CHAPTER IX
"DEAR COUSIN STANLEY"
It was very early in November that Mr. Smith, coming home oneafternoon, became instantly aware that something very extraordinary hadhappened.
In the living-room were gathered Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his wife, Jane,and their daughter, Mellicent. Mellicent's cheeks were pink, and hereyes more star-like than ever. Mrs. Jane's cheeks, too, were pink. Hereyes were excited, but incredulous. Mr. Frank was still in his whitework-coat, which he wore behind the counter, but which he never woreupstairs in his home. He held an open letter in his hand.
It was an ecstatic cry from Mellicent that came first to Mr. Smith'sears.
"Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you can't guess what's happened! Youcouldn't guess in a million years!"
"No? Something nice, I hope." Mr. Smith was looking almost as happilyexcited as Mellicent herself.
"Nice--NICE!" Mellicent clasped her hands before her. "Why, Mr. Smith,we are going to have a hundred thousand--"
"Mellicent, I wouldn't talk of it--yet," interfered her mother sharply.
"But, mother, it's no secret. It can't be kept secret!"
"Of course not--if it's true. But it isn't true," retorted the woman,with excited emphasis. "No man in his senses would do such a thing."
"Er--ah--w-what?" stammered Mr. Smith, looking suddenly a little lesshappy.
"Leave a hundred thousand dollars apiece to three distant relations henever saw."
"But he was our cousin--you said he was our cousin," interposedMellicent, "and when he died--"
"The letter did not say he had died," corrected her mother. "He justhasn't been heard from. But he will be heard from--and then where willour hundred thousand dollars be?"
"But the lawyer's coming to give it to us," maintained Mr. Frankstoutly. Then abruptly he turned to Mr. Smith. "Here, read this,please, and tell us if we have lost our senses--or if somebody elsehas."
Mr. Smith took the letter. A close observer might have noticed that hishand shook a little. The letterhead carried the name of a Chicago lawfirm, but Mr. Smith did not glance at that. He plunged at once into thetext of the letter.
"Aloud, please, Mr. Smith. I want to hear it again," pleaded Mellicent.
DEAR SIR (read Mr. Smith then, after clearing his throat),--Iunderstand that you are a distant kinsman of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, theChicago millionaire.
Some six months ago Mr. Fulton left this city on what was reported tobe a somewhat extended exploring tour of South America. Before hisdeparture he transferred to me, as trustee, certain securities worthabout $300,000. He left with me a sealed envelope, entitled "Terms ofTrust," and instructed me to open such envelope in six months from thedate written thereon--if he had not returned--and thereupon to disposeof the securities according to the terms of the trust. I will add thathe also left with me a second sealed envelope entitled "Last Will andTestament," but instructed me not to open such envelope until two yearsfrom the date written thereon.
The period of six months has now expired. I have opened the envelopeentitled "Terms of Trust," and find that I am directed to convert thesecurities into cash with all convenient speed, and forthwith to payover one third of the net proceeds to his kinsman, Frank G. Blaisdell;one third to his kinsman, James A. Blaisdell; and one third to hiskinswoman, Flora B. Blaisdell, all of Hillerton.
I shall, of course, discharge my duty as trustee under this instrumentwith all possible promptness. Some of the securities have already beenconverted into cash, and within a few days I shall come to Hillerton topay over the cash in the form of certified checks; and I shall ask youat that time to be so good as to sign a receipt for your share.Meanwhile this letter is to apprise you of your good fortune and tooffer you my congratulations.
Very truly yours,
EDWARD D. NORTON.
"Oh-h!" breathed Mellicent.
"Well, what do you think of it?" demanded Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his armsakimbo.
"Why, it's fine, of course. I congratulate you," cried Mr. Smith,handing back the letter.
"Then it's all straight, you think?"
"Most assuredly!"
"Je-hos-a-phat!" exploded the man.
"But he'll come back--you see if he don't!" Mrs. Jane's voice was stillpositive.
"What if he does? You'll still have your hundred thousand," smiled Mr.Smith.
"He won't take it back?"
"Of course not! I doubt if he could, if he wanted to."
"And we're really going to have a whole hundred thousand dollars?"breathed Mellicent.
"I reckon you are--less the inheritance tax, perhaps.
"What's that? What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Jane. "Do you mean we'vegot to PAY because we've got that money?"
"Why, y-yes, I suppose so. Isn't there an inheritance tax in thisState?"
"How much does it cost?" Mrs. Jane's lips were at their most economicalpucker. "Do we have to pay a GREAT deal? Isn't there any way to savedoing that?"
"No, there isn't," cut in her husband crisply. "And I guess we can paythe inheritance tax--with a hundred thousand to pay it out of. We'regoing to SPEND some of this money, Jane."
The telephone bell in the hall jangled its peremptory summons, and Mr.Frank answered it. In a minute he returned, a new excitement on hisface.
"It's Hattie. She's crazy, of course. They're coming right over."
"Oh, yes! And they've got it, too, haven't they?" remembered Mellicent."And Aunt Flora, and--" She stopped suddenly, a growing dismay in hereyes. "Why, he didn't--he didn't leave a cent to AUNT MAGGIE!" shecried.
"Gosh! that's so. Say, now, that's too bad!" There was genuine concernin Frank Blaisdell's voice.
"But why?" almost wept Mellicent.
Her mother sighed sympathetically.
"Poor Maggie! How she is left out--always!"
"But we can give her some of ours, mother,--we can give her some ofours," urged the girl.
"It isn't ours to give--yet," remarked her mother, a bit coldly.
"But, mother, you WILL do it," importuned Mellicent. "You've alwayssaid you would, if you had it to give."
"And I say it again, Mellicent. I shall never see her suffer, you maybe sure,--if I have the money to relieve her. But--" She stoppedabruptly at the sound of an excited voice down the hall. Miss Flora,evidently coming in through the kitchen, was hurrying toward them.
"Jane--Mellicent--where are you? Isn't anybody here? Mercy me!" shepanted, as she reached the room and sank into a chair. "Did you everhear anything like it in all your life? You had one, too, didn't you?"she cried, her eyes falling on the letter in her brother's hand. "But'tain't true, of course!"
Miss Flora wore no head-covering. She wore one glove (wrong side out),and was carrying the other one. Her dress, evidently donned hastily forthe street, was unevenly fastened, showing the topmost button without abuttonhole.
"Mr. Smith says it's true," triumphed Mellicent.
"How does he know? Who told him 'twas true?" demanded Miss Flora.
So almost accusing was the look in her eyes that Mr. Smith actuallyblinked a little. He grew visibly confused.
"Why--er--ah--the letter speaks for itself Miss Flora," he stammered.
"But it CAN'T be true," reiterated Miss Flora. "The idea of a man Inever saw giving me a hundred thousand dollars like that!--and Frankand Jim, too!"
"But he's your cousin--you said he was your cousin," Mr. Smith remindedher. "And you have his picture in your album. You showed it to me."
"I know it. But, my sakes! I didn't know HE knew I was his cousin. Idon't s'pose he's got MY picture in HIS album! But how did he knowabout us? It's some other Flora Blaisdell, I tell you."
"There, I never thought of that," cried Jane. "It probably is someother Blaisdells. Well, anyhow, if it is, we won't have to pay thatinheritance tax. We can save that much."
"Save! Well, what do we lose?" demanded her husband apoplectically.
At this moment the rattling of the front-door knob and an imperativeknocking brought M
rs. Jane to her feet.
"There's Hattie, now, and that door's locked," she cried, hurrying intothe hall.
When she returned a moment later Harriet Blaisdell and Bessie were withher.
There was about Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell a new, indescribable air ofcommanding importance. To Mr. Smith she appeared to have grown inchestaller.
"Well, I do hope, Jane, NOW you'll live in a decent place," she wassaying, as they entered the room, "and not oblige your friends to climbup over a grocery store."
"Well, I guess you can stand the grocery store a few more days, Hattie,"observed Frank Blaisdell dryly. "How long do you s'pose we'd live--anyof us--if 'twa'n't for the grocery stores to feed us? Where's Jim?"
"Isn't he here? I told him I was coming here, and to come right overhimself at once; that the very first thing we must have was a familyconclave, just ourselves, you know, so as to plan what to give out tothe public."
"Er--ah--" Mr. Smith was on his feet, looking somewhat embarrassed;"perhaps, then, you would rather I were not present at the--er--familyconclave."
"Nonsense!" shouted Frank Blaisdell.
"Why, you ARE one of the family, 'seems so," cried Mellicent.
"No, indeed, Mr. Smith, don't go," smiled Mrs. Hattie pleasantly."Besides, you are interested in what concerns us, I know--for the book;so, of course, you'll be interested in this legacy of dear CousinStanley's."
Mr. Smith collapsed suddenly behind his handkerchief, with one of thechoking coughs to which he appeared to be somewhat addicted.
"Ain't you getting a little familiar with 'dear Cousin Stanley,'Hattie?" drawled Frank Blaisdell.
Miss Flora leaned forward earnestly.
"But, Hattie, we were just sayin', 'fore you came, that it couldn't betrue; that it must mean some other Blaisdells somewhere."
"Absurd!" scoffed Harriet. "There couldn't be any other Frank and Jimand Flora Blaisdell, in a Hillerton, too. Besides, Jim said over thetelephone that that was one of the best law firms in Chicago. Don't yousuppose they know what they're talking about? I'm sure, I think it'squite the expected thing that he should leave his money to his ownpeople. Come, don't let's waste any more time over that. What we've gotto decide is what to DO. First, of course, we must order expensivemourning all around."
"Mourning!" ejaculated an amazed chorus.
"Oh, great Scott!" spluttered Mr. Smith, growing suddenly very red. "Inever thought--" He stopped abruptly, his face almost purple.
But nobody was noticing Mr. Smith. Bessie Blaisdell had the floor.
"Why, mother, I look perfectly horrid in black, you know I do," she waswailing. "And there's the Gaylords' dance just next week; and if I'm inmourning I can't go there, nor anywhere. What's the use in having allthat money if we've got to shut ourselves up like that, and wear horridstuffy black, and everything?"
"For shame, Bessie!" spoke up Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness forher. "I think your mother is just right. I'm sure the least we can doin return for this wonderful gift is to show our respect andappreciation by going into the very deepest black we can. I'm sure I'dbe glad to."
"Wait!" Mrs. Harriet had drawn her brows together in deep thought. "I'mnot sure, after all, that it would be best. The letter did not say thatdear Cousin Stanley had died--he just hadn't been heard from. In thatcase, I don't think we ought to do it. And it would be too bad--thatGaylord dance is going to be the biggest thing of the season, and ofcourse if we WERE in black--No; on the whole, I think we won't, Bessie.Of course, in two years from now, when we get the rest, it will bedifferent."
"When you--what?" It was a rather startled question from Mr. Smith.
"Oh, didn't you know? There's another letter to be opened in two yearsfrom now, disposing of the rest of the property. And he was worthmillions, you know, millions!"
"But maybe he--er--Did it say you were to--to get those millions then?"
"Oh, no, it didn't SAY it, Mr. Smith." Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell's smilewas a bit condescending. "But of course we will. We are his kinsmen. Hesaid we were. He just didn't give it all now because he wanted to givehimself two more years to come back in, I suppose. You know he's goneexploring. And, of course, if he hadn't come back by then, he would bedead. Then we'd get it all. Oh, yes, we shall get it, I'm sure."
"Oh-h!" Mr. Smith settled back in his chair. He looked somewhatnonplused.
"Humph! Well, I wouldn't spend them millions--till I'd got 'em,Hattie," advised her brother-in-law dryly.
"I wasn't intending to, Frank," she retorted with some dignity. "Butthat's neither here nor there. What we're concerned with now is what todo with what we have got. Even this will make a tremendous sensation inHillerton. It ought to be written up, of course, for the papers, and bysome one who knows. We want it done just right. Why, Frank, do yourealize? We shall be rich--RICH--and all in a flash like this! I wonderwhat the Pennocks will say NOW about Mellicent's not having moneyenough for that precious son of theirs! Oh, I can hardly believe it yet.And it'll mean--everything to us. Think what we can do for thechildren. Think--"
"Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane, is ma here?" Wide open banged the front door asBenny bounded down the hall. "Oh, here you are! Say, is it true? TommyHooker says our great-grandfather in Africa has died an' left us amillion dollars, an' that we're richer'n Mr. Pennock or even theGaylords, or anybody! Is it true? Is it?"
His mother laughed indulgently.
"Not quite, Benny, though we have been left a nice little fortune byyour cousin, Stanley G. Fulton--remember the name, dear, your cousin,Stanley G. Fulton. And it wasn't Africa, it was South America."
"And did you all get some, too?" panted Benny, looking eagerly abouthim.
"We sure did," nodded his Uncle Frank, "all but poor Mr. Smith here. Iguess Mr. Stanley G. Fulton didn't know he was a cousin, too," hejoked, with a wink in Mr. Smith's direction.
"But where's Aunt Maggie? Why ain't she here? She got some, too, didn'tshe?" Benny began to look anxious.
His mother lifted her eyebrows.
"No. You forget, my dear. Your Aunt Maggie is not a Blaisdell at all.She's a Duff--a very different family."
"I don't care, she's just as good as a Blaisdell," cut in Mellicent;"and she seems like one of us, anyway."
"And she didn't get anything?" bemoaned Benny. "Say," he turnedvaliantly to Mr. Smith, "shouldn't you think he might have given AuntMaggie a little of that money?"
"I should, indeed!" Mr. Smith spoke with peculiar emphasis.
"I guess he would if he'd known her!"
"I'm sure he would!" Once more the peculiar earnestness vibratedthrough Mr. Smith's voice.
"But now he's dead, an' he can't. I guess if he could see Aunt Maggiehe'd wish he hadn't died 'fore he could fix her up just as good as therest."
"I'm VERY sure he would!" Mr. Smith was laughing now, but his voice wasjust as emphatic, and there was a sudden flame of color in his face.
"Your Cousin Stanley isn't dead, my dear,--that is, we are not sure heis dead," spoke up Benny's mother quickly. "He just has not been heardfrom for six months."
"But he must be dead, or he'd have come back," reasoned Miss Flora,with worried eyes; "and I, for my part, think we OUGHT to go intomourning, too."
"Of course he'd have come back," declared Mrs. Jane, "and kept themoney himself. Don't you suppose he knew what he'd written in thatletter, and don't you suppose he'd have saved those three hundredthousand dollars if he could? Well, I guess he would! The man is dead.That's certain enough."
"Well, anyhow, we're not going into mourning till we have to." Mrs.Harriet's lips snapped together with firm decision.
"Of course not. I'm sure I don't see any use in having the money ifwe've got to wear black and not go anywhere," pouted Bessie.
"Are we rich, then, really, ma?" demanded Benny.
"We certainly are, Benny."
"Richer 'n the Pennocks?"
"Very much."
"An' the Gaylords?"
"Well--hardly that"--her face clouded perceptibly--"that is, not u
ntilwe get the rest--in two years." She brightened again.
"Then, if we're rich we can have everything we want, can't we?" Benny'seyes were beginning to sparkle.
"Well--" hesitated his mother.
"I guess there'll be enough to satisfy your wants, Benny," laughed hisUncle Frank.
Benny gave a whoop of delight.
"Then we can go back to the East Side and live just as we've a mind to,without carin' what other folks do, can't we?" he crowed. "Cause if weARE rich we won't have ter keep tryin' ter make folks THINK we are.They'll know it without our tryin'."
"Benny!" The rest were laughing; but Benny's mother had raised shockedhands of protest. "You are incorrigible, child. The East Side, indeed!We shall live in a house of our own, now, of course--but it won't be onthe East Side."
"And Fred'll go to college," put in Miss Flora eagerly.
"Yes; and I shall send Bessie to a fashionable finishing school," bowedMrs. Harriet, with a shade of importance.
"Hey, Bess, you've got ter be finished," chuckled Benny.
"What's Mell going to do?" pouted Bessie, looking not altogetherpleased. "Hasn't she got to be finished, too?"
"Mellicent hasn't got the money to be finished--yet," observed Mrs.Jane tersely.
"Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do," breathed Mellicent, drawing anecstatic sigh. "But I hope I'm going to do--just what I want to, foronce!"
"And I'll make you some pretty dresses that you can wear right off,while they're in style," beamed Miss Flora.
Frank Blaisdell gave a sudden laugh.
"But what are YOU going to do, Flo? Here you've been telling whateverybody else is going to do with the money."
A blissful sigh, very like Mellicent's own, passed Miss Flora's lips.
"Oh, I don't know," she breathed in an awe-struck voice. "It don't seemyet--that it's really mine."
"Well, 't isn't," declared Mrs. Jane tartly, getting to her feet. "AndI, for one, am going back to work--in the kitchen, where I belong.And--Well, if here ain't Jim at last," she broke off, as her youngerbrother-in-law appeared in the doorway.
"You're too late, pa, you're too late! It's all done," clamored Benny."They've got everything all settled."
The man in the doorway smiled.
"I knew they would have, Benny; and I haven't been needed, I'msure,--your mother's here."
Mrs. Harriet bridled, but did not look unpleased.
"But, say, Jim," breathed Miss Flora, "ain't it wonderful--ain't itperfectly wonderful?"
"It is, indeed,--very wonderful," replied Mr. Jim
A Babel of eager voices arose then, but Mr. Smith was not listeningnow. He was watching Mr. Jim's face, and trying to fathom itsexpression.
A little later, when the women had gone into the kitchen and Mr. Frankhad clattered back to his work downstairs, Mr. Smith thought he had theexplanation of that look on Mr. Jim's face. Mr. Jim and Beany werestanding over by the fireplace together.
"Pa, ain't you glad--about the money?" asked Benny.
"I should be, shouldn't I, my son?"
"But you look--so funny, and you didn't say anything, hardly."
There was a moment's pause. The man, with his eyes fixed on the glowingcoals in the grate, appeared not to have heard. But in a moment hesaid:--
"Benny, if a poor old horse had been climbing a long, long hill all daywith the hot sun on his back, and a load that dragged and dragged athis heels, and if he couldn't see a thing but the dust of the road thatblinded and choked him, and if he just felt that he couldn't go anotherstep, in spite of the whip that snapped 'Get there--get there!' all dayin his ears--how do you suppose that poor old horse would feel ifsuddenly the load, and the whip, and the hill, and the dustdisappeared, and he found himself in a green pasture with the coolgurgle of water under green trees in his ears--how do you suppose thatpoor old horse would feel?"
"Say, he'd like it great, wouldn't he? But, pa, you didn't tell me yetif you liked the money."
The man stirred, as if waking from a trance. He threw his arm aroundBenny's shoulders.
"Like it? Why, of course, I like it, Benny, my boy! Why, I'm going tohave time now--to get acquainted with my children!"
Across the room Mr. Smith, with a sudden tightening of his throat,slipped softly into the hall and thence to his own room. Mr. Smith,just then, did not wish to be seen.
Oh, Money! Money! A Novel Page 9