A NIGHT AT DALY'S.
"I WILL read this letter to see if it is of any importance," said Mark.
"In that case I will forward it to Syracuse."
He read as follows:
* * * * *
"WALL STREET EXCHANGE.
"DEAR SIR: In reference to the mining stock about which you inquire, our
information is that the mine is a valuable one, and very productive. The
stock is held in few hands, and it is difficult to obtain it. You tell
me that it belongs to an estate of which you are the administrator. I
advise you to hold it awhile longer before you seek to dispose of it. We
are about to send an agent to Nevada to look after some mining interests
of our own, and will authorize him also to look up the Golden Hope mine.
"Yours truly,
"CRANE & LAWTON,
"STOCK AND MINING BROKERS."
* * * * *
Mother and son looked at each other significantly.
Finally Mark said, "This mining stock must have belonged to
grandfather."
"Yes; I remember now his alluding to having purchased a hundred shares
of some mine."
"The brokers say they are valuable. Yet Uncle Solon has never said
anything about them. Mother, he means to defraud us of our share in this
property, supposing that we will hear nothing about it."
"How shameful!" exclaimed Mrs. Mason indignantly. "I will sit right down
and write him a letter taxing him with his treachery."
"No, mother; I don't want you to do anything of the kind."
"You don't want us to submit to imposition? That don't sound like you,
Mark."
"I mean that he shall give us whatever is our due, but I don't want him
to suspect that we know anything of his underhand schemes. He hasn't
sold the mining stock yet."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Leave the matter in my hands, mother. I will keep the letter, and it
will always be evidence against him. He is shrewd, and will get full
value for the stock. Then we can make him hand you your share."
"If you think that is best, Mark," said Mrs. Mason doubtfully. "I
haven't much of a head for business."
"I think I have, mother. There is nothing I like better."
"Did you see Mrs. Mack about a loan? I didn't think to ask you, as your
uncle came in with you when you returned from up-stairs."
"Yes, I saw her, but it was of no use."
"Then she won't lend us the money?"
"No, she is afraid to, though I offered her twenty-five cents interest.
I told her that I should have nine dollars coming in on Saturday, but
she thought something might prevent my getting it."
"Then I had better pawn my ring. The landlord won't wait even a day for
his money."
"Don't be in a hurry, mother. The rent is not due till day after
to-morrow, and something may happen between now and then to put me in
funds."
"Perhaps you are right, Mark."
Five minutes later there was a knock at the door. Opening it, Mark saw
another telegraph boy in the entrance. He had a paper in his hand.
"You're to go there," he said, handing Mark a card. "Put on your best
clothes. It's a lady to take to the theater."
"All right, Jimmy. I'll be ready in a jiffy. Do you know what theater?"
"No, I don't. The lady will tell you."
"Mother, I'll be home late," said Mark. "I must put on some clean
clothes. Is my collar dirty?"
"Yes, you had better put on a clean one. I don't like your being out so
late. I thought you were through for the day."
"I'll get extra pay, mother, and every little helps."
"I say, Mark," said Jimmy, "you'd better wear your dress suit and
diamond scarf-pin."
"I would, Jimmy, only I lent 'em both to a bootblack of my acquaintance
who's going to attend a ball on Fifth Avenue to-night."
Jimmy laughed.
"You've always got an answer ready, Mark," he said. "Well, so long! Hope
you'll have a good time."
"Where does the lady live, Mark?" asked Mrs. Mason.
"At No. 90 West Forty-Fifth Street. I haven't much time to spare. I must
go as soon as I can get ready."
It was half-past seven o'clock before Mark rang the bell at a fine brown
stone house on West Forty-Fifth Street. The door was opened by a colored
servant, who, without speaking to Mark, turned his head, and called out:
"The messenger's come, Miss Maud."
"I'm _so_ glad," said a silvery voice, as a young lady of twenty,
already dressed for the street, came out of a room on the left of the
hall. Mark took off his hat politely.
"So you are the messenger boy?" she said. "You are to take me to Daly's
Theater."
"Yes, miss. So I heard."
"Let us go at once. We will take the horse cars at Sixth Avenue, and get
out at Thirtieth Street."
Before she had finished they were already in the street.
"I must explain," she said, "that my uncle bought two tickets this
morning and expected to accompany me, but an important engagement has
prevented. I was resolved to go, and so I sent for a messenger. Perhaps
you had better take the tickets."
"All right, Miss----."
"Gilbert. As you are to be my escort I will ask your name."
"Mark Mason."
"Shall I call you Mark, or Mr. Mason?" she asked with a roguish smile.
"I would rather you would call me Mark."
"Perhaps, as you are taking the place of my uncle, it would be proper to
call you Uncle Mark," she laughed.
"All right, if you prefer it," said Mark.
"On the whole I won't. I am afraid you don't look the character. Are you
quite sure you can protect me?"
"I'll try to, Miss Gilbert."
"Then I won't borrow any trouble."
Maud Gilbert had carefully observed Mark, and as he was an
attractive-looking boy she felt satisfied with the selection made for
her.
"I am glad you didn't wear your uniform," she said. "I forgot to speak
about that."
"When I heard what I was wanted for I thought it would be better to
leave off the uniform," said Mark.
"That was right. Now I can pass you off as a young friend. If I meet any
young lady friend, don't call me Miss Gilbert, but call me Maud. Perhaps
you had better call me that at any rate."
"I will--Maud."
"That's right, and I will call you--let me see, Cousin Mark. I don't
want my friends to think I had to send for an escort to a telegraph
office."
When they entered Daly's Miss Gilbert met an old school friend--Louisa
Morton.
"Why, Maud, are you here?" said her friend. "How delightful! And who is
this young gentleman?"
"My cousin, Mark Mason."
"Indeed! Well, I congratulate you on having such a nice escort. If he
were a few years older I might try to make you jealous."
Maud laughed gaily.
"Oh, you can't get him away. He is devoted to me. Aren't you, Cousin
Mark?"
Mark was about to say "You bet," but it occurred to him that this would
not be _comme il faut_, so he only said, "You are right, Maud."
"Where are your seats? I hope they are near ours."
They proved to be in the same row, but on the other side of the center
aisle.
As Mark and the young lady took seats two pairs of astonished eyes noted
their entrance. These belonged to Edgar and his father, who sat two rows
behind. Edgar was the first to catch sight of them.
"Look, father!" he said, clutching his father's arm. "There is Mark
Mason and a beautiful girl just taking their seats. What does it mean?"
"I don't know," returned Mr. Talbot. "She seems to be a fashionable
young lady."
"How in the world did he get acquainted with such people? She treats him
as familiarly as if he were a brother or cousin."
"It is very strange."
"Please take the opera-glass, Mark," Edgar heard Miss Gilbert say. "You
know I must make you useful."
For the rest of the evening the attention of Edgar and his father was
divided between the play and Miss Gilbert and Mark. For the benefit
chiefly of her friend, Maud treated her young escort with the utmost
familiarity, and quite misled Solon Talbot and Edgar.
When the play was over Mark carefully adjusted Miss Gilbert's wraps. As
he passed through the aisle he saw for the first time Edgar and his
father looking at him with astonished eyes.
"Good evening," he said with a smile. "I hope you enjoyed the play."
"Come, Mark, it is growing late," said Maud.
Mark bowed and passed on.
"Well, if that doesn't beat all!" ejaculated Edgar. "They seemed very
intimate."
When Mark bade Miss Gilbert good night after ringing the bell at her
home, she pressed a bank note into his hand.
"Thank you so much," she said. "Keep the change, and when I want another
escort I will send for you."
By the light of the street lamp Mark inspected the bill and found it was
a five.
"That will give me over three dollars for myself," he said joyfully. "So
the rent is secure."
The next day about two o'clock he was in the office of a prominent
banker to whom he had carried a message, when a wild-looking man with
light brown hair and wearing glasses, rushed in, and exclaimed
dramatically to the astonished banker, "I want a hundred thousand
dollars! Give it to me at once, or I will blow your office to atoms."
He pointed significantly to a small carpet bag which he carried in his
left hand.
The broker turned pale, and half rose from his chair. He was too
frightened to speak, while two clerks writing in another part of the
office seemed ready to faint.