"We are going to try," the great merchant replied. "By the way, I told Brooks that we"d have to press Bradley & Adams, of Atchison, Kansas.
They are altogether too slow--there"s no excuse for it."
"None in the world; none whatever," Colton agreed. He more than agreed, for there was alarm in his voice, and the alarm of an old miser is pitiable. "Gracious alive, can they expect people to wait always? Dear, what can the world be coming to when we are all to be cheated out of our rights? We"ll have the law on them."
Money professes great love for the law, and not without cause. The rich man thinks that the law is his; and the poor man says, "It was not made for me."
Among the ladies Henry was the subject of a subdued discussion, and occasionally he heard Mrs. Colton say: "Such a comfort to you, and after so many years of separation. So manly." And then Mrs. Brooks would say: "Yes, indeed."
Henry noticed that Colton was not accompanied with his mutton-broth economy. It was evident that the old man was frugal only to his own advantage, and that his heartiness came at the expense of other men.
Brooks arrived soon after dinner. The women went to the drawing-room to talk about Henry, and to exchange harmless hypocrisies, and the men betook themselves to the library to smoke and to discuss plots that are known as enterprises. Country merchants were taken up, turned over, examined and put down ruined. Brooks was as keen and as ardent as a prosecuting attorney. Every man who owed a bill was under indictment.
"You see," he said to Henry, "we have to hold these fellows tight or they would get loose and smash us."
"You needn"t apologize to me," Henry replied.
"Of course not, but as you say that you don"t understand business, I merely wanted to show you to what extent we are driven."
"Oh, I a.s.sure you that it is awfully unpleasant," said Colton, "but we have to do it. And let me tell you, my dear young man, there is more crime than you imagine in the neglect of these fellows. In this blessed country there is hardly any excuse for a man"s failure to meet his obligations. The trouble is that people who can"t afford it live too high. Let them economize; let them be sensible. Why, I could have gone broke forty-odd years ago; hah, I could go broke now. Oh, I know that we are all accused of being hard, but you have no idea what the wealthy people of this city do for the poor. Just look at the charity b.a.l.l.s; look at our annual showing, and you"ll find it remarkable."
Henry felt that the charity of the rich was largely a species of "bluff" that they make at one another. It was not real charity; it was an advertis.e.m.e.nt--it was business.
"My dear friend Witherspoon," said Colton, mouthing his cigar--he did not smoke at home--"I am going to branch out more. I"m going to make investments. I see that it is safe, and I want you to help me."
"All right; how much do you want to invest?"
"Oh, I can place my hand on a little money--just a little. I"ve got some in stocks, but I"ve got a little by me."
"How much?"
This frightened him. "Oh, I don"t know; really, I can"t tell. But I think that I"ve got a little that I"d like to invest. But I"ll talk to you about it to-morrow."
"All right."
"I think real estate would be about the right thing. I could soon turn it over, you know. Some wonderfully fortunate investments have been made that way. But I"ll talk to you about it to-morrow."
Brooke said that he was in something of a hurry to get home, and the visitors took their leave early in the evening. Witherspoon returned to the library after going to the door with Colton. He sat down, stretched forth his feet, meditated for a few moments, and said: "The bark on a beech tree was never any closer than that old man, and yet he is kind-hearted."
"When kindness doesn"t cost anything, I suppose," Henry suggested.
"Yes, that"s true. He spoke of the wonderful showing of the charities of this city as though he were a prime mover in them, when, in fact, I don"t think he ever contributed more than a barrel of flour in any one year. But he is a good business man, and if there were more like him there would be fewer bankrupts."
Ellen appeared at the door. "Henry, mother and I are going to your room to pay you a call."
"All right, I"ll go up with you. Won"t you come, father?"
"No, I believe not. Think I"ll read a while and go to bed."
Henry"s room was bright with a gladsome fire. On the table had been set a vase of moss roses, and beside the vase lay an old black pipe, tied with a blue ribbon. The young man laughed, and the girl said:
"Mother"s doings. Ugh! the nasty thing!"
"If my son smoked a pipe when he was in exile," Mrs. Witherspoon replied, "he can do so now. None of the privileges of a strange land shall be denied him in his own home."
She sat in an easy-chair and was slowly rocking. To man a rocking-chair is a remembrancer of a mother"s affection.
"Light your pipe, my son."
"No, not now, mother."
Ellen sat on an arm of Henry"s chair. "Your hair would curl if you were to encourage it," she remarked.
"Has anybody said anything about curly hair?" he asked.
"No, but I was just thinking that yours might curl."
"Do you want me to look like Brooks?"
She frowned. "He kinks his with a hot poker. I don"t like pretty men."
"How about handsome men?"
"Oh, I have to like them. You are a handsome man, you know."
"Nonsense," he replied.
"Your grandmother was a very handsome woman," said Mrs. Witherspoon.
"She had jet-black hair, and her teeth were like pearls. Ellen, what did Mr. Coglin say when you gave him the slippers?" Mr. Coglin was a clergyman.
"Oh, he thanked me, of course. He couldn"t very well have said, "Take them away.""
"But did you tell him that you embroidered them with your own hands?"
"Yes, I told him."
"Then what did he say?"
"He pretended to be greatly surprised, and said something, but I have forgotten what it was. Mrs. Brooks is awful tiresome with her "Yes, indeed," isn"t she? Seems to me that I"d learn something else."
"She"s hardly so tiresome with her "Yes, indeed," as her father is with his "Hah, hah, my dear Mr. Witherspoon,"" Henry replied.
"But he is a very old man, my son," said Mrs. Witherspoon, "and you must excuse him. I have heard that he was quite aristocratic before the war."
"Oh, he never was aristocratic," Ellen declared. "Aristocracy hampered by extreme stinginess would cut but a poor figure, I should think."
"Have we set up a grill here?" Henry asked.
Mrs. Witherspoon nodded at Ellen as if to emphasize the rebuke, and the young woman exclaimed: "Oh, I"m singled out, am I? Who said that the old man"s "hah, hah," was tiresome? You"d better nod at your son, mother."