Geron Vivian was sitting in his arm chair. It was the day of rest, or
should have been, but none had come to him. He was constantly thinking
how he could manage to get back to his farm and wondering how he had
ever been enticed to leave it.
[Illustration]
The salary that he had received had seemed enormous while he lived upon
the farm, but now he reasoned, money is like holding water in your hand.
It slips through your fingers, no matter how tightly you hold it, or how
much you have. I have spent more money in the last four years than in
all my lifetime before. First comes rent, gas bills, servants’ wages,
and clothing—more needed in three months than in that many years in the
country—and shoes! Why, they are a weekly tax for some one of the
family; stone pavements scour them to pieces. “Then car fare—well I had
better stop or I will have the blues worse than ever. I don’t feel quite
myself today and I suppose I am blue from worry over that mortgage. In
six months’ time the lease will be up and we shall go back to our home
and when once that mortgage is paid I will never place another dollar on
anything I own.”
Walking to a large mirror he exclaimed: “Father! is it possible?” and
then glanced around to see if any one was within hearing. “I thought it
was he, but how old I am looking—as old as he did a short time before he
died, and yet he was thirty years older than I. He raised a large family
out there on the land and amassed wealth, while I have played the fool
by coming to the city. Tom is a brighter man than I, I see now. One
comfort I have—that interest was paid on the mortgage yesterday and if I
can only sell those stocks, I will get that mortgage paid.”
Just then Lear and Libra Shuman drove up to the door in their carriage.
He greeted them cordially, as Grace, his wife, brought them into the
room. The conversation became general for a time and then the ladies
went off by themselves. Geron and Lear talked of their business affairs.
Finally Geron says, “I want to sell those stocks and clear off that
mortgage, Lear. Do you think I can do it before spring, for I intend
going back to the farm again?”
“They have gone up and down,” Lear replied, “and they must advance soon,
so I would advise you not to be in a hurry.”
“I wish they had gone up before I ever mortgaged my property to buy
them, or down to perdition, I don’t care which,” Geron replied.
“Well, you must not blame me, for I did the best I could for you. You
wanted to give your boys a chance to attend the colleges here in the
city and have the refining influences of association not to be had in
the country. I am sure it has improved them and gives them a polish that
they never would have had had they not come.”
On the way home afterwards, Lear told Libra that her brother seemed to
imply that he, Lear, was to blame for the mortgaging of the estate.
“I don’t think I am,” he said. “I merely told him how he could secure
the stock. I bought heavier of it than he. He complains because he has
never received any dividends, only promises. Neither have I.”
In about two months Geron thought he had a customer. Every evening as he
came home the old, bright expression seemed returning. He was already
planning for a return to the old home. Grace had begun to prepare for
the packing, and she had just come to the front door to look over some
plants she had felt uncertain about taking with her when who should
stand before her but Geron, his lips drawn and his face as white as
snow. Before she realized what he was about he had fallen across the
floor. All was confusion. The members of the family were running about
in all directions. A physician was summoned and said it was paralysis,
caused by some sudden shock.
In a day or two he changed his mind and declared it was brain fever
caused by several other ailments and he must be kept quiet. Weeks went
by and his delirium was terrible, as he shrieked, “I am ruined!” and
then again over and over, he cried, “Watered stock, watered stock—I am
ruined!”
Then he would imagine he was on the farm again and he would tell them
how he wanted everything done. Again he would become partly conscious
and cry out, “All the money is gone, all is lost. We are paupers!”
It took all the strength of two men to hold him at these times. Finally
he became conscious with a full realization of his great loss, and
almost the first word he heard was a voice in the hall, saying, “I must
have my rent or I will send him to the hospital, and I will only wait a
few days longer. If you have not the money for me day after tomorrow I
will send the ambulance. He ought to be there anyway.”
Poor Geron became unconscious again. In a few hours he revived and
wanted to know what it all meant. What had happened to him?
His wife implored him to be patient and not to mind until he was well
and by coaxing succeeded in getting him quiet again. But memory would
return and with it the awful straits they were in, but he said, “I will
not sink under this and leave my helpless family alone. Yes, I will be
quiet. I have will power to do that much. I will get well, but I must
know one thing; have I lost my situation?” Poor Grace only looked the
answer she was afraid to put in words.
“I see,” he said, “it is as I feared. The same schemers who sold those
stocks to me have taken all else that I have. It was only a part of the
scheme to entice me to risk all.”
“Not all, Geron dear, you have the boys, and am I not worth having?”
“Oh, Grace dear, to think that I should have been so foolish.”
For an answer she kissed him and begged him to go to sleep and they
would talk it over when he was stronger. When he revived the first thing
he said was, “Thank goodness mother’s property is safe and we can live
on that and the mortgage does not close for two years. With the boys’
help we can make a living. Will they be willing to go back to farm
life?”
They were just at the age when boys who have lived in the city consider
it a great hardship to live in a smaller place.
“Yes,” they said, “we will go if you will only get well.”
In a few weeks he was better and then he would say, “To think of being
robbed by your friends. Fiends would be a more appropriate name for
them.” And to think that Lear had advised him! They raised enough to
appease the landlord until he was better and by selling most of their
furniture got back to the old home once more. All was so different now.
None of the conveniences he had had in the years past belonged to him
and all he could do was to work with the tenant and take it on shares.
It was a terrible humiliation, but it was better than the uncertainties
of the city. The best part of their mother’s home had never been used by
the tenants and all the best furniture had been left there, so old Mrs.
Vivian could have gone back had she wished, but she had always found it
too lonely and had never gone.
For two years at least Geron would have to pay interest on the mortgage,
and after that he could not calculate what would be done. He saw no way
of paying the principal and though her land was exempt, still it could
not be sufficient to supply the family with the present prices that they
would make from the farm.