AN UNSATISFACTORY CALL.
Mr. Ingalls was right in his conjecture. On board the steamer Mr. Briggs
had thought of his young ward, and was rather annoyed that he had not
left directions at the office that he should be paid his regular weekly
stipend.
“There is one thing which I have forgotten,” he said to his wife.
“What is it?” she inquired.
“Gilbert has been in the habit of coming to me every week for his board.
I ought to have left directions at the office with Seymour to pay him in
my place.”
He forgot that Mrs. Briggs was not aware of this arrangement. She was
not slow in expressing her dissatisfaction.
“You don’t mean to say that that boy lived on you!” she exclaimed.
“I pay his board, if that is what you mean by living on me.”
“That is what it amounts to. Why permit this?”
“Surely, you don’t expect that Gilbert will pay all his expenses out of
five dollars a week,” said her husband.
“Why can’t he get along as well as other boys?”
“Other boys have no friends able to help them. Gilbert’s father was my
friend, and I mean to stand by him.”
“How much do you allow him for board?”
“Six dollars a week.”
“Can’t he get boarded cheaper?”
“It seems to me that six dollars is very cheap. You remember that I
spent a hundred dollars a week for you and Randolph and myself at
Saratoga one season. That is about thirty-three dollars apiece.”
“There is no resemblance in the two cases,” said Mrs. Briggs, coldly.
“Gilbert Greyson is only a working-boy.”
“And I am a working-man.”
“Don’t talk foolishly, Mr. Briggs,” said his wife, sharply.
“I have not much time to talk foolishly or otherwise. Will you attend to
this matter of Gilbert’s board?”
“I will attend to it,” said Mrs. Briggs.
“Then there will be no need of my writing to the office.”
“No, there will be no occasion to trouble yourself further in the
matter.”
On this assurance Mr. Briggs dismissed Gilbert from his mind, and
shortly afterwards bade good-by to his wife and son.
“I sometimes think your father is actually soft,” said Mrs. Briggs to
Randolph, on the way over the ferry. “What claim has that Greyson boy
upon him, that he should squander six dollars a week upon him? And that
isn’t all, I presume. I have no doubt the boy manages to coax extra
money out of him almost every week.”
“He won’t get it out of you, mother,” said Randolph.
“I should say not,” said Mrs. Briggs, very emphatically. “I should feel
that I was robbing you. If your father impoverishes himself by such
ill-timed liberality, you will be the sufferer.”
“I didn’t think of that,” said Randolph, soberly.
“I don’t, of course, wish to be mean or parsimonious,” continued Mrs.
Briggs, “but I hold that a man’s first duty is to his own family.”
“Of course it is,” said Randolph, who felt confident of it now that he
saw the bearing upon his own interests.
“Will you give Gilbert the six dollars a week?” he inquired.
“Not unless he asks for it,” said Mrs. Briggs. “If he doesn’t need it
there will be no occasion to offer it.”
“If he don’t ask for it, will you give it to me?” asked Randolph.
“You have an allowance of five dollars a week now. It seems to me that
ought to be sufficient.”
“I can’t save anything from it. If you give me the six dollars beside,
I’ll put some in the savings bank.”
“I will wait and see whether the boy calls for it.”
“I hope he won’t.”
“He probably will. He’ll take all he can get. That is his nature.”
Mrs. Briggs quite misread Gilbert, as my readers will probably judge;
but she was too prejudiced to judge him fairly.
Randolph was not as mean as his mother. He had a little of his father’s
nature, though he was more like his mother. The thought that it would
impair his future inheritance did not much affect him, but the prospect
of having his allowance so largely increased took away all consideration
for Gilbert. He cared very little whether our hero was able to pay his
board or not, if only the money might be paid to him. He was very
selfish certainly; but he loved money for what it would buy, and not for
its own sake, as was the case with his mother. Of course he hoped that
Gilbert would not present himself at the house, or make inquiry for the
money; but in this he was destined to be disappointed.
Sitting at the window on the evening Gilbert had resolved to call, he
saw, not without disappointment, our hero mount the steps and ring the
bell.
“He’s come, mother,” said he, in a tone of regret.
“Who has come?”
“Gilbert Greyson. I suppose he has come for his six dollars.”
“I suppose he has,” said Mrs. Briggs, with a curl of the lip. “I knew he
wouldn’t keep away long. Now, Randolph, one thing I ask,—don’t say a
word about the matter. I want to make him introduce the subject himself.
I don’t wish to spare him any embarrassment.”
“All right, mother.”
Directly the door opened, and Gilbert entered.
“Good-evening, Mrs. Briggs,” he said, approaching and taking the lady’s
hand. She just touched his hand coldly, and withdrew hers.
“Good-evening,” she said, briefly.
“Good-evening, Randolph,” said Gilbert, turning to the younger member of
the party.
“Good-evening,” said Randolph, less frigidly. “Have you got a place
yet?”
“Not yet. My employer has not returned from Washington.”
“Probably it will make very little difference to you how long he stays,”
said Mrs. Briggs, disagreeably.
“I hope it will make considerable,” returned Gilbert. “I was surprised
to hear that Mr. Briggs had gone to Europe.”
“He went very suddenly,” said Randolph. “It has put off my birthday
party.”
“I should like to have seen him before he went,” said Gilbert.
“He had no time to notify all his acquaintances that he was going,” said
Mrs. Briggs.
“How long will he be gone?”
“It is quite uncertain,” said the lady, shortly. “It will depend on his
business, of course.”
“I wish this visit were well over,” thought Gilbert, but he felt that he
must introduce the matter which led to his call.
“Did Mr. Briggs leave any message for me?” he inquired.
“Any message for you?” repeated Mrs. Briggs, arching her eyebrows. “Why
should you expect that he would leave any message for you?”
“Perhaps you are not aware,” said Gilbert, uncomfortably, “that Mr.
Briggs, while I am at work on small wages, has been in the habit of
paying my board.”
“Indeed!” said Mrs. Briggs, in apparent surprise. “Why should he do
that?”
“Out of friendship for my father, he told me,” said Gilbert.
“I should hardly have supposed that you would request such a thing of
one not related to you.”
“I didn’t request it,” said Gilbert, coloring. “Mr. Briggs was kind
enough to offer to do it. I accepted, on condition that I might
hereafter repay him what money he should advance.”
“It is not very likely the money will ever be repaid,” said Mrs. Briggs,
coldly.
“It will be repaid if I live,” said Gilbert, warmly.
“I have heard such promises before,” said the lady, contemptuously.
“They are generally made to be broken.”
“Not in my case,” said Gilbert, flushing.
“I will not discuss the matter,” said Mrs. Briggs, coldly. “May I ask
why you have introduced this subject?”
“Mr. Briggs gave me no notice that he intended to withdraw his
assistance, and I accordingly went to the office yesterday, only to
learn that he had gone to Europe, and left no message there. I thought
he might possibly have spoken to you on the subject, and therefore I
called. My board-bill, amounting to six dollars, is due to-night, and
unfortunately I have no funds to meet it.”
“It must be rather humiliating for you to accept charity,” said Mrs.
Briggs. “I don’t think my son would be willing to do it.”
“I should say not,” said Randolph.
“Say nothing more, Mrs. Briggs,” said Gilbert, rising. “If you regard it
in that light, I wish no assistance.”
“I don’t wish you to suffer,” continued Mrs. Briggs, coldly. “I will
give you money for your board-bill, if you will tell me how much it
amounts to.”
“Thank you, I won’t trouble you,” said Gilbert. “I shall get along
somehow. Good-evening.”
“You are impetuous. You will bear in mind that I have not refused you
the money.”
“I will bear it in mind. Good-evening, madam.”
“You did it well, mother,” said Randolph, admiringly, as our hero left
the house. “Will you give me the six dollars, now he has refused it?”
“I will give it to you this week, Randolph; but mind, I make no promises
for the future.”
“I guess it’s all right,” thought Randolph, pocketing the bills
complacently. “I’ll take care she keeps it up.”