After Grant’s departure his mother felt very lonely. She found very little satisfaction in the company of her husband, who became more miserly as he grew older. He began also to show signs of breaking health, and this did not escape the vigilant eyes of his daughter, Mrs. Sophia Bartlett, and her husband. They were not at all insensible to the fact that their father’s property was a snug one, and that it would make them very comfortable when added to their own.
Sophia Bartlett began to feel suspicious that her father’s second wife would attempt, by undue influence, to obtain more than her share of the estate. At least once a week she was accustomed to drive over with her son Rodney, when her husband was occupied by business, and learn all she could of what was going on at the Tarbox farm.
304Rodney generally inquired after Grant, but not from friendly motives.
Some months after Grant’s departure one of these visits was in progress.
“Have you heard from Grant, Mrs. Tarbox?” he asked, for it was in this way he always addressed his grandfather’s wife.
“I heard last week,” answered Grant’s mother.
“How is he getting along?”
“He had just arrived in California. The journey across the plains is a long and tedious one.”
“Did he have anything to do?”
“He was expecting work.”
“Probably he won’t get any,” said Seth Tarbox. “The boy made a fool of himself when he left home. He might have had a good livin’ here, but he was sot on trampin’ to California.”
“That’s the way I feel,” said Sophia Bartlett. “Young folks don’t know what is best for themselves. As likely as not the boy will be sending home for money to get back.”
“He won’t get none from me,” muttered Mr. 305Tarbox emphatically, “and I want that understood.”
“He isn’t very likely to send to you, Mr. Tarbox,” said his wife, indignant at this attack upon Grant.
“I dunno about that. He’s a headstrong boy, and always was.”
“I am glad that my son Rodney is a good and dutiful boy, and is willing to be guided by my advice and his grandfather’s.”
Rodney understood that it was well to keep in the good graces of his grandfather, who might remember him handsomely in his will, and tried to look virtuous and meek.
“Yes,” he said, “grandfather knows what is best for me.”
“Rodney’s case is very different,” Mrs. Tarbox could not help saying. “His future is provided for, Grant had nothing to look forward to here except the life of a farm laborer.”
“Is he too proud to work on a farm?” sneered Mrs. Bartlett.
“No more than your son Rodney,” calmly replied Mrs. Tarbox.
“I’ve got something better to do than to 306work on a farm,” said Rodney, in a lofty tone. “Just fancy me in overalls, ma!”
“To be sure!” chimed in his mother.
“It aint no disgrace to wear overalls,” said Seth Tarbox, who did not aspire to be thought genteel, like his daughter and Rodney.
“Of course not, pa!” said Mrs. Bartlett, in a conciliatory tone. “You are a substantial farmer, and find it necessary to superintend your own work.”
“I hope Rodney aint got no foolish notions about bein’ too high-toned for honest work.”
“No, pa; but Rodney isn’t rugged, and his father and myself mean to make a lawyer of him.”
“Humph! Some lawyers aint worth their salt.”
“That’s the case with some farmers, too, isn’t it?” returned his daughter.
“I own you’re right, Sophia. Why, there’s Bill Jones is gettin’ poorer and poorer every year. I’ve got a thousand-dollar mortgage on his farm,” he chuckled, “and I guess I’ll have to foreclose sooner or later.”
“What will become of Mrs. Jones and her 307young children?” asked Mrs. Tarbox, in a tone of pity.
“That aint my lookout,” said Seth Tarbox, in a hard tone.
“But surely you wouldn’t turn the poor woman out into the street.”
“It aint for me to look out for another man’s wife and children, Mrs. T.,” returned the farmer.
“But the farm must be worth a good deal more than the amount of your mortgage!”
“Yes,” chuckled the farmer, “it’s well worth three thousand dollars. So much the better for me!”
“You wouldn’t take possession of it, and take such an advantage of the family!”
“Mrs. T., you don’t understand business. When you talk in that way you only make yourself ridiculous. You’d better leave me to attend to business, and you look after the housekeeping,” and he turned to his daughter for approval.
“You are right, pa,” said Sophia, “and Mrs. Tarbox, though she means well, shows that she doesn’t understand business.”
308Mrs. Tarbox bit her lip, but did not reply. She had made the discovery long since that the daughter was as cold and selfish as the father, and probably even more so.
“Mrs. Tarbox, have you got Grant’s last letter?” asked Rodney.
“Yes.”
“Would you mind letting me read it?”
Mrs. Tarbox hesitated a moment, and then replied: “A part of it is private, but I will read you the part in which he speaks of his position and prospects.”
“Thank you. I would like to hear it.”
Mrs. Tarbox took from her pocket a letter which she had perused half a dozen times already, and read as follows:
“Well, mother, I have at last reached California. It is a long and tiresome journey across the plains. I hope, when I go back, I shall be able to go by steamer to New York. However, I made some pleasant friends on the way, and I have good courage, though my money is nearly out.”
“Humph!” interrupted Seth Tarbox; “just as I expected.”
“Grant didn’t take a fortune with him,” said his mother. “How could you expect he 309would have much money left when he reached the end of his journey?”
“I didn’t, Mrs. T. That is what I said. Read on.”
“I haven’t decided yet what I will do first. I expect sometime to go to the gold fields, but I may get a position first and earn some money to buy my outfit. I am well and strong, and I am sure I can make a living some way.”
“Mark my words,” said Sophia Bartlett, “the time will come when your son will wish he had never left the farm.”
“I don’t feel sure of that,” said Mrs. Tarbox. “Grant is a manly boy, and he can work in California just as well as here, and will be paid better than here.”
“Do you mean to say that I didn’t pay the boy enough for his work, Mrs. T.?”
“I will express no opinion on that subject. California is a new country, where labor is naturally more highly compensated than here.”
“I am glad I am not in Grant’s place,” said Rodney.
“So am I,” added his mother; “but you always had good judgment, Rodney.”
310“I hope so. When I am a man I may go to California, just to see the country, but I prefer to stay at home now.”
“He has an old head on young shoulders,” said his mother complacently.
“It’s my birthday to-morrow, grandpa,” observed Rodney significantly.
“Is it?” asked Seth Tarbox. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Well, well, I didn’t know you were getting on so fast. There’s a quarter for a birthday present.”
Rodney accepted the coin, but turned up his nose at his grandfather’s niggardliness, and expressed himself freely on the subject to his mother on the way home.
“What a mean old skinflint grandfather is!” he exclaimed. “Twenty-five cents, and he a rich man!”
“Hush, Rodney, don’t let any one hear you speak in that way!”
“But he is mean! you can’t deny it!”
“He is close,” said Mrs. Bartlett cautiously. 311“Most farmers are, I believe; but just wait patiently, and the money which he has saved by his economy will come to us. You must seem grateful, or he may take a notion to leave his property to Mrs. Tarbox and Grant.”
“Oh, I’ll be careful, ma, never fear! I hope Grant Colburn won’t get a cent.”
“I don’t think he will. In fact, I feel sure of it.”
“Do you think Mrs. Tarbox will get much?”
“Not if I can prevent it!” said his mother, closing her lips firmly.
“I expect she only married the old man for his money.”
“I suppose she wanted a home for herself and Grant.”
“Will the law give her anything?”
“Yes; but I’ve thought of a way to get over that.”
“What is it, ma?”
“If I can induce your grandfather to make a deed of gift to me of his property before 312he dies, on condition of my supporting him the rest of his life, that will evade the law.”
“That will be a good idea. I shouldn’t wonder if Grant and his mother had to go to the poorhouse at last. He’d come down off his high horse then.”
“I hope not. Mrs. Tarbox can get employment as a housekeeper probably, and Grant ought to be able to support himself. Of course they must look out for themselves.”
Not long afterward, unfortunately for Mrs. Tarbox, her husband lost fifty dollars. He had sold a horse to a man in a neighboring town for an excessive price, and fifty dollars remained due on the purchase money. This the purchaser refused to pay, and as his property was all in his wife’s name, Seth Tarbox was unable to collect it, although, as may be imagined, he moved heaven and earth to accomplish it.
This made him feel very poor, and he determined to make it up by retrenchment in his personal expenses. Had the economy fallen upon himself he might have been justified, but 313as it occurred to him that by dismissing the woman who helped his wife on washing day he could save seventy-five cents a week, he was mean enough to make this proposal.
Mrs. Tarbox could hardly believe him in earnest, for she saw only too clearly at what he was aiming.
“Do you mean that I am to get along without Nancy, Mr. Tarbox?” Mrs. Tarbox said quickly.
“I’ve met with losses, Mrs. T.,” replied Seth, “and I don’t feel as if I could afford to pay out seventy-five cents every Monday for work that might as well be done in the family.”
“Does that mean that you expect me to do it, Mr. Tarbox?”
“Ahem!” said Tarbox, a little embarrassed. “It’s your duty to help bear my burden.”
“I think I do that. I am sure that I work beyond my strength.”
“We all have to work. Don’t I work in the fields, Mrs. Tarbox?”
“You choose to do it. You are able to lead an easier life.”
315“Who says I am?”
“Everybody in the village knows that you are well to do, and have a large sum in the savings-bank.”
Seth Tarbox frowned.
“If I have got a little money ahead,” he said, “I don’t mean to squander it in extravagant living.”
“I don’t think you are in any danger of it,” remarked Mrs. Tarbox dryly.
Mr. Tarbox left the house, and made it in his way to call at the home of Nancy Stokes and give her notice that her services would not be needed on the coming Monday.
Nancy opened her eyes in surprise.
“Why, Mr. Tarbox,” she said, “I’ve been goin’ to your house for ten years. Have you got any other woman in my place?”
“No, Miss Stokes; but I’ve been thinkin’ that I can’t afford to pay seventy-five cents a week for washin’.”
“Why, you haven’t failed, have you, Mr. Tarbox?”
“No; but I’ve met with losses,” answered Seth vaguely.
316“They must be big losses if you can’t afford the little money you’ve paid me.”
“You may call it little, Nancy, but seventy-five cents a week amounts in a year to thirty-nine dollars.”
“It’ll take more‘n one thirty-nine dollars to break you, Mr. Tarbox.”
“You seem to know a good deal about my affairs, Nancy. I’m the best judge of that.”
“Who’s goin’ to do the washin’, then?”
“Mrs. Tarbox will do it.”
“The whole of it?”
“Yes; my first wife used to do it.”
“And died of broken health at forty.”
Seth Tarbox did not relish the plain speaking of Miss Stokes, and turning on his heel, walked away.
Nancy made it a point to call at the farm during the day.
“I hear, Mrs. Tarbox,” she said, “that you are going to do all the washing hereafter.”
“Who told you?” asked Mrs. Tarbox quickly.
“Mr. Tarbox.”
317“He is mistaken,” said Mrs. Tarbox calmly. “I shall do nothing of the kind.”
“He expects it.”
“I can’t help that.”
“Good for you, Mrs. Tarbox. Don’t let him impose upon you. He’s too mean to live.”
The next Monday Seth Tarbox went out to his farm work in a complacent frame of mind. His wife had said nothing of the washing, and he concluded that when she found Nancy absent, she would turn to and do the whole herself. But when he returned to dinner he looked in vain for the clothes line.
“You’re late about your washin’, Mrs. T.,” he said, as he entered the kitchen.
“I am not going to wash, Mr. Tarbox.”
“How’s that? You can’t get along without having the clothes washed.”
“I intend to wash my own, but I don’t propose to do the rest.”
“Wh-what?” ejaculated Seth, in dismay.
“You have taken it upon yourself to discharge Nancy. If the clothes remain unwashed, you are responsible.”
318“But, Mrs. T., my first wife used to do all the washing. She didn’t have Nancy to help her.”
“What your first wife did does not concern me. I do not propose to follow in her footsteps and die of overwork, as she did.”
“It seems to me, Mrs. T., you don’t realize your duty as helpmeet to your husband.”
“And I don’t propose to, if it requires me to work beyond my strength.”
“If you do all the washing this week, Nancy may come to your assistance next Monday as usual.”
“I decline to do it.”
Seth Tarbox found that he was checkmated, and was obliged to make a second call upon Miss Stokes and countermand his first notice. But he felt very much dissatisfied, and the next day called on his daughter and laid the matter before her.
“I am not surprised,” said Sophia. “Of course Mrs. Tarbox married you for your money. She expects you will leave her a good slice of your estate.”
“She’ll be disappointed,” said Seth angrily.
319“I don’t know about that. Have you made a will?”
“No; why should I? You don’t expect I’m going to die right off, do you?”
“No; but still, life is uncertain. If you don’t leave a will, the law will give her something.”
“Perhaps I shall live longer than she does.”
“Perhaps so, but she is twenty years younger than you. When she gets your money, she and her boy will have fine times.”
“Can’t that be prevented?” asked Seth.
“There is one way.”
“What is that?”
“I hardly like to tell.”
“Out with it, Sophia!”
“If you should make me a deed of gift of the property—at any rate, of the real estate—she couldn’t do anything.”
“But I don’t want to give the farm away.”
“Oh, it would only be a mere form. Things would go on just the same as before. But it would put a spoke in your wife’s wheel. Of course, pa, you know that I 320wouldn’t take any advantage of what you did. It makes me laugh, though, to think how you would come up with that mercenary woman.”
“Just so,” chuckled Seth. “Well, I’ll think of it.”
“That’s the first step,” reflected Mrs. Bartlett. “Now I know how to work on pa’s feelings, it won’t be long before he’ll adopt my plan.”
From that time Sophia lost no opportunity to enlarge to her father on his wife’s expectations of profiting by his death, till at last she accomplished her purpose. One day she and her father called at a lawyer’s office, and the deed of gift was made out, and Mrs. Bartlett took charge of the document.
“Mrs. Tarbox won’t know anything of this,” she said. “We’ll keep it secret, pa.”
“Yes, we’ll keep it secret.”
“If she knew, you’d find it hard to get as much work out of her.”
“That’s so!” chuckled Seth.
He would not have felt as well pleased had he known what a power he had put into the hands of his daughter.
321We will now reproduce the letter which Grant received from his mother. After expressing the hope that he was in good health, and had something to do, she went on:
I am very unpleasantly situated at present. Grant. A week ago Mr. Tarbox fell from a scaffold in the barn, and broke his leg. His daughter, Mrs. Bartlett, on hearing of it, came to the house with Rodney, and has taken possession of the sick chamber. I am kept out of it, though his wife. I won’t pretend that it hurts my feelings, but I don’t like to be treated as a servant in the house of which I ought to be the mistress. Mrs. Bartlett treats me with very little respect, and I have reason to think that she means to influence Mr. Tarbox to leave all his property to her. This would be a very poor return for all I have done since I married him. As you know, it was chiefly on your account that I did so. If you were doing well, I would not mind so much, but I can hardly hope that a boy like you can earn much among strangers.
Grant showed this letter to Mr. Crosmont.
“Write to your mother,” said the Englishman, “that she need feel no anxiety about you or herself. I will see that neither of you is in want.”
Grant accordingly wrote a letter to his mother that raised her spirits and gave her hope for the future.
“Now,” said Mr. Crosmont on the morning after Grant’s arrival, “I have some work for you to do.”
“I am glad of it, sir,” replied Grant. “I should be homesick if I were idle.”
“I have great faith in the future of San Francisco,” continued the Englishman. “Real estate is sure to make rapid advances, and I am investing in lots all over the city. By the way, you are the owner of two lots on this street.”
“You are very kind, Mr. Crosmont,” said Grant gratefully.
“I mean to be. The lots are of large size, and only cost fifty dollars apiece. I could sell them for double that sum to-day, though I bought them only two months since. How much money have you belonging to Cooper and yourself?”
323“Fifteen hundred dollars.”
“I advise you to invest a thousand in lots, under my direction.”
“You can invest the whole, sir. Tom Cooper has seven hundred dollars left in gold-dust, and that will be all the reserve we need.”
“Very well! For every dollar you invest, I feel sure that you can get five within a comparatively short time.”
“I will be guided by your judgment, sir.”
Grant succeeded in getting twenty lots for his money, half of which were entered in the name of Tom Cooper. When he had in his possession the deeds for all his property he began to feel like a capitalist.
“I wonder what Mr. Tarbox would say if he knew how I was fixed,” thought Grant. “He would want to be my guardian. I shall be glad when I can buy a nice home for my mother away from the whole Tarbox tribe. She works altogether too hard. If things go well she shall have an easier time henceforth.”
Mr. Crosmont opened a real estate office and put Grant in charge. Though he was the responsible 324head, he left the principal work, including the bookkeeping, in the hands of his protégé.
“You must have a regular salary, Grant,” he said. “Now, what shall it be?”
“Anything you like, Mr. Crosmont.”
“That isn’t business-like. The laborer is worthy of his hire.”
“Would ten dollars a week be too much? Then I could pay you my board.”
Mr. Crosmont smiled.
“I see, Grant,” he said, “you have no idea of the value of your services. You will have nothing to pay for board, for I consider your society sufficient compensation. I will, besides that, pay you a fixed salary of one hundred and fifty dollars a month.”
Grant opened his eyes in amazement.
“But, sir, you forget that I am only sixteen.”
“No, I don’t. In London or New York I should be unable to pay you anything like that sum, but here the case is different. Your salary, however, will be small compared with the profits you will realize on your lots.”
“I won’t count my chickens before they are 325hatched, Mr. Crosmont,” said Grant, smiling.
“That is usually the prudent course, but you are sure to gain a good profit on your land investment.”
Of this belief Grant had a very speedy confirmation, for within a week he was waited upon by a gentleman who wished to erect a hotel, on a site a part of which was owned by Grant and the balance by Mr. Crosmont. Mr. Crosmont managed the negotiations, and in the end Grant received two thousand dollars for his two lots.
“I should like to keep that money,” said Grant, “as I may have a use for it at home.”
“Very well. You can let it out on call at three per cent. a month. That won’t pay as well as real estate, but you will have it when you need it.”
A month later Grant received a letter from Tom Cooper. The important part of the communication was the following paragraph:
Somehow it has leaked out, I don’t know how, that our claim is unusually rich, and I have been waited upon by a couple of New York men who have offered me five thousand dollars for it. I think it will be well 326to accept, especially as I am now alone. I have on hand now about twelve hundred dollars in gold-dust, which I mean to take to San Francisco myself. I shall make arrangements to receive the money in a draft on a San Francisco banker, and will pay you your share when we meet. Perhaps I might make more money by retaining the claim, but it is dull work living here alone, though I have a good home with the Crambos. You may expect to see me in a short time.
“I congratulate you, Grant,” said Mr. Crosmont. “You seem to be a favorite of fortune.”
About this time an event occurred which calls for special mention. One evening Grant was walking through Montgomery Street, in the neighborhood of Telegraph Hill, when his attention was called to a young man who was walking in advance of him with unsteady steps. Something in his manner led Grant to think he was in trouble. After some hesitation, he hastened his steps and touched the stranger on the shoulder.
The other turned, and revealed the face of a young man of perhaps twenty-seven. His expression was troubled, almost despairing.
“Can I be of any assistance to you?” asked Grant gently.
327“I have eaten nothing for forty-eight hours,” said the other, in a hopeless tone. “I am without money and without hope.”
“Will you allow me to help you?” repeated Grant.
“You have spoken the first kind words I have listened to for weeks,” said the other. “I should enjoy a cup of coffee and a plate of meat.”
“Come with me, then,” said Grant.
He led the way to a restaurant near by, and ordered a plain but substantial meal. The young man’s face brightened, as a plate of beef-steak and a cup of coffee were placed before him. He ate with avidity and evident appetite.
When the meal was finished, he said: “You seem to be only a boy. What brought you to this city?”
“I was poor and wanted to earn a living.”
“Have you prospects?”
“Beyond my expectations.”
“I, too, came here to earn a living. I had some money with me when I arrived, but it is all gone now. Nothing that I took hold of 328prospered. When you spoke to me I was in despair. I was making up my mind to commit suicide.”
“That would be very foolish—and wicked.”
“Perhaps so, but consider my situation. I had no prospects and no money. I have none now, but somehow when a man has filled his stomach he feels less despondent.”
“I may be able to put something in your way. I came here a poor boy, but I am not poor now.”
“And I—would you be surprised to hear that I am the son of a rich man and the heir of a large estate?”
“Yes,” answered Grant, “I am surprised. You don’t look much like it. In that case I don’t understand why you should be in this condition.”
“I can explain easily. I have been a prodigal son. I have wasted money in folly and dissipation, and alienated my father’s affections.”
“Have you seen or heard from him lately?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know that he is estranged?”
329“It can hardly be otherwise. He is an honorable man, and my conduct has shamed and humiliated him.”
“It is not too late to repent and turn over a new leaf.”
“I fear it is. At any rate, I never expect to be reinstated in my father’s favor.”
“You can at any rate work for an honest living.”
“Yes, I am ready to do that, if the chance is offered me.”
“I am quite sure that you will have the chance. I could give it to you myself, but I have a friend here who is much better able than I.”
“You give me new hope. What is your friend’s name?”
“Giles Crosmont.”
The young man started as if he had been shot. He showed signs of excitement.
“What name did you say?” he asked. “Repeat it.”
“Giles Crosmont.”
“Is he an Englishman?”
“Yes; he has a large estate in Devonshire.”
330“Great Heavens!” exclaimed the young man; “Giles Crosmont is my father.”
“Your father? Come, then, let me lead you to him at once.”
“No, no,” said the young man, hanging back. “He would not receive me.”
“Would not receive you? He is in California for the express purpose of hunting you up.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked the young man eagerly.
“Yes; he told me so himself.”
“That is the best news I have heard for many a day. Take me to him, then, at once.”
The surprise and deep thankfulness of Mr. Crosmont when Grant arrived with his son may be imagined. He held out his arms without a word, and folded the young man in his embrace.
“I am ashamed to come back to you, father,” said young Crosmont, “after the way I have behaved.”
“Let us forget the past, my son,” responded the father. “Let us look forward to a bright future!” Then, turning to Grant, he said: 331“In restoring my son to me, Grant, you have fully paid me for all I have done for you. You have placed me under the deepest obligations.”
“And I, too, look upon you as my guardian angel,” added young Crosmont, as he grasped the boy’s hand in his.
“It was a mere chance,” said Grant modestly.
“Say, rather, it was a providence,” corrected Giles Crosmont reverently.
Tom Cooper reached San Francisco two weeks after his letter. “I stopped at Sacramento to see father,” he said. “I found the old gentleman doing well, and fully persuaded that I had made a mistake in not staying with him. He offered me four dollars a day to work in the shop. When I told him that I owned ten lots in San Francisco, was entitled to two thousand five hundred dollars for my share of the claim, and had considerable loose money besides, you ought to have seen him open his eyes. He was speechless for a minute; then he said: ‘You’re smarter than I thought, Tom. I guess you’d better go your own way, and I will look after the shop. I’m too old to dig for gold, but I am making a good living at my trade.’”
333Tom cashed a check for five thousand dollars, and made over half to Grant.
“There’s some more money due you, Grant,” he said, “from the gold-dust I have brought with me.”
“Keep it all, Tom,” rejoined Grant. “I am rich enough without it, and you deserve some commission for selling the claim.”
Tom objected to this at first, but Grant insisted upon it. Tom took possession of his lots, and sold three on very advantageous terms within a month.
“I think you brought me luck, Grant,” he said. “Till you joined me I was plodding along comfortably, but making little more than I could have done at my trade. But after you and I began to work together in double harness, everything has prospered with me.”
“Not just at first, Tom. You remember our small earnings at Howe’s Gulch.”
“That’s true, but prosperity came afterward. It was your meeting old Mr. Gilbert that set us on our feet.”
“How is he? Did you call on him?”
334“Yes. He is pretty well for him, but what a forlorn life he leads! Do you know he thinks a great deal of you?”
“I thought he did.”
“He inquired particularly after you, and said you were a fine boy.”
“It is well to have one admiring friend,” said Grant, smiling.
“You have many friends who are attached to you,” returned Tom.
“I have certainly received much kindness,” said Grant. “I seem to be appreciated considerably more here than at home.”
“How are things going on at home?”
“Not very well. Mr. Tarbox is sick, and his daughter has installed herself in his chamber, and is not willing that my mother should see him.”
“Does that trouble you?”
“No, for I am able to provide for mother better than her husband. When I go back I shall establish her in a home of her own.”
The very next day Grant received a letter from his mother, the contents of which were most important.
335We reproduce it here:
Dear Grant:
Mr. Tarbox died last week. No one anticipated that his sickness would end fatally, but I attribute it to worry of mind. It appears that his daughter, Mrs. Bartlett, succeeded some time since in inducing him to deed the farm to her. I believe the argument she used was, that should he die, I would claim a good share of it as his widow. The law would no doubt have given me a claim to some portion of it.
Mr. Tarbox had scarcely given away the property than he repented it, and tried to persuade Sophia to give it back. She didn’t exactly refuse, for she knew that he had considerable other property which he could leave her at his death. But she made delays, and raised objections, till he saw that there was no hope of recovering the farm. You know how fond he was of money, and the fact that he had alienated so large a share of his property preyed upon his mind and actually made him sick. Then his daughter came and established herself in his room.
“Give me back the farm, Sophia,” I overheard him say one day. “It’ll be yours some day, but I want to keep it while I live.”
“Wait till you get well, pa,” she answered. “You are too sick to trouble yourself about business now.”
“I shall be sick till I get the farm back,” he answered.
“It’ll be all right. Don’t worry yourself.”
But he continued to worry, and the doctor says he fretted himself to death. It may be uncharitable in me, but I don’t think Sophia grieved very much over her father’s taking away, though she put on a suit of deep black at the funeral.
336Well, the will was read the next day, and all the property outside of the farm goes to Sophia and Rodney. The farm being already hers, of course there is nothing left for me. My friends are very indignant, and Mr Tower, the lawyer, tells me that I have good reason to contest it. I am certainly very poorly paid for all I’ve done in the five years since we were married.
I remained at the farm for a day or two, but I found it so disagreeable, as Mrs. Bartlett evidently wished me out of the way, that I took board temporarily with Mrs. Draper in the village. You know I have some money remaining from what you left with me. Before that is gone I think I can get a chance to act as housekeeper for Mr. John Wilkins, whose wife recently died.
I feel quite lonely, and wish you were at home, but I am afraid you could not get any work that would pay you, and I am glad to hear that you are doing well in California. Write soon to your affectionate mother,
Helen Tarbox.
“Tom, I must go home,” said Grant. “My mother needs me.”
“But, Grant, won’t you come back again?”
“Yes. I have too many interests in San Francisco to keep away. I want to go home and establish my mother comfortably. Then I can return with a cheerful heart.”
“How will you go back—over the plains?”
“No, once is enough for me. I will go to 337New York by steamer, and then take the railroad to Iowa.”
The next day, and before Grant could get ready to start, he received another letter.
This was from Tom Childs, a schoolfellow and intimate friend. Here it is:
Dear Grant:
I got your address from your mother, and I am going to write you a short letter. I wish I could see you, for you were one of my most intimate friends. I hope you are doing well, and so do all the boys wish you well except one. That one is Rodney Bartlett, who is now living here in Woodburn. He and his mother are up at the old farm, and your mother has been turned out. It is a great shame, I think, and so does the whole village. Mr. Tarbox’s death seemed very sudden, but people think he worried to death. Anyhow, Mrs. Bartlett has got the whole property, except a thousand dollars, which were left to Rodney.
You ought to see that boy strut ’round. He ‘feels his oats’ as father says. He’s got a gold watch, a very showy one, and takes it out every five minutes to look at it. You would think he was a millionnaire by the airs he puts on. The other day he asked me: “Do you ever hear from Grant Colburn?”
I answered that I was going to write you.
“He was a great fool to go to California,” said Rodney.
“What was there to stay for here?” I asked. “His mother has been turned out of the house without a cent, and you and your mother have taken everything.”
“That’s perfectly proper,” said Rodney. “We are blood relations to Mr. Tarbox.”
338“And she was his wife,” I told him.
“Oh, well, she had her living for five years,” said Rodney. “She’ll get along well enough. She can hire out in some family. She’s strong enough to work.”
“She’s been treated mighty mean,” I said indignantly.
“Ma offered her twenty-five dollars,” replied Rodney, “but she was too proud to take it. I s’pose she wanted more.”
“Well, it was a pretty mean sum to give your grandfather’s widow,” I remarked.
“My mother understands what’s proper,” said Rodney stiffly. “Have you seen my new watch?”
“Where did you buy it?”
“Ma sent to New York for it. It cost sixty dollars. I guess it’s as good a watch as anybody carries in Woodburn.”
I wish, Grant, you could come home, and bring a better watch. How it would take down the pride of that young snob!
Oh, I mustn’t forget to tell you that Mr. Jones—Abner Jones—is in trouble. It seems that your step-father held a mortgage of a thousand dollars on his farm, and it comes due in two or three months. Mrs. Bartlett threatens to foreclose, and unless he can get some one else to assume the mortgage, I am afraid the farm will be sold for much less than its value. It is worth three thousand dollars, but father says it won’t fetch, at a forced sale, much over two thousand, perhaps only that sum. I pity Mrs. Jones. I was speaking to Arthur Jones yesterday. He feels very bad about it.
But I have written you a long letter. Let me hear from you soon.
Your true friend,
Tom Childs.
339“There’s another reason for going home,” observed Grant, as he folded up the letter. “I shall start by the next steamer.”
“I will expect you back in three months,” said Mr. Crosmont. “While you are away my son will take your place in the office, but I shall miss you very much.”
Grant did not write his mother that he was coming home; he wanted to surprise her. He landed in New York and took the train the same day for Woodburn. He arrived early one morning and went at once to the house where his mother was boarding.
Mrs. Tarbox’s face lighted up with amazement and joy when she saw Grant.
“O Grant, can it really be you!” she exclaimed, as she embraced him.
“I don’t think it is anybody else, mother,” returned Grant, with a smile.
“How you have grown!”
“Yes, mother; I am three inches taller than when I went away.”
“I have good news for you, Grant. Mr. Wilkins has engaged me as housekeeper, with a good salary.”
“How much is he going to pay you?”
341“Three dollars a week.”
“You can’t go, mother. I want you for my housekeeper, and will pay you five dollars a week.”
“I wish you could afford to do it, Grant.”
“I can, mother. As near as I can figure it out, I am worth about eight thousand dollars, and expect to be worth a good deal more within a year.”
“This can’t be possible! How could you—a boy of sixteen—gain so much money?”
“Partly at the mines, partly by speculating in real estate in San Francisco. But I will give you particulars hereafter. Are the Bartletts living at the farm?”
“Yes; but I hear Mrs. Bartlett wants to sell it. She and Rodney want to go to a city to live.”
“And you didn’t get a cent from the estate?”
“No; Mrs. Bartlett offered me twenty-five dollars.”
“Which you very properly refused. No matter! You won’t need to depend on that family for anything. You’ve got a rich son.”
342At this moment a buggy drove into the yard.
“That’s Mr. Wilkins come for me,” said Mrs. Tarbox. “Don’t you think it will be best for me to accept the engagement?”
“No, mother: I shall provide you with a home of your own, and give you enough to keep it up. I will buy back the house that used to be ours when father was alive.”
“O Grant, if you can!”
“I can. I shall be able to buy it for two thousand dollars.”
“It has been offered for eighteen hundred.”
“So much the better.”
Here Mr. Wilkins entered the house. He was a pleasant looking elderly gentleman, with white hair.
“Well, Mrs. Tarbox, are you ready?” he asked.
“I am very sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Wilkins; but my son Grant, who has just returned from California, wants me to have a home of my own.”
“Why, why; so Grant is back—and looking stout and rugged. Have you done well, Grant?”
“Yes, Mr. Wilkins; far better than I expected. 343I am able to provide my mother with a home of her own, and while we appreciate your kind offer, she will be happier and more independent living so.”
“I won’t say a word against it, though I am disappointed. Your father was an old friend of mine, and I would like to have had his widow in my home. But I am pleased with her better prospects.”
“Please don’t mention my plan for her. I want to take some people by surprise.”
“I’ll be mum, Grant.”
“Now, mother, I think I’ll take a walk. I’ll be back soon.”
Out in the street Grant fell in with Tom Childs.
“I am delighted to see you, Grant,” said Tom, grasping his hand. “Have you just arrived?”
“Yes, Tom.”
“Were you lucky?”
Grant smiled, and pulled out an elegant gold watch.
“You wrote me to get a watch that would, beat Rodney’s. Here it is!”
344“What a beauty! What did you pay for it?”
“I bought it at Tiffany’s for one hundred and twenty-five dollars.”
Tom opened wide his eyes in amazement.
“A hundred and twenty-five dollars!” he ejaculated. “Then you must be rich!”
“I’ve got a little money.”
“As much as a thousand dollars?”
“A good deal more.”
“Then you’ve beaten Rodney both in money and a watch. I am awfully glad.”
“What news is there, Tom?”
“Some bad news. You know, I told you about Abner Jones and the mortgage on his farm. It comes due in three days, and Mrs. Bartlett is going to foreclose and take possession of the farm.”
“What’s the amount of the mortgage?”
“A thousand dollars.”
“Then she won’t do it! I’ll advance the money and assume the mortgage myself.”
“Bully for you, Grant! Here’s Mr. Jones himself coming. Tell him, and put him out of his anxiety.”
345Abner Jones approached with downcast eyes and sad face. He saw no way of saving the farm, and it would doubtless be sold far below its value. When he saw Grant his face brightened, for he had always liked the boy.
“Welcome home, Grant!” he said heartily. “When did you come?”
“I have just arrived.”
“Did you do well?”
“Finely. How is it with you?”
“I am about to lose my home, Grant,” he said sadly. “There’s a mortgage on it, held by Mrs. Bartlett, that I can’t pay.”
“And won’t she extend it?”
“No; she wants to get possession of it.”
“Can’t you get anybody to advance the money?”
“No; we have no capitalist in Woodburn that can command that sum in ready money.”
“You forget me, Mr. Jones.”
“What do you mean, Grant?” asked the farmer quickly.
“I mean that I will advance the money, Mr. Jones.”
346“It isn’t possible that you’ve got so much as that, Grant?”
“I assure you that it is.”
“But you’ll straiten yourself.”
“No; I have brought double that sum with me, and have more in California.”
“Then I am saved! You have made me very happy, Grant.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Jones. I am making a business investment.”
A few minutes later Grant met Rodney Bartlett walking with a slow dignified step, swinging a light bamboo cane.
“Good-morning, Rodney!” he said, touching his hat with a smile.
“What! have you come back, Grant Colburn?” cried Rodney, in surprise.
“Yes, I arrived this morning.”
“Grandpa’s dead, and ma and I have got the property.”
“So I hear.”
“I suppose you hurried home to see if you couldn’t get some of it,” sneered Rodney.
“I think my mother could get a share if she went to law.”
347“That’s where you are mistaken. You have come on a fool’s errand.”
“That isn’t what brought me.”
“If you want a place, perhaps ma will have you for a farm boy.”
Grant smiled.
“As she has you, I don’t think she will need me,” he said.
“Do you think I would soil my hands by farm work? I am a gentleman.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“What do you say to that watch?” and Rodney complacently produced his gold chronometer.
“It is a fair watch,” said Grant, examining it.
“I should say it was! It cost sixty dollars.”
“Suppose you look at mine;” and Grant produced his. Rodney had not noticed that he had one.
Rodney looked paralyzed, for he saw that it was a much finer one than his.
“Is it oroide?” he gasped.
Grant laughed.
348“It was bought at Tiffany’s, and Tiffany doesn’t sell oroide watches.”
“How much did it cost?”
“A hundred and twenty-five dollars.”
“I don’t believe it!” said Rodney sharply.
“I can show you Tiffany’s receipt,” he said, and he drew a paper from his pocket.
“And you spent all your money for that watch?” ejaculated Rodney.
“No; I have more left.”
Rodney walked away abruptly. All his pride in his watch had gone. He hurried back to the farm, and told his mother the astounding news.
“Ma,” he said, “you must buy me a nicer watch. I don’t want that farm boy to beat me.”
Mrs. Bartlett would not at first believe that Rodney’s story was correct. When convinced, she would not accede to her son s request.
“A sixty-dollar watch is good enough for a boy of your age,” she said. “Grant Colburn will come to the poorhouse if he spends money like that. If pa were living he could claim the guardianship of the boy and take care of 349his money. Do you know how much he has got?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“It isn’t likely he has as much as you. I hear his mother is going to be housekeeper for Mr. Wilkins.”
But later in the day Mrs. Bartlett learned that this was a mistake. She was very much worried about Grant’s plans, and anxious to learn how much money he had.
Meanwhile Grant called on the proprietor of their old home and bought it for eighteen hundred dollars, only paying five hundred down, for he could get much better interest for his money in San Francisco, and could well afford to pay six per cent, interest on the balance. He bought the house just as it stood—furniture and all—as his mother had originally sold it. If the price of the property seems small, it must be remembered that Woodburn was a country village.
There was another surprise in store for the Bartletts.
On the day when the mortgage on the Jones 350place came due, Mrs. Bartlett, accompanied by her lawyer, called at the farm.
“Mr. Jones,” she said, “I have come to foreclose the mortgage on your place.”
“You can’t do it, Mrs. Bartlett,” replied the farmer.
Mrs. Bartlett closed her thin lips firmly, and her cold gray eyes rested on the farmer’s face.
“Why can’t I do it, Mr. Jones?” she asked, in an acid tone.
“Because I am going to pay it.”
“But you can’t do it!” she exclaimed, in dismay.
“Here is the money, ma’am. You’ll find it correct. Now, I’ll thank you to cancel the mortgage, Mr. Lawyer.”
“Have I got to take the money?” asked Sophia Bartlett.
“Certainly,” said the lawyer.
“Where did you get it? I didn’t know you had any,” she asked sharply.
“I am not obliged to tell; but I will do so to satisfy you. The money is kindly advanced by Grant Colburn.”
351“That boy!” ejaculated Mrs. Bartlett furiously.
“Yes; he has been to me a friend in need.”
If evil wishes could have blighted him, Grant would have stood in great danger, for he had disappointed Sophia Bartlett in her cherished desire.
“It beats all how that boy has got on!” she muttered. “I wish he had never been to California.”
Prosperity makes friends. Though Rodney liked Grant no better he made friendly overtures to him now that he looked upon him as rich, but Grant, though polite, was cold. He understood the value of such friendship.
Now for a few concluding words. Grant returned to California. Eventually he intends to take his mother out there, for his business interests are growing more extensive, and in five years he will be a rich man. Mrs. Bartlett has sold her farm and gone to Chicago, but her pecuniary ventures have not been successful, and Rodney is by no means a dutiful son. He is growing extravagant, and is always calling 352upon his mother for money, while he shows no willingness to work. The whole family is likely to end in poverty.
Giles Crosmont has returned to England with his son, leaving his California property in charge of Grant. He has invited Grant and his mother to visit him at his home in Devonshire, and, some summer, the invitation will probably be accepted. Tom Cooper has established himself in San Francisco, but his father and mother have returned with a competence to their home in Iowa.
“It was a lucky day, mother,” said Grant one day, “when I came to California to dig for gold.”
“Many came out here and failed,” returned his mother; “but you had good habits and the qualities that insure success.”
The End