CHAPTER IV.
A DYING GIFT.
In the morning Walter Bruce came down to breakfast looking pale andsick. He had taken a severe cold from scanty clothing and exposure tothe winter weather.
"You have a hard cough, Mr. Bruce," said Mrs. Rand, in a tone ofsympathy.
"Yes, madam; my lungs were always sensitive."
When breakfast was over he took his hat and prepared to go.
"I thank you very much for your kind hospitality," he began. Then hewas attacked by a fit of coughing.
"Where are you going. Mr. Bruce?" asked Chester.
"I don't know," he answered, despondently. "I came to Wyncombe to seemy uncle Silas, but he will have nothing to say to me."
Chester and his mother exchanged looks. The same thought was in themind of each.
"Stay with us a day or two," said Mrs. Rand. "You are not fit to travel.You need rest and care."
"But I shall be giving you a great deal of trouble."
"We shall not consider it such," said Mrs. Rand.
"Then I will accept your kind offer, for indeed I am very unwell."
Before the end of the day the young man was obliged to go to bed, and adoctor was summoned. Bruce was pronounced to have a low fever, and tobe quite unfit to travel.
Mrs. Rand and Chester began to feel anxious. Their hearts were filledwith pity for the young man, but how could they bear the expense whichthis sickness would entail upon them?
"Silas Tripp is his uncle," said Mrs. Rand. "He ought to contribute theexpense of his sickness."
"I will go and see him," said Chester. So he selected a time whenbusiness would be slack in the store, and called in. He found Mr. Tripin a peevish mood.
"How are you, Chester?" he said. "I wish you was back."
"Why, Mr. Tripp? You've got Abel Wood in my place."
"He ain't of much account," grumbled Silas. "What do you think he donethis mornin'?"
"I don't know, sir."
"He smashed two dozen eggs, and eggs twenty-two cents a dozen. But I'lltake it out of his salary. He's dreadful awkward, that boy!"
"Poor Abel!" thought Chester. "I am afraid he won't have much salarycoming to him at the end of the week."
"You never broke no eggs while you was here, Chester."
"No; I don't think I did."
"You'd ought to have stayed."
"I couldn't stay on the salary you offered. But, Mr. Tripp, I've comehere on business."
"Hey? What about?"
"Your nephew, Walter Bruce, is staying at our house."
"Is he?" returned Silas Tripp, indifferently.
"And he is sick."
"I don't feel no interest in him," said Silas, doggedly.
"Are you willing to pay his expenses? He has no money."
"No, I ain't," snarled Silas. "Ef you take him you take him at your ownrisk."
"You wouldn't have us turn him into the street?" said Chester,indignantly.
"You can do as you like. It ain't no affair of mine. I s'pose he sentyou here."
"No, he didn't; and I wouldn't have come if we had been better fixed.But we haven't enough money to live on ourselves."
"Then tell him to go away. I never wanted him to come to Wyncombe."
"It seems to me you ought to do something for your own nephew."
"I can't support all my relations, and I won't," said Silas, testily."It ain't no use talkin'. Walter Bruce is shif'less and lazy, or he'dtake care of himself. I ain't no call to keep him."
"Then you won't do anything for him? Even two dollars a week would helphim very much."
"Two dollars a week!" ejaculated Silas. "You must think I am made ofmoney. Why, two dollars a week would make a hundred and four dollars ayear."
"That wouldn't be much for a man of your means, Mr. Tripp."
"You talk foolish, Chester. I have to work hard for a livin'. If Ihelped all my shif'less relations I'd end my days in the poorhouse."
"I don't think you'll go there from that cause," Chester could not helpsaying.
"I guess not. I ain't a fool. Let every tub stand on its own bottom, Isay. But I won't be too hard. Here's twenty-five cents," and Silas tooka battered quarter from the money drawer.
"Take it and use it careful."
"I think we will try to get along without it," said Chester, with acurl of the lip. "I'm afraid you can't afford it."
"Do just as you like," said Silas, putting back the money with a sighof relief, "but don't say I didn't offer to do something for Walter."
"No; I will tell him how much you offered to give."
"That's a queer boy," said Mr. Tripp, as Chester left the store. "Seemsto want me to pay all Walter Bruce's expenses. What made him come toWyncombe to get sick? He'd better have stayed where he lived, and thenhe'd have had a claim to go to the poorhouse. He can't live on me, Itell him that. Them Rands are foolish to take him in. They're as pooras poverty themselves, and now they've taken in a man who ain't noclaim on them. I expect they thought they'd get a good sum out of mefor boardin' him. There's a great many onrasonable people in theworld."
"I will go and see Mr. Morris, the minister," decided the perplexedChester. "He will tell me what to do."
Accordingly he called on the minister and unfolded the story tosympathetic ears.
"You did right, Chester," said Mr. Morris. "The poor fellow wasfortunate to fall into your hands. But won't it be too much for yourmother?"
"It's the expense I am thinking of, Mr. Morris. You know I have lost mysituation, and mother has no shoes to bind."
"I can help you, Chester. A rich lady of my acquaintance sends me ahundred dollars every year to bestow in charity. I will devote a partof this to the young man whom you have so kindly taken in, say at therate of eight dollars a week."
"That will make us feel easy," said Chester gratefully. "How much doyou think his uncle offered me?"
"I am surprised that he should have offered anything."
"He handed me twenty-five cents, but I told him I thought we could getalong without it."
"And you will. Silas Tripp has a small soul, hardly worth saving. Hehas made money his god, and serves his chosen deity faithfully."
"I wouldn't change places with him for all his wealth."
"Some day you may be as rich as he, but I hope, if you are, you willuse your wealth better."
At the beginning of the third week Walter Bruce became suddenly worse.His constitution was fragile, and the disease had undermined hisstrength. The doctor looked grave.
"Do you think I shall pull through, doctor?" asked the young man.
"While there is life there is hope, Mr. Bruce."
"That means that the odds are against me?"
"Yes, I am sorry to say that you are right."
Walter Bruce looked thoughtful.
"I don't think I care much for life," he said. "I have had manydisappointments, and I know that at the best I could never be strongand enjoy life as most of my age do--I am resigned."
"How old are you, Walter?" asked Chester.
"Twenty-nine. It is a short life."
"Is there anyone you would wish me to notify if the worst comes?"
"No, I have scarcely a relative--except Silas Tripp," he added, with abitter smile.
"You have no property to dispose of by will?" asked the doctor.
"Yes," was the unexpected answer, "but I shall not make a will. A willmay be contested. I will give it away during my life."
Chester and the doctor looked surprised. They thought the other mightrefer to a ring or some small article.
"I want everything to be legal," resumed Bruce. "Is there a lawyer inthe village?"
"Yes, Lawyer Gardener."
"Send for him. I shall feel easier when I have attended to this lastduty."
Within half an hour the lawyer was at his bedside.
"In the inside pocket of my coat," said Walter Bruce, "you will find adocument. It is the deed of five lots in the town of Tacoma, inWashington Territory
. I was out there last year, and having a littlemoney, bought the lots for a song. They are worth very little now, butsome time they may be of value."
"To whom do you wish to give them?" asked Mr. Gardner.
"To this boy," answered Bruce, looking affectionately toward Chester."He and his have been my best friends."
"But your uncle--he is a relative!" suggested Chester.
"He has no claim upon me. Lawyer, make out a deed of gift of these lotsto Chester Rand, and I will sign it."
The writing was completed, Bruce found strength to sign it, and thensank back exhausted. Two days later he died. Of course the eightdollars a week from the minister's fund ceased to be paid to the Rands.Chester had not succeeded in obtaining work. To be sure he had the fivelots in Tacoma, but he who had formerly owned them had died a pauper.The outlook was very dark.
Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune Page 4