CONCLUSION.
"You have sold the land?" repeated Mr. Ferguson in dismay.
"Yes, sir."
"Then permit me to say that you and your mother have acted like fools!"
said Ferguson harshly. "In a matter like this you should have consulted
ME. What do you or your mother know about business?"
"I think we did pretty well," said Fred placidly.
"What did you sell for?" asked Ferguson abruptly.
"Six thousand five hundred dollars!" answered the ex-train boy.
Robert Ferguson stared at Fred in amazement and incredulity.
"Don't play any of your practical jokes on me!" he said sternly.
"I don't intend to, sir. We gave Mr. Sloan a power of attorney, and he
sold it for us."
"He _says_ he did!" sneered Ferguson. "You will never get the money."
"Excuse me, Mr. Ferguson. We have received the money already."
"When?" gasped the merchant.
"Two days ago."
The face of Robert Ferguson was a study. Disappointed cupidity
succeeded his first incredulity. He began to consider that he must
convince Fred that he had acted in good faith. With an effort he
smoothed down his face and conjured up a smile.
"You quite take my breath away," he said. "I can hardly believe that
the land which I thought worthless should have realized such a sum.
Have any mines been discovered on them?"
"No, sir; but a village has sprung up in the immediate neighborhood."
"I am heartily glad of it. Tell your mother so. How could I have been
so deceived? By the way, it will be best for you to put the money in
the hands of some responsible person to take care of for you. As a near
relative I shall be glad to invest the amount for you safely along with
my own."
"Thank you, sir, but we have already invested it."
Mr. Ferguson frowned.
"I predict that you will lose half of it," he said.
"I don't think so. I had advice in the investment."
"Who advised you?"
"John Wainwright, the banker."
"Do you know him?"
"Yes; he is my employer."
"I believe I remember that Raymond told me so. Of course he is a good
adviser. How much does he pay you?"
"Twenty-five dollars a week."
"Do you take me for a fool?" demanded Ferguson angrily.
"No, sir; and you have no right to take me for a liar," answered Fred,
firmly.
"But such a salary for a boy of sixteen is ridiculous!"
"It does seem so; but Mr. Wainwright sent me to Canada to recover over
ten thousand dollars' worth of stolen bonds, and I succeeded in
bringing them back."
Slowly it dawned upon Mr. Ferguson that the youth before him was not
only a favorite of fortune, out a remarkably smart boy. He was
evidently on the rise. Would it not be politic to take notice of him?
"Fred," he said with sudden friendliness, "I am pleased to hear of your
good fortune. You have done credit to the family. We ought to be more
intimate. In proof of my desire for closer relations I shall send cards
to you and your mother for my Daughter Luella's wedding. She is to be
married next Thursday evening to an Italian count. Probably you have
suitable attire, or, if not, you can easily obtain it. Give me your
address."
"Thank you, sir. I am not sure whether my mother will attend, but I
shall be happy to do so."
The door opened, and Raymond Ferguson entered.
"Good evening, Raymond," said Fred pleasantly.
"Good evening," answered Raymond, coldly.
"Your cousin Frederick has been very fortunate," said the elder
Ferguson genially. "He and his mother have come into some thousands of
dollars, and he is receiving a handsome salary from Mr. Wainwright, the
banker. I shall be glad to see you two intimate."
"Is that so?" asked Raymond, thawing.
"I am glad to say it is," answered Fred.
"Would you like to invite your cousin to attend the theater, Raymond?"
"Just what I was going to ask. There is a good play on at Wallack's."
"Very well! Here is a five-dollar bill."
"Come along, Fred," said Raymond, who had made up his mind it would be
wise to cultivate the acquaintance of his once despised relative.
Before they parted for the evening, Raymond borrowed five dollars of
Fred, and struck up a close friendship with him. While Fred understood
perfectly well what had produced this remarkable change in his cousin
he was philosophical enough to take the world as he found it, and
accepted Raymond's advances.
The next day wedding cards, elaborately engraved were received at
Fred's modest home, requesting Mrs. Fenton and her son's presence at
the marriage ceremony of Luella Ferguson and Count Vincento Cattelli.
But an unexpected circumstance prevented the nuptials from being
celebrated.
One evening the count and Miss Ferguson were sitting at supper at
Delmonico's. At a table near by sat a gentleman, who watched the young
couple with curious attention. He rose finally and approached them.
"Miss Ferguson, I believe," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"I don't know if you remember me, but I dined at your father's house
one evening in February. My name is Stanwood."
"I remember you now, Mr. Stanwood. Let me make you acquainted with
Count Cattelli."
"I am honored," said Stanwood with a curious smile.
"This lady is my affianced bride," said the count,
"Indeed! I congratulate you. By the way, haven't I met you before?"
"If you have been in Italy, sare. I am Count Cattelli of Milan."
Stanwood smiled slightly, and returned to his own table.
The next day Miss Ferguson received the following note:
MY DEAR MISS FERGUSON:
What I am about to write will pain you, but I cannot permit you to be
grossly deceived. The gentleman whom you introduced to me as Count
Cattelli at Delmonico's last evening shaved me last March in a
barber-shop in Chicago. He may be a count, but I advise you to speak to
your father on the subject. Your well wisher,
CHARLES STANWOOD.
Miss Ferguson went into a fit of hysterics, but followed the advice of
her correspondent. The count, on being taxed with his deception, first
indulged in bravado, but finally acknowledged that he had served as a
barber, but still claimed to be a count. Mr. Ferguson, intensely
mortified, agreed to give him two hundred dollars if he would leave the
city at once. Notices that the wedding had been indefinitely postponed
were sent to all who had received cards, and Luella disappeared for a
time. There were numerous reports as to the cause of the marriage being
postponed, but the secret was well kept. Luella is still unmarried, and
is likely to remain so, unless some one marries her for her money.
Ruth Patton is now the wife of Alfred Lindsay. The young lawyer made a
private call on Mr. Ferguson, which resulted in the latter disgorging
the ten thousand dollars of which he had defrauded Ruth's mother, so
that she did not come to her husband portionless.
All goes well with Fred Fenton. He is still in the employ of John
Wainwright, on a largely increased salary, and is always a welcome
guest at the home of the banker. Rose is as partial to him as ever, and
it would not be surprising if she should some day marry the ex-Erie
train-boy. Fred and his mother live in a handsome flat up town, and
Albert, his younger brother, is making rapid progress as a designer. It
looks as if the clouds had passed away, succeeded by the sunshine of
permanent prosperity.
THE END.