MR. FAIRCHILD’S TELEGRAM.
“Tacoma!” repeated the professor. “Who is interested in Tacoma?”
“I own five lots of land there,” answered Chester.
“Then I congratulate you. Lots are rising there, and are destined to go
to a still higher point.”
“How do you account for that?” asked Prof. Hazlitt.
“In three months the Northern Pacific Railroad will be completed, and
that will give a great impetus to the growth of the town. I expect to
live to see fifty thousand people there. Let me ask how you became
possessed of these lots?”
“They were given to me by a friend now dead.”
“What was his name?”
“Walter Bruce.”
“Indeed! Why, I own three lots adjoining the Bruce lots. They are among
the best located in the town.”
“Would you advise me to keep them or sell if I have the chance?”
“To keep them, by all means. I shall keep mine. If, however, you wish
to sell, I will myself pay you five hundred dollars each.”
“Then I may consider myself worth twenty-five hundred dollars,” said
Chester, in a tone of satisfaction.
“Yes, and more if you are willing to wait.”
“I think Mr. Bruce only gave twenty-five dollars apiece for them.”
“Very likely. Mine only cost thirty dollars each.”
“I shall begin to look upon you as a rich man, Chester,” said Arthur
Burks.
“Only a rich boy,” corrected Chester, laughing. “I haven’t begun to
shave yet.”
“I think I shall commence next week,” remarked Arthur, rubbing his
cheek vigorously.
“Since you own property in our neighborhood, Mr. Rand,” said Prof.
Nugent, “why don’t you make us a visit?”
“I hope to some day when I can afford it,” replied Chester, “but I
didn’t know till you told me just now that my lots were worth more than
a trifle.”
“If ever you do come, don’t forget to call on me at the university. It
is located in Salem, Oregon. I may be able to take a trip to Tacoma
with you.”
“Thank you, sir. I should like nothing better.”
The next afternoon Chester chanced to enter the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He
went through the corridor and into the reading room to buy a paper.
What was his surprise to see his recent acquaintance, Paul Perkins,
sitting in an armchair, reading a Minneapolis journal.
“Why, Chester!” exclaimed Mr. Perkins, cordially, as he rose and shook
Chester’s hand vigorously. “It does my heart good to see you. I was
intending to call at your office to-morrow.”
“You wouldn’t have found me, Mr. Perkins.”
“How is that?”
“I have been discharged.”
“By that rascal, Mullins? It’s a shame. I must see if I can’t find you
another position.”
“Thank you, but it is not necessary. I have a place already.”
“Good! Is it in the real estate business?”
“No, I am engaged on _The Phoenix_, a new weekly humorous paper, as one
of the regular staff of artists.”
“Whew! That is good. Do you get fair pay?”
“Twenty-five dollars a week.”
“You don’t say so. That is surprising. How much did you get at the
other place?”
“Five.”
“Then this is five times as good. You ought to give Mr. Mullins a vote
of thanks for bouncing you.”
“I don’t think he meant to benefit me,” said Chester, smiling.
“Do you have to work hard? What are your hours?”
“I have none. I work at home and select my own hours.”
“Are you through work for the day?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must stay and dine with me. It is four o’clock. We can chat
for an hour, and then go to dinner.”
“Thank you. I will accept with pleasure. Did you have a pleasant
journey?”
“Yes; but I should have enjoyed it better if you had been with me. I
called at the White House and shook hands with the President.”
“Did you tell him you wanted an office?”
“No office for me. I would rather have my own business and be my own
master. Washington’s a fine city, but give me Minneapolis.”
“I may call on you in Minneapolis sometime, Mr. Perkins.”
“I hope you will. You’ll find it worth visiting. It’s a right smart
place, if I do say it.”
“I have seen a professor from a university in Oregon, and he has given
me good news of my lots in Tacoma. I have five, as I think I told you.
He offered me five hundred dollars apiece cash down.”
“Don’t you take it! They’re going a good deal higher, now that the
railroad is nearly completed.”
“So he told me.”
“I congratulate you on your good luck, Chester. I am sure you deserve
it. But you haven’t told me why you were ‘bounced.’”
“Mr. Mullins said I wasted time in going his errands. It wasn’t true,
but it was only an excuse to get rid of me. He took his cousin Felix in
my place.”
The two friends went to dinner about six o’clock. At seven they came
downstairs and sat in the lobby on a sofa near the door.
Through the portal there was a constant ingress and egress of men—a
motley crowd—business men, politicians, professionals and men perhaps
of shady character, for a great hotel cannot discriminate, and hundreds
pass in and out who are not guests and have no connection with the
house.
“It is a wonderful place, Chester,” said Mr. Perkins. “Everybody seems
at home here. I suppose everybody—everybody, at least, who is
presentable—in New York comes here sometime during the year.”
Just then Chester uttered a little exclamation of surprise. As if to
emphasize Mr. Perkins’ remark, two persons came in who were very well
known to the young artist. They were David Mullins and Dick Ralston.
Mullins heard the slight exclamation and turned his head in the
direction of the sofa on which Chester and his friend were sitting. So
did Ralston.
“Why, it’s your old boy!” he said.
Mullins smiled a little maliciously. He had not heard that Chester had
a place.
“I suppose you are boarding here,” he said, with a little sarcasm.
“No, Mr. Mullins, but I have just dined here—with my friend, Mr.
Perkins.”
Mullins inclined his head slightly.
“Has he adopted you?” he asked, in a tone bordering on impertinence.
“No, sir,” answered Mr. Perkins; “but if Chester ever wants me to, I
will. At present he is prosperous, and requires no help or adoption.”
“Oh! Have you got a place?” asked Mullins, turning to Chester.
“Yes.”
“In the same business?”
“No; I am in the office of a weekly paper.”
“Oh!” said the bookkeeper, disdainfully. “They pay beggarly salaries at
such places.”
“Then I am favored. I receive more than twice as much as I did in your
office.”
Chester did not care to just state how much he received.
“That can’t be possible!”
“It is a fact, however. Has Mr. Fairchild returned?”
“No. Why do you want to know?”
“I have no wish to go back, Mr. Mullins. Don’t be apprehensive of that.
I don’t wish to disturb Felix.”
Dick Ralston listened with some interest to the conversation.
“It strikes me the kid has come to no harm from being discharged,” he
said.
“I believe this is Mr. Perkins, of Minneapolis?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the Westerner, eying the gambler with a
penetrating glance.
“I shall be glad to be your guide if you wish to see something of New
York. Will you join us this evening?”
“You are very polite, but I have an engagement with Chester.”
“A mere boy! He knows nothing about the city.”
“Still I am satisfied with him.”
The two passed on and went into the bar-room, where they sat down at a
table and ordered some liquid refreshment.
“Well, Mullins,” said the gambler, “I am getting impatient. The days
are slipping by, and you have done nothing.”
“You know what I am waiting for. Yesterday a check for a thousand
dollars was paid in at the office, and deposited in the bank to-day.”
“Good! And then?”
“I will send Felix to the bank and draw out sixteen hundred. Will that
satisfy you?”
“I see, and, according to our arrangement, Felix will hand it to me on
his way back to the office, and then swear that it was taken from him
by some unknown party. You have coached him, have you?”
“Yes. Of course, I had to let him into the secret partially, promising
him twenty-five dollars for himself.”
“Ten would have been sufficient.”
“He would not have been satisfied. We can spare that.”
“How soon do you expect Fairchild back?”
“In three days.”
But on the morrow Mullins was disconcerted by receiving the following
telegram:
“Expect me back sometime to-day. FAIRCHILD.”