HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1922-12-08, Page 7A Novel Of Which He4
Is Not the 'Hero.
Bs
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MCLEOD & ALLEN
(Continued from Oast Week,)
The packing up of their own hou¢er
hold impedimenta complete, there
came a few days of leisure, -•=the fixet
breathing sp,ell that either, MacFar-
lane or Jack, or Rttth, too, for that
matter, had had for weeks. MacFar-
lane, In view; of the coming winter,—
a long -and ardoua one, took advan-
tage of the interim and went south,
to'hie club, for a few days' shooting
--a rare luxury for him of late years.
,Jack made up his mind to devote
every one of his spare hours to get-
ting better acquainted with Ruth, and
that young woman, not wishing to be
considered either neglectful or selfish,
determined to saerifle every hour of
the day and as much of the night as
was proper and possible to getting
better acquainted with Jack, and the
two had a royal time in the doing.
Jack, too, had another feeling about
ti all. It seemed to him that he had
a debt of gratitude--,the'rasping world
had long since lost its edge—to dis-
charge; and that he 'owed her every
leisure hour he could steal' from his
work. He had spent days and nights
in the service of his friends, and had,,,
besides, laid the burden of their anx-
ieties upon her. He would pay her in
return twice as many days of glad-
ness to make up for the pain she had
so cheerfully borne. What could he
do to thank her?—how discharge the
obligation? Every hour he weeel4 tell
her, and in different ways.—by his
tenderness, by his obedience to her
slightest wish, anticipating her every
want—how much he appreciated her
unselfishness, and how much better,
if that were possible, he loved her
for her sacrifice. Nor was there.
when the day came, any limit to his
devotion or to her enjoyment. There
were rides over the hills in the soft
September mornings—Indian summer
in its most dreamy and summery
state; there were theatre parties of
the, third row in the balcony, where it
was cheaper, and where, too, they
woudn't have to speak to anybody
else. There were teas in Washing-
ton Square, where nobody but them-
selves and their hostess were present,
as well as other unexpected outings,
in which all the rest of the worliI was
forgotten.
The house, too, was all their own.
Nobody upstairs; nobody downstairs
Nit the servants; even the emptiness
of daddy's room, so grewsome in the
old days, brought a certain feeling of
delight. "Just you and me," as..hey
said a dozen times a day to each oth-
er. And then the long talks on that
blessed old sofa with its cushions—
(what a wonderful old sofa it was,
and how much it had heard); talks
about when she was a girl --as if she
had ever passed the age; and when he
was a boy; and of what they both "
thought and did in that blissful state
of innocence and inexperience. Talks
about the bungalow which Garry had
toppled over—and how it would he
furnished; and whether they could
not persuade the landlord to sell
them the dear sofa and move it out
there bodily; talks about their life
during the coming winter, and Wheth-
er she should visit Aunt Felicia's—.
and if so, whether Jack would come
too; and if she didn't, wouldn't it
be just as well for Jack to have some
place in ,Morfordsburg where lie could
find a bed in case he got storm -bound
and couldn't get back to the cabin
that same night. All kinds and con-
ditions and sorts of talks that only
two lovers enjoy, and for which only
two lovers can find the material.
Sometimes she thought he might be
too lonely and neglected at the log -
cabin. Then she would make believe
she was going to ask daddy to let
them be married.right away, insist-
ing that two rooms 'were enough for
chi
e illi!
cookig, ak:'
inoverht e joy
i min i
wouldw.par attic
arms would b bend
knowing all a time
no more have allowed her.,;
one of these things._. than
have permitted her to ,chop'
e''s wood.
Moat of these day dreams, plots,.
and imaginings were duly :reported
by letter to Miss Belida to see What
she thought of them all. For the
dear lady's opposition had long since
broken down. In these letters Ruth
poured out 'her_ heart as she did to
no ons' except Jack; each missive in
terspersed with asides. as to how dear
Jack was, and how considerate, and
how it woulif not be '"very long time
before she would soon get the other
half of the dear lady's laces, now
that daddy and Jack (,the boy had
been given an interest in the busi-
ness.) were going to make lots of
money -on the new work—to all of
which Miss Felicia replied that love
in a garret was what might be ex-
pected of fools, but that love in a
log cabin could only be practiced by
lunatics.
It was toward the close of this
pre-honey-moon—it lasted- only ten
days, but it was full moon every hour
and no cloiids—when, early one morn-
ing—before nine o'clock, really—a
night message was handed to Jack.
It had been sent to the brick office,
but the telegraph boy, finding •that
building closed and abandoned, . had
delivered it to Mrs. Hicks, who, dis-
covering it to be `sealed, forwarded it
at once, and by the same hand,. to
the MacFarlane house, ..known now to
everybody as the temporary headquar-
ters,_especially in the day ti fiT of
the young superintendent - who was
going to marry the daughter—"and
there ain't a nicer, nor a better, bar
a prettier."
On this morning, then, the two had
planned a day in the woods back of
the hills; Ruth's mare was to be
hooked up to a hired buggy, and such
comforts as a bucket of ice, lettuce
sandwiches thin as wafers, a cold
chicken, a spirit lamp, teapot, and
cups and saucers, not to mention a
big shawl for my sweetheart to sit
off, and another smaller one for her
lovely shoulders when the cool of the
evening came on, were to be stowed
away under the seat.
"That telegram is from Aunt
Felicia, I know," said Ruth. "She
has set her heart on my coming up
'to Geneseo, but I cannot go, Jack. 1
don't want -to be a minute away from
you."
Jack had now broken the seal and
was scanning the contents. Instant-
ly his face grew grave.
"No—it's not from Aunt Felicia,"
he said in a thoughtful tone, his eyes
studying the despatch. "I don't know
whom it's from; it is signed T. Bal-
lantree; I never heard of him before.
He wants me to meet him at the As-
tor House to -day at eleven o'clock.
Some business of your father's, I ex-
pect—see, it's dated Morfordsburg.
Too bad, isn't it, blessed—but I must
go. Here, boy"—this to the messen-
ger, who was moving out of the door
—"stop at the livery stable as you
go by and tell them I won't want the
horse and wagon, that I'm going to
New York. All in a life -time, my
blessed—hut I'm dreadfully sorry."
"And you must go? Isn't it mean,
Jack—and it's such a lovely day."
"Yes—but it can't be helped. What
are you going to do with the sand-
wiches and chicken and things? And
you had so much trouble making
tthent. Andy
'ou"will be lonelytoo."
"Why, I shall keep then, till you
come back, and we'll have a lovely
feast at home," she said with alight
laugh in her effort to hide her feel-
ings. "Oh, no, I shan't be lonely.
You won't he gone long, Jack, will
you, dear?"
"I hope not." His' mind must no
longer rest on the outing. There
was work to do fbr Ruth as well as
himself. His play time had come to
a sudden end; the hell had rung and
recess was oyez. He looked at his
Watch; there was just time to catch
the train.
She followed him to the door and
kissed her hand as he swu g down
the path and through the te, and
watched him until he had di ppear-
ed behind the long wall of t e fac-
tory; then she went in, put a ay the
sandwiches and chicken, and t e tea-
pot and the cups and saucers, and
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Yes; the day was, spoiled,' she- said
to herself --port of it anyway but
the night *would cooQme, and with it
Jack would burst'in,with news of all
he had seen and done, and they would
each have an end,-Wf the'table; their
last dinner in tha old home, Where
everything on which her eyes rested
revived 'Some -Memory of their happi-
ness, but then there 'would be other
outings at Morfordsburg, and so what
mattered one day when thdre were so
many left? And with this thought
her tears dried up and she began to
sing again as she Mailed herself about
the house—bursting into a refrain
from one of the operas she loved, or
crooning some of the old-tim'e melo-
dies which her black 'tnammy had
taught her when a child.
But now for Jack and what the day
held for him of wonders and surpris-
es.
Some pessimistic 'Wiseacre has said
that all the dire and dreadful things
in life drop out of a clear sky; that
it is the unexpected which is to be
feared, and that the unknown bridges
are the ones in which dangers lurk
and where calamity is to be feared.
The optimistic Scribe bites his de-
risive thumb at such ominous proph-
ecies. Once in a while some rain does
fall, and now and then a roar of
thunder, or sharp slash of sleet will
split the air during our journey
through life, but the blue is always
above, and the -clouds but drifting
ships that pass and are gone. In
and through them all the warm,
cheery sun fights on for joyous light
and happy endings, and almost always
wins.
This time the unexpected took
shape in the person of T. Ballantree,
from Morfordsburg—a plain, direct,
straight -to -the -point kind of a man,
whom Jack found in the corridor of
the Astor House with his eyes on the
clock.
"You are very prompt, Mr. Breen" I
he said in clear-cut tones, "so am I.
What .1 wanted to see you about is
just this: You own some ore prop-
erty three miles east of the Maryland
Mining Company's lay -out. Am I
right?"
"Yes, you are right," answered
Jack with a comprehensive glance
which began at the speaker's black
derby hat, traversed his suit of store
clothes, and ended in a pair of boots
which still showed some traces of
yellow clay, as if their wearer had
been prospecting the day before.
"Are there any encumbrances on
the property—any mortgages or liens
not yet recorded? I don't mean tax-
es; I find they have been paid," con-
tinued Ballantree.
Jack shifted his seat so he could
get -a better view of the speaker's
face, and said in answer:
"Why do you ask?"
"Because," said the man with en-
tire frankness, "we understand that
the Maryland Mining Company have
an option on it. If that is so, I'll stop
where I am. We don't care to buck
up against Breen & Co."
"No," answered Jack, now convinc-
ed of the man's sincerity; "no—it's
free and clear except for a loan of
ten thousand dollars held by a friend,
which can he paid off at any time."
Ballantree ducked his head in token
of his satisfaction over the state-
ment and asked another question—
this time with his eyes straight on
Jack.
"Is it for sale—now—for money?"
It was Jack's turn to focus his gaze.
This was the first time any one had
asked that question in the memory of
the oldest inhabitant.
"Well, that depends on what it is
wanted for, Mr. Ballantree," laughed
Jack. He had already begun to like
the man. "And perhaps, too, on who
wants it, Is it for speculation?"
Ballantree laughed in return. "No
—not a square foot of it. I ant the
general manager of the Guthrie Steel
Company with head -quarters here in
New York. We have been looking
for mineral up in that section of the
State, and struck yours. I might as
well tell you that I made the borings
myself."
"Are you an expert?" asked Jack.
The way people searched his title,
examined his tax receipts and rammed
hypodermics into his property with-
out permission was, to say the least,
amusing.
"Been at it thirty years," replied
Ballantree in a tone that settled all
doubt on the subject.
"It is a low-grade ore, you know,"
explained Jack, feeling bound to ex-
press his own doubts of its value,
"No, it's a high-grade ore," return-
ed Ballantree with some positiveness;
"that is, it was when we got down
into it. But I'm not here to talk
about percentage—that may cone in
later. I came to save Mr. Guthrie's
time. I was to bring you down to
see him if you wore the man and
everything was clean, and if you'll go
—and i wouldn't, advise you to stay
away--i'll meet you at his office at
twelve o'clock sharp; there's his card.
ll. isn't more than four blocks from
here."
,Tack Ioek the card, looked on both
sides of it, tucked it in his inside poc-
ket, and said he would cone, with
pleasure. Ballantree nodded con-
tentedly, pulled a cigar from his up-
per breast pocket, hit off one end, slid
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open . There elle a! I alit
of l ort►lthtia chat o ne'-near`dl
ing, the ostrich,'egg.* two, ad
was the audio that overspread" Peter's
faca: W
"Vt—.really' You, don't Say- so!
Telegraphed you? Who?"
"A; Mr. Ballantree," panted Jack.`
"I have just, left him at, the Astor
.House."
"I never heard of him. took out
-my . boy—don't sign anything until
yoµ—„
"Oh, he is- only the generat
ral: an
ager. It's a Mr. Gut Robert A.
Guthrie—Who wants it, a sent Mr.
Ballantree."
"Robert Guthrie! The banker!
That's our director; that's the man I
told you of. I gave him your ad-
dress. Go and see him by all means
and tell him everything. Talk just
as you would to me. One,of the best
men in the Street, Not a crooked
hair on his head, Jack.. Well—well—
this does look like business."
• "Pardon me, sir, one minute, if you
please—" interpolated Peter to an in-
sistent depositor whom Jack and his
impatience had crowded out. "Now
your book—thank you -r— And Jack?
—this over the hat of the depositor,
his face a marvel of delight—"come
to my rooms -at four—wait for me—
I'll be there."
Out again and around the
anything to kill time until the precio
hour should arrive. Lord!—how
minutes dragged. The hands of the
old clock of Trinity spire must be
stuck together. Any other day it
would take him at least. half an hour
to walk up Wall Street, down Broad-
way to the Battery and back again—
now ten minutes was enough. Would
the minute hand •never climb up the
face to the hour hand and the two
get together at twelve, and so end his
impatience. He wished now he had
telegraphed to Ruth not to expect him
until the late afternoon train. He
thought he would do it now. Then
he changed his mind. No; it would
be better to await the result of his
interview. Yet still the clock drag-
ged on, and still he waited for the
magic hour. Ten minutes to twelve
—five—then twelve precisely—but by+
this time he was closeted inside Mr.
Guthrie's private office.
Peter also found the hours drag-
ging. What could it all mean? he
kept asking himself as he handed
back the books through his window,
his eyes wandering up,, to the old-
fashioned clock. Robert Guthrie the
banker—a real banker—had sent for
the boy—Guthrie, who never made a
too hurried move. Could it be pos-
sible that good fortune was coming
to Jack?—that he and Ruth—thati.
Ah, old fellow, you nearly made a
mistake with the amount of that
check! No—there was no use in sup-
posing. He would just wait for
,Jack's story.
When he reached home he was still
in the same overwrought, anxious
state—hoping against hope. When
would the boy come? he asked him-
self a hundred times as he fussed
about his room, nipping off the dead
leaves from his geraniums, drawing
the red curtains hack; opening and
shutting the hooks, only to throw
himself into his chair at last. Should
he smoke until, four?—should he read.
What a fool
he was making of him-
self! It was astonishing that one of
his age should: be so excited over a
mere business proposition—really not
a proposition at all, when he came
to think of it—just an ordinary ques-
tion asked. He must compose him-
self. It was quite absurd for him to
go on this way. But would the boy
never conte? It was four o'clock
now—or would be in ten minutes,
and—and—
Yes!
He sprang toward the door and
caught the young fellow in his arms.
"Oh! such good news! Mr. Guthrie's
bought the property!" roared .Jack.
IIc had made one long spring from
the sidewalk up three flights of steps
to the old-fashioned door, but he still
had breath to gasp the glad tidings.
"Bought!—Who?—Not Guthrie!"
"Yes—I am to sign the papers to-
morrow. Oh!—Uncle Peter, I am
half crazy with delight!"
"Hurrah," shouted Peter. "Hurrah,
I say! This is good news! Well!—
Well!" He was still bending over
him, his eyes blinking in his joy, scur-
ries of irradiating smiles chasing each
other over his face. Never had the
old gentleman been in such a state.
"And how much, Jack?"
"Guess."
"Will there be enough to pity Isaac's
ten thousand?"
"More!" .Tack was nearly burst-
ing, but he still held in.
"Twenty thousand?" This came
timidly, fearing that it was too much
and yet hoping that it might he true.
"More!" The strain on .Tack was
getting dangerous.
"Twenty-five thousand?" Peter's
voice now showed that he was con-
vinced that this sum was too small.
"More! Go on, Uncle Peter! Go
on!"
"Thirty-five thousand, Jack?" It
was getting hot; certainly this was
the limit. Was there ever such
luck ?
•"Yes!—and five thousand more!
Forty thousand dollars and one-fifth
interest in the output! Just think
what Ruth will say. I've just sent
her a telegram. Ohl—what a home-
coming!"
And then, with Peter drawn up
beside him, his face radiant and his
eyes sparkling with joy, he !Aired
out the story of the morning. How
he had begun by telling Mr, Guthrie
of his own and Mr. MacFarlane's
opinion of the property, as he did not
'want to sell anything he himself con-
sidered worthless. How he had told
him frankly what Peter had said of
his—Mr. Guthrie's = fairrIess and
honesty; how lie was; at work �or
his prospective father h -law, `the
distinguiehod 'engineer of wheat `M'.
Guthrie had no doubt heard—at whic
the gentleman nodded. HOW ';,this
property had been given hire by' his
father, and ,was ` all he ,had in ,the'
world except what he could
earn;
how he already owed too -thousand
dollars and had pledged,thd property
as part payment and how, in view'
of these facts, fie. would take any
sum over ten thousand dollars that
Mr. Guthrie would . give him, provid-
ed Mr. Guthrie thought it was worth
that much.
"But I am buying, not selling, your
land, young man," , the banker had
said. "I know. it, sir, and I am will-
ing tokeyour own figures,"
replied—at ch Mr. Guthie had
laughed in a kindly way, and had
then called in Mr. Ballantree and
another man; how the three had then
talked in a corner, and how he had
heard Mr. Guthrie say, "No, that is
not fair—add another five thousand
and increase the interest to one-fifth";
whereupon the two men went out and
came back later with a letter in dupli-
cate, one of which Mr. Guthrie had
signed, and the other which he, Jack,
signed—and here was Mr. Guthrie's
letter to prove it. With this Jack
took out the document and laid it
before Peter's delighted eyes; adding
that the deeds and Isaac's release
were to be signed in the morning,
and that Mr. Guthrie had sent a
special message by him to the effect
that he very much wished Mr. Gray-
son would also be present when the
final transfers would be signed and
the money paid.
Whereupon the Scribe again main-
' cloudtl'I
and, tha+
were as•
Jack Arse
as honest
real banker, rho'
and the millea nit
doors.
Peter had drank
the story, bowing rids
out his fingers, or irjrd!
his customary "Well, Wall
someparticular detail"seem
towrd the final success
And then, the story over,:
came the part that Peter nevi
got; that he has told -'a 4104)
and always with the same tr.
tear under the eyelids,`+and the,
quivering of his lower lip/, - •
Jack had `drawn his chair ''nail
the old gentleman, and had.
one arm over the shoulder of
dearest friend in the world.
was a moment's silence as they at;'
there, and then Jack began. "There
is something I want you to do for .,
me, Uncle Peter,",he said, drawing
his arm closer till his own fesh chisek
almost touched the bead .-pf theolder
man. "Please, don't refuse."
(Continued next week,)
s2A3'w4(44,
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"Would Wake Up Screaming"
"The Least Sudden Noise or Loud Talking .
Would Startle Him."
"Up to the age of eight, my boy was
e strong, healthy lad, full of life and
energy. While playing leap frog one
day with some boys of his own age,
and, while in a stooped position, a
big boy jumped on his back and in
falling my boy caught his toot in an
iron grating and dislocated his hip.
The pain was so great that lie fainted
and the other boys were so frightened
they ran away, For hours he suffered
terrible pain and when found and
brought home was very weak, with
his thigh and leg swollen twice its
size. The doctor set the bone but the
pain and exposure were too ranch for
the poor boy and he became uncon-
scious. A high fever set in and for
weeks he lay between life and death
raving for hours at a stretch. One
day he opened his eyes and murmur -
red 'Mother,' but this is the only word
he could utter he was so weak, but I
knew the worst was over. He got
stronger but for months was in a
nervous condition. The least sudden
noise or loud talking would startle
him and he would begin trembling.
He was quite lame and the swelling
still remained. The doctor gave him'
a tonic and told me to rub the leg with
olive oil. This reduced the swelling
and took away the lameness, tint the
nervousness remained. The poor
child would waken in the night
screaming at the top of his voice.
The doctor gave him several different
tonics but they were no use. I found
a circular about Carnol and it seemed
so different from other tonics I had
heard of, that I thought I would get
a bottle. Three bottles were all that
was needed to make my boy like his
own self again. It is hard toconvince
my friends that the change in him
now is entirely due to Carnol. Of
course I still have to watch him and
give him Carnol occasionally but I
know that he will soon be as strong
again as ever he was."
Mrs. P., Montreal.
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