GERALD SELLS HIS PATRIMONY.
“MR. SANDFORD, do you think you can spare me for a short time?” asked
Gerald, as he entered the presence of his employer.
Mr. Sandford looked surprised.
“This is a busy season,” he said. “Still if you have a good reason for
wishing to be absent——”
“I have a good reason,” answered Gerald. “I own some land in
Gulchville, Colorado—eighty-five acres—and a rich syndicate formed in
Chicago wants to buy it.”
“That is a _very_ good reason,” said the merchant. “How much do they
offer?”
“No definite offer has been made, but my tenant thinks they will be
willing to pay me five thousand dollars.”
“Excellent. I was not aware that my youngest clerk was a man of
property. Go by all means and make the best bargain you can.”
Gerald lost no time. He took the afternoon train to Kansas City, and
thence went partly by cars and partly by stage to his old home in
Gulchville. When he descended from the stage he saw at once a familiar
face and figure. They belonged to Jake Amsden, who advanced to meet him
with an eager welcome.
“Glad to see you, Gerald! How you’ve grown!” and Amsden grasped his
hand as if they had always been the closest of friends.
“Thank you, Mr. Amsden,” said Gerald, smiling. “I didn’t imagine you
would be so glad to meet me.”
“I’ve been longin’ to see you, my boy. It’s been very lonesome without
you. And where is the Englishman you went away with?”
“He’s gone back to England. There was sickness in the family.”
“Is he coming back here?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you are comin’ back here to live?”
“No; I think not. I have a situation with a large firm in St. Louis. I
am only here on a vacation.”
“That reminds me, Gerald. If you’ve got five minutes to spare I would
like to talk with you on business.”
“I can give you five minutes, Mr. Amsden.”
“It’s about that place your father left you. It isn’t worth much, but
I’ve been thinkin’ I’d like to settle down in a home of my own, and
that place about suits me.”
“But,” said Gerald, who saw Amsden’s drift, “I would not like to turn
Tom Carter out of his home.”
“No need of it, Gerald. I’d get him to board me, and I’d pay him
somethin’, besides giving him his rent free.”
“Suppose I wait and consult Mr. Carter about it.”
This proposal did not suit Amsden, who knew that in that case Gerald
would hear about the land speculation, and then his plans would fail
utterly.
“Don’t wait for that, Gerald! Let’s fix the matter on the spot.”
“What do you propose to pay me for the property, Mr. Amsden?”
Jake Amsden closed one eye and assumed a contemplative look.
“I don’t know but I’d be willin’ to give you five hundred dollars,
Gerald. That’s a good deal of money.”
“Have you got that sum of money in cash, Mr. Amsden?”
“Well, not exactly, but I’ll give you my note indorsed by a reliable
party.”
“I would wish to know the name of the party.”
“Bradley Wentworth, of Seneca, Illinois. You know him as the man that
was visitin’ you when your father died.”
“And you think he would indorse your note?”
“I know he would. He feels very friendly to me, Mr. Wentworth does.”
“And you offer me five hundred dollars?”
“Yes; and say twenty-five more for interest. Come now, what do you say?”
“I say no, Mr. Amsden. I have a letter in my pocket offering me a
thousand dollars for the property.”
“Who is it from?” asked Amsden, making a grammatical mistake that
plenty of better educated persons also make.
“Bradley Wentworth!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Amsden in chagrin. “He promised to leave the matter in
my hands.”
“So you were bidding for him?”
“Well, partly for him and partly for myself.”
“And you really think you have offered me a fair price?”
“Yea; you can’t get as much anywhere else.”
“I’ll take three days to consider it, Mr. Amsden.”
In less than three days Gerald had sold his land for six thousand
dollars, reserving twenty acres for himself. He allowed John Carter to
remove his cabin to this tract, and at the end of a week set out on his
return, with a Chicago check for six thousand dollars in his pocket.
This he deposited in St. Louis, and with it made a purchase of good
dividend-paying bank stock.