EZRA LITTLE'S DISAPPOINTMENT.
Arrived at the Gilsey House, Scott went into the reading room, thinking
he might find Mr. Wood there. But he failed to see him.
"Whom are you looking for?" asked Edward Stripling, the telephone boy,
who occupied one corner of the room.
"Mr. Wood."
"Perhaps you are the one he wanted to see. He told me to tell any one
inquiring that he would be back in fifteen minutes."
"Then we shan't have to wait long, Mr. Babcock."
The inventor took up a paper from the table, but he was so nervous that
he could not concentrate his attention upon it.
Ten minutes later Justin Wood entered the room.
"I am glad to see you, Scott," was his cordial greeting.
"Thank you, Mr. Wood. I come on business. Let me introduce Mr.
Babcock."
"Glad to see you, Mr. Babcock," said Wood, courteously.
"Could we go up to your room? We won't keep you long."
"Certainly. Follow me."
Mr. Wood had a front room on the third floor a pleasant apartment, for
which he paid a high rent.
"Now, Mr. Wood," began Scott, "I am going to ask your attention for ten
minutes."
"I will give you fifteen, if necessary," said Wood, smiling.
Thereupon Scott told the story of the inventor, to which Justin Wood
listened attentively.
"Have you a model of your invention?" he asked, turning to Babcock.
"Here it is, sir."
The young man asked various questions, which Babcock answered
satisfactorily.
"I think well of your invention," said Mr. Wood, in conclusion. "Now,
what do you want me to do?"
Scott answered.
"Mr. Babcock has exhausted all his means and is penniless," he said.
"The invention is perfected, but he is not in a position to put it
before the public. He has, to be sure, received offers of assistance
from a gentleman whom we both know."
"To whom do you refer?"
"Ezra Little."
"Indeed! Is that liberal gentleman willing to help him?"
"He offers me thirty-five dollars for the invention," said Babcock,
bitterly. "I have spent a whole year in perfecting it, and this is to be
my compensation."
"I think you had better not trouble Mr. Little," observed Justin,
quietly. "How much money do you need to put it before the public?"
"If I had one hundred and fifty dollars," said the inventor,
hesitatingly, "I think I could manage. I would be willing to sell a
one-half interest for that sum."
"That would not be enough," said Wood, decidedly.
"With it I'd stand some chance of success."
"I will tell you what I will do. I will give you five hundred dollars
for one-third interest, on condition that you work zealously to make it
a success."
"Oh, sir, you are too generous," said Babcock, with emotion. "With that
money I see my way clear."
"What would be your plan?"
"I can make arrangements with a responsible party to manufacture it, and
will myself travel and put it before the public."
"I will risk it."
"I am sure, sir, that you will get your money back several times over."
"I hope so. I am not buying it for myself, but for a friend of mine."
Scott looked at him inquiringly.
"The friend is Scott Walton," he said, smiling. "Should it pay, I shall
deduct the five hundred dollars from the first money received in the way
of profit, and then make over the whole investment to you, Scott. I hope
it may make you rich."
"How can I thank you, Mr. Wood?" said Scott, gratefully.
"Wait till you see whether you have anything to be grateful for."
"There is no doubt about that," said the inventor, confidently. "You
will excuse me for saying, Mr. Wood, that I shall work even harder for
my young friend Walton than I would for you."
"That is just what I wish. I am already rich, while Scott has his
fortune yet to make."
"I will help him to make it."
"Come around to-morrow, Mr. Babcock, at ten o'clock, and I will have the
money ready. We will also have papers regularly drawn up, so that
Scott's share of the investment may be secured to him. And now, I shall
have to bid you good-evening, as I have an engagement with a friend at
the Union League Club."
The two went out.
The inventor was fairly radiant.
"Mr. Walton," he said, "you don't know what you have done for me. You
have given me a new lease of life. When I came to your room to-night I
was in a mood that might have led me to throw myself from the Brooklyn
Bridge. Mr. Little's cold-blooded letter had much to do with bringing on
that mood. I felt that there was no hope for me."
"And now?"
"Now I have hope--and confidence. I have a presentiment of success. I
shall make myself rich and you also."
"I hope your presentiment will prove prophetic," said Scott, smiling. "I
can assure you that a fortune will be welcome. At present I have only
accumulated one hundred dollars."
"That is not bad for a young man of your age."
"Say a boy. I am not ashamed of being a boy."
"Remember I am speaking of my partner. I must speak of him with
respect."
"Did I tell you I was going to leave the city for a time?"
"No. Why is it? You have not lost your place, I hope."
"No, I am going to travel for the firm. If I am lucky I shall soon earn
an excellent income."
"You are sure to do that."
"How can you tell that I will succeed?"
"I was not referring to your regular position. I was thinking of your
interest in my invention."
"You are confident, then, of success?"
"I am quite confident of it."
"I hope you are right; mostly, however, on your account, for I think my
future is tolerably secure."
"I see you have no idea of the value of your interest in my enterprise."
"I shall not think seriously of it, but I will welcome any good that may
come to me from it."
"My life will be changed," said Babcock. "I shall at once send for my
little Molly."
"Is that your little daughter?"
"Yes."
"Where is she now?"
"In the country. Now, I shall feel justified in bringing her to the
city. She is a sweet little girl."
"I am sure you will be happier for having her with you."
"Yes, you may well say that."
"By the way, have you answered Ezra Little's letter?"
"No; I shall answer it in person to-morrow, after I have concluded
arrangements with your friend."
About two o'clock the next day, the inventor took his way to Ezra
Little's dry-goods store on Eighth Avenue. He sent in his name and was
admitted.
He was a welcome visitor, for Mr. Little, who was a practical man, had a
fair conception of the value of his invention, and meant to make a
fortune out of it--for himself. As for the poor inventor, he cared
little for him.
Henry Babcock entered the merchant's presence, and was bidden to take a
seat.
"I received a letter from you, Mr. Little," he said.
"Yes. I offered you thirty-five dollars for your invention."
"That seems to me very small."
"Probably it is more than I shall make out of it, but you seemed to be
in need, and I am willing to help you."
"Don't you think, however, you could let me have more? Thirty-five
dollars would not support me a month."
"It would give you time to look for a place, Mr. Babcock."
"But, Mr. Little, think of the time I have spent--and the money!"
"That does not concern me," said the merchant, coldly.
"I think I shall have to decline your offer."
"That is foolish. However, I will strain a point, and give you fifty
dollars."
Henry Babcock shook his head.
"Mr. Little," he said, triumphantly, "I have sold a one-third interest
in my invention for five hundred dollars."
Ezra Little looked amazed and disappointed. It was a chance of his life
lost.
"What fool gave you that sum?" he asked, roughly.
"A Mr. Wood, to whom your cousin, Scott Walton, introduced me."
"Why didn't you tell me that at first?" snarled Ezra Little. "Wood must
have been a fool to be influenced by that boy. Good-morning!"