WOLVERTON'S DISMAY.
Wolverton uttered a cry of dismay when he found that the receipt had
disappeared. With trembling fingers he turned over a pile of papers in
the hope of finding the important paper.
"Where on earth can it be?" he asked himself, with a troubled face.
He set himself to consider when he had seen it last and where he had
placed it.
"It must be in the desk somewhere," he decided, and resumed his search.
Those of my readers who have mislaid any article can picture to
themselves his increasing perplexity as the missing paper failed to turn
up.
He was finally obliged to conclude that it was not in the desk. But, if
so, where could it be? If not found, or if found by any one else, his
situation would be an embarrassing one. He had assured Mrs. Burton that
the interest money had not been paid. Now suppose the receipt were
found, what would be the inference? He could not help acknowledging that
it would look bad for him. Until he learned something of its whereabouts
he would not dare to press Mrs. Burton for a second payment of the
interest money.
"It is as bad as losing a hundred and fifty dollars," he groaned. "It is
a pile of money to lose."
Aaron Wolverton did not appear to consider that it was losing what was
not his property, and was only preventing him from pushing a fraudulent
claim. He actually felt wronged by this inopportune loss. He felt
somehow that he was the victim of misfortune.
But what could have become of the receipt? That was what troubled him.
Was there anybody who was responsible for its disappearance? Naturally
it would be important for Mrs. Burton to get hold of it; but then, they
did not know of its existence. They had no evidence that the receipt had
even been delivered to Richard Burton. Still it was possible that Bob
Burton had visited the house, and searched the desk. He would inquire of
his sister.
He opened the door leading to the kitchen, where Miss Sally Wolverton
was engaged in some domestic employment.
"Sally, has the Burton boy been here this morning?"
"No; why should he come? He isn't one of your visitors, is he?"
"Was he here yesterday?"
"No; what makes you ask?"
"There was a little business, connected with the farm, which he might
have come about."
"I am glad he didn't come," said Sally. "He's too high-strung for me."
"I don't like him myself; but sometimes we have to do business with
those we don't like."
"That's so. How's the widder left?"
"She's got the ranch, but I hold a mortgage of three thousand dollars on
it," replied her brother, his features expanding into a wintry smile. A
man who can laugh heartily possesses redeeming traits, even if in some
respects he is bad; but Aaron Wolverton had never been known to indulge
in a hearty laugh.
"Can she pay?"
"Not at present."
"Is the mortgage for a term of years?"
"No; it can be called in at the end of any year."
"I never liked that woman," said Miss Sally Wolverton, grimly.
Sally Wolverton did not like any woman who was younger and prettier than
herself, and there were few who were not prettier. She had never known
of her brother's infatuation for the lady she was criticising, otherwise
she would have been tempted to express herself even more strongly. She
was strongly opposed to his marriage, as this would have removed her
from her place in his household, or, even if she remained, would have
deprived her of her power. Aaron did not care at present to take her
into his confidence. Still he could not forbear coming, in a faint way,
to the defense of the woman he admired.
"Mrs. Burton is a fine-looking woman," he said.
"Fine looking!" repeated Sally with a contemptuous sniff. "I don't
admire your taste."
"She isn't in your style, Sally," said Aaron, with a sly twinkle in his
eye.
Sally Wolverton was taller than her brother, with harsh features, a
gaunt, angular figure, and an acid expression.
"I hope not," she answered. "I hope I don't look like an insipid doll."
"You certainly don't, Sally; you have expression enough, I am sure."
"Do you think Mrs. Burton pretty?" asked Sally, suspiciously.
"Oh, so so!" answered Aaron, guardedly; for he did not care to reveal
the secret to his sister at present. She was useful to him as a
housekeeper, and moreover (an important point) she was very economical;
more so than any person whom he could hire. He did indeed pay his
sister, but only a dollar a week, and out of this she saved nearly one
half, having the gift of economy in quite as large a measure as himself.
This assurance, and her brother's indifferent tone, relieved Sally from
her momentary suspicion. Yet, had she been able to read her brother's
secret thoughts, she would have been a prey to anxiety. He had made up
his mind, if ever he did marry Mrs. Burton, to give Sally her
walking-ticket.
"I can't afford to support two women," he reflected, "and my wife ought
to be able to do all the work in so small a household."
"Why are you so anxious to know whether any of the Burtons have been
here?"
"I thought they might come," answered her brother, evasively. "You
haven't seen anything of that black imp, Clip, have you?"
"No; has he any business with you?"
"I have some business with him," snarled Wolverton. "He played a trick
on me this morning."
"What sort of a trick?"
"I got him to carry me across the creek in his boat, and he managed to
upset me."
"Did he do it a-purpose?"
"Yes; he laughed like a hyena when he saw me floundering in the water."
"If he comes round here, I'll give him a lesson. I can't abide a nigger
any way. They're as lazy as sin, and they ain't got no more sense than
a monkey. It's my opinion they are a kind of monkey, any way."
Fortunately for the colored race all are not so prejudiced against them
as Sally Wolverton--otherwise they would be in a bad case.
"By the way, Sally, have you seen a stray paper about the floor in my
room?" asked Wolverton, with assumed carelessness.
"What sort of a paper was it?"
"It was a--a receipt," answered her brother, hesitating.
"What kind of a receipt--from whom?" asked Sally, who possessed her
share of general curiosity.
"That isn't to the point. If you have seen such a paper, or picked it
up, I shall feel relieved. I might have to pay the money over again if I
don't find it."
This was misrepresenting the matter, but Wolverton did not think it
expedient to give his sister a clew to so delicate a secret.
"No; I have seen no paper," she said shortly, not relishing his evasive
reply. "Have you searched your desk?"
"Yes."
"And didn't find it?"
"No."
"Suppose I look. Four eyes are better than two."
"No, thank you, Sally," answered her brother, hastily. "I am particular
about not having my papers disturbed."
Aaron Wolverton would have gained some valuable information touching the
missing paper if he could have transferred himself at that moment to
Burton's Ranch.
Bob and Clip were out in the yard when Sam Wolverton made his
appearance, breathless and excited.
"What's the matter, Sam?" asked Bob, wondering.
"Let me catch my breath," gasped Sam. "I--I've got some good news."
"Then you are welcome. Has your uncle got married?"
"No; nor aunt Sally either," replied Sam. "What do you say to that?" and
he drew from his vest pocket a long strip of paper.
"What's that?" asked Bob, eagerly.
"_It's the receipt_", answered Sam.