Digging for Gold 40

Digging for Gold 40

“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.”

 

“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.

 

“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 wouldn’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.

 

We 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.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

FINDING THE PRODIGAL.

 

 

“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?”

 

“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 head, 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 hatched, 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.”