SCOTT'S VALET.
Scott Wilmer sat in his office surrounded by books and papers, which
were lying about on tables and desk in great disorder. His brow was
clouded, and, leaning his head on his hand, he looked from one pile of
papers to another, and taking up his pen he wrote:
"WANTED--Boy. A good steady boy to work in law office. Must be
active and willing to work; neat in appearance and of good
behavior. SCOTT WILMER, 173 ---- Street, Detroit."
The advertisement was inserted in the evening papers and the next
morning a score or more of boys appeared. There was one among them who
impressed Scott more than all the rest, and whom Scott requested to
step into his office. He was a fine looking boy of perhaps fourteen or
fifteen years of age, scrupulously neat in appearance and possessing a
manner which quite captivated Scott.
"My name is Paul Leroy," he said, as he gracefully accepted the chair
Scott offered. "I thought perhaps I might fill the place of errand
boy, if you will only let me try, and if you did not like me----"
"That is always understood," said Scott. "The duties which I wish you
to perform are not at all arduous, and I think you can fill the place
without trouble.
"Would you like a chance to study?"
"Indeed I would, sir."
"Very well. I will give you eight dollars per week and allow you the
privilege of attending evening school, and studying at home when you
can. Are you satisfied with that?"
"Perfectly, sir."
"Have you any recommendations?"
"No, sir; I have none, and I can only promise you that I will be
honest and do my work as near right as I can."
"Where in this city have you worked?"
"I have not been here long. My mother does not live here, and my
father is dead."
"You may stay; I think we shall manage very well; and if I find you
capable we will make a permanent bargain. Come! I will show you to
your room."
Scott led the way across the hall, and opening the door of a room next
to his own private one, he said:
"This will be your room. You see there is a door that opens into my
room, so that in case I should need you at any time you can step in
without going through the hall."
"It is a very pretty little place," Paul said, looking around.
"You may wait in the library until the dinner hour. After dinner you
may begin your work."
June thought Paul looked rather pale, and wondered if he were not
homesick. She really pitied him, she said to Scott, when she found her
brother alone. Mrs. Wilmer gave him a half friendly welcome as he took
his seat by Scott's side at the table, but she did think Scott had a
little more regard for caste than to allow his valet to eat at the
table with the family. She thought it would be almost as reasonable to
think of allowing one of her servant girls to sit with them. She did
not dare to say a word of disapproval, for Scott said the boy was
lonely, and he had taken such a fancy to him, too, and he would, no
doubt, argue her out of all reason and do as he thought right.
The room which he occupied was a tastily furnished apartment, with a
broad, low window facing the east. A tall maple tree stretching its
branches out toward the window made a lovely shade, and by the window
June hung her pretty mocking bird, Ned. For she said that Paul had no
other company, and Ned would cheer him so much when he became
homesick.
Paul began his work the next day with so much interest and activity
that Scott concluded that if he continued as he had begun he had
secured a prize. As time wore on Paul conducted himself with so much
modesty and natural refinement that Mrs. Wilmer, with all her ideas of
caste, could but admire him, and though she had cautioned June to
ignore his society altogether, she now consented to allow her to sit
in the library with him, always cautioning her not to forget that he
was her brother's hired help, and in no way her equal. June always
promised, but some way June always forgot. She did not mean to break
her word, but there was a charm in the very atmosphere which
surrounded Paul. Every moment that his services were not required for
work was spent in useful and careful study. He took advantage of the
evening school, and these hours were well improved.
The Wilmer library was a large, airy and beautifully furnished room,
well filled with finely bound and instructive volumes. Scott was an
extensive reader, and a great portion of his time was spent among his
books. He had been studying law, and two years before the present time
was admitted to the bar. His keen intellect and the remarkably sound
judgment which he possessed for one of his years gave great promise of
a brilliant future. His dignified bearing, without ostentation, his
eloquence, to which none could listen without feeling the weight of
its influence, his honor and strict morality, together with a generous
nature, commanded admiration and respect from all. His face, though
not strikingly handsome, was very attractive. His hair, a dark auburn,
curled loosely around a broad, white brow. His hazel eyes and
classical features were of the type that always caused one to take a
second look, and the general comment was, "What a fine looking man."
Paul thought so, too, and he was much surprised when he discovered the
generosity of his nature, and when told that he could have free access
to the library it seemed too much of a treat to be true. He had so
often longed for books of the kind which he found there, and he tried
to thank Scott, but that gentleman waved his hand in a way that thanks
was entirely out of the question.
Paul and June were becoming firmer friends as the days wore on. They
sat one day, several weeks after his arrival, in the library. June had
entered and found Paul reading, and seeing the book he held in his
hand, she said, as she took a seat near him:
"Oh, Paul, I should think you would just suit mama."
"Why," he asked.
"Because you are always reading poetry. I see you are reading 'Lady of
the Lake.' Do you like it?"
"Like it? Indeed, I do; it is beautiful."
"Well, I like poetry, but mama almost goes wild over it. She thinks
anyone who can write poetry is wonderful. Mama is real funny; you'll
never tell anyone if I tell you in what way, will you?"
"No."
"Well, you know mama often takes books to her room; she hardly ever
comes here to read; she likes to be by herself, and I will tell you
why. She would like to be a poet herself, and if you liked to write it
as well as you like to read it, she would think you were just
splendid."
"I cannot write poetry; I wish I could."
"Why don't you try?"
"How can I when I do not know anything about it?"
"Oh, just make up something that rhymes."
"I would not want to make poetry just for the sake of a rhyme; I would
want some beauty in it--some--well, some soul. But is that what you
were going to tell me?"
"Oh, no, I was going to tell you about Scott's wife."
"I did not know he had a wife."
"Oh, he hasn't any now, but Irene Mapleton is to be his wife some day.
I do not know just when, but you should see the poetry she writes.
Why, she has just stacks of it. Mama thinks it is just beautiful, but
Scott says he cannot see any beauty in it. I believe you could write
as well as that yourself. Mama used to write poetry, and she wrote a
whole lot of it, and tried to sell it for an awful price. The editor
told her that he could not take it. She kept offering it for less and
less, and finally, she offered it for nothing. He would not take it at
all, and then told her it was worthless and would never do to print.
Since then I do not believe she has ever tried to get her poems
printed."
"I should not think she would," said Paul.
"Well," said June, looking up and tossing her head, "I do not believe
I should like to be a writer. I want to be free and not sit caged up
like a bird. Why, mama knows a lady in New York who makes her living
that way, and I have often seen her sitting by her window away up in
the third story of her house, and there she sits, day after day, all
alone. Mercy! I can't see how she does stand it. It must be an awful
life to live.
"I suppose one reason that mama is so determined to have Scott marry
Irene is because she can write poetry. Mama is so delighted when she
sees one of Irene's poems that she shows it to everybody she knows.
She is so afraid that Scott will not get Irene for a wife that she
wants him to be married right away, but Scott says he has not the time
to be married."
"How old are you, June?" Paul asked, looking up into her face.
"Thirteen last month."
"How long have you attended school?"
"Oh, ever since I can remember. I shall graduate when I am seventeen.
Mama has promised me the loveliest graduating dress that she can find
in the city of New York."
"What is all this argument about?" asked Scott, who at that moment
entered the room.
"We were only talking about going to school and being wise, that is
all," said June.
"A very good subject for two little people," said Scott, smiling.
Scott sat down by June's side, as he said:
"I have come to tell you something, my little sister, which I hope you
will be pleased to hear."
Paul arose, and putting his book in its place started to leave the
room.
"Where are you going?" Scott asked.
"I thought perhaps you wished to talk to your sister," Paul answered,
modestly.
"Your presence will not hinder me. I prefer to have you stay."
Paul went to the window and stood with his face turned away from
Scott's gaze. He did not know why, but for some reason he feared that
he should hear something unpleasant.
"June, I am going to be married," Scott said, turning the bright face
up to catch the effect of his words.
"Oh, Scott!"
The head dropped upon his shoulder, and the tears started to her
eyes.
"Why, what is the matter, little one, is there anything so terrible
about that? I thought you might be pleased to hear it."
"I am pleased, only----"
"Only what?"
"I am afraid you will not care for me--or Paul either, after you are
married."
Paul turned with a smile, though his face was very pale. He did not
say to Scott that he dreaded far worse than did June, the presence of
his wife, for it seemed to him that Scott would not care for him as he
had, and though he could not tell just why, it seemed to him that he
would not be as happy as he had been.
"Well, Paul," said June, wiping the tears away, "if Scott cares less
for us when he gets Irene, you and I will be brother and sister."
"If you will," said Paul.
"And I hope you will agree as well as you and I have, June," Scott
said.
"I hope you and Irene will agree as well as we shall--but," she added,
springing upon Scott's knee, and throwing her plump little arms around
his neck, "I intend to sit here while I can, for I do not suppose I
shall be allowed to do so in future."
Scott's mouth closed firmly; then he said:
"June, no one shall ever come between me and my sister; remember
that--not even a wife. I do not think Irene would wish to, and if she
did she could not; so do not foster any such ideas. I could never love
my little sister less."