of discount clerk
in the Forty-ninth National Bank of Boston. We had submitted our
applications separately, and each without the knowledge of the
other. If we had taken counsel together before doing so, possibly
some sentimental outbreak would have prevented one or the other from
placing himself even in a seeming attitude of competition with the
other. We had been schoolmates in Springhaven, had been cronies,
and agreed as well as boys usually do. It is true he had given me a
tremendous thrashing on one occasion, when I ventured to regard myself
as physically his equal. Though I could not quite forgive him for the
drubbing he gave me, I did not respect him any the less. While we were
good friends, as the world goes, I was sometimes rather annoyed by the
consciousness of being slightly his inferior.
Tom was always a little ahead of me in scholarship, and always
contrived to come out just in advance of me in every thing in which we
were brought into real or fancied rivalry with each other. Still he
was never so far before me as to shut me out of the sphere in which he
moved. But in spite of my repeated partial defeats, I regarded myself
as fully his equal. Perhaps my vanity assured me that I was slightly
his superior, for, like the rest of the world, I was human then, as I
have unfortunately proved myself to be since. I was tolerably sure that
in the great battle of life which all of us are compelled to fight, I
should come out all right. When it came to the matter of business, I
was confident that I should outstrip him.
Both of us had been graduated at the Springhaven High School, with the
highest honors, though as usual Tom was a little higher than myself,
for while he received the first diploma, the second was awarded to me.
Tom was my friend, and always treated me with the utmost kindness and
consideration, but I could not help feeling just a little stung by his
superiority; by his continually coming out about half a length ahead
of me. Springhaven is not so far from the metropolis of New England as
to be regarded as a provincial town; and though engaging in business
anywhere except in the great city was not the height of his or my
ambition, Tom had gone into a store in his native place, and obtained
his earliest knowledge of the ways of the world. But when he was
twenty-one he obtained a situation in an office in the city in which
he received a salary of six hundred dollars a year.
Again, at this interesting period of life which seems to be the
beginning of all things to a young man, Tom was ahead of me, for I
had gone to the city as a boy of sixteen, and when I was of age, my
employers refused to give me over five hundred a year. Tom had been
lucky—this was my view of the case. Tom had blundered into a good
situation, and it was no merit of his own. I deserved something better
than I had, and it was only the stupid and stingy policy of the firm
which had “brought me up” that rendered my position inferior to that of
my friend.
I had one advantage over my friendly rival, however, in my own
estimation. My character was above suspicion, which could not be said
of Tom, though in the city not a word affecting his reputation had ever
been breathed, so far as I was aware. At the store in Springhaven where
Tom had served two years as a clerk, several sums of money had been
missed. There was no proof that Tom took them, but a few people in town
knew that he was suspected of the theft, especially as he appeared to
be living beyond his income. I do not believe my friend even knew that
he was suspected of the theft, but inasmuch as he was the only person
besides the two partners who had access to the safe where the money was
kept, it seemed probable to Mr. Gorham, the senior member, that he was
guilty.
It was a serious matter, and the two partners used every effort to
discover the thief. They put decoys in the safe, such as marked bank
bills, and resorted to various expedients, but it always happened
that none of these traps were ever disturbed. Though various sums
mysteriously disappeared, the decoys were never touched. Mr. Gorham
declared that Tom was too smart for him, and Mr. Welch, the junior,
never said much about the matter. At a convenient time, without
stating any reason for the step, Tom was informed that his services
were no longer required; that a change in the business rendered them
unnecessary. The junior partner retired from the firm, and the senior
carried on the store alone.
Mr. Gorham was a relative of my mother, and knowing of my intimacy with
Tom, he regarded it as his duty to inform her of the suspicions which
he entertained. My mother was shocked and appalled. Tom was the son of
one of the best men in the town, and as there was no direct proof of
the crime, it was not deemed expedient to say anything about it. Mr.
Gorham did not say anything, except to my mother, and she, appreciating
the kindness of her kinsman, faithfully promised to keep the momentous
secret. Probably there were not a half dozen persons in Springhaven who
knew that Tom left his place under suspicion, and those were the family
and intimate friends of the storekeeper.
I will not say that the knowledge of this circumstance afforded me
any satisfaction, but it helped me to feel that I was the superior
of Tom; that in being honest I had a decided advantage over him. I
could not disbelieve the story as it came from the lips of my mother,
though it was possible there was some mistake. Within three years after
the change in the firm of Gorham & Welch, the junior partner “went
to destruction,” and in the light of this after revelation, it was
possible that he had appropriated the money. Mr. Gorham hinted as much
to my mother, and she, knowing that Tom and myself were still intimate,
gave me the suggestion as a confirmation of what I had always said in
his defence. I had found it quite impossible to dissolve my relations
with Tom, strongly as my mother desired it. Without exactly believing
that he was guilty of the whispered iniquity, I felt that he would be a
sufferer on account of it.
The position in the bank for which we were both applicants, was
considered a remarkably good one for a young man like Tom or me. I had
considerable influence which I could bring to bear upon the directors,
and so had my friend, but it seemed to be an even thing between him and
me. In the light of past experience, I felt that Tom would get ahead of
me again, and I was intensely anxious to succeed, in order that I might
regain the ground I had continually lost.
I have called my book “Confessions.” I mean that they shall be such;
and of course I do not set myself up as a model man. I did wrong, and
that was the source of all my misery. I shall not, therefore, deem it
necessary to apologize for each individual fault of which I was guilty.
My readers can blame me as they will—and I deserve the severest
censure. I have sent grief and dismay into the bosoms of my friends,
and my story is a warning voice to all who are disposed to yield to the
temptations which beset every man in his business relations.
I met Tom Flynn on the street, and I think he was sincerely desirous
not to step into my path. I am confident he had a genuine regard for
me, and that, if he could have been sure of securing the situation in
the bank to me by withdrawing from the competition himself, he would
have done so on the moment. But there were other applicants, and if he
retired from the field at all, he was as likely to do it in favor of
some stranger as of me.
“I should like the place, Tom, though I don’t wish to stand in your
way,” I added; but in saying so, I am afraid I only indulged in a
conventional form of speech, desiring only to appear to be as generous
and self-sacrificing as he was.
“Of course it is my duty to do as well as I can for myself, but if I
can get out of your way without losing the chance for one of us, I will
do so.”
“Thank you, Tom. That’s handsome, and I would do as much for you; but
as neither of us can foresee the issue, we will each do the best he can
to get the place. That’s fair.”
“Certainly it is; and whichever is successful, there shall be no hard
feelings on the part of the other.”
At that moment Tom raised his hat to a lady, and turning from me spoke
to her. She was a beautiful creature, and though it would have been
quite proper for me to terminate the interview, I was not inclined to
do so, for the lady filled my eye, and I could not help looking at her.
“Be sure and come, Mr. Flynn,” said she.
“I shall certainly go if nothing unforeseen occurs,” replied he. “Miss
Oliphant, allow me to make you acquainted with my particular friend,
Mr. Paley Glasswood,” he added, turning to me.
I was very glad indeed to know her, for I could not remember that any
lady had ever before made so captivating an impression upon me, even
after a much longer acquaintance. She was not only very pretty, but
she was elegantly dressed, and I concluded that she belonged to some
“nobby” family. I was pleased with her, and said some of the prettiest
things I could invent for the occasion. I hoped we should meet again.
“Mr. Flynn, you must bring your friend with you to-morrow evening,” she
continued.
“Thank you, Miss Oliphant; I should be delighted to take him with me,
and as he is here, he can speak for himself,” replied Tom.
“Just a quiet little party of half-a-dozen at our house, to-morrow
evening. I hope you will come, Mr. Glasswood,” she added.
“I should be very happy to join you, and I will do so,” I answered.
She was very pretty, and she seemed to grow prettier every moment
that I looked at her. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled so sweetly,
that I am forced to acknowledge I experienced a new sensation in her
presence. I repeated my promise to join the little party, and no
entreaty was necessary to render me a willing follower. She bowed and
passed on, mingling with the bright throng that gaily flitted up and
down Washington Street. My eyes followed her till she was lost in the
crowd, and I almost forgot that I was an applicant for the situation of
discount clerk in the Forty-ninth National Bank.
“Well, Paley, they say the place will be filled at the meeting of the
directors to-morrow forenoon,” said Tom, calling me away from the
sea of moonshine in which I was at that moment floating, as my eyes
followed the graceful form of Miss Oliphant.
“So I have been told, and we shall have but little time left to work.
By the way, who is Miss Oliphant?”
“She is a very pretty girl,” laughed Tom.
“Tell me what I don’t know. What is she?”
“She is the daughter of a small merchant, who is in rather shaky
circumstances, they say. He lives on Tremont Street, and has three
marriageable daughters.
“If they are all as passable as the one I have just seen, their chances
are good.”
“I don’t know about that,” added Tom, laughing. “Miss Lilian dresses
magnificently, you perceive; and whoever marries one of those girls
will find money a cash article. You shall see them all to-morrow.”
“I should say that a wife like this Miss Oliphant was cheap at any
price.”
“I think so myself, if a fellow can afford such an expensive luxury.
But, Paley, we must not waste our time,” added Tom, glancing at the Old
South clock. “I must find a man who can do a good thing for me at the
bank.”
“So must I.”
We parted, and as I walked down the street, I could not help recalling
the vision of loveliness I had beheld in the person of Miss Lilian
Oliphant. I was on my way to one of the insurance offices frequented
by my uncle, Captain Halliard, a retired shipmaster, who dabbled in
stocks, and was a director in the Japan Marine Insurance Company.
He had influence, and I relied principally upon him to engineer my
application at the bank. He was a man of the world in the broadest
sense of the term. He believed in making money, and in getting ahead
in business, and though he paid a reasonable respect to conventional
forms, I am not quite certain that he believed in anything higher. In
character and purposes, he was the very antipode of my mother, whose
brother he was.
I found him reading a newspaper in the office. He dropped it when he
saw me, and I thought he looked very anxious. He had undertaken to
procure me the situation I was ambitious to obtain, and though I don’t
think he cared much for me individually, he was persistent in carrying
out any scheme upon which he had fixed his mind.
“Paley, your chance is small,” said he, candidly, after we had passed
the time of day.
My heart sank within me.
“I am sorry to hear it,” I replied, gloomily.
“Tom Flynn has the inside track.”
As usual! It seemed to be laid down as the immutable law of
circumstances that Tom should always come out just a little ahead of
me. I was vexed. Tom had six hundred dollars a year, while I had but
five hundred. It was cruel and unjust to me. His income was to be
doubled, and mine to remain as it was.
“I was afraid Tom would get ahead of me,” I added. “But I would rather
he should have the place than any other person, if I can’t get it.”
“Nonsense, Paley. Don’t talk bosh! I haven’t given up all hope yet,
by any means. Tom is well enough, I dare say, but you must have this
place, if possible.”
“I should like to have it,” I added, hopelessly.
“Paley, what was that story about Tom which was kept so still in
Springhaven?” continued Captain Halliard in a low tone. “I heard your
mother say something about it, when she was speaking about your being
intimate with him. I have forgotten about it.”
“His employers in Springhaven thought that he took money from the safe.”
“Exactly so; that was the idea,” added my uncle, rubbing his hands
involuntarily.
“But I don’t think there was any foundation for the suspicion,” I
protested, rather faintly, too faintly to produce any decided effect.
“We are not called upon to try the case,” he replied, chuckling at his
own cunning.
“But I don’t wish to have anything to say about that old affair.”
“Then you needn’t have anything to say about it, except to me. I have
begun to manage this business, and I shall finish it.”
“I don’t want to injure Tom in the estimation of any one,” I added.
“Don’t be a spooney, Paley. You must look out for your own chances. You
can have this place, if we can get Tom off the track.”
Although I was not the author of the brilliant idea foreshadowed in
my uncle’s remarks, I permitted him to develop it. I told him all I
knew about Tom’s affair with Gorham & Welch. If I stated that those
who knew anything about the matter now generally believed that the
junior partner was the thief, I stated it so mildly that my uncle took
no notice of it. I confess that I virtually assented to his scheme;
at least, I offered no decided opposition to it. I knew that Captain
Halliard had only to whisper the fact that Tom had been suspected, and
had lost his situation in consequence of this suspicion, to throw my
chief competitor out of the field.
Practically, I assented to the scheme; if I did anything to prevent
its being carried into execution, I only “fastened the door with a
boiled carrot.” I wanted the place, not alone for its emoluments, but
in order, in the race of life, to surpass my friend. I regard this weak
yielding as my first crime—the crime against my friend, one of the
basest and most loathsome in the calendar of offences. This was my real
fall; and it was this, it has since seemed to me, which made me capable
of all that followed.
I left my uncle in the office, and went back to the store in which I
was employed. Between the bright vision of Miss Oliphant’s loveliness
and the dark one of my own perfidy, I was nervous and uneasy all the
rest of the day. What was the use of being over nice? If I did not
look out for myself, no one would look out for me! I think I did not
sleep an hour that night, and the next day I performed my duties
mechanically. About one o’clock I was rather startled to see Tom Flynn
enter the counting-room.
“Paley, my dear fellow, I congratulate you,” said he, grasping my hand.
“What’s the matter, Tom?” I asked.
“Why, haven’t you heard of it?”
“Heard of what?”
“You have been appointed discount clerk in the Forty-ninth National
Bank. ’Pon my soul, I am glad to be the first to tell you of it,” added
Tom, with enthusiasm, as he rung my hand.
Iniquity had prospered, but only for a time.
_CHAPTER II._
MISS LILIAN OLIPHANT.
[Illustration]
HOW could I look Tom Flynn in the face, after what I had done, or
permitted to be done? He had been my competitor in the race for the
situation in the bank, and probably would have obtained it if my uncle
had not whispered the old slander in the ears of Mr. Bristlebach, the
president. It is true this plan had originated with Captain Halliard,
but I consented to it, to say the very least. I could have prevented
him from carrying it into operation. I could have protested in the
strongest of terms that there was no truth in the story, and that I
would not take the place if it were procured for me by such a base
sacrifice of honor and integrity.
I did not do so. If I protested at all, it was so faintly that my
worldly-minded uncle only regarded it as a piece of “buncombe.” It is
not for me to blame him, for I regard myself as equally guilty of the
infamous deed—more guilty, for Tom was my friend. It is a satisfaction
for me now to know that I blushed when my old schoolfellow entered
the counting-room; and to remember that my conscience stung me like
a hot iron when he informed me that the situation had been given to
me. It was not the glorious triumph which I had anticipated, and I
could hardly felicitate myself that I was to step immediately into the
enjoyment of a salary of twelve hundred a year. I could not even enjoy
the triumph of being, for once, actually ahead of my fortunate friend.
“I congratulate you, Paley, with all my soul,” said Tom, with
enthusiasm. “I should have liked the place myself, but I am really
better satisfied with the result, than I should have been if I had been
successful.”
“You don’t mean that, Tom,” I suggested; and I felt that I was almost
incapable of giving birth to a lofty emotion.
“‘Pon my word, I do, Paley. I was thinking this forenoon that, if
the place fell to me, I should reproach myself for having stood in
your way. I never should have felt just right about it. Now I am
satisfied—more than satisfied; I am delighted with the result.”
“I thank you, Tom. I didn’t expect any such magnanimity from any person
in this world;” but I comforted myself with the thought that, if the
place had been assigned to him, he would have contrived to endure the
disappointment which fell to my lot.
“If I had known that you were an applicant, with any chance of success,
I would not have entered the field. But it is all right as it is; and I
am as much pleased as you are,” added Tom.
“I don’t exactly see how I happened to get the place,” I replied, in
order to tempt him to tell what he knew about the canvass, rather than
because I was astonished at the result.
“I do,” answered Tom, laughing. Your uncle, Captain Halliard, has
a great deal of influence with Mr. Bristlebach, the president.
Rhodes—you know Rhodes?”
“I know of him; he’s book-keeper in the Forty-ninth National.”
“Yes; well, he says Captain Halliard had a long talk with Mr.
Bristlebach this forenoon. I have no doubt he made a strong personal
appeal for you, and that settled the case.”
I should very gladly have believed that I owed my good luck to the
personal influence of my uncle, but I was confident that he had used
that old slander to procure my appointment. Tom left me after I had
promised to meet him at Mr. Oliphant’s in the evening. I was sad, and
I felt mean. I was tempted to go to Mr. Bristlebach and undo what
my uncle had done. I could even procure a letter from Mr. Gorham
testifying to the integrity of Tom. Alas! I had not the courage to
do justice to my friend. A salary of twelve hundred dollars was too
glittering a prize to be thrown away; and after all it was possible
that Tom had been guilty—possible, but not at all probable.
Before the store closed I received official notice of my appointment,
and informed my employers of my intention to leave them. They did not
say much, and I am not sure that they were very sorry to have me go. I
went to my boarding-house, and dressed myself with the utmost care for
the occasion in the evening. Miss Lilian Oliphant was a bright vision
before my eyes. I wondered that she had been condescending enough to
notice a person so insignificant as I was. I was thinking only of her,
and as the happy moment drew near when I was to see her again, I even
forgot my own infamy towards Tom.
Twelve hundred a year! It was an immense sum for a young fellow like
me, and with such a foundation for an air-castle, I pictured to myself
a pleasant home with Lilian as the presiding genius of the place,
shedding unutterable bliss upon my existence. Twelve hundred dollars
would hire a house, furnish it, and enables me to live like a lord. If
Lilian did dress well, if she was rather extravagant, I could stand the
pressure with the magnificent income which would be mine.
I was admitted to the parlor in which the family were seated. Tom and
two other gentlemen were there, conversing with the young ladies, all
of whom were dressed elegantly, and were evidently “got up” for the
purpose of making an impression. Miss Lilian gave me a cordial welcome,
and introduced me to the rest of the party. Mr. Oliphant had heard of
my good fortune. He congratulated me, and did me the honor to say that
I should soon be the cashier of the Forty-ninth National Bank. I was
treated with distinguished consideration, and, without exactly knowing
why, I felt myself to be the lion of the occasion. Discount clerk of
the bank, I was a bigger man than any of the gentlemen present.
Miss Lilian was very gracious to me, but I bore my honors with
tolerable meekness. I tried to avoid putting on any airs, and I think
I produced a favorable impression. We played whist, and Lilian was my
partner; I did not do myself justice, for I was so fascinated by her
loveliness that I could not keep my thoughts about me, and Tom and Miss
Bertha beat us badly. But Miss Lilian attributed our misfortune to
ill-luck, and smiled as sweetly as ever. I may as well hasten to the
catastrophe, and declare at once that I was deeply and irretrievably
smitten, as I had intended to be from the first. She was very kind
to me, and seemed to look with a favorable eye upon me; but I could
not, of course, know whether she would accept me. I was fearful that
she would require even a bigger man than the discount clerk of the
Forty-ninth National Bank.
I left the house at eleven o’clock with the most intense regret. I knew
not how soon I might see her again, but I ascertained where she went
to church, and I went there the very next Sunday. It was cloudy, and
she did not appear. I was sad and impatient. It seemed to me that I
must see her again soon, or I should do some desperate deed. I tried to
invent an excuse for calling at her father’s house on Sunday evening,
but my ingenuity failed me. I dropped in upon Tom Flynn, and talked
of nothing but Lilian Oliphant. I hoped he would take the hint, and
propose to call upon her that evening, but he would not; in fact, he
was going to a prayer-meeting, and only invited me to go there with
him. It was not Lilian’s church, and I did not wish to go. It would be
pleasanter to walk on the Common and think of her, if I could not see
her.
I did not sleep half an hour that night. I was madly, desperately in
love with Lilian, and I was afraid that some young fellow with only a
thousand a year might snap her up while I was waiting to go through
all the forms of society in decent and conventional order. I was not
to take my desk in the bank till the first day of the new year, a week
hence, and I induced my employers to let me off from the last four
days’ service, for the reason that I was so infatuated with Miss Lilian
I could not do anything. I walked by Mr. Oliphant’s house twenty times
a day, but I had not the pluck to call. On Tuesday afternoon I sent
her a beautiful bouquet labelled “In memory of a pleasant evening. P.
G.” When I had done so, I happened to think that one of my companions
during the pleasant evening alluded to was Paul Grahame. It was an
awful blunder on my part, for how could she know whether Paul Grahame
or Paley Glasswood was the sender of the flowers, which had cost me
five dollars! If Paul, who was more intimate in the family than I,
should happen to call during the week, Lilian, under the consciousness
that such a pretty bouquet could come only from a sincere admirer,
might speak a gentle word or bestow a loving smile upon him, which
would forever darken my hopes.
The situation looked desperate, and I must call on Wednesday, or drown
myself in the icy waters off Long Wharf on Thursday. Water below a
reasonable temperature was particularly repugnant to me, and I did not
relish the alternative. I wondered if she would be glad to see me. I
tried to determine whether her gracious demeanor towards me during
that important evening had been dictated by mere politeness, or by a
genuine interest in me. I was vain enough to flatter myself that I had
made an impression upon her gushing heart. In my native town I had
been accounted a good-looking fellow, as revealed to me through sundry
“compliments.” I thought I was not bad looking, and I consulted my
mirror on this momentous question. The result was satisfactory, and I
was quite willing to believe that Miss Lilian ought to be pardoned for
feeling an interest in me.
On Wednesday afternoon I walked by her father’s house seven times,
and probably I should have passed it seven times more, if on the
eighth I had not seen Lilian at the window. The stars favored me. The
dear divinity saw me; she smiled, she bowed to me, and I thought she
blushed. Whether she did or not, I blushed, and the die was cast. The
thrilling glance the fair being bestowed upon me inspired me with a
resolution equal to the occasion. I rushed to the door, and before I
had time to change my purpose, I rang the bell.
I was admitted. I asked for Miss Lilian Oliphant, and was shown into
the parlor in which she was seated. My heart throbbed like the beatings
of the ocean in a tempest, and my face felt as if a blast of fire
had swept over it; but I survived. I was more than fascinated; I was
infatuated with the fair being before me. I am free to say that no
such vision of loveliness was ever realized before or since in my
experience.
“This is a very unexpected pleasure, Mr. Glasswood,” said she, more
self-possessed than I was.
“I beg your pardon for calling,” I stammered.
“I’m sure you needn’t do that, for I’m very glad to see you, sir,” she
replied, kindly helping me out.
“I didn’t—really—I thought—it’s a beautiful day, Miss Oliphant.”
“Splendid day!” laughed she; but I saw that she was beginning to be
embarrassed.
I ventured to hint that I had spent a very pleasant evening at her
house on the preceding Friday; and she was kind enough to say she had
enjoyed it very much, and hoped I would call again soon with my friend,
Tom Flynn, and have another game of whist.
“I played so badly then that I shall hardly dare to try again,” I
replied. I was—really, I was—”
“What?” she asked, when I broke down completely.
“I was going to say that I usually play better, but something disturbed
me that evening so that I was not myself;” and I fixed my loving gaze
upon the threadbare carpet at my feet.
“Why, what was the matter with you?” laughed the vision of loveliness
before me.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t seem to have the command of my faculties.”
“Then you must come again and redeem your reputation, if you feel that
you did not do yourself justice.”
“Thank you! When shall I come?” I asked eagerly.
“As soon as you please.”
“If it were as soon as I pleased, it would be this very evening,” I
added with a boldness which absolutely confounded me.
“Do come this evening then. We can make up a set without any other
help.”
Why didn’t she say something about that bouquet, and thus enable me to
advance a step nearer to the conquest. She did not, and I was afraid
the five dollar trifle had been placed to the credit of Paul Grahame.
I went away, but I hastened to the florist’s and bought another
bouquet—price seven dollars. On the card I wrote, “In memory of a
pleasant call. P. G******d.” She could not make Grahame out of that.
Early in the evening I rang the bell, and was ushered into the parlor.
On the piano was my bouquet, and near it stood Lilian, who, as I
entered the room, was in the act of inhaling its fragrance. I think she
blushed a little when she saw me.
“What a beautiful bouquet!” she exclaimed with rapture, after the
preliminary formalities had been disposed of. “I am very grateful to
you Mr. Glasswood, for this kind remembrancer.”
“O, not at all; it was the best I could find, but it is altogether
unworthy.”
“Why, it is positively lovely! It is beautiful, delicious. My friends
are very kind. It was only the other day that Mr. Grahame sent me one,
but it was not so pretty as this one.”
“Did he, indeed?” I asked.
“How stupid I am! Why it was you Mr. Glasswood. I interpreted the
initials as those of his name.”
Miss Lilian looked upon the floor, and her chest heaved with emotion
that agitated me more than her. I fancied it was all right—and it was.
I played whist, and the old gentleman and one of the other daughters
beat us worse than before. I trumped my partner’s tricks, and put my
ace upon her king. But I consoled myself with the reflection that she
must be thinking of something else, or she would not so often have
played the king before the ace was out. We played a double game, of
which whist was the less important; but we played into each other’s
hands, and won the game in which hearts were trumps, if we lost on all
other suits.
I ought to have gone home at ten o’clock, but I staid till half-past
eleven. I was cordially invited to come again, and I may say I went
again, until my visits included every evening in the week, not
excepting Saturday and Sunday, when all but “fiddlers and fools” stay
at home. Before the snows melted we were engaged.
On the first day of the new year I took my place in the bank. It looked
to me then like a bed of roses; I have since found it to be a bed of
thorns; though I ought to add that I made it so myself. I knew the
routine of bank business tolerably well, though I had much to learn. I
tried to discharge my duties faithfully, and though Mr. Bristlebach,
the president, was a hard man, I won even his approval. I need not
dwell on this season of happiness, for as I look back upon it, I
appreciate it; I could not then.
My services were so satisfactory that when our paying teller was
promoted to a higher place in another institution, I was advanced to
his situation with a salary of eighteen hundred dollars, and a promise
of an additional two hundred if I proved to be competent to discharge
the duties of the office. My uncle and others were my bondsmen. Never
did a young man look forward to a brighter future than I did.
Every evening in the week I went to Mr. Oliphant’s and was treated as
one of the family. During the year I had been paying assiduous court
to my beautiful charmer. I spent all my salary, and more than all,
for I was in debt at the end of this time. I wore good clothes, for I
wished Lilian to be proud of me; I sent her bouquets, I took her to the
theatre, the opera, the concerts, and to balls and parties, a single
one of which in some instances, spoiled a twenty dollar bill. I took
her out to ride, and paid for many costly suppers. But Lilian appeared
to love me with all her soul, and I was satisfied.
I had found the end of my twelve hundred dollars so easily that I dared
not think of getting married; but my promotion decided me. Lilian
offered no unreasonable objections, neither did her parents, and the
happy day was fixed. Tom Flynn, who had taken my place as discount
clerk in the Forty-ninth National, was to stand up with me. Somewhat
oddly, as it seemed to me, my good friend advised me not to marry, and
we almost quarrelled over some plain talking which he did. The die was
cast; I would not have retreated if I could.
_CHAPTER III._
GOING TO HOUSEKEEPING.
I was married in the spring, and the bank gave me my vacation on the
joyous occasion, so that I was enabled to make a bridal tour of ten
days to the South. I went to Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington,
and while I distinctly recollect that I enjoyed myself exceedingly, and
traveled like a prince, I can more vividly recall the rapidity with
which my funds were expended. It had cost me all my salary to pay my
board and to take Miss Lilian to the opera and the balls, but I could
not afford to deprive Mrs. Glasswood of any luxury.
Before we started I was “hard up,” and I tried to contrive some clever
expedient by which the bridal tour might be dispensed with. I suggested
to Lilian that the journey was not absolutely necessary; that some very
“nobby” people staid at home after they were married. Her chin dropped
down as though a ten pound weight had been attached to it, and she
looked so sad and gloomy that I could not think for a moment longer of
depriving her of this triumphal march, for so I am afraid she regarded
it. Of course I did not hint to her that I could not afford to spend
two or three hundred dollars in travelling, for we were still lovingly
cheating each other into the belief that she was a princess and I was a
representative of Crœsus himself.
There was not a dollar to my credit at the bank, and I had not a dollar
to my credit anywhere else. I was fretful one day, and unguardedly
mentioned to Tom Flynn that I was short. The generous fellow promptly
offered to lend me a hundred dollars. I am surprised now that I was
able to accept it, but I did, and he put my “value received” into his
wallet as choicely as though it had been as good as the gold itself.
But a hundred dollars, though Tom seemed to think it would pay for
every thing which it could possibly enter into the head of a groom to
procure, was expended in trifles and before we were ready to start upon
the bridal tour I was penniless again.
I wanted three hundred dollars, for it would not be safe to start on a
ten-days’ trip attended by such a helpmate as Lilian with less than
this sum in my pocket. First class hotels, private parlors, carriages,
the opera in New York, would make large demands upon my purse. I was
rather sorry that Tom Flynn had offered to lend me a hundred dollars,
for if he had not done so I should have asked him to favor me with the
loan I now needed. I could not ask him, after what he had done. My
uncle, Captain Halliard was a rich man, though he was a calculating and
a careful one. I had been a favorite of his in my earlier years, and I
knew that he had a great deal of regard for the honor of the family. I
had hardly seen him since he helped me into my situation, for he had
been on a business mission to Europe.
Three hundred dollars was nothing to a man of his resources, and, with
some sacrifice of pride on my part, I made up my mind to wait upon him
with my request. He would understand the case, and readily see that a
young man about to be married must incur a great many extraordinary
expenses, and it would not be at all strange that he was temporarily
“short.” I found the worthy old gentleman in the insurance office, up
to his eyes in the news of the day. I talked with him for some time
about indifferent topics, about my mother’s health and the affairs of
Springhaven. Then I rose to depart, in the most natural manner in the
world though I was rather grieved to see that he was not sorry to have
me go; in fact, he returned to his newspaper with an eagerness which
seemed to intimate that I had bored him. I took a few steps towards the
door, and then, as though I had forgotten something, I hastily retraced
my steps.
[Illustration: I CALL UPON MY UNCLE. Page 45.]
“By the way, uncle—I’m sorry to trouble you, but—could you lend me
three hundred dollars for a few weeks?”
“Three hundred dollars!” exclaimed the venerable seeker after the main
chance, just as though I had attacked him in the tenderest part of his
being.
“The fact is, uncle, getting married in these times is an expensive
luxury, and I find myself a little short, though, of course, I shall be
all right as soon as I get settled down.”
“It’s rather a bad sign for a young man to have to borrow money to get
married with,” he added with a glance of severe dignity at me.
“Never mind it, uncle. I won’t trouble you, then, if it is not
convenient,” I replied, in a thoroughly off-hand manner, as though the
little favor I asked was of more consequence to him than to me. “I
shall expect to see you at the house of Mr. Oliphant at the ceremony,
and remember the levee is at eight o’clock. Don’t fail to be there,
uncle.”
“Stop a minute! I suppose if you need three hundred dollars, I can let
you have it,” he added.
“O, it is of no consequence. Don’t trouble yourself. Two or three of my
friends wanted to lend it to me, but I did not exactly like to accept
such a favor outside of the family. Aunt Rachel, I dare say, will be
glad to accommodate me.”
“Write a note,” said he, rather crustily, as he went to one of the
desks, and drew a check for the amount I required.
I could not help smiling, as I wrote the due bill, to think of the
address with which I had managed my case. I am confident if I had
whined and begged until the sun went down, he would have been hard
enough to refuse me. Possibly he did not like to have me apply to Aunt
Rachel. She was a maiden sister of my father who had about twenty
thousand dollars and lived with my mother. Her inheritance had been
the same as my father’s, but, having no expenses, she had kept certain
lands in the middle of the town till they increased in value so that
she was made independent. As I wished to be her heir, I had always
treated her with the utmost consideration. Captain Halliard managed
some stocks for her, and he was anxious to keep in her good graces.
I put the check in my pocket with the utmost nonchalance, and again
begging my uncle not to fail to be present at the ceremony, I left him.
It was all right with me for the present. When I started on my bridal
tour I owed about six hundred dollars, which I calculated that I could
easily pay off in six months with my increased salary. When we returned
from Washington I had barely money enough left to pay the hackman for
conveying us to the house of my wife’s father. If I had not been so
cautious as to count up my money, and estimate the expenses of the
return trip, I should have exhausted my exchequer before we reached
home. When I found I had just enough left to pay these expenses, I
told Lilian that I had received a letter which compelled me to return
immediately, though we had intended to stay two days longer.
She pouted, but I told her I should lose my situation if I did not
go back. She thought I might get another situation rather than break
up the pleasant excursion so abruptly. I told her I could easily
get another situation, but it was not exactly prudent to give up one
until the other was obtained. It almost broke my heart to cross her
in anything, and if I could have met a friend good-natured enough to
lend me a hundred dollars I might have been spared the annoyance. I met
no such friend, and we went on cheating each other as before. It was
stupid in me to do so, but I had not the courage to tell her that I was
not made of money, and I permitted her to believe that my pockets were
still well lined.
We returned home, but on the way I was obliged to pretend that I was
sick, in order to save the expense of supper aboard the steamer. We had
dined at four o’clock, and though it was absurd to eat again at six,
Lilian wanted to see who were at the tables; but my pretended illness
saved me, and, what was more important, saved the two dollars for the
hack hire in Boston.
“What shall we do when we get home?” asked Lilian, as we sat that
evening in the cabin of the steamer.
“We shall live on love for years to come,” I replied, with enthusiasm.
“Of course we shall do that,” she added; but I thought she did not
seem to be exactly pleased with the diet. “Shall we board or keep
house?”
“Which do you prefer, my dear Lilian?” I asked, for though we had
discussed this question before, she had not been able to make up her
mind.
“If we can board at the Revere House, or at Mrs. Peecksmith’s in Beacon
street, I would rather board.”
“It would not be possible to obtain such rooms as would suit us at
the Revere House at this season of the year; and I heard a gentleman
in Washington say that Mrs. Peecksmith had not a single apartment
unoccupied.”
“How provoking!”
It was provoking, but I had to invent my excuses as I went along. I
did not venture to suggest that my entire salary would not pay the
expenses of boarding at either of the places she named. I was too weak
and vain to tell her the truth. I deceived her. She had no knowledge
of the world, no experience of the value of money, for her poor father
had actually ruined himself in a vain attempt to keep up the style of
living he had enjoyed in more prosperous days. Nearly all his profits
went upon the backs of his daughters, each of whom had been taught to
believe that a husband, when interpreted, was money. I did nothing to
disturb the illusion.
“I think we must find a place to board for a few weeks, till we can get
a house, and then we will go to housekeeping,” I suggested.
“We must go to housekeeping if we can’t get rooms at the Revere, or at
Mrs. Peecksmith’s,” added Lilian. “But dear ma will take us to board
for a time; and really I could not think of going anywhere else.”
We went to “dear ma’s,” and after I had paid the hackman, I had just
twenty-five cents left in my pocket. “Dear ma” was willing to take
us to board for a time, under the circumstances, though it would be
a great inconvenience to her. She would not think of taking anybody
else, though she had plenty of house room. I ventured to hint that, as
a prudent man, I should like to know what the terms would be, though
really it did not make the least difference to me, in point of fact.
“Dear ma” did not like to speak of such things; she was going to take
us simply as a matter of accommodation—“under the circumstances.”
“Of course, Mrs. Oliphant, I understand you, and I am very grateful
for the sacrifice you propose to make; but it is always well to have
things clearly set forth,” I replied, mildly.
“Certainly it is. I always believe in having things in black and
white. I suppose it would cost you fifty dollars a week to board at
Mrs. Peecksmith’s; but I should not think of charging you that,” she
continued, with a benevolent smile.
“Gracious! I should hope not,” I mentally ejaculated, for at the Beacon
Street house the boarders walked on Wilton carpets, looked out through
windows decked with velvet draperies, slept upon rosewood bedsteads,
and had seven courses at dinner, while Mr. Oliphant’s house was an old
one, its furniture worn out and dilapidated, its carpets threadbare,
and the fare—when they had no extra company—below the grade of a
cheap boarding-house. If I had not loved Lilian with all my soul, I
should have deemed it a charity to take her off her parents’ hands. As
it was, she was cheap at any price.
“Whatever you say will be all right,” I replied. “I am getting a
handsome salary now, and I am willing to pay a fair price.”
“I think thirty dollars a week would be no more than the cost to us. Of
course I don’t expect you to pay anything near what it would cost at
Mrs. Peecksmith’s.”
Whew! I could board at a house only one grade below Beacon Street for
twenty. I expected she would say ten, or at the most fifteen dollars,
but, poor “dear ma!” I suppose she needed the money to deck out the
next daughter for the sacrifice. I could not object. It was all in the
family; but I determined to find a house with all possible dispatch.
I went to the bank and took my place. I flatter myself that I was
smart, for I won the approbation of even Mr. Bristlebach. I made no
mistakes. I was not nervous. When I drew my month’s salary of one
hundred and fifty dollars, all but about twenty dollars of it went
into the purse of “dear ma,” for board which would have been high at
ten dollars a week. Though Lilian complained of the accommodations,
she said nothing about housekeeping. I made some inquiries, and
found I could board better for half the price I was paying. I then
said something about engaging rooms nearer to the bank. My dear wife
protested. She could not leave “dear ma’s,” where she had all the
comforts of a home, and was in her own family. I saw that she was a
party to the swindle; that “dear ma” had instructed her what to do and
what to say.
My home was no home at all, and I was determined to leave it before I
had another month’s board to pay. To stay any longer would be ruin. My
twenty dollars’ surplus would pay for only a few concerts and rides,
and in less than a fortnight I was penniless again. My debts began to
trouble me. One day Captain Halliard wanted to know if he had not lent
me three hundred dollars for a few weeks. I assured him he had, and
that I intended to pay him in a few days. Tom Flynn hinted that he was
short, though he did not directly say he wanted his money. My tailor
was becoming slightly unreasonable, and the keeper of a livery stable
stupidly insisted upon being paid, and even had the audacity to refuse
to trust me for any more teams.
It would not do for me to have these importunate creditors coming into
the bank to see me. The president and the cashier would be alarmed if
they discovered that the paying teller was in debt. But trying as these
duns were, they were insignificant compared with the annoyances which I
endured at “dear ma’s.” Lilian hinted, and then insisted, that I should
refurnish our room at my own expense. I told her I would think of it,
and went out to walk after dinner. I did think of it; and thought
I would not do it. Strange as it may seem, “dear ma” was absolutely
becoming disagreeable to me, and I wondered how such an angel as Lilian
could have been born of such a designing woman as I found her mother to
be.
I stumbled upon a friend who had been to look at a house. It was a
splendid little place, but not quite large enough for him, and the rent
was only six hundred dollars a year. I went with him to see it. It
looked like a fairy palace to me, and was just the size I wanted. It
was an English basement house, three stories high. I went to see the
owner. Another man had just left it, and meant to take the house, but
he must first consult his wife. If I stopped to consult mine, I should
lose it, and I closed with him on the instant, regarding myself as the
luckiest fellow in the world.
Lilian would be delighted with it; there could be no doubt of that.
What a magnificent surprise it would be to her, if I could take her
in, after it was all furnished! Stupid as the idea may seem to lady
housekeepers, I was so enamored of my plan that I determined to put it
into operation. I was satisfied we could live in this gem of a house
for less than I paid for board, and live in much better style.
The idea of a surprise to Lilian was delightful to me, and I laid out
the plan in detail; but the first thing was to provide the funds.
Then my jaw dropped down. I owed over six hundred dollars to certain
restless creditors; but I could save money by going to housekeeping,
and my duty to them required that I should do so. I had not yet
troubled Aunt Rachel, and taking Lilian with me, I went down to
Springhaven to spend the Fourth of July, ostensibly to escape the noise
and dust of the city, but really to lay siege to my venerable aunt’s
purse strings.
The only thing that was likely to defeat me was the fact that Aunt
Rachel did not like my wife, for Lilian, who regarded the worthy
spinster as an “old fuss,” had not always been as prudent in her
presence as I could have wished. But I caught my aunt alone at five
o’clock in the morning, for the noise of fire-crackers had driven the
old creature from her bed at an unwonted hour. I played my cards with
all the skill of which I was master. She not only gave me the money,
a thousand dollars, which she had “salted down” in the house for fear
all the banks would break, but she promised to keep my secret. She
declared that Lilian was too extravagant for a young man like me, and
I explained that I wished to furnish the house without her knowledge,
so as to save expense. She commended my good motive, and I returned to
the city with a thousand dollars in my pocket, to furnish the English
basement house.
_CHAPTER IV._
THE ENGLISH BASEMENT HOUSE.
A THOUSAND dollars in cash was more than I had ever before possessed
at one time. I felt like a rich man, for the shadow of the six hundred
dollars which I owed did not offensively obtrude itself upon me. I
could hardly conceal my exhilaration from Lilian, but I was so intent
upon giving her a grand surprise that I kept the great secret, and
preserved a forced calmness. I had made very careful estimates of the
cost of living in my new palace—I thought they were very careful—and
I was fully satisfied that I should save one-third of my present
expenses.
My column of figures, after I had thought of every possible expense
that could be incurred in the course of the week, footed up at a trifle
over twenty dollars a week, but I was entirely convinced that I should
bring the actual below the estimated expense. From the first of July my
salary was to be two thousand a year, or about thirty-eight dollars and
a half a week. I could therefore let my expenses go up to twenty-five
dollars a week without upsetting the argument.
Then I allowed three hundred a year for clothing my wife and myself,
and for incidental expenses. In our beautiful home we should not care
to ride and go to concerts and theatres much, and both of us were
well supplied with clothing. I deemed the sum appropriated as amply
sufficient. At this rate I could pay off my debts in a year and a half,
and be square with the world. Until this was done, I intended to hold
myself to a most rigid economy. I must even contrive some way to let
Lilian know that I could not spend money so freely as I had done, but I
could promise her that, when my debts were paid, she should have every
thing she wanted.
I was perfectly satisfied. My prudential calculations set me all right
with myself and with the rest of mankind. The vision of the English
basement house, all finished and furnished, with Lilian sitting in
state in the little boudoir of a parlor, was my castle in the air for
the present. I was very cheerful and light hearted, and went to my
daily duties at the bank with an alacrity I had never before felt.
I told Lilian I should not be at home to dinner that day. When she
wanted to know why, I said something about bank commissioners, and was
afraid I should be detained until a late hour. She kissed me as usual
when I left her, and even “dear ma” looked so very amiable, that I was
afraid she would kiss me too. But she did not, and my heart smote me
as I thought of the treason I was meditating against her and the two
unmarried daughters.
I ought to say here, in justice to myself, that these two sisters
of my wife were a heavy burden upon me, independently of the thirty
dollars a week I paid for my board; for if Lilian and I proposed to go
to a concert, to the theatre or the opera, it was somehow contrived
that one or both of them should join the party. My wife reasoned that
a carriage would cost no more for four than for two, and the paltry
expense of the tickets was all the additional outlay I incurred, while
it was _such_ a pleasure for the sisters to go. Then I could just as
well purchase three pairs of white kids as one—Mrs. Oliphant would pay
me for them. I must do her the justice to say that she always offered
to do so, but, as it was “all in the family,” I was too magnificent to
stoop to such trifles; and I know that she would have considered me
mean if I had accepted the paltry dollars. I went to the bank with the
thousand dollars in my pocket. I intended to devote the afternoon to
selecting the furniture for my new house. My friend Buckleton was in
the furniture business. He would not only keep my secret, but he would
give me a bargain on his wares; and what was better, if I came a little
short he would trust me. The thousand dollars’ worth of goods in my
house was so much real property, the possession of which would add to
my credit, and was available as security, if occasion required.
[Illustration: Shaytop’s Little Bill.]
The bank closed, and after I had settled my cash, I decided to take
a little lunch at Parker’s before I went to Buckleton’s store. I was
going out of the bank when that confounded Shaytop, the stable man,
presented himself before me like the ghost of a faded joy. He had the
impudence to thrust his little bill, which amounted to only sixty odd
dollars, in my sunny face. Humph! sixty dollars was nothing to me in
my present frame of mind. I didn’t “cotton” to any such sum as that,
and Mr. Bristlebach, the president of the bank, who was reputed to be
worth a million, could not have looked more magnificent than I did, if
he had tried.
“Mr. Glasswood, I am getting rather tired of calling on you about my
bill,” Shaytop began, in the most uncompromising manner.
“Do I owe you anything, Mr. Shaytop?” I inquired, very loftily.
“Do you owe me anything!” exclaimed the fellow, opening his eyes wide
enough to catch a vision of the prophetic future. “I reckon you do.”
“Is it possible? I declare, I had quite forgotten the circumstance.”
“Forgotten it! I’ll bet you didn’t! I think I have taken pains enough
to keep you informed of it.”
“Don’t be rude, Mr. Shaytop. I don’t permit any man to dun me.”
“Don’t you? Well, by George, you have made an exception in my favor.
Haven’t I been to see you once a week for the last three months?”
“I don’t remember,” I replied, vacantly.
“Look here, my gay bird, you can’t tom-fool me any longer. I’m going to
have my money, or break something,” he added, with an energetic gesture.
“Certainly, my dear sir, if I owe you anything, I shall pay it with
greater pleasure than you will receive it.”
“I’ll bet you won’t! I want to see Mr. Bristlebach. I don’t think he
likes to have his clerks run up bills for teams, and not pay for them.”
“All right; you can see Mr. Bristlebach, if you wish. He is in the
director’s room. Shall I introduce you to him?”
“I want to see him if you are not going to pay me.”
“Haven’t I told you that I should take great pleasure in paying you,
if I owe you anything. It had slipped my mind that I owed you’ a bill,
though now it comes to me that there is a small balance due you.”
“A small balance! You owe me sixty-two dollars!”
“Well, I call that a small balance. In the bank we deal in big figures.
How long have I owed you sixty-two dollars, Mr. Shaytop?”
“About six months.”
“Exactly so! Have you added interest?”
“No. I shall be glad enough to get the bill, without saying anything
about the interest.”
“If I forgot this little matter, it is not right that you should lose
anything by my neglect. Add the interest to your bill, and I will pay
it.”
“That’s what you said every time I asked you for the money—all but the
interest.”
“I’m going up to Parker’s for a lunch now. If you will call there in
half an hour, I will pay you the bill and the interest,” I continued,
glancing at the clock in the bank.
“If you mean so, I’ll be there.”
“Don’t insult me, Mr. Shaytop.”
“I’ll be there, and if you are not there, I’ll take the next best step.”
He turned on his heel, and left me. It was painfully impressed upon
my mind that I must pay that bill, and thus diminish the resources
for furnishing the house. But I was something of a philosopher, and
I argued that paying this demand would not increase the sum total
of my indebtedness; it would only transfer it to the account of the
furniture. This thought suggested a new train of ideas. My tailor was
bothering me about a little bill I owed him; Uncle Halliard would be
asking me again if I did not owe him three hundred dollars; and Tom
Flynn would hint that he was short. Why could I not improve my credit
by paying off all these debts, and “running my face” for the furniture?
It was worthy of consideration as a piece of financial policy.
I went to Parker’s, and ordered “a little lunch” which cost me a dollar
and a half. Before I had finished it, Shaytop made his appearance.
I never saw a fellow look more doubtful than he did. He evidently
believed that he had come on a fool’s errand. Since I could not well
avoid paying the bill, I was to have the pleasure of dissolving this
illusion in his mind.
“Sit down, Mr. Shaytop,” I began politely, pointing to the chair
opposite my own at the table.
“I haven’t much time to spare,” he replied, glancing at the viands
before me, perhaps with the ill-natured reflection that this was the
way the money went which ought to be used in paying his bill.
“Won’t you have something to eat, Mr. Shaytop; or something to drink,
if you please?”
“No, I thank you; I’ve been to dinner, and I never drink anything.”
“Happy to have you eat or drink with me,” I added, coolly.
“I’m in a hurry, Mr. Glasswood.”
“Are you? Well, I’m sorry for that. We don’t live out more than half of
our lives on account of always being in a hurry. By the way it seems
to me very strange I forgot that little bill of yours. One hundred and
sixty-two dollars, I think you said it was?”
“Sixty-two dollars, I said,” he answered as if congratulating himself
that it was not the sum I named.
He took the bill from his pocket, and laid it on the table before me.
“Good!” said I, glancing at the document. “I’m a hundred dollars in. I
was thinking you said it was a hundred and sixty-two.”
I intimated to the waiter that he might bring me a Charlotte Russe, and
he removed the dishes from the table.
“I don’t like to hurry you, Mr. Glasswood, but I ought to be at the
stable.”
“O, you are in a hurry! I had quite forgotten that you said so. Well, I
will not keep you waiting,” I replied drawing my _porte-monnaie_ from
my pocket.
His eyes glistened, and I think he had a hope by this time. I glanced
at the bill again.
“You haven’t added the interest,” I continued.
“Never mind the interest.”
“But I am very willing to pay it.”
“Well, you add it. You can figure as fast again as I can.
“Sixty-three, eighty-six,” I replied. “Receipt the bill, Mr. Shaytop.”
He went over to the cashier’s desk and performed this pleasing
operation. I think the act gave him an additional hope of receiving his
money.
“Perhaps you had just as lief take my due bill for six months for this
amount, now that we have added the interest?” I suggested.
“No, I’ll be hanged if I had!” retorted he, very sharply. “Have you
brought me up here, and wasted an hour of my time, to give me your
note, which isn’t worth the paper you will write it on?”
“You are impudent, Mr. Shaytop.”
“Perhaps I am, but—”
“Never mind; if you don’t want the note, you can have the money. It
don’t make much difference to me, though it would be more convenient to
pay the bill at another time than now. There isn’t the least need of
making use of any strong language.”
“Pay me, and I won’t use any, then.”
I opened my _porte-monnaie_ and took therefrom the roll of bills I had
received from Aunt Rachel. A five hundred dollar bill was on the top,
and the balance of the pile was in hundreds and fifties. I ran through
the bills with professional dexterity, so that he could see the quality
of them.
“I can’t make the change, Mr. Shaytop,” I replied, with cool
indifference.
I glanced at him. I went up in that man’s estimation from zero to
summer heat. He would have trusted me for a span every day in the week
for six months. I took out a hundred dollar bill and tossed it over to
him. As I suspected, he could not give me the change. He went to the
counter and procured smaller bills for it, and gave me the sum coming
to me. He had ceased to be in a hurry.
“If you want any more teams, Mr. Glasswood, I think I can fit you out
as well as any other stable in the city,” said he, after he had put his
wallet back into his pocket.
“I don’t,” I replied, curtly.
“Don’t you ride any now?”
“Yes, just as much as ever; but you see, Mr. Shaytop, I don’t like
to be bothered with these small accounts, and to deal with men who
think so much of little things,” I answered, magnificently. “You have
threatened to speak to Mr. Bristlebach, which you are quite welcome to
do; and you intimate that my note is not worth the paper on which it is
written.
“I hope you will excuse me for what I said, but I was a little vexed”
pleaded he. “I was mistaken in you. The fact of it is, I lost two or
three bills—”
“You haven’t lost anything by me, and I don’t intend you shall,” I
interposed.
I finished my “little lunch,” rose from the table, and having paid
my bill, left the house. Shaytop followed me. He wanted my trade,
now that he had seen the inside of my pocket-book. But I shook him
off as soon as I desired to do so, and hastened to the store of
Buckleton. Confidentially I stated my plan to him, and he was willing
to be my bosom friend. In the course of the interview I opened my
_porte-monnaie_, and contrived that he should see the figures on the
bank bills it contained. It was surprising how those figures opened his
heart.
When I suggested that I was making a large outlay, he volunteered to
trust me to any extent I desired. He was kind enough to go with me to
the carpet store, and assist me in the selection of the goods I wanted.
I insisted upon paying two hundred dollars on account, which made the
carpet people astonishingly good-natured to me; and I was taken aback
when they offered to give me credit. Buckleton then went with me to
the kitchen furnishing store, and his advice helped me very much as I
wandered through the long lists of articles. I made the selection and
paid the bill.
When we returned to the furniture store, I warmed toward him, and
finally prevailed on him to accept two hundred dollars towards the bill
I bought of him. He gave me a receipt. When we footed up the prices of
the goods I had selected, I was rather startled to find they amounted
to nearly eight hundred dollars.
“I can’t afford that!” I protested, “I must go over it again, and take
some cheaper articles.”
“It don’t pay to buy cheap furniture, Glasswood,” replied my friend.
“You have been very moderate in your selections.”
He overcame my scruples by declaring that I need not pay for the goods
till it suited my own convenience. I left him and went back to the bank
to count my funds. I had only four hundred and seventy dollars left.
I could not pay off the six hundred of old debts now; so I left the
matter open for further consideration.
The carpet people went to work immediately, and in a week all the rooms
were ready for the furniture. Buckleton was so obliging as to go to
the house himself and arrange the chairs, tables, bedsteads and other
articles. The kitchen furniture was all put in the closets, hung up on
the walls, or otherwise disposed of, so that the place looked like an
occupied home. I had sheets, pillow-cases, towels, and other articles
made up, and in three weeks the English basement-house looked as cosey
as the heart of a bank officer could desire.
But fearful inroads had been made upon my exchequer. The carpet people
made up a total bill of three hundred and thirty dollars; and when I
hinted that I might possibly find it necessary to avail myself of their
offer to give me credit, they had a note to pay and wanted the cash. I
was too magnificent to haggle. I settled their bill—and cursed them
in my heart. When I had paid everything except the six hundred I owed
Buckleton, I had only ninety dollars in my pocket.
I was alarmed. A cold sweat stood on my forehead as I added up
the items and found that I was twelve hundred dollars in debt. The
situation worried me for a few days, but I soon became accustomed
to it. I consoled myself with the hope that the bank would raise my
salary, though I could pay off the debts with my present income in
three years. It would all come out right in the end, and it was useless
to worry about the matter.
I didn’t worry long. The English basement house, all furnished, new
and elegant, with a Biddy in the kitchen, was a joy which could not be
ignored. If it had cost me nearly fifteen hundred dollars to furnish
the house, I had that amount of property on hand, and my debts were
really no more than before. The house was ready for my wife, and I
proposed to her, one afternoon, when all was ready, to take a walk with
me.
_CHAPTER V._
LILIAN ASTONISHED—SO AM I.
IN spite of the doubts and fears which had disturbed me, I was
delighted with the English basement house and already in anticipation
I enjoyed the surprise of Lilian, when I should tell her that the
beautiful home was her own. I asked her to walk with me, but she was a
little fretful that day; somehow she seemed more like “dear ma” than I
had ever seen her before.
“I don’t want to walk to-day, Paley. I’m tired,” she replied, with a
languid air.
“I only wish to go a little way,” I added.
“Not to-day, Paley.”
“I want to show you a house, Lilian.”
“A house!” she exclaimed with something like an abused expression on
her beautiful face, as though she half suspected the treason towards
“dear ma” which I was meditating.
“I saw a little English basement house in Needham street, which I would
like to have you look at, just as a curiosity, you know,” I continued,
with as much indifference as I could assume.
“Why do you wish me to see it, Paley?” she asked, exhibiting more
interest and apparently forgetting that she was tired.
“Well, because I saw it, and liked the looks of it. There can be no
harm in seeing it.”
“I don’t know, Paley,” she answered, doubtfully; but whatever
suspicions she cherished, she could have no idea of the truth, “We will
go some other day.”
“But we may not have the opportunity another day. I happen to know that
the house is open to-day.”
What do you mean, Paley? You look just as though you were planning
something.”
“So I am. I am planning a little walk that will not take half an hour
of your time.”
“Something worse than that,” she added, shaking her head.
“I was thinking that, some time or other, we might possibly go to
housekeeping.”
“Well, I suppose we shall, some time or other,” she answered,
languidly. “But I hope you are not thinking of doing it yet awhile.
I can’t bear the thought of leaving dear ma; we are so pleasantly
situated here.”
To use a vulgar expression, “I did not see it.” I was not wicked enough
to attempt to prejudice my darling against “dear ma,” and I felt
obliged to manage the matter with care. But, as the shock could not
long be deferred, I might as well make some approaches.
“Of course we are situated pleasantly enough here; but you know,
Lilian, that you said we must go to housekeeping.”
“Certainly, we must go to housekeeping in time, but not yet.”
“But you know that your mother was kind enough to take us to board only
till we could complete our arrangements. She is very obliging, and I
am very grateful to her for the favor; but I don’t think it would be
right for us to impose ourselves upon her any longer than is absolutely
necessary.”
“O—well—of course not; but it will be very hard for me to go away
from home.”
“We need not go far; indeed, not so far but that you can call upon her
every day. My conscience reproaches me when I think of the trouble we
are giving her.”
“She does not complain.”
“She will not complain, but at the same time it is not right for us to
remain here, under the circumstances, any longer than we are compelled
to do so. You know she said she should not think of taking any body
else to board; and after she has been so kind to us, we ought to be
considerate enough not to trespass upon her goodness.”
“I will speak to her about the matter; and if she really does not wish
to keep us, why, we’ll leave,” added Lilian.
“But, my dear, you must not forget that she is your mother, and that
she will make any sacrifice for your sake, even to her own great
injury. It is a matter of conscience with me; and I do not feel like
asking her to make this sacrifice of comfort any longer than necessary.
Our coming here was only a temporary arrangement, you know, and
whatever she may say, our being here will give her a great deal of
trouble and anxiety. Come, Lilian, dearest, put on your bonnet. It will
do no harm to look at the house. It is already rented to a young couple
who are just going to housekeeping,” I continued; but I did not think
it necessary to say who the young couple were, and she did not seem to
care enough about it to ask me.
“If the house is let, why do you wish me to see it?” she inquired.
“I want to get at your ideas in regard to a house,” I replied,
ingeniously.
She looked at me, and seemed to have some doubts, but she probably
reasoned that the house was already rented, and there could be no
treason against “dear ma” in merely looking at it. She put on her
bonnet and shawl. When my hand was on the door the ever watchful Mrs.
Oliphant appeared, and wished to know whether we should be back to tea.
We should; but this was not enough. Lilian was not very well, and she
must not walk too far. We were only going around to Needham street,
and should return in half an hour. If Lilian was going to call on the
Trescotts, why had she not told her mother, for both owed them a call?
We did not intend to call on the Trescotts; we were only going out
for a little walk. If we were going to walk, why were we particular
in saying that we were going through Needham street? There was some
treason in Needham street, and Lilian was forced to say that we desired
to see a house which was already leased to a young couple who were
going to housekeeping.
“Dear ma” looked uneasy, but she permitted us to depart. I was afraid
she would insist upon accompanying us, as I think she would, had she
not been satisfied by the assurance that the house was already leased.
We walked to Needham street. I was full of hope. Lilian would like
the English basement house—she could not help liking it, and what a
rapturous moment would it be when I told her that it was all her own!
Even the anticipated battle with “dear ma” seemed to be farther removed
and of much less consequence than before. We approached the house, and
my heart beat high with transports of delight. In a few days, perhaps
the very next day, I should see the idol of my soul enthroned within
its walls!
With Lilian leaning lovingly on my arm, I halted at No. 21. On the
door, to my intense confusion and disgust, glittered a new silver plate
whereon was inscribed the name,”P. GLASSWOOD,” not in Old English,
German text, or any other letter which he who runs may _not_ often
read, but in plain script! I had told the maker not to put it on the
door for a week; but he had misunderstood me, or had taken it upon
himself to defeat my plan.
“P. GLASSWOOD!”—exclaimed dear Lilian, stunned and horrified, so that
the shock she had thrilled my whole frame.
“Certainly; P. Glasswood,” I interposed, promptly. “You know
Pierce—don’t you, Lilian? I think you saw him when we were at
Springhaven. He is only a second cousin of mine, but he is a good
fellow.”
“I didn’t know you had a cousin of that name,” she replied, much
comforted.
As I did not know it myself, I did not blame her for not being aware of
the circumstance. I opened the door, and we went in, for I had already
provided myself with a night key—that gross metallic sin against a
wife. Of course the house and furniture were at their best estate.
Every thing was new, nice and elegant. The hall gave the first cheerful
impression of the house, and Lilian was delighted with it. The little
sitting-room was so cosy and snug that my wife actually cried out with
pleasure.
The parlors and the chambers were equally satisfactory, and Lilian
thought my cousin would be very happy with his bride in this new
house. We proceeded to the kitchen, where the Biddy in charge smiled
benignantly upon her new “missus,” though, she did not betray the
secret she had been instructed to keep. My wife was not so much
interested in the kitchen as in the parlor and sitting-room, but she
was kind enough to say that every thing was neat and convenient, though
I am afraid she was hardly a judge on the latter point. We returned to
the sitting-room, and my wife seated herself in the low rocking-chair
which had been selected for her use.
“How do you like it on the whole, Lilian?” I asked, dropping into the
arm-chair, in which I intended to read the Transcript every evening.
“I think it is real nice,” she replied, with a degree of enthusiasm
which fully rewarded me for all the pains I had taken, and the anxiety
I had suffered.
“I’m glad you like it, Lilian. I like it exceedingly, and I am glad to
find our tastes are one and the same.”
“I don’t mean to say that, if I were going to housekeeping, I wouldn’t
have some things different,” she added.
“But you think you could contrive to exist in a house like this?”
“Why, yes; I like it very much indeed.”
“Then it is yours Lilian!” I added, rising from my arm-chair, as I
precipitated the climax upon her.
“What do you mean, Paley?” she asked, bewildered by my words.
“This house and all that it contains are ours, dearest Lilian.”
“I thought you said it was your cousin’s.”
“So I did, Lilian; but that was only a little fiction to aid me in
giving you a delightful surprise. This house is yours, my dear, and all
that it contains, including myself, and Biddy in the kitchen.”
“Is it possible? Do you mean so, Paley?”
“I do; every word, syllable, letter and point, including the crossing
of the t’s and the dotting of the i’s, of what I say is true. The house
and all that it contains are ours.”
“I don’t understand it.”
“Well, dearest, it is plain enough. Not only to give you a pleasant
surprise, but to save you all trouble and anxiety, I have hired the
house and furnished it.”
“You have, Paley?”
“I have, dearest Lilian! How happy we shall be in our new home.”
“I don’t think so!”
Certainly Lilian had been duly and properly astonished. It was my turn
now, and I was, if possible, more astonished than she had been. She did
not think so! What an unwarrantable conclusion!
“You don’t think so, Lilian?” I added, interrogatively.
“No, I don’t! If you begin in this way we can never be happy.”
“Why not?”
“In the first place, I don’t want to go to housekeeping yet.”
“But I thought you did. The plan has been from the beginning, since
we could not get board at the Revere or in Beacon Street, to go to
housekeeping,” I replied, with rather more sharpness than I had ever
before found it necessary to use to dear Lilian.
She was evidently angry, and her eyes glowed like diamonds in the
sunlight. But she never looked so pretty as she did at that moment when
her face was rouged with natural roses, and her eyes appeared like a
living soul.
“Do you think, Paley, that I want to go to housekeeping in a little,
narrow contracted box like this?” she added.
“I thought you liked the house, dearest Lilian.”
“I like it very well for Mrs. Pierce Glasswood, but not for Mrs. Paley
Glasswood.”
“I am sorry you don’t like it, for it is too late now to recede,” I
replied, gasping for breath. “I was sure it would please you.”
“It don’t!”
“What possible fault can you find with it?”
“It don’t suit me. How could you do such a thing, Paley, as to hire a
house and furnish it, without saying a word to me?”
By this time I had come to the conclusion that it was very stupid in me
to do it.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you have surprised me,” she snapped, with such a sweet
expression of contempt that I was almost annihilated. “Do you think a
lady has no will of her own? No taste, no judgment, no fancy? How could
you be so ridiculous as to furnish a house without asking my advice?
Could you have found a homelier carpet in Boston, if you had looked for
one, than this very carpet under our feet?”
“Buckleton said it was the handsomest one in the city, and the neatest
pattern.”
“Then Buckleton has no taste. No one can select a carpet for a woman.
What did you put that cold oil-cloth on the entry for? I should think
you imported it from the polar regions on purpose to give me a chill
every time I see it! The figure in the parlor carpet is large enough
for a room a hundred feet square. That great blundering tete-a-tete
is fit for a bar-room, but not for a parlor. There is no end to the
absurdities in this house.”
“Now, really, dearest Lilian, I was sure you would be pleased with
every thing,” I pleaded.
“You are a stupid, Paley Glasswood.”
I agreed with her.
“I am very sorry, Lilian; but I did everything with the hope of
pleasing you.”
“Now here’s a pretty kettle of fish!” exclaimed my indignant bride.
“What can we do?”
“I can’t alter the house, my dear, but I can change the furniture so
as to suit you, though doing so will be very expensive,” I continued,
meekly, as I endeavored to conciliate her.
We had been married only about four months, and the present occasion
looked very much like a quarrel. I had not had the remotest suspicion
that she was so spunky. It did occur to me that she was slightly
unreasonable, if one so beautiful could be unreasonable. Her father
was as poor as a church mouse. His house, as I have hinted, was meanly
furnished, and certainly neither the house nor the furniture was worthy
to be compared with the one I had provided for my little wife. She had
no reason for putting on airs, and being so fiercely critical about the
carpets and the chairs. They were vastly better than she had ever had
at home.
“Do you think I will live in this house, Paley Glasswood?” said she,
with her lips compressed and her eyes snapping with indignation.
“Why, I hope so,” I replied, more astonished than she had been at any
time during the visit to the new house.
“You are mistaken, Paley Glasswood. I am your wife, but not your slave;
I am not to be dragged from my home when and where you please. You
ought to have told me what you intended to do in the beginning.”
“I know it now; and I confess that I was wrong,” I replied, with due
humility, and, I may add, with perfect sincerity. “I hope you will
forgive me, this time Lilian, and I will never be guilty of such an
offence again.”
“I should hope not. But here we are! What’s to be done with this house
and furniture?”
“Why, my dear, won’t you go to housekeeping with me?”
“Certainly not, in this house,” she answered, with a flourish.
This announcement was very startling to me. It was appalling to think
that I had expended fifteen hundred in preparing a cage which the bird
refused to occupy. Intensely as I loved, adored Lilian, I could not
help seeing that she was developing a trait of character which I did
not like. But I was a politic man, and seeing how useless it was to
attempt to argue the matter while she was in her present frame of mind,
I had to keep still. We left the house and walked home. For the first
time since we were married she declined to take my arm, and I began to
be very miserable. Somehow it seemed to me that the meeker I was, and
the more I deprecated her wrath, the greater became her objection to
the house.
“What shall I say to dear ma?” demanded Lilian, after she had thrown
off her things.
“My dear, you need not say a word to her. I will do all this unpleasant
business myself,” I replied. “You can lay all the blame upon me. I will
tell her that we are going to our new house to-morrow.”
“You needn’t tell her any such thing, for I am not.”
Before we had proceeded any farther with the discussion Mrs. Oliphant
entered the room. The battle was imminent.
_CHAPTER VI._
A FAMILY JAR.
I DID not feel at all at ease when Mrs. Oliphant entered the room. I
was entirely willing to be conquered and trodden under the little feet
of the fair Lilian, but I was not so ready to be trampled upon by the
unromantic feet of “dear ma.” I was conscious that my pretty wife was
getting the weather-gage of me—that she had already got it, in fact.
I was not disposed to complain of this, but I intended, if possible,
to out-manœuvre Mrs. Oliphant. I regarded Lilian as “my family,” and I
wished to have her “set off” from my mother-in-law.
In spite of all the strong talk which my lovely wife had used in regard
to the English basement house, I confidently expected that she would
take her place in the new home I had provided for her. If she was
dissatisfied with it, she would soon love it for my sake, if not for
its own. But I was sure she did not rebel on her own account; it was
the influence of her mother which had controlled her. I accepted the
theory that the queen’s majesty could do no wrong. If anything was not
right, it was the fault of the ministers.
After I had permitted her to say all she had to say, and to exhaust her
vocabulary of invective, she would quietly submit to the new house,
move in, be as happy as a queen in a short time, and wonder how she had
ever thought the little snuggery was not a palace. I had made a fearful
expenditure in preparing the house for her; I had thrust my head into
the jaws of the monster Debt, and I must make the best of the situation.
“Ma,” said Lilian, as her mother entered the room, “what do you suppose
Paley has done?”
The poor child looked at the faded carpet as she spoke, hardly daring
to raise her eyes to the maternal visage. I hoped she contrasted the
hueless fabric on the floor with those bright colors which gleamed from
her own carpet in the Needham street house.
“Why, what has he done?” asked Mrs. Oliphant, with a theatrical start,
which was modified by a tiger smile bestowed upon me.
“He has hired a house?” replied Lilian, with a gasping sigh, which was
simply intended as convincing evidence that she was not implicated in
the nefarious transaction.
[Illustration: Mrs. Oliphant.]
“Hired a house!” exclaimed Mrs. Oliphant; and her sigh was genuine, and
not intended for effect.
“And furnished it too!” added Lilian, with horror, as she piled up the
details of my hideous wickedness.
“And furnished it too!” groaned poor Mrs. Oliphant, sinking into a
chair, as though she had reached the depth of despair in the gulf into
which my infamous conduct had plunged her.
“He did not say a word to me about the house or furniture until this
very afternoon!” continued my beautiful wife, holding up both her
pretty white hands the better to emphasize her astonishment and chagrin.
“Of course, if you desire to leave your own pleasant home, Lilian, it
is not for me to say a word,” added the meek mamma, with another sigh,
which seemed to measure the depth of the resignation that could submit
to such an outrage.
“But I do not desire to leave my pleasant home,” protested Lilian. “I
never had such a thought. I am sure, I have been so happy here that I
never dreamed of another home, as long as you were willing to keep us,
mother.”
“You have been very kind indeed to us, Mrs. Oliphant,” I ventured to
remark, though I was not certain that the time had come for me to
defend myself. “I feel very grateful to you for the sacrifice you have
made to accommodate us; and I am sure I shall never forget it.”
“A mother lives for her children alone,” sighed Mrs. Oliphant. “Even
when they are married she cannot lose her interest in them.”
“Certainly not, madam; especially not in so good a daughter as Lilian.”
“It is hard enough to have them removed by marriage from the direct
influence of a mother, and to feel that she is no longer a mother in
the sense she has been.”
I thought that Mrs. Oliphant had submitted to the marriage of her
daughter with tolerable resignation, and would even permit the other
two to go to the sacrifice without rebelling against the dictates of
fate.
“Of course she can never be entirely removed from a mother’s
influence,” I replied, wishing that she could. “You have been very kind
and considerate toward us since we were married—to me for Lilian’s
sake.”
“And for your own,” she interposed.
“I trust I shall never be ungrateful. I feel called upon to explain
my conduct,” I continued. “You remember, when we returned from our
bridal tour that something was said about boarding. We could not
find such accommodations as we desired, and you were so kind as to
offer to accommodate us till we could obtain a house, or make other
arrangements.”
“Yes, I remember,” replied Mrs. Oliphant. “I don’t take boarders, but I
was willing to do what I could for Lilian’s comfort and happiness.”
“You were, madam; and I was very grateful to you for your
consideration, both to Lilian and to me. You intimated that it would
not be convenient for you to take us to board, but you were willing
to sacrifice your own comfort and your own feelings to oblige us. I
was very sorry indeed that the circumstances compelled us to trespass
upon your kindness. You did us a favor for which I shall never cease
to be grateful. But I did not feel willing to compel you to submit
to the inconvenience of boarding us any longer than was absolutely
necessary. My gratitude compelled me, when I found a house, to take it,
and relieve you at once from all the care and responsibility which your
self-sacrificing nature had imposed upon you.”
“And without even permitting me to see the house in which I was to
live!” exclaimed Lilian, coming to the assistance of her mother, who
seemed to be thrown into disorder by my tactics.
“I did not suppose it was possible for any one, even with your refined
taste, Lilian, to object to such a beautiful little house. But I was
obliged to hire it on the instant, or lose it. Another man would have
taken it in less than half an hour. It is so near your mother’s that
you can come to see her half-a-dozen times a day, if you please.”
“But I will never live in that house,” protested Lilian, with more
energy than I thought the occasion required, though I could not help
adoring her while her cheeks glowed and her eyes snapped.
“Don’t say that, dear Lilian. You should endeavor to conform to the
wishes of your husband,” mildly interposed the suffering parent.
“Doubtless he has done all for the best, and perhaps you will like the
house, after all.”
“I know I never shall like it,” snapped the divine Lilian; which was as
much as to say that she was fully determined not to like it.
“Mrs. Oliphant, would you do me the favor to walk over to the house
with me?” I suggested to the affectionate mother.
“No; I would rather not. I never step between man and wife,” replied
she, with praiseworthy resolution. “I do not wish to see the house.
This is an affair between you and Lilian, and it is my duty to be
strictly neutral.”
“But I hope you appreciate my motives?”
“I can not say that I do,” she answered. “I think a man should consult
his wife before he hires and furnishes the house in which she is to
spend a great deal more time than her husband.”
I wish to say to my readers that I heartily endorse Mrs. Oliphant’s
position. A man ought to consult his wife about the house in which
she is to spend more of her time than he. It is eminently proper,
right and just that he should do so; but I beg to call the attention
of the critic to my unfortunate position. Lilian was an angel (in my
estimation); her mother was not an angel. The daughter was a mere
doll—I am writing after the lapse of years. She was completely
under the control of her mother. What I suspected then, I knew
afterwards—that Mrs. Oliphant intended to have us as permanent
boarders.
Mr. Oliphant had long been running behind-hand under the heavy expenses
of his extravagant family. Something must be done to eke out his
failing income, or the two unmarried daughters could no longer hold
their position in society. They must dress, or be banished by their own
vanity from the circle in which they moved—a circle which contained
husbands. They could not take strangers as boarders, for the house was
not fit to accommodate them; but a son-in-law would submit in silence,
while a stranger would rebel. I was the victim.
If I proposed housekeeping, my plan would be condemned, as another
boarding-place had been already. Perhaps I persuaded myself into the
belief, under the necessities of the occasion, that I was hiring and
furnishing the English basement house as a pleasant surprise to Lilian.
If I did, it was a comfortable delusion, for it was really only a
scheme to escape from the clutches of my mother-in-law, and to avoid
the martyrdom of my situation on Tremont street. Perhaps the reader
will forgive me after this explanation. If he does not, it is not the
worst of my errors, and I would thank God most devoutly if I had no
graver sin to answer for.
I told Mrs. Oliphant that I had hired a house which was rather better
than I could afford; that I had furnished it at an expense which was
beyond my means, in order to please Lilian. I said something more about
the “pleasant surprise,” and was positive that no bank officer of my
degree had so fine an establishment. I repeated all I had said about
not imposing upon her self-sacrificing nature. But all I said seemed
to fall flat upon her ear. She was not touched by my devotion to her
daughter; on the contrary she was disgusted with me, as I read her
sentiments in her face, for she did not utter them.
Lilian felt that she had an able champion in her mother, and she said
but little. Still professing entire impartiality, Mrs. Oliphant read me
a lecture on the impropriety of my conduct, frequently interpolating
the discourse with the statement that it was none of her business
though, as I had asked her advice (which I had not), she felt obliged
to be candid with me. She and Lilian seemed to understand each other
perfectly, and while the latter resolutely refused to occupy the house
I had prepared for her reception, the former mildly and often declared
that a wife should submit to her husband. Lilian knew what to say so as
not to implicate her mother in any improper remarks. I think my wife
loved me almost as much as she feared her mother. I am sure that she
would have accepted the situation with pleasure, if she had not been
under her “dear ma’s” influence.
What could I do? I had well-nigh ruined myself in fitting up the
house. I was vexed, and as the conversation proceeded I began to grow
impatient. Finally I left the house to buy some cigars, I said, but in
reality to find an opportunity to think over my situation. I did think
it over, and I did not buy any cigars, for I was not allowed to smoke
them, even in the kitchen. Lilian would yield at once, if she could
escape her mother’s influence. As it was, I must fight the battle with
both of them.
I walked across the Common, thinking what I should do. If I submitted
this time, I should not only be obliged to bear the privations to which
the Oliphants subjected themselves in order to maintain their social
position, but I must forever be the willing slave of “dear ma.” I could
not endure the thought. If the family chose to live on tough beef and
salt fish, it was their affair, not mine. I could not stand it, and the
result of my deliberations was that I decided not to stand it. I went
back to the house, stiffened for any thing that might occur, though it
almost broke my heart to think of opposing Lilian.
“Perhaps the person who wanted the house you have hired would be
willing to take it now, and purchase the furniture you have put into
it?” suggested Mrs. Oliphant, when the subject was resumed.
Perhaps he would; but my idea just then was that he would not have the
opportunity to do so.
“I think not; the party who wanted it would have furnished it at half
the expense I have incurred,” I replied.
“Couldn’t you let it as a furnished house?” she added.
“My lease does not permit me to underlet it.”
“I think it would be cruel to take Lilian away from her own pleasant
home, when she wishes to remain here so much,” continued Mrs. Oliphant,
a little more sharply than she had yet spoken. “But, of course, it is
none of my business and I do not wish to interfere between you.”
After supper, I saw Lilian alone in our room. She was as resolute as a
little tiger. She positively refused to go into the English basement
house, or to have anything to do with it.
“I think you have insulted my mother,” she added.
“Insulted her!” I exclaimed, rather startled by this new charge which
had evidently been put into her brain by “dear ma.”
“She has made her arrangements to board us, and now you want to go
away.”
“She hasn’t made any arrangements at all. Not an article of furniture
has been added to the house.”
“She says she has; and I think she knows best,” retorted Lilian,
sharply.
“You have spoken to me every day for a month about furnishing our room.”
“I think we ought to furnish it.”
“And pay thirty dollars a week for our board! I don’t think so,” I
replied; and this was almost the first time I had ventured to disagree
with her.
“Mother says she boards us cheaper than any body else would,” snapped
my pretty one. “Now you insult her for her kindness to us.”
“I have already explained my position to her. I did not mean to insult
her, and I don’t think my conduct will bear that construction. But,
Lilian, the house in Needham Street is all ready for us. I have even
hired a servant girl, who is there now.”
“I will not go into it, Paley. If you wish to abuse my mother you can,
but I will not. I am sorry you have ceased to love me.”
“I have not ceased to love you, Lilian,” I replied, putting my arm
around her neck and kissing her.
Then I went over the whole argument again, and if I did not convince
her that I had not insulted or wronged her mother, it was because her
fears set logic at naught.
“You will sell the furniture, and give up the house—won’t you, Paley?”
said she, in her most fascinating way.
“I would if I could Lilian, but the die is cast. I must go, or I am
ruined.”
Suddenly, in a fit of passion, she shook my arm from her neck and
shrunk from me.
“For the last time, Paley, I say it, I will never go into that house,”
said she, angrily.
“I am sorry, Lilian,” I replied, sadly. “You do not act like the loving
wife you have always been.”
“I will not be insulted any longer.”
“Very well, Lilian; I am going to move into the new house to-morrow.”
“What!” exclaimed she, aghast, for she evidently did not believe me
capable of such rebellion.
“I shall go to the new house to-morrow, after bank hours. If you will
not go with me, I cannot help it; and I must go alone.”
“Do you mean to say that you will desert me?” gasped she.
“Lilian, I will not pretend to say that what I have done is right,
though I did it to please you. I have provided you a house much better
than the home of your parents. I have done everything I could to
make it comfortable and pleasant. I am sorry I did this without your
knowledge, but it is done, and cannot be undone. If you will live in
the house for a year or so, and then are not happy, I will leave it. I
can do no more to please you.”
“I will not move into it!” said she, more bitterly than ever.
I went out of the house, and walked the streets till eleven o’clock at
night in utter misery. I returned home. Lilian told me ever so many
things her mother had said, and was firmer than ever. The next morning
when I went to the bank, I felt like a hopeless martyr.
“Mr. Bristlebach wishes to see you in the director’s room, Mr.
Glasswood,” said the messenger to me.
The president looked stern when I entered the room, and I realized that
some charge was pending against me.
_CHAPTER VII._
A SHADOW OF SUSPICION.
I HAD not sinned against the bank in thought, word, or deed, and
I had no fears of the result of an interview with the president.
All my sorrows related to my domestic difficulty, which was hardly
banished from my mind for a moment, though I did try to imagine what
Mr. Bristlebach could possibly want of me. Whatever pecuniary trouble
stared me in the face, I had never even been tempted to appropriate a
penny belonging to the bank.
“Mr. Glasswood, I have sent for you,” said Mr. Bristlebach, sternly.
“Yes, sir; and I am here,” I replied, very respectfully.
“When did you balance your cash last?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Did it come out right?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, with the utmost confidence.
“Close the door, if you please.”
I did so, and though Mr. Bristlebach did not often take the trouble
to spare any one’s feelings, this order looked ominous to me. I would
give all my earthly hopes at this moment for the consciousness of the
rectitude of my character which I possessed at that time. I shut the
door, and took my stand again in the august presence of the great
man—he was great to me, if he was not to others.
“Mr. Glasswood!” continued Mr. Bristlebach, sternly.
I bowed meekly, to intimate that I was ready to hear anything he
pleased to say.
“Your cash is not right.”
“It was right yesterday, at three o’clock,” I answered.
“If it was right at three, it was not at five. I advise you, Mr.
Glasswood, to make no denials to any statement which you know to be
true. You are a defaulter, sir!”
Troubles never come singly. It was not enough that I should quarrel
with my angelic wife, but I must cross swords with Mr. Bristlebach,
who was far from angelic. I might as well find the deep water off Long
Wharf and drown myself. What would Lilian say if I did? Would she care?
Or would she be only shocked? Bad as it was, the affair at the bank
did not seem half so desperate as the quarrel with Lilian. I bowed my
head meekly to Mr. Bristlebach’s charge. I was innocent, and it did not
make much difference to me what the president said. Under the shadow as
I was of a heavier woe than this, it really did not seem worth while to
defend myself.
“I say you are a defaulter, Mr. Glasswood,” repeated the president,
more severely than before.
“No, sir, I am not,” I answered, very mildly.
“Have you the effrontery to deny the charge?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“You have robbed the bank of twelve hundred dollars, at least; and how
much more I don’t know.”
“No, sir; I have not robbed the bank of twelve hundred dollars; nor of
even a single cent.”
“I am surprised that you should have the hardihood to deny the charge.
Shall I call on your uncle, who is one of your bondsmen?”
“If you please, I do not object,” I replied; and I think I should not
have objected to any thing.
“Perhaps you will make the bank good yourself?” sneered Mr.
Bristlebach.
“I don’t owe the bank a penny, sir.”
“Mr. Glasswood—sit down!”
I sat down.
“Listen to me, sir!”
I listened.
“I have worked up the case, and understand it perfectly. I am
informed that three or four weeks ago you had in your pocket several
hundred dollars—perhaps a thousand dollars or more,” continued Mr.
Bristlebach, whose looks as well as his words were intended to carry
confusion to my soul. “Will you do me the favor to say whether or not
this statement is true?”
“Quite true, sir. The sum in my pocket-book was one thousand dollars,”
I replied, beginning to gather up a little light on the subject.
“A thousand dollars! Very well, sir! I am glad you have not the
effrontery to deny it. Bank officers in your situation do not usually
carry a thousand dollars about with them.”
“I do, when I have it to carry, sir.”
“Don’t be impudent, Mr. Glasswood. Will you deny that this sum was
abstracted from the funds of the bank?”
“Certainly I shall deny it, sir. Did Mr. Shaytop inform you that I had
taken it from the bank?”
“Who said anything about Mr. Shaytop?” demanded he, sternly.
“I did, sir. It is not very manly in him to accuse me of stealing
simply because I refused to hire any more teams of him. Since I was
married I have found it necessary to curtail my expenses.”
“Do not attempt to dodge the issue, sir.”
“I am ready to look the issue fairly in the face.”
“You had this money. You confess it.”
“I affirm it. I don’t confess it.”
“Since you had it, perhaps you will not deem it impertinent in me to
ask where you got it?” sneered Mr. Bristlebach, who seemed to be as
certain that I had robbed the bank as though he had already proved the
charge.
“Under the circumstances, sir, I should not deem it impertinent,” I
replied coolly; and, under the influence of my domestic trouble, I felt
rather reckless.
“Well, sir, where did you get it?”
“I borrowed it.”
“Precisely so! Borrowed it of the bank!”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bristlebach, but there is a wide gulf between
my premise and your conclusion. I did not borrow the money of the
bank. If I had, doubtless the paper I offered would have passed under
your eyes.”
“Mr. Glasswood, your tone and manner do not please me.”
“I hope you will excuse me, sir, if I venture to say that the charge
you make against me does not please me.”
“Will you tell me of whom you borrowed the money?”
“With pleasure, sir. Of my Aunt Rachel.”
Mr. Bristlebach looked at me; looked sharply at me. He seemed to be a
little staggered at something, though, of course, I did not suppose he
believed me. He asked me twenty questions about my aunt, all of which
I answered with a greater regard for the truth than I was sometimes in
the habit of paying to that sublime virtue.
“Mr. Glasswood, your cash is twelve hundred dollars short,” he added.
“I was not aware of the fact,” I replied.
“After you went away yesterday, I made a strict examination of your
department, and you have heard the result.”
I was surprised at the announcement, and of course I could not disprove
the assertion.
“I can only say, sir, that I left it right at three o’clock yesterday,”
I added.
“Do you doubt my statement?”
“Certainly not, sir; but I do not understand it.”
“The fact that you had a thousand dollars, or any large sum about you,
and that you recklessly exhibited it in the dining-room of a hotel, was
quite enough to excite my suspicions.”
“If I had stolen the money, I think I should not have been so stupid as
to exhibit it. If I know myself, I should not.”
“But you did show it.”
“I did show it; but it was not stolen.”
“I think it was; and when I heard of the circumstances, I spent my
afternoon here in making the investigation. Perhaps you can put me in
the way of verifying your statement that you borrowed the money of your
aunt?”
“I shall be very glad to do so. My aunt lives in Springhaven. She will
show you my note.”
“Even if she does show me your note, and it is fully proved that you
borrowed a thousand dollars of her, that will not explain how your cash
happens to be twelve hundred dollars short.”
“Perhaps I can explain that myself, if you will allow me to examine my
drawer,” I replied.
Just then a light flashed through my mind, and I recalled an incident
which had occurred just after the closing of the bank on the preceding
day, which my private griefs had driven out of my head. I understood
it all then, and I was satisfied that I should utterly confound Mr.
Bristlebach, though I was, at the same time, in danger of confounding
the cashier. But the clock was striking nine, and it was time to open
the bank. There was not time to count the cash again, and I did not
care to expose a little irregularity on the part of the cashier, by
telling what I knew.
Mr. Bristlebach bit his lips and looked at the clock. Through the
glass windows of the directors’ room, he saw a man come in with a
check in his hand. He was evidently deliberating upon the propriety of
permitting me to discharge my duties for the forenoon. We were one hand
short, and there was no one to take my place.
“Mr. Glasswood, you will not go out of the bank, even for a moment,
until this matter is settled. Go to your place, and as soon as the bank
closes, we will count the cash again in your presence.”
I went to my station, after taking my drawer from the safe. I was now
not quite willing to believe that the president considered me guilty.
If he did, he would not trust me with the funds of the bank, though he
had forbidden me to leave the building. I proceeded in the discharge of
my duties as usual, but I soon discovered that the eyes of my superiors
were upon me, and if I had been disposed to indulge in a _coup d’etat_,
I was too closely watched to permit it to be a success.
Within half an hour after the opening of the bank, the cashier handed
me twelve hundred dollars in payment for a draft, which had been placed
in my keeping, and which I had deposited in the safe. Just after the
bank closed the day before, he had accommodated a friend from my
department, by giving him the cash for this draft on a bank, which, for
some reasons best known to its officers, declined to pay it after bank
hours. It is not for me to discuss the propriety of this action on the
part of my superior. It was irregular, and the cashier was personally
responsible for his conduct. The draft had been handed to me, and I
included it in my cash in balancing.
I learned that the cashier had not been present when the president
counted my cash. The book-keeper and receiving teller had assisted him,
and as the draft was not in my drawer, the amount appeared to be a
deficit on my part. It was very strange to me that I did not think of
this transaction sooner.
Perhaps if my family trouble had not perplexed me, I should have done
so. But it came to my mind soon enough to correct the impression in the
mind of the president, if I had not chosen to suffer rather than betray
the irregularity of my superior.
“That makes it all right,” said the cashier, as he slipped the bills
into my drawer, rather slyly.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Heavyside,” I replied, in a low tone, for Mr.
Bristlebach seemed to be all eyes and ears on this forenoon.
“What do you mean, Glasswood?” he asked.
“What time did you leave the bank yesterday?”
“About three. I went out to ride with my wife.”
“Where do you get your teams?”
“Of Shaytop. Why do you ask?”
“My cash was examined yesterday afternoon, after both of us left; and I
am charged with a deficit of twelve hundred dollars.”
“Whew!” whistled Heavyside, more alarmed than I was.
He stood by my side at the counter while I told him that Shaytop “had
put a flea into the ear of the president” on my account.
“The scoundrel! I will never drive another of his teams!” exclaimed the
cashier.
Shaytop was not likely to make much by his snivelling operation, which
was too mean for any gentleman to appreciate. There was no ground for
a charge against me, and I think the stable-keeper made it out of pure
malice.
“I said nothing to Mr. Bristlebach about the draft,” I continued; “and
he still thinks the cash is twelve hundred dollars short.”
“This is bad,” said he, biting his lips with vexation.
I paid a check, and the cashier walked away to his desk. I saw that he
was much disturbed. He was an honest man, in the ordinary sense of the
word, and the worst which could be said of the transaction in which he
was implicated was that it was simply irregular. He came to me again
soon.
“Although this affair amounts to nothing at all, it will cost me my
situation, and perhaps my reputation, if the president knows of it,”
said he.
“He shall not know of it through me,” I replied.
“Thank you, Glasswood,” he added, warmly; but the conversation was
interrupted so that nothing more was said on the subject.
Mr. Bristlebach was a very particular man, but I do not complain
of him on this account. It was proper and right that he should be
very exact, and even very exacting, in his requirements. Though Mr.
Heavyside had no intention of defrauding the bank of a single dollar,
he was imprudent. I believe he did not realize the nature of the act
when he obliged his friend out of the funds of the institution. I was
fully satisfied in regard to his integrity, and I was more disposed to
suffer myself than to excite a suspicion against him.
I am willing now to acknowledge that my position was wrong. The truth
should have been told in the beginning. Mr. Heavyside might have been
censured, as doubtless he ought to have been, but I do not think he
would have been discharged. If he had been, perhaps the tendency would
have been to make bank officers more circumspect, more inflexible in
the discharge of their duties. It is not safe to step over the straight
line of duty even for a moment, for there is no knowing how far one may
wander on the wrong side of it.
If this incident did not injure him, it paved the way for me to
take a long stride down the road to ruin. When he consented to be
sheltered from the displeasure of the president by the cunning of
his subordinate, he placed himself, to some extent, in my power. A
superior should never sacrifice his dignity before a subordinate, and
should never place himself in the attitude of dependence upon him.
The business of the bank went on as usual. My griefs at home had robbed
me of my appetite, and I had taken no breakfast. I was not permitted
to go out for a lunch, and when the doors were closed my empty stomach
and my sleepless night had produced an effect upon me. I was pale and
faint, but I was too proud to say anything, and my looks told against
me. I could hardly stand up, and doubtless Mr. Bristlebach thought he
saw in my wan features and trembling frame abundant evidences of my
guilt. He looked triumphant.
The examination of my department was commenced at once. The checks paid
were called off, and the bills counted. To the intense astonishment of
the president, and, I am sorry to add, to his intense chagrin also,
the balance came out all right. There was not a dollar missing. Two
counts gave the same result. Mr. Bristlebach was compelled to give it
up. I persisted that my account had been squared the day before, but
I suggested that some papers had been laid upon a few odd bills which
had probably escaped his notice in counting—if I had been present the
mistake could not have occurred.
The president stumbled through something which he intended for an
apology; and while he was doing so, I absolutely fainted away from
sheer exhaustion. Mr. Bristlebach was not a bad man, and I am sure
he regretted his inconsiderate accusation. I told him I was not very
well, and that the satisfactory result of the investigation was all I
desired. I did not blame him. I thanked him for his fairness, and all
that sort of thing. From that moment he had more confidence in me than
ever—and Shaytop lost another customer.
A cup of coffee and a beefsteak set me right, and I started for my
miserable home. I was thinking of meeting Lilian, when my uncle,
Captain Halliard, stopped me in the street.
“By the way, didn’t I let you have three hundred dollars some months
ago?” said he.
“I think you did,” I replied, blandly.
He wanted to talk with me, and led the way into an insurance office.
_CHAPTER VIII._
COMING TO THE POINT.
I WAS not pleased at the meeting, and ventured to suggest that I had
important business at home; but my uncle gently dragged me into the
insurance office. It was not pleasant to see him just then, and for
several weeks I had avoided him, so far as it was practicable to do so.
Captain Halliard was a rich man, and it could not possibly make any
difference to him whether or not I paid the money I owed him. But I
knew that he was exacting.
“I think you said you did borrow three hundred dollars of me,” said
my uncle, as he seated himself at the long table and took out his
pocket-book, evidently for the purpose of finding the note.
“There is no doubt about it,” I replied, with what self-possession I
could command.
“Just so; I had forgotten the particulars,” he continued, as he took
the note from the papers in his pocket-book.
He might as well have told me that I had forgotten it, as that he had;
but I am sorry to say that both of us had a bad habit of pretending not
to remember what, from the nature of the case, must have been uppermost
in the mind. It was a stupid and ridiculous affectation. My creditors
were often in my mind, and I am sure his debtors were as faithfully
remembered.
“I am not prepared to pay the note just now,” I began, with more candor
than I generally used.
“But, Paley, it is three or four months since I lent you the money; and
you promised to pay it in a few weeks.”
His memory was improving wonderfully.
“I have just furnished my house, uncle, and that cost me a good deal of
money,” I pleaded.
“But you got trusted for that,” said he, sharply.
“For only a small portion of it,” I answered, wondering how he could
know that I owed any thing.
“Paley, how much do you owe?” he demanded.
“O, only a few hundred dollars! I don’t know precisely how much, but
not more than I can pay in a short time.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” replied he, rather dryly. “In how short a time?”
“In a few weeks.”
“That won’t do. When I lend money to any one I expect him to pay me,
whether friend or foe, in the family or out of it. I’m afraid you are
getting along a little too fast.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Your wife is rather extravagant, I’m told.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where have you taken a house.”
“In Needham street.”
“Humph! What do you pay for it?”
“Six hundred dollars.”
“Six hundred dollars!” exclaimed he, leaping to his feet.
“A very moderate rent for the house,” I added, not at all pleased at
what I considered the impudence of my uncle.
“That is more than I pay, Paley. I’m astonished!”
“I think it is a fair rent.”
“I don’t think so. What did it cost you to furnish it?” he continued,
fixing a severe gaze upon me.
“About eight hundred dollars,” I answered, not deeming it prudent to
give more than half of the actual cost.
“You are crazy, Paley! You will run yourself out in a couple of years,
at this rate. Eight hundred dollars! When I was married I didn’t spend
a hundred dollars on my house. Paley, I will give you three days to pay
this note. If you don’t do it in that time, I shall do the next thing.”
“What’s the next thing?” I asked, indignantly.
“I’ll trustee your salary!”
“You needn’t trouble yourself about the little sum I owe you; I will
pay you,” I replied, rising and walking towards the door. “The next
time I have occasion to ask a favor, I shall not go to a relation.”
Doubtless he regarded this as a very savage threat, though perhaps he
did not think its execution involved any great hardship on his own
part. I walked out of the insurance office with a degree of dignity and
self-possession which would have been creditable in a bank president.
My uncle must be paid. There was no doubt of that. I would not be
thorned by him for all the money in the world, for he was a very
uncomfortable sort of man to a debtor, and very obstinately insisted on
collecting his dues.
It was patent to me that some one had been talking to Captain Halliard.
Perhaps that mischievous stable-keeper had been in communication with
him; and it was possible that my friend Buckleton had mentioned the
trivial circumstance that I owed him eight hundred dollars. It was not
impossible that Mr. Bristlebach and my uncle had been discussing my
affairs. They were intimate acquaintances, and the captain did business
at the Forty-ninth.
[Illustration: Tom Flynn.]
I must pay Captain Halliard, or there would be a tempest about me at
once. Not that he would trustee my salary, or anything of that kind;
for this was only a hint that he would mention the matter to the
president of our bank. I must pay him, but how to do so, was a matter
about which I could not venture an opinion. I had little money, and I
had already bled my friends as much as it was prudent to bleed them. I
must “raise the wind,” or go under. I walked up State Street, trying
to think who should suffer next for my sins, when I met Tom Flynn.
We never passed each other without stopping to speak, though we stood
side by side in the bank during business hours. I saw that he looked
embarrassed, and it flashed upon my mind before he opened his mouth
that he wanted his money, and that he had made up his mind to ask me
for it. I did not regard it as proper for him to do so.
“Tom, I’m glad to see you,” I began. “I wanted to meet you.”
“That’s just my case. I was going down to the bank to find you, after
calling upon you at Mr. Oliphant’s. I wanted to see you very badly;”
and the honest fellow looked more embarrassed than ever.
“Well, that’s a coincidence,” I replied, deeming it my duty to spare
him any unnecessary embarrassment. “I have just had a call for a
little money I owe, and it was not convenient for me to pay it. It was
awkward, because I have a habit of paying up all these little things at
sight, even if I have to borrow the money to do so. I shall be flush in
three or four days, but I dislike to make this particular fellow wait.
Could you lend me a hundred dollars till Monday?”
“I am very sorry, Paley,” replied the poor fellow, the wind all taken
out of his sails. “The fact is, I’m short myself.”
“O, well, never mind it. I’m sorry I said any thing,” I continued.
“There was no harm in saying it to me,” laughed he, apparently more
troubled at my necessity than his own. “I had a chance to buy some
stock at a low figure, if I could raise the money to-day, so that the
owner can leave to-night for New York. I am one hundred short of the
amount required; but no matter; let it go.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t the amount about me,” I replied, with a troubled
look. “Perhaps I can raise it for you.”
“O, no! I don’t want you to do that. You said you should be flush in a
few days.”
“Yes; I shall have some money on Monday.”
“Well, then, Paley, since you can’t help me out, I can help you out,”
said the noble fellow, with a generous smile. “I can’t buy my stock,
and you may as well have the money as to let it remain idle.”
“Thank you, Tom,” I replied, warmly.
“You said a hundred dollars,” he continued, stepping into a doorway and
drawing out his wallet.
“I said a hundred dollars, but only because I had not the cheek to
mention more. I must raise three hundred to-morrow—but only till
Monday you know.”
“Three hundred,” said he musing. “I think I can help you out.”
“Thank you, Tom. Next Monday I will pay you this and the other hundred
I owe you. And by the way, I had quite forgotten that you held my note.”
“It’s of no consequence. I haven’t wanted it very badly. But I have a
chance to invest what little I possess next week, and if I can get it
then it will suit me better than to receive it now.”
“You shall have the whole next Monday, without fail,” I replied, though
I had no more idea where the money was to come from than I had of the
source of the Nile.
“That will fit my case exactly.”
“We will step into the bank, and I will give you a note.”
Every body had left the bank except the messenger, and I wrote the
note. I had the three hundred dollars in my fist. I was intent upon
taking the sting out of my uncle’s tongue. I meant to overwhelm him by
paying my note before I slept. I parted with Tom in the street, and
hastened to the insurance office, where I had left Captain Halliard.
I found him tipped back in his chair in the inner room, talking with
Mr. Bristlebach. I suspected that my case was the subject of their
discussion.
“Is that you, Paley?” called my uncle, as I made a movement to retire.
“Yes, sir; but I won’t trouble you now, if you are engaged,” I replied.
“Come in; we were talking about you, Mr. Glasswood,” said the
president. “I was just telling your uncle how well satisfied I am with
you.”
“Thank you, sir. I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion,
and I hope I shall always merit it,” I added, with becoming modesty.
“Do you wish to see me, Paley?” asked my uncle.
“Only for a moment, sir; but I will wait till you are at leisure.”