AFTER A YEAR.
A year passed. Chester remained in the service of _The Phoenix_, which
had become an established success. His artistic work was so satisfactory
that his salary had been raised from twenty-five to thirty dollars per
week. Yet he had not increased his personal expenses, and now had
nearly a thousand dollars deposited in different savings banks.
He had concealed the extent of his prosperity from his mother, meaning
in time to surprise her agreeably.
About this period he received a letter from Wyncombe. It was from his
mother. It ran thus:
“DEAR CHESTER: I am sorry to write you bad news. Miss Jane Dolby
has decided to visit a sister in Chicago and remain a year. Of
course this cuts off the liberal income I have received from her,
and which has been adequate to meet my expenses. I may be able to
earn something by sewing, but it will be only a little. I shall,
therefore, have to accept the offer you made me sometime since to
send me a weekly sum. I am sorry to be a burden to you, but it will
only be for a year. At the end of that time Miss Dolby promises to
come back and resume boarding with me.
“I think we have reason to feel grateful for your continued success
in New York. Silas Tripp called a few evenings since. He has had a
great deal of trouble with boys. He says he has not had anyone to
suit him since you left. He asked me if I thought you would come
back for four dollars a week. This he seemed to consider a very
liberal offer, and it was—for him. I didn’t give him any
encouragement, as I presume you prefer art to the grocery business.
“You need not begin to send me money, at once, as I have been able
to save a little from Miss Dolby’s board.
“Your affectionate mother,
“SARAH RAND.”
Chester answered at once:
“DEAR MOTHER: Don’t feel any anxiety about your loss of income
through Miss Dolby’s departure, and don’t try to earn any money by
sewing. My income is larger than you suppose, and I will send you
weekly as much as you have been accustomed to receive from your
boarder. Should it be more than you need, you can lay aside any
surplus for future use.
“Tell Mr. Tripp I prefer New York to Wyncombe as a place of
business, and I am obliged to decline his generous offer. I cannot
help thinking sometimes how fortunate it was that he declined over
a year since to increase my pay, as in that case I might still have
been working for him instead of establishing a reputation as an
artist here. Last week I received a larger offer from another
publication, but as the publishers of _The Phoenix_ have always
treated me well, I didn’t think that I would be justified in making
a change. I mean in a week or two to come home to pass Sunday. I
shall feel delighted to see my friends in Wyncombe, and most of
all, my mother.
“Your loving son, CHESTER .”
Mrs. Rand protested against Chester sending her eight dollars a week,
but he insisted upon it, advising her to lay aside what she did not
need.
One evening about this time Edward Granger, who still occupied the
small apartment adjoining, came into Chester’s room, looking agitated.
“What is the matter?” asked Chester. “Have you had bad news?”
“Yes; I have had a letter from Mr. Wilson, of Portland, whom you
recollect we met about a year ago.”
“I remember him.”
“I will read you his letter. You will see that I have reason to feel
anxious.”
The letter ran as follows:
“DEAR EDWARD: I promised to send you any news I might pick up about
your mother and her promising husband. Trimble is indulging in
liquor more than ever, and I don’t see how he can stand it unless
he has a cast iron constitution. From what I hear he has never given
up trying to get your mother’s property into his hands. She has
held out pretty firm, but she may yield yet. I hear that he is
circulating reports that you are dead. In that case he thinks she
may be induced to make a will leaving her property to Mr. Trimble;
having, as I believe, no near relatives, so that he would seem to
be the natural heir.
“I may be doing Trimble an injustice, but I think if such a will
were made she wouldn’t live long. Your stepfather is in great
straits for money, it seems, and he might be tempted to do
something desperate. As far as I can hear, Abner Trimble’s plan is
this: He took a pal of his around to the house who had been in New
York recently, and the latter gave a circumstantial account of your
dying with typhoid fever. Evidently your mother believed it, for
she seemed quite broken down and has aged considerably since the
news. No doubt her husband will seize this opportunity to induce
her to make a will in his favor. Here lies the danger; and I think
I ought to warn you of it, for your presence here is needed to
defeat your stepfather’s wicked plans. Come out at once, if you
can.
“Your friend,
“NATHANIEL WILSON.”
“What do you think of that, Chester?” asked Edward, in a troubled
voice.
“I think it very important. Your mother’s life and your interests both
are in peril.”
“And the worst of it is that I am helpless,” said Edward, sadly. “I
ought to go out there, but you know how small my salary is. It has
required the utmost economy to live, and I haven’t as much as five
dollars saved up. How can I make such a long and costly journey?”
“I see the difficulty, Edward, but I need time to think it over.
To-morrow afternoon come in and I may have some advice to give you.”
“I know that you will advise me for the best, Chester.”
“There is a good deal in age and experience,” said Chester, smiling.
When Edward left the room Chester took from his pocket a letter
received the day previous, and postmarked Tacoma. It was to this effect:
“MR. CHESTER RAND.
“DEAR SIR: We learn that you own five lots on Main Street, numbered
from 201 to 205. We have inquiries as to three of those lots as a
location for a new hotel, which it is proposed to erect at an early
date. We are, therefore, led to ask whether you are disposed to
sell, and, if so, on what terms. We should be glad to have a
personal interview with you, but if it is impracticable or
inconvenient for you to come on to Tacoma we will undertake, as
your agents, to carry on the negotiations.
“Yours respectfully,
“DEAN & DOWNIE,
“Real Estate Agents.”
“Why shouldn’t I go to Tacoma?” thought Chester. “I can probably sell
the lots to better advantage than any agents, and should be entirely
unable to fix upon a suitable price unless I am on the ground. In case
I go on, I can take Edward with me, and trust to him to repay the money
advanced at some future time.”
The more Chester thought of this plan the more favorable it struck him.
He went the next day to the office of _The Phoenix_, and after
delivering his sketches, said: “I should like leave of absence for two
months. Can you spare me?”
“Does your health require it, Mr. Rand?” asked the editor.
“No,” answered Chester, “but I own a little property in Tacoma, and
there are parties out there who wish to buy. It is important that I
should go out there to attend to the matter.”
The editor arched his brows in astonishment.
“What!” he said. “An artist, and own real estate? This is truly
surprising.”
“I didn’t earn it by my art,” replied Chester, smiling. “It was a
bequest.”
“That accounts for it. I suppose, under the circumstances, we must let
you go; but why need you give up your work? Probably ideas and
suggestions may come to you while you are traveling. These you can send
to us by mail.”
“But I can’t do enough to earn the salary you pay me.”
“Then we will pay according to the amount you do.”
“That will be satisfactory.”
“Do you need an advance for the expenses of your journey?”
“No; I have some money laid by.”
“Another surprise! When do you want to start?”
“As soon as possible. I will not come to the office again.”
“Then good luck and a pleasant journey.”
When Edward Granger came into his room later in the day, Chester said:
“Day after to-morrow we start for Oregon. Ask your employers to hold
your place for you, and get ready at once.”
“But the money, Chester?” gasped Edward.
“I will advance it to you, and you shall repay me when you can.”