JACOB DRUMMOND--CONTINUED.
Over Joshua Mr. Drummond had less control than over his wife. The latter
gave way meekly to his unreasonable requisitions; but Joshua did not
hesitate to make opposition, being as selfish and self-willed as his
father, for whom he entertained neither respect nor affection.
Joshua looked around him disdainfully.
"Is this Fast Day?" he asked.
"You know very well that Fast Day comes in April," said his father.
"I only judged from the looks of the table," said Joshua, not very
respectfully. "You don't mean that we shall any of us suffer from the
gout."
"Bread and butter and pie are good enough for anybody," said Mr.
Drummond, stiffly.
"I don't see any pie. Excuse me, there is a little,--so little that I
did not at first see it."
This was too much for Mr. Drummond's temper.
"Unmannerly boy!" he exclaimed; "if you are dissatisfied with the fare
you get at home, you can engage board elsewhere."
"I would like to," muttered Joshua, in a low voice, which his father
chose not to hear.
In silence he helped himself to bread and butter, and in due time
accepted a piece of pie, which Mrs. Drummond made larger at the expense
of her own share.
Harmony thus being restored, Mr. Drummond remarked, "I've had a telegram
to-day from Willoughby."
"From Willoughby?" repeated his wife. "Isn't that where your cousin
William Conrad lives?"
"He doesn't live there any longer. He's dead."
"Dead! When did he die?"
"I don't know. Yesterday, I suppose. The funeral is to be day after
to-morrow."
"Shall you go?"
"Yes. It will cost me considerable; as much as five dollars or more; but
he was my cousin, and it is my duty to go," said Mr. Drummond, with the
air of a man who was making a great sacrifice.
"He was rich, wasn't he?" asked Joshua, becoming interested.
"Probably worth a hundred thousand dollars," said his father,
complacently.
"I should think he might have left me something," said Joshua.
"He never saw you, Joshua," said his mother.
"Joshua stands a better chance of getting a legacy from one who doesn't
know him, than from one who does," said Mr. Drummond, with grim
pleasantry.
"He leaves children, doesn't he, Mr. Drummond?"
"One child--a boy. Let me see, he must be fifteen by this time."
"And his mother isn't living?"
"No."
"Poor boy!"
"He'll be a rich boy, Mrs. Drummond, and I'll tell you what, I shouldn't
wonder if we had a good chance to know him."
"How so?"
"It's likely I will be appointed his guardian. I'm the nearest relative,
so that will be the most proper course."
"Will he come here, then?" asked Joshua.
"Very probably."
"Then I hope you'll live better, or he won't stand it."
"When I require any advice from you, Joshua, I will apply for it," said
his father.
Joshua inwardly hoped that his father would be appointed guardian, as it
might make a difference in the family living; and, besides, if his
cousin were rich, he meant to wheedle himself into his confidence, in
the hope of future advantage.
"When shall you set out?" asked Mrs. Drummond.
"To-morrow morning, I think," said her husband. "It will be hard to
leave, but it's due to my cousin's memory."
Mr. Drummond had become very punctilious all at once, considering that
for the last dozen years Mr. Conrad, who had by no means admired him,
had had little or no communication with him. But then he had died rich,
and who knows what sort of a will he had left? At any rate, Jacob began
to feel a strong interest in him now. He might have put off going to
Willoughby till the morning train on the day of the funeral, for two
o'clock was the hour fixed for the last ceremony; but he was in a hurry
to learn all he could about the property, and secure, if possible, the
guardianship for himself. This was the secret of his willingness to
sacrifice time and money out of regard to his cousin's memory. The next
day, therefore, he started, taking with him in his valise a lunch of
bread and meat tied up in a piece of brown paper. He didn't intend to
spend any more money than was absolutely necessary on tavern bills.
Shortly after his arrival, he called at the house of mourning.
"I am Jacob Drummond, of Stapleton, the cousin of the deceased," he
explained to Nancy, who opened the door to admit him. "Is my young
relative, Mr. Conrad's son, at home?"
"Yes, sir," said Nancy, taking an inventory of his features, and
deciding that he was a very disagreeable looking man.
"Will you mention my name to him, and say that I should like to see
him?"
Mr. Drummond was ushered into the parlor, where he had a little chance
to look around him before Walter appeared.
"It's all nonsense wasting so much money on furniture," he mentally
ejaculated. "The money spent is a dead loss when it might be drawing
handsome interest."
Walter did not long keep him waiting.
Mr. Drummond rose at his entrance.
"I suppose you don't know me," he said; "but I was your father's nearest
living relation."
"Mr. Drummond, I believe."
"Yes, Jacob Drummond, of Stapleton. You have probably heard your father
speak of me?"
"Yes, sir," said Walter.
"I came as soon as I could after getting the telegram. I left my
business to take care of itself. I wanted to offer you my sympathy on
your sad loss."
Mr. Drummond's words were kind, though the reference to his sacrifice
in leaving his business might have been as well left out. Still Walter
could not feel as grateful as he wanted to do. Somehow he didn't fancy
Mr. Drummond.
"You are very kind," he said.
"I mean to be. You know I'm your nearest relation now. I truly feel for
you in your desolate condition, and though it may not be the right time
to say it, I must tell you that I hope, when the funeral is over, you
will accompany me home, and share our humble hospitality. Mrs. Drummond
joins with me in the invitation."
Mrs. Drummond had not been consulted in the matter, but her husband
thought it would sound well to say so.
"I have not had time to think of future arrangements," said Walter; "but
I thank you for your invitation."
Walter did not know the motives which induced Mr. Drummond to extend
this invitation, but supposed it to be meant in kindness, and so
acknowledged it.
"My son Joshua, too," said Mr. Drummond, "is longing to make your
acquaintance. He is older than you, but not much larger. How old are
you?"
"I am fifteen."
"You are well grown of your age; Joshua is eighteen, but he will make a
very pleasant companion for you. Let me hope that you will accept my
invitation."
"Thank you, Mr. Drummond; I will consult my friends about it."
"I wonder how much board I could venture to ask," thought Mr. Drummond.
"If I am his guardian, I can fix that to suit myself. A hundred thousand
dollars would make me a rich man. That is, I could make money from it,
without injuring the boy."
Mr. Drummond asked a few more questions about Mr. Conrad's sickness and
death. Walter answered them, but did not think it necessary to speak of
his losses by the Mining Company. Mr. Drummond was a stranger, and not a
man to inspire confidence. So Walter told as little as he could. At
length the visitor, having exhausted inquiries, rose.
"I shall be here to-morrow," he said. "I am stopping at the tavern. I
shall return to Stapleton after the ceremony. I hope you will make up
your mind to go back with me."
"I could not be ready so soon," answered Walter, doubtfully.
"I can wait till the next day."
"That will not be necessary, Mr. Drummond. I shall have no difficulty in
making the journey alone, if I conclude to accept your kind invitation."
Mr. Drummond shook our hero's hand sympathetically, and at length
withdrew. As he went down the avenue, he took a backward glance at the
handsome mansion in which his cousin had lived.
"That boy owns all that property," he said, half enviously, "and never
worked a day for it. I've had to work for all my money. But it was
foolish to spend so much money on a house. A third the sum would have
built a comfortable house, and the rest might have been put at interest.
If it turns out that I am the boy's guardian, I think I shall sell it.
That'll be the best course."
With these reflections Mr. Drummond pursued his way back to the village
tavern, where he had taken the precaution to ascertain that he should
be charged but a dollar and a quarter a day. He considered that a dollar
would have been sufficient, but still it was proper to make some
sacrifice to his cousin's memory. Mr. Conrad's mining speculation was
not generally known in the village as yet, so that Mr. Drummond did not
hear a word as to his loss of property.