TIM'S DISCLOSURE
Two days later Dick received a reply from Mr. Larabee. In the meanwhile
Mr. Hamilton had written to Foster, the man he hired to take charge of
Sunnyside farm, and had told him to have the place in readiness for
twenty-five youngsters.
"Did your Uncle Ezra give you the address of the Fresh-Air Committee?"
asked Dick's father.
"Yes, and he sent me a letter of advice along with it."
"What does he say?"
"I'll read it to you," and Dick turned over the pages of the missive.
"This is what he says about my plan of trying to give those kids a
little fun:
"'I send you the address of the committee, as you requested,
but, Nephew Richard, I want to warn you against taking them. In
the first place, they will be no better off than they are at
home. They will not appreciate what you do for them. Then, too,
they might bring some terrible epidemic to this part of the
country. Sunnyside is not so far from Dankville but that a
disease might carry to my place, and you know my health is not
strong.
"'If I had control of you (as I may have some day), I would not
let you do this. But it is not for me to say at this time what
you should do. I think you are throwing the money away, and you
had much better put the amount you intend spending into the
church missionary box and so aid the heathens. They need it.'
"As if those poor kids in the hot tenements of New York didn't need it,
too," commented Dick. "Well, Uncle Ezra is certainly a queer man. I
suppose he'll keep his house filled with disinfectants while the waifs
are at Sunnyside, though it's many miles away."
In about a week Dick had completed arrangements with the committee in
New York, the president of which wrote to thank him for aiding in the
work they were doing. Dick was told that twenty-five youngsters, ten
boys and fifteen girls, none of whom had ever been to the country
before, would be sent to Sunnyside in charge of a matron. Dick had
forwarded money to buy the tickets, and had planned with Foster to have
a big stage meet the train on which the "fresh-air kids," as he called
them, would arrive at the nearest station to the country home.
"Well, dad," remarked Dick, the day before the waifs from New York were
to arrive, "you've seen the last of me for a week."
"Why; where are you going?"
"To Sunnyside. I want to see that the kids are started right, and I
think I'll stay about a week to see that they have a good time. I'll
take my runabout, and I can come back in a hurry if I need to. I'll
bring a batch over to see you, maybe."
"Do," said Mr. Hamilton. "I like children. Poor things! I hope the trip
to the country does them good."
Dick had read about fresh-air children who were much impressed by their
first visit to the country, but this did not prepare him for the awed
look on the faces of the twenty-five as they tumbled from the train at
the little country depot, and made for the waiting stage.
"Now, children," said the matron, as Dick came up and introduced
himself, "this is the gentleman who was so kind as to bring you out to
this beautiful place," and she shook hands with the millionaire's son.
"Is dat de rich guy?" asked one boy, but though his words might sound
disrespectful he did not intend them so.
"Hush!" exclaimed a girl in a much-patched red dress. "He'll hear you."
"What do I care! If I wuz as rich as him I wouldn't care who knowed it,"
retorted the boy.
"No more do I, old chap," replied Dick, with a laugh, as he patted the
youngster on the back. "Now, boys and girls, the stage is waiting for
you."
"Oh, Nellie!" cried a little tot with light hair, "we're goin' to ride
in a real wagon with real horses!"
"Don't speak so loud!" was the whispered answer of her companion. "It's
like a dream, an' maybe we'll wake up an' find it all gone."
The children, in spite of the fact that they came from the slums of New
York, were all neat and clean, for that was one of the requirements of
the committee that took charge of the fresh-air work. And, though their
manners might be considered a little rough, they did not intend them so.
It was due to the influence of their surroundings. Soon they had all
piled into the stage, and the driver from Sunnyside started the four
horses.
"Look, will yer! It's a regular tally-ho like de swells on Fif' Avenoo
drives!" exclaimed the boy who had called Dick the "rich guy."
The ride to the farm was one continuous series of exclamations of
delight from the boys and girls, who looked at the green fields on
either side of the country road, at the comfortable farmhouses they
passed, or at the range of mountains that towered off to the west.
"Look!" exclaimed one boy, who had kept tight hold of his sister's hand
from the time he got off the train. "See, Maggie, that's where the sun
goes to sleep. I never saw it before."
"Where?" asked the girl.
"Over there," and he pointed to the mountains behind which the golden
orb was sinking to rest.
"Yes, dear," spoke the matron, who had overheard what was said, "and in
the morning he'll get up and shine on the fields where you can run
around and get strong.
"He's a sickly child," the matron added in a whisper to Dick. "I'm
afraid he never will be strong. He has such queer fancies at times. His
mother is a widow and goes out washing. The sister stays home and takes
care of her little brother. It was a real charity that they could come,
and I'm sure the committee doesn't know how to thank you for your
generosity."
"Oh, pshaw! That's nothing," replied Dick, blushing like a girl at the
praise. "I ought to do something with my money. I'm glad I heard about
this fresh-air plan. I'll have some of the youngsters out next year
if----"
Then he stopped. He happened to think that if his investments did not
succeed he would not have much money to spend the next year, and,
besides, he might be living with his Uncle Ezra at Dankville.
But the matron did not notice his hesitation, for, at that moment, the
stage turned into the drive leading up to Sunnyside, and Dick was
besieged by several inquiries.
"Say, mister, is dis a park?" asked one boy, as he saw the well-kept
drive.
"No, this is the place where you are going to stay," Dick replied.
"Can we get out an' walk?" asked another, and this seemed to strike a
popular chord, for that request became general. The matron nodded an
assent and the children jumped out of the stage, some boys going by way
of the windows.
"You can drive on and tell them we are coming," said Dick to the driver.
"Oh, I guess they'll know it fast enough," responded the man, with a
grin. "You can hear them kids a mile."
Which was true enough, for the boys and girls were fairly yelling in
pure delight. Dick and the matron walked on behind the crowd, the
millionaire's son watching with interest the antics of the waifs.
"Johnny! Johnny!" yelled a slip of a girl to her bigger brother. "Come
right off the grass this minute! Do youse want a cop to put you out? He
don't know no better, mister," she said, turning to Dick. "He didn't
mean nothin'. Johnny, do you hear me? Come off that grass right away, or
the man will have youse arrested."
"No, no! Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Dick, with a laugh. "You can
eat the grass if you want to. Do just as you please. There isn't a
policeman within twenty miles."
Then there was a mad rush over the big lawn that led up to Sunnyside.
The children yelled, laughed, shouted, and fairly tumbled over each
other in the very joy of being in the country. Pale cheeks reddened as
the little lungs breathed in the pure, fresh air, dull eyes lighted up
with pleasure, and little hands trembled with eagerness as they plucked
buttercups, dandelions and daisies that grew on the far edges of the
lawns.
"Wow!" yelled one lad. "Wow! I've got to do somethin' or I'll bust!"
And that is the way most of them felt it seemed, for they raced, ran,
jumped and tumbled like children just let out after being kept in after
school.
And such a supper as Mrs. Foster had provided for the waifs! Their eyes
bulged as they came to the table that was fairly groaning under the
weight of good things.
"Now," called Dick, when they sat down, "let me see how you can eat."
"They do not need any coaxing," replied the matron, and Dick soon saw
that she was right.
That was only the beginning of a happy two weeks for the youngsters.
They fairly went wild on the farm, for it had a hundred delights for
them, from watching the cows being milked, to hunting for eggs in the
big barn. Dick took them for automobile rides in relays, bringing
several over to Hamilton Corners to see his father, who further
delighted the childish hearts by gifts of dimes and nickels. On one of
these trips the millionaire's son brought Tim Muldoon, the boy who had
commented on Dick's riches that day the two met.
"An' does your governor own dat bank?" Tim asked, as Dick stopped the
runabout in front of the institution.
"Well, most of it, I guess."
"An' can he go in dere an' git money whenever he wants it?"
"Yes, I guess he can."
"Say!" exclaimed Tim, as he looked weakly at Dick, "an youse is his
son?"
"Yes."
"An' youse is takin' me an' dese (indicating some of the other
youngsters) out fer a ride in dis gasolene gig? Us what ain't got a
cent?"
"Yes; why not?" asked Dick, with a smile.
"Well, all I've got t' say is dat dis is as near bein' rich as I ever
expects t' be, an' say, it's dead white of youse; dat's what it is. Why,
dem rich guys in N' York would no more t'ink of treatin' us dis way dan
dey would jump off de dock. Dat's straight!"
"Oh, I guess they would if they thought about it, but they probably
don't know how many boys and girls would like to get out and see the
country," said Dick, not wanting to take too much credit to himself.
"Like pie!" was Tim's contemptuous rejoinder. Then, as he was gazing
rapturously at the entrance to the bank, he suddenly started as he saw a
man coming down the steps.
"Say," he whispered to Dick, grabbing his arm, "is dat guy in your
governor's bank?"
"Which man? What do you mean?"
"I mean dat one wid de black moustache, jest comin' down de steps. Is he
in de bank?"
"Oh, that's Mr. Vanderhoof," replied Dick, recognizing the mining
promoter.
"Mr. who?" asked Tim.
"Vanderhoof. Why, do you know him?"
"Not by dat name. But say, if he's got anyt'ing to do wit de bank it'll
soon be on de blink."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean put out of business. On de blink, excuse my slang. But youse had
better tell your governor to keep his peepers open."
"Why?" inquired Dick, a vague suspicion coming into his mind.
"Because," replied Tim, earnestly. "Dat man's name ain't Vanderhoof any
more dan mine is."
"Who is he?"
"Why, he's William Jackson, or Bond Broker Bill. I seen him in de police
court in N' York. I sells papers, an' I knows lots of de cops an'
detectives. I saw 'em arrest dat man once, only he had a white beard an'
moustache den. Now he's shaved off de whiskers an' colored his
moustache, but I knowed him de minute I set me peepers on him. I seen
his mug in de papers lots of times. Youse wants to be on lookout fer him
or he'll put de bank on de blink. He's a gold-brick swindler, an' I
guess up to any other woozy game he can make pay!"
"Bond Broker Bill! William Jackson! Colonel Dendon!" murmured Dick, in a
daze. "No wonder I thought I had seen Mr. Vanderhoof before. It was in
the New York hotel, where he tried to swindle me! And he sold dad and me
some gold mining stock! I must tell dad right away!"
Dick looked after the retreating form of Mr. Vanderhoof. Then turning to
Tim, who had made the startling disclosure, he said:
"Wait here for me! I must see my father at once," and getting out of the
auto he hurried into the bank.