The Washington Trust Company had grown in power to the envy of its
conservative rivals ever since its organization, and was now one of the
richest reservoirs of capital in the city. Recently it had moved into
its new home in the banking quarter of the city,--the most expensive,
commodious, and richly ornamented bank premises in B----. The Washington
Trust Company was managed by "the younger crowd," and one way in which
the new blood manifested itself was by the erection of this handsome
granite building with its ornate bronze and marble appointments. The
officers felt that theirs was a new kind of business, largely involving
women, invalids, and dependents of rich habits, and for these a display
of magnificence was "good business."
When Adelle and her aunt paused inside the massive bronze doors of the
Trust Building and looked about them in bewilderment across the immense
surface of polished marble floor, it probably did not occur to either of
them that a new page in the book of destiny had been turned for them.
Yet even in Adelle's small, silent brain there must have penetrated a
consciousness of the place,--the home as it were of her new
guardian,--and such a magnificent home that it inspired at once both
timidity and pride. The two women wandered about the banking floor for
some minutes, peering through the various grilles at the busy clerks,
observing the careless profusion of notes, gold, and documents of value
that seemed piled on every desk, as if to indicate ostentatiously the
immensity of the property interests confided to the company's care. At
last, after they had been rebuffed by several busy clerks, a uniformed
attendant found them and inquired their business. The widow handed to
him the card she had received from the probate judge, and the usher at
once led them to an elegant little private elevator that shot them
upwards through the floors of the bank to the upper story. Here, in a
small, heavily rugged room behind a broad mahogany table, they met Mr.
John Gardiner, then the "trust officer" of the Washington Trust Company.
He was a heavy, serious-minded, bald man of middle age, and Adelle at
once made up her mind that she liked him far less than the judge. The
trust officer did not rise on their entrance as the judge always had
risen; merely nodded to them, motioned to some chairs against the wall,
and continued writing on a memorandum pad. Both the widow and Adelle
felt that they were not of much importance to the Washington Trust
Company, which was precisely what the trust company liked to have its
clients feel.
"Well," Mr. Gardiner said at last, clearing his voice, "so you are Mrs.
John Clark and Miss Adelle Clark?"
Of course he knew the fact, but some sort of introduction must be made.
Mrs. Clark, who was sitting hostilely on the edge of her chair, hugging
to herself a little black bag, nodded her head guardedly in response.
"I presume you have come to see me about the guardianship matter," the
trust officer continued. Then he fussed for some moments among the
papers on his desk as if he were hunting for something, which he at last
found. He seized the paper with relief, and took another furtive look at
his visitors from under his gold glasses as if to make sure that no
mistake had been made and began again:--
"At the request of Judge Orcutt,"--he pronounced the probate judge's
name with unction and emphasis,--"we have looked into the matter of the
Clark estate, and we have found, what I suppose you are already aware
of, that your husband's estate is extremely involved and with it this
little girl's interest in the property," For the first time he turned
his big bald head in Adelle's direction, and finding there apparently
nothing to hold his attention, ignored her completely thereafter, and
confined himself exclusively to the widow.
He paused and cleared his throat as if he expected some defense of the
Clark estate from the widow. But she said nothing. To tell the truth,
she didn't like the trust officer's manner. As she said afterwards to
Mr. Lovejoy, he seemed to be "throwing it into her," trying to impress
her with her own unimportance and the goodness of the Washington Trust
Company in concerning itself with her soiled linen. "As if he were doing
me a big favor," she grumbled. That was in fact exactly the idea that
Mr. Gardiner had of the whole affair. If it had been left to him, as he
had told the president of the trust company, he would not have the
Washington Trust Company mix itself up in such a dubious "proposition"
as the Clark estate was likely to prove. He was of the "old school" of
banking,--a relic of earlier days,--and did not approve of the company's
accepting any but the most solid trusts that involved merely the trouble
of cutting four per cent coupons in their management. But his superior
officers had listened favorably to the request of the probate judge,
wishing always to "keep in close touch" with the judge of the court
where they had so much business, and also having a somewhat farther
vision than the trust officer, as will be seen. A recommendation by the
probate judge was to the Washington Trust Company in the nature of a
royal invitation, not to be considered on purely selfish grounds; and
besides, they already scented rich pickings in the litigious situation
of Clark's Fields. They would be stupid if they had to content
themselves with their usual one per cent commission on income. The
assistant to the president of the trust company, a lively young banker
of the "new school," Mr. Ashly Crane, who had been asked to examine into
the situation of the Clark estate, had recognized its manifold
possibilities and had recommended favorable action. In the event it
proved that the "new school" was right: the Washington Trust Company
lost nothing by its disinterested act. (It never did lose anything by
its acts of charity, and that is why it has prospered so abundantly.)
"I do not know what the trust company will be able to do with the
property," the cautious Mr. Gardiner continued. "We have not yet
completed our examination: our attorneys are at present considering
certain legal points. But one thing is pretty certain," he hastened to
add with emphasis. "You must look for no income from the estate for the
present,--probably not for a term of years."
This made little impression upon the women. It meant nothing at all to
Adelle, and the widow had become so accustomed to disappointments about
the Clark property that she did not move a muscle at the announcement,
though she inwardly might regret the twenty-five thousand dollars which
had been promised her husband by the other crowd. That would mean a good
deal more to her business than two or three times the amount after a
"term of years." She was getting on, and the rooming business needed
capital badly. However, she had determined to do nothing detrimental to
the interests of her husband's niece, as the probate judge had told her
she might if she listened to the seduction of immediate cash. And
fortunately the bank officer did not ask for money to pay taxes and
interest on the mortgages, which had been the bugbear of her married
life. This was the next point touched upon by the trust officer.
"I presume that you are not in a financial position to advance anything
towards the expenses of the estate, which for the present may be heavy?"
He gave the widow another furtive look under his glasses, as if to
detect what money she had on her person.
Mrs. Clark shook her head vigorously: that she would not do--go on
pouring money into the bottomless pit of Clark's Field! Of course the
trust company had considered this point and made up its mind already to
advance the estate the necessary funds up to a safe amount, which would
become another lien on the little girl's income from her mother's
inheritance, should there be any.
This matter disposed of, the trust officer asked searching questions
about the Clark genealogy, which the widow answered quite fully, for it
was a subject on which her sister-in-law Addie had educated her so
completely that she knew everything there was to know except the exact
whereabouts of Edward S. or his heirs. Mr. Gardiner was specially
interested in Edward S., who had disappeared fifty years ago, and asked
Mrs. Clark to send him immediately all family letters bearing on Edward.
It was apparent that the trust company meant to go after Edward and his
heirs and either discover them if it were humanly possible or establish
the fact that they could safely be ignored. And they were in a much
better position, with their numerous connections and correspondents, to
prosecute such a search successfully than any one else who had tried it.
Mr. Gardiner, however, expressed himself doubtfully of their success.
"We shall do our best," he said, "and let you know from time to time of
the progress we are making."
And after exacting a few more signatures from the widow, who by this
time had become adept in signing "Ellen Trigg Clark," the trust officer
nodded to his visitors in dismissal.
It would be difficult to say what Adelle was thinking about during this
interview. She sat perfectly still as she always did: one of her minor
virtues as a child was that she could sit for hours without wriggling or
saying a word. She did not even stare about her at the lofty room with
its colored glass windows and shiny mahogany furniture as any other
young person might. She gazed just above the bald crown of the trust
officer's head and seemed more nearly absorbed in Nirvana than a young
American ever becomes. But there is little doubt that the long interview
in the still, high room of the bank building did make an impression upon
the trust company's ward.
She trailed after her aunt down the marble stairs, for the trust officer
did not trouble himself about their exit from his office as he did with
solid clients who had going estates, and the widow was too timid to
summon the bronze car from its hole in the wall. They passed through the
great banking room on the main floor, where, because of the largeness
and the decorum of this sanctuary of property, a crowd of patrons seemed
to make no disturbance. Adelle sat in reverie all the way out to Alton
in the street-car and did not wake up until they turned from the Square
into the dingy side street. Then she said, apropos of nothing,--
"It's a pretty place."
"What place?" snapped the widow, who realized that a whole working day
had been lost "for nothing," and the roomers' beds were still to make.
"That trust place," Adelle explained.
"Um," her aunt responded enigmatically, as one who would say that
"pretty is as pretty does."
It had not appeared to her as a place of beauty. But to Adelle, who had
seen nothing more ornate than the Everitt Grade School of Alton, the
Second Congregational Church, and the new City Hall, the interior of the
Washington Trust Company, with its bronze and marble and windows that
shed soft violet lights on the white floors, awakened an unknown
appetite for richness and splendor, color and size. That was what she
had been thinking about without realizing it while the trust officer
talked to her aunt. She called this barbaric profusion of rich materials
"pretty," and felt, very faintly, a personal happiness in being
connected with it in some slight manner.