FACING HARD TRUTHS
"It is because our father is honest that today we are poor," Dan Abbott
began, "and I glory in that fact."
His sister, sitting beside him in the train that was nearing Edgemere,
curled her lips but did not reply. "The firm to which Dad belonged made
illegal contracts in western oil fields. The other men will be many times
richer than they were before, but, because our father scorned to be a
party to such dishonesty, he has failed. Not a one of the men in whom he
trusted made the slightest effort to help avert the catastrophe."
"When did this all happen?" Jane's voice was still hard, almost bitter,
as though she felt hatred and scorn for her father, rather than loyalty
and admiration.
"Last February," was the brief reply.
"Then why was I not informed? Am I a mere infant to be kept in ignorance
of facts like these? Father has treated me unfairly, letting me boast to
my most intimate friends that I could have an elaborate Paris wardrobe
for the summer. My position is certainly a most unpleasant one."
At this the slow temper of the lad at her side flamed and though he spoke
in a low voice that the other passengers might not hear, he said just
what he thought. "Jane Abbott, you are the most selfish, heartless girl I
have ever known. It is very hard to believe that you are an own daughter
to that most wonderful woman whom we are permitted to claim as our
mother. In an hour of trouble (and there were many of them in those long
ago days) she was always brave and cheerful, comforting Dad and urging
him above all to be true to an ideal. But I actually believe that you,
Jane Abbott, would rather our Dad had entered into dishonest negotiations
as did the other members of his firm."
The lad glanced hopefully at his sister. Surely she would indignantly
refute this accusation, but she did nothing of the sort. With a shrug of
her slender shoulders, she sank back against the cherry colored cushion
as she replied, "I have often heard that an honest man can not be a
success in business, and I do feel that our father should have considered
his family above all else."
Dan pressed his lips firmly together. He feared that if his torrent of
angry thoughts were expressed it might form a barrier between himself and
his sister that the future could not tear down, and so, after taking a
deep breath that seemed almost a half sob, he again placed his hand
tenderly on the cold white one that lay listlessly near him.
"Sis, dear," he implored, "try to be brave, won't you? I'll do all I can
to make things easier for you, and so will Dad. He's pretty much stunned,
just now, but, oh, little girl, you can't guess how he is dreading your
homecoming. That's why I offered to meet you at the ferry station. I
wanted to tell you and save Dad that agony of spirit. If you would only
go in brightly and say, what our dear mother would have said, it will do
more to help our father than anything else in this world."
Selfish as Jane was, she dearly loved the brother who had idolized her,
and who in moments of great tenderness had always called her his little
girl, remembering only that she was three years younger and in need of
his protection.
Tears sprang to her eyes, but as the train was drawing in at the Edgemere
station she only had time to say, "I'll try. But, oh, it is so hard, so
hard."
Dan engaged a hack and after assisting his sister in, he sat beside her.
Then, as they drove along the pleasant streets of the village that were
shaded by wide spreading elms, the lad told her what changes had occurred
in their home.
"Mrs. Beach, our housekeeper, and Nora, her assistant, have left, and our
dear old grandmother has closed up her farm in Vermont and is staying
with father. It has been his greatest comfort to have his mother with
him. You always thought her ways so old-fashioned and farmerish, Jane,
but for all that she is the sweetest kind of a little old lady and as
brisk and capable as she was two years ago when we visited the farm."
There was a slight curl to Jane's lips, but she merely said: "I suppose I
shall be expected to wash dishes now. We must be terribly poor if we
couldn't even keep Nora."
"But we have one big blessing," Dan said brightly, "the home, which was
mother's can not be taken from us, for it belongs to us children."
Jane was not listening. She was trying to figure out something in her own
mind. "Dan." She turned toward him suddenly. "I can't see why Dad lost
his money, just because he did not want to be a partner in what he
considered a dishonest oil deal. Explain it to me a little more clearly."
"I didn't at first," her brother confessed, "fearing that it would not
have your sympathy. Many poor people invested their entire savings in the
oil deal, supposing that father's firm could be relied upon to be
absolutely honest. It is their money, much of it, which is making the
rich men richer. Our father, knowing that many had invested their all
because they trusted his personal integrity, has turned over his entire
fortune to make up their losses, as far as it will go." Dan was sorry he
had to make this explanation, for he saw at once the hard expression
returning to the eyes of his sister.
"If our father has greater consideration for the poor of New York than he
has for his own children, you can not expect me to express much sympathy
for him."
"Dear girl, wouldn't you rather have our father honest than rich?" The
lad's clear grey eyes looked at her searchingly.
Jane put her hand to her forehead as though it ached. "Oh, Dan," she
said, wearily, "you and father have different ideals from what I have, I
guess. I never really gave any thought to these things. I like comfort
and nice clothes and I hate, hate, hate drudgery and work of every kind.
I suppose now I shall have to scrub for a living." Jane was recalling
what the working girl on the ferry had said.
Dan's amused laughter rang out. "Oh, Jane, what nonsense. Do you suppose
that while I have a strong right arm I would let my little pal work in
any of those drudgery ways? No, indeed, so forget that fear, if it's
haunting you." But the boy could say no more, for another violent
coughing spell racked his frail body.
Instantly Jane was self-reproachful. "Oh, Dan, Dan," she said, "I know
you would give your very life to help me. I'm so selfish, so very
selfish! I'm going to think of only one thing, and that is how I can help
you to get well, for I can see now that you must have been ill."
The boy took advantage of this momentary tender spell to turn and take
the girl's hands in his and say imploringly: "Dear, we're almost home. If
you really want to help me to get well, be loving and brave to Dad. Your
unhappiness grieves me more than our loss, little girl, and I can't get
strong while I am so worried."
There were again tears in the beautiful dark eyes of the girl, and
impulsively she kissed the one person on earth whom she truly loved.
"Brother, for your sake I'll try to be brave," she said with a half sob
as the hack stopped in front of their home.