CHAPTER I_The Wall Street Girl

Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

Transcriber's Note:

The underscore character "_" is used in this book to indicate italics

markup in the original, as in "Then he _must_ hold on." The only

exception to this is where it is used to indicate a subscript,

specifically in H_20 and CO_2, the common chemical formulas for water

and carbon dioxide referenced in the text.

[Illustration: "DON DEAR, YOU'RE LIVING TOO MUCH DOWNTOWN"]

THE WALL STREET GIRL

FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

GEORGE ELLIS WOLFE

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Published September 1916

THALIA

CONTENTS

I. Don Receives a Jolt 1

II. It Becomes Necessary to Eat 11

III. The Queen Was in the Parlor 20

IV. Concerning Sandwiches 27

V. Business 43

VI. Two Girls 64

VII. Roses 71

VIII. A Man of Affairs 80

IX. It Will Never Do 93

X. Dictation 100

XI. Steak, With Mushrooms and Advice 111

XII. A Social Widow 123

XIII. Dear Sir-- 129

XIV. In Reply 138

XV. Cost 144

XVI. A Memorandum 153

XVII. On the Way Home 161

XVIII. A Discourse on Salaries 171

XIX. A Letter 184

XX. Stars 185

XXI. In the Dark 193

XXII. The Sensible Thing 200

XXIII. Looking Ahead 207

XXIV. Vacations 215

XXV. In the Park 223

XXVI. One Stuyvesant 238

XXVII. The Stars Again 247

XXVIII. Seeing 256

XXIX. Mostly Sally 264

XXX. Don Explains 275

XXXI. Sally Decides 295

XXXII. Barton Appears 305

XXXIII. A Bully World 317

XXXIV. Don Makes Good 321

XXXV. "Home, John" 330

THE WALL STREET GIRL

CHAPTER I

DON RECEIVES A JOLT

Before beginning to read the interesting document in front of him,

Jonas Barton, senior member of Barton & Saltonstall, paused to clean

his glasses rather carefully, in order to gain sufficient time to

study for a moment the tall, good-looking young man who waited

indifferently on the other side of the desk. He had not seen his late

client's son since the latter had entered college--a black-haired,

black-eyed lad of seventeen, impulsive in manner and speech. The

intervening four years had tempered him a good deal. Yet, the

Pendleton characteristics were all there--the square jaw, the rather

large, firm mouth, the thin nose, the keen eyes. They were all there,

but each a trifle subdued: the square jaw not quite so square as the

father's, the mouth not quite so large, the nose so sharp, or the

eyes so keen. On the other hand, there was a certain fineness that the

father had lacked.

In height Don fairly matched his father's six feet, although he still

lacked the Pendleton breadth of shoulder.

The son was lean, and his cigarette--a dilettante variation of honest

tobacco-smoking that had always been a source of irritation to his

father--did not look at all out of place between his long, thin

fingers; in fact, nothing else would have seemed quite suitable.

Barton was also forced to admit to himself that the young man, in some

miraculous way, managed to triumph over his rather curious choice of

raiment, based presumably on current styles. In and of themselves the

garments were not beautiful. From Barton's point of view, Don's straw

hat was too large and too high in the crown. His black-and-white check

suit was too conspicuous and cut close to the figure in too feminine a

fashion. His lavender socks, which matched a lavender tie, went well

enough with the light stick he carried; but, in Barton's opinion, a

young man of twenty-two had no business to carry a light stick. By no

stretch of the imagination could one picture the elder Pendleton in

such garb, even in his jauntiest days. And yet, as worn by Don, it

seemed as if he could not very well have worn anything else. Even the

mourning-band about his left arm, instead of adding a somber touch,

afforded an effective bit of contrast. This, however, was no fault of

his. That mourning has artistic possibilities is a happy fact that has

brought gentle solace to many a widow.

On the whole, Barton could not escape the deduction that the son

reflected the present rather than the past. Try as he might, it was

difficult for him to connect this young man with Grandfather

Pendleton, shipbuilder of New Bedford, or with the father who in his

youth commanded the Nancy R. But that was by no means his duty--as Don

faintly suggested when he uncrossed his knees and hitched forward

impatiently.

"Your father's will is dated three years ago last June," began

Barton.

"At the end of my freshman year," Don observed.

Jonas Barton adjusted his spectacles and began to read. He read slowly

and very distinctly, as if anxious to give full value to each

syllable:

"New York City, borough of Manhattan, State of New York. I, Donald

Joshua Pendleton, being of sound mind and--"

Donald Pendleton, Jr., waved an objection with his cigarette.

"Can't you cut out all the legal stuff and just give me the gist of

it? There's no doubt about father having been of sound mind and so

forth."

"It is customary--" began the attorney.

"Well, we'll break the custom," Don cut in sharply.

Barton glanced up. It might have been his late client speaking; it

gave him a start.

"As you wish," he assented. "Perhaps, however, I may be allowed to

observe that in many ways your father's will is peculiar."

"It wouldn't be father's will if it wasn't peculiar," declared Don.

Barton pushed the papers away from him.

"Briefly, then," he said, "your father leaves his entire estate to

you--in trust."

Don leaned forward, his stick grasped in his gloved hands.

"I don't get that last."

"In trust," repeated Barton with emphasis. "He has honored our firm

with the commission of serving as a board of trustees for carrying out

the terms of the will."

"You mean to fix my allowance?"

"To carry out the terms of the will, which are as follows: namely, to

turn over to you, but without power of conveyance, the paternal

domicile on West Sixtieth Street with all its contents."

Don frowned.

"Paternal domicile--I can translate that all right. I suppose you mean

the house. But what's that line 'without power of conveyance'?"

"It means that you are at liberty to occupy the premises, but that you

are to have no power to sell, to rent, or to dispose of the property

in any way whatsoever."

Don appeared puzzled.

"That's a bit queer. What do you suppose Dad thought I wanted of a

place that size to live in?"

"I think your father was a man of considerable sentiment."

"Eh?"

"Sentiment," Barton repeated. "It was there you were born, and there

your mother died."

"Yes, that's all correct; but--well, go on."

"The rest of the document, if you insist upon a digest, consists

principally of directions to the trustees. Briefly, it provides that

we invest the remainder of the property in safe bonds and apply the

interest to meet taxes on the aforesaid paternal domicile, to retain

and pay the wages of the necessary servants, to furnish fuel and

water, and to maintain the house in proper repair."

"Well, go on."

"In case of your demise--"

"You may skip my demise; I'm not especially interested in that."

"Then I think we have covered all the more important provisions,"

Barton concluded.

"All?" exclaimed Don. "What do you think I'm going to live on?"

Here was the clash for which Barton had been waiting. His face

hardened, and he shoved back his chair a little.

"I am not able to find any provision in the will relating to that," he

answered.

"Eh? But what the deuce--"

For a moment Don stared open-mouthed at the lawyer. Then he reached in

his pocket for his cigarettes, selected one with some deliberation,

and tapped an end upon the case.

"You said Dad had considerable sentiment," he observed. "It strikes me

he has shown more humor than sentiment."

Barton was still aggressive. To tell the truth, he expected some

suggestion as to the possibility of breaking the will; but if ever he

had drawn a paper all snug and tight, it was the one in question.

"Damme," Pendleton, Sr., had said. "Damme, Barton, if the lad is able

to break the will, I'll rise in my grave and haunt you the rest of

your days."

If the boy wished to test the issue, Barton was ready for him. But the

boy's thoughts seemed to be on other things.

"I suppose," mused Pendleton, Jr., "I suppose it was that freshman

scrape that worried him."

"I was not informed of that," replied Barton.

"It made good reading," the young man confided. "But, honest, it was

not so bad as the papers made it out. Dad was a good sport about it,

anyhow. He cleared it up and let me go on."

"If you will allow me to advance an opinion,--a strictly personal

opinion,--it is that Mr. Pendleton devised the entire will with

nothing else but your welfare in mind. He had a good deal of pride,

and desired above all things to have you retain the family home. If I

remember correctly, he said you were the last lineal descendant."

Don nodded pleasantly.

"The last. Kind of looks as if he wanted me to remain the last."

"On the contrary," ventured Barton, "I think he hoped you might marry

and--"

"Marry?" broke in Don. "Did you say _marry?_"

"I even understood, from a conversation with your father just before

his death, that you--er--were even then engaged. Am I mistaken?"

"No; that's true enough. But say--look here."

The young man reached in his pocket and brought forth a handful of

crumpled bills and loose change. He counted it carefully.

"Twelve dollars and sixty-three cents," he announced. "What do you

think Frances Stuyvesant will say to that?"

Barton refrained from advancing an opinion.

"What do you think Morton H. Stuyvesant will say?" demanded Don.

No point of law being involved in the query, Jonas Barton still

refrained.

"What do you think Mrs. Morton H. Stuyvesant will say, and all the

uncles and aunties and nephews and nieces?"

"Not being their authorized representative, I am not prepared to

answer," Barton replied. "However, I think I can tell you what your

father would do under these circumstances."

"What?" inquired Don.

"He would place all the facts in the case before the girl, then

before her father, and learn just what they had to say."

"Wrong. He wouldn't go beyond the girl," answered Don.

He replaced the change in his pocket.

"Ah," he sighed--"them were the happy days."

"If I remember correctly," continued Jonas Barton thoughtfully,

"twelve dollars and sixty-three cents was fully as much as your father

possessed when he asked your mother to marry him. That was just after

he lost his ship off Hatteras."

"Yes, them were the happy days," nodded Don. "But, at that, Dad had

his nerve with him."

"He did," answered Barton. "He had his nerve with him always."