MOREY LEARNS HE IS A BANKRUPT.
Major Carey’s mansion in the village of Lee’s Court House connected
that old-fashioned, white-housed settlement with the plantations lying
about the town. It was of red brick, square and solemn, with a slate
mansard roof. In front, four gigantic white wooden columns stood like
towers. Unlike the Aspley house, these columns--very cold in a coat of
new paint--carried an upper gallery or balcony extending the width of
the house. And at the left end of the lower gallery a slender circular
stairway, concealed behind a trellis of green slats and partly covered
with ivy, led to the upper balcony. Immense oak trees afforded shade in
what had once been an extensive dooryard.
But the village, which was not wholly asleep, encroaching on the place,
had eaten off sections of the old yard on each side. What the Carey
home had been at one time, while tobacco growing had been profitable
and before Major Carey had begun to devote himself to banking and
money lending in town, might be seen from the little windows on the
roof. From this elevated point an observer might see that the oak trees
in the yard had once extended in two long rows half a mile from the
front gallery, marking the old plantation drive. New streets had cut
across these and only the tops of the mighty oaks could be made out
stretching through the growing town.
It was almost dusk when Amos Green, stiff in his heavy shoes, sprang
from the surrey and admitted Mrs. Marshall and her son through the gate
into the Carey grounds. Major Carey, his wife, and Mrs. Bradner, their
married daughter, whose husband was the cashier in Captain Barber’s
bank, were sitting on an iron settee along the driveway, near the house.
The arrival of Mrs. Marshall was almost sensational. The Careys marched
alongside the “carriage” to the horse block and Major Carey like a
cavalier assisted his guests to light. Mrs. Carey kissed her girlhood
friend, and Major Cary saluted her with a profound bow, but for Mrs.
Bradner there was but a light grasp of the hand. The former Miss Carey
had married a man whom no one knew, a bank clerk from the West with no
other recommendation than his sobriety and industry.
To Morey the call was wearisome in the extreme. He reported on his
school experiences, carefully omitting his aeronautical studies, and
his mother exchanged with Mrs. Carey old-fashioned, stilted gossip
concerning their homes and servants. Mrs. Bradner, in a beautifully
made tailor gown, sat quietly by. When Morey saw how cheap his mother’s
dress appeared in comparison with Mrs. Bradner’s, the thoughts that had
troubled him all day came back again.
Then there were refreshments and the formality relaxed somewhat.
“Major Carey,” said Mrs. Marshall suddenly, “I really wish you would
talk to Morey. I’m afraid the boy has got some queer ideas in Richmond.
However,” and she smiled kindly toward the somewhat embarrassed Morey,
“perhaps it is unnecessary now. He has promised me to forget them.”
Major Carey smiled graciously.
“Well, boys will be boys, I’m afraid,” he began. “But just what form
of--well sir, what are you up to now?” he asked, turning to Morey.
The boy’s embarrassment increased.
“Mother thinks I’m a farmer,” he said with an attempt at a smile. “I
can’t agree with her.”
“But,” interrupted Mrs. Marshall graciously, “perhaps we ought not
bother our friends with these family details. Especially since Morey
now sees that he was wrong. He has agreed with me to finish the full
course at his present school, to take a university training and then
become one of us again.”
“To take charge of Aspley plantation?” asked Mrs. Carey.
Mrs. Marshall nodded her head with a satisfied smile.
“And what had _you_ planned?” exclaimed Major Carey, who did not seem
to join in Mrs. Carey’s and Mrs. Marshall’s satisfaction.
“I was willing to finish my schooling,” answered Morey soberly, “and
I’ll even spend four years in the university if my mother likes, but I
want a technical training. I want to understand airships. I meant,” and
he looked at his mother covertly, “to become an aviator if I couldn’t
become an inventor.”
“You mean this new-fangled aeroplane business?” asked Major Carey.
“I’m very enthusiastic over it,” went on Morey.
“Do you know, Major, the boy actually wants to build an aeroplane
at our home this summer. And just when I know he needs rest and
recreation.”
Major Carey had risen and was nervously toying with his heavy gold
watch chain. Before he could speak, Mrs. Marshall added:
“He has even purchased a--some machinery of some kind--to go in it.”
Major Carey’s hand dropped from his cane.
“But he has given up the idea, you say?”
Mrs. Marshall waved her hand toward her son who sat nervously twisting
his hat.
“I’ll give it up if I have to,” said Morey, further abashed, “but I
don’t know what I’ll do with my motor engine. I’ve ordered that and I
reckon it’s on the way.”
“These engines are rather expensive, are they not?” continued the Major
quizzically.
“Oh, that depends,” answered Morey, “a new one is. This is a cheap one,
second-hand. It cost only four hundred dollars.”
“You haven’t paid for it, have you?”
Morey looked up, shook his head and fell to twirling his hat again.
“I’m going to suggest that he countermand the order,” said Mrs.
Marshall. “It really seems to me a piece of extravagance. What do you
think, Major?”
Major Carey’s jaw had dropped and he was looking at Mrs. Marshall and
Morey as if in deep thought. Recovering himself suddenly he made an
effort to smile and then said:
“Perhaps,” he muttered. “Yes, I agree with you.”
“There, now,” exclaimed Mrs. Marshall in gay humor. “You see Major
Carey quite agrees with me. If you could only persuade him, Major, that
he should follow in his father’s steps--”
The banker-planter coughed and resorted to his watch chain again.
“Perhaps Morey and I had better have a little talk alone,” he answered
at last.
“If you would be so good. Business always hurts my head,” laughed
Morey’s mother. The old Virginian bowed again and slipped his arm in
Morey’s. Down the long brick walk they strolled until the last iron
settee was reached. Major Carey, perspiring, had hardly seated himself
when he exclaimed:
“Morey, how old are you?”
“Eighteen, sir, last month.”
His companion nodded his head.
“My son, your father was my best friend. Your mother has as fine and
sweet a nature as any woman in Rappahannock County. But she has no more
business sense than your old Betty.”
Morey started in indignant surprise.
“And, in many ways, you resemble your mother.”
“What do you mean, Major Carey? What have we done?”
“What did you mean by ordering a four hundred dollar steam engine?”
“It isn’t a steam engine; its a Curtiss gasoline.”
The elder waved his hand in impatience.
“Who is going to pay for it?”
Morey’s surprise turned to indignation.
“Perhaps that is our affair, Major Carey.”
“Your affair!” snorted the old man breaking out at last. “Morey, it’s
time for you to know the truth. It’s bad enough for your mother to fool
herself. That’s her nature. But you are almost a man. Neither you nor
your mother has the money to pay for this extravagance.”
“I thought”--began the boy.
“You have not thought right. I am your mother’s friend. Four months ago
I determined to tell her she was worse than penniless. She is involved
in debt. Aspley place is mortgaged--”
“You mean we are poor?” asked Morey, in a quavering voice. “I don’t
mean that--I know we are poor. But that we owe people money we can’t
pay?”
“I tell you the truth,” went on Major Carey, “only because you’ve got
to get some sense into your head. Your mother is heavily involved. Your
place is carrying a heavy debt. Your purchase of an engine is worse
than foolish--it is shocking.”
The proud boy’s head fell on his breast.
“It won’t make matters easier for you to go on this way. I can’t make
it easy for you. You make it hard yourself by not suspecting.”
“I’ll send word not to ship it,” said Morey, not even yet realizing the
whole truth.
“Don’t you understand, Morey?” Major Carey exclaimed. “That isn’t the
trouble. It’s every thing. You can’t go to school, you can’t take years
to educate yourself. You’ve got to go to work--now.”
The white-faced boy rose to his feet.
“Oh, that’s it, is it? Well I’m not scared. That’s what I am ready to
do.”
“And you’ll have to give up your home.”
“Give up our home? Why?”
“The people who hold your father’s notes and the mortgage are ready to
foreclose and take the place.”
“Give up Aspley Place?” repeated Morey, the tears coming into his eyes.
His father’s old friend nodded his head slowly and tremulously wiped
his face.
“Major Carey,” said Morey with a throb in his throat, “that would break
Mother’s heart. She can’t do that.”
“The sooner you realize that it must be, the better for both of you.”
“Was there any way to prevent this?”
The old Major sighed.
“It isn’t your mother’s fault, Morey. And it isn’t yours. It all began
a long time ago.”
“You mean--?”
“Your father was not a good business man. He was a gentleman and my
friend--”
“We don’t have to discuss him, do we, Major Carey?” exclaimed the boy
with a new-born glint in his eye. The flush of confusion and the tremor
of alarm seemed to have gone from Morey.
Major Carey was startled by the sudden change.
“What do you think we should do?” went on the lad and he was beginning
to feel like a young man.
“Your mother has a little money of her own that will keep her from
want. I and others of her friends believe she should give up the
plantation and rent a cottage in the village. You must go to work and
help support her.”
“Major Carey,” said Morey in a low voice, “of course you know what you
are saying. But I can hardly believe it.”
“Morey, your mother is bankrupt.”
The boy bowed his head for a few moments.
“How did this happen?” he exclaimed suddenly.
“It is a long story--perhaps you are not old enough to understand.”
“I’m old enough to have to understand.”
“It was your father. He mortgaged the plantation. After he died your
mother could not even pay the interest on the borrowed money.”
“To whom do we owe this money?”
Major Carey moved a little uneasily.
“To the Barber Bank, principally.”
“To any one else?”
Again the old Virginian squirmed.
“Your mother has given me notes for unpaid interest.”
“To you and Captain Barber?” repeated Morey, sitting up and looking at
the man beside him.
“Yes.”
“And you and Captain Barber will own our home?”
“It would naturally be that way.”
“How much do we owe you?” asked the boy suddenly and leaning forward in
the evening gloom.
Major Carey coughed and arose nervously.
“More than you can repay, my lad. More than I like to say.”
“But I’m going to pay it,” said Morey in a desperate voice, laying his
hand on the Major’s arm to detain him. “I don’t know how, but I’m going
to do it. You think I’m a fool. I have been. If I hadn’t been soaked
full of ideas that I got from every one around me I’d have known.
And don’t you believe I got ’em all from my mother. I got ’em from
everything and everybody around here. But I understand now. I might
have understood long ago if I hadn’t been living the life every one
lives around here.”
“Careful my boy. Remember, it is to your friends that you owe much.”
“And I thank them,” retorted Morey angrily. “To those who have loaned
us money I’ll repay every cent. How much do we owe you?”
“What I have told you is for your own good,” was Major Carey’s only
reply. The old Virginian’s indignation was rising.
“Major Carey,” almost sobbed the boy, “don’t take offense. But why
didn’t you tell me this long ago?”
“I tried to tell your mother, but it wasn’t possible. I’m sorry she has
to know.”
For a moment the man and the boy stood in silence. Then Morey extended
his hand and made a brave effort to smile.
“We won’t tell her--not just yet--Major Carey. Because a kid has been
a fool is no sign that he is going to keep it up. I’m game. I’m going
to be a man, and I’m going to have business sense. I’m going to ‘get
there’ and I’m not scared. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock I’m coming
to the bank and I want to know the whole story.”
Major Carey shook his head.
“I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“Too late to know what struck you?” laughed Morey. “Perhaps I’ve got
more brains than you think.”
“At ten o’clock in the morning, then,” sighed Major Carey.
“That’s the first business engagement I ever had,” replied Morey, “and
I rather like it. I’ll be there.”