Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 22

Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 22

"What has become of Mrs. B.?" he thought. "She hasn't gone and left me,

just when I've come home after an absence of five years? That boy can't

have carried her off, can he?"

 

Brandon did not have long to debate this question in his own mind, for

the door opened, and Grit and his mother entered. Brandon was relieved,

but he could not forbear expressing his vexation.

 

"Well, Mrs. B.," he said, "this I call pretty goings on. Are you aware

that it is nearly seven o'clock, ma'am?"

 

"I supposed it was," answered his wife quietly.

 

"And you've left me to starve here, ma'am! This is a strange time for

supper."

 

"We've had supper," answered Grit coolly.

 

"Had supper!" ejaculated Brandon, looking about him. "I don't see any

signs of supper."

 

"You won't see any signs of it here," continued Grit.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I mean that mother and I have engaged board at Mrs. Sprague's. We have

just had supper there."

 

"You have! Well, that's a new start. It doesn't matter much, though.

I'll go over and get mine."

 

"We haven't made any arrangements for you," said Grit. "I shall pay for

mother's board and mine. You can make any bargain you like for your

board."

 

"Well, if that isn't the meanest treatment I ever received!" exclaimed

Brandon, in wrath and disgust. "You actually begrudge me the little I

eat, and turn me adrift in the cold world!"

 

"That's one way of looking at it, Mr. Brandon," said Grit. "Here's the

other: You are a strong man, in good health, and able to work. Most men

in your position expect to support a family, but you come to live upon

my earnings, and expect me not only to provide you with board, but with

money for the purpose of drink. That isn't all! You bring home one of

your disreputable companions, and expect us to provide for him, too.

Now, I am willing to work for mother, and consider it a privilege to do

so, but I can't do any more. If you don't choose to contribute to the

support of the family, you must at least take care of yourself. I am not

going to do it."

 

"How hard and unfeeling you are, Grit!" said Brandon, in the tone of a

martyr. "After all I have suffered in the last five years you treat me

like this."

 

"As to the last five years, Mr. Brandon," said Grit, "I should think you

would hardly care to refer to them. It was certainly your own fault that

you were not as free as I am."

 

"I was a victim of circumstances," whined Brandon.

 

"We won't discuss that," said Grit. "You had a fair trial, and were

sentenced to five years' imprisonment. About the unkindness. I should

like to know what you think of a man who deliberately takes away the

means of earning a living from his stepson, who is filling his place,

and supporting his family, in order to gratify his miserable love of

drink."

 

"You drove me to it, Grit."

 

"How did I drive you to it?"

 

"You would not give me from your overflowing hoards, when I felt sick

and in need of a mild stimulus. You had sixty dollars, and would not

spare me one."

 

"So you sold my boat for half price, and squandered nearly the whole

proceeds in one forenoon!" exclaimed Grit scornfully. "Mr. Brandon, your

reasoning is altogether too thin. We have decided to leave you to

support yourself as you can."

 

Here the glowing prospects offered by the plan suggested by Colonel

Johnson occurred to Brandon, and his tone changed.

 

"You may find you have made a mistake, Grit, you and Mrs. B.," said

Brandon pompously. "You have snubbed and illtreated me because you

looked upon me as a poor, destitute, friendless man. It's the way of the

world! But you may regret it, and that very soon. What will you say when

I tell you that I have a chance to earn five thousand dollars in the

next five days, eh?"

 

Mrs. Brandon looked surprised, for Grit had not thought it wise to

confide to his mother what he had heard of the conversation between

Travers and his stepfather. Grit, on the other hand, was immediately

interested, for the compensation offered was one of the things he had

not overheard.

 

"Five thousand dollars!" he repeated, appearing to be surprised.

 

"Yes, five thousand dollars!" repeated Brandon complacently. "That's a

thousand dollars a day! Perhaps you won't be so anxious to get rid of me

when I am worth my thousands."

 

"That's pretty good pay," said Grit quietly. "What have you got to do?"

 

"That would be telling," said Brandon cunningly. "It's a joint

speculation of my friend Travers and myself--my friend Travers, whom you

treated so badly. It's he that's brought me this fine offer, and you

insult and order him out of the house. You were just as bad as Grit,

Mrs. B."

 

"You are welcome to all you make, Mr. Brandon," said Grit. "Neither my

mother nor myself will ask a penny of the handsome sum you expect to

make. You can spend it all on yourself if you like. All we ask is, that

you will take care of yourself, and leave us alone."

 

"I mean to do so," said Brandon independently, "but, as I shan't get the

money for three or four days, I should like to borrow five dollars, and

I'll repay you double within a week."

 

"That's a very generous offer," said Grit, "but I don't lend without

better security."

 

"Isn't there anything to eat in the house, Mrs. B.?" asked Brandon,

changing the subject. "I'm famished."

 

"You will find some cold meat, and bread, and butter in the pantry."

 

Brandon went to the pantry, and satisfied his appetite as well as he

could. He then went out, and Grit soon followed.

 

"Mother," he said, "I have an important call to make, but will be back

soon."

 

It will be remembered that Mr. Courtney had formerly been president of

the bank, but proving unpopular in consequence of his disposition to

manage it in his own interest, Mr. Philo Graves, a manufacturer, was put

in his place. To the house of Mr. Graves Grit directed his steps.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXII.

 

BANK OFFICIALS IN COUNCIL.

 

 

Mr. Graves was at home, but he was not alone. Mr. Courtney had dropped

in, and as he was still a director of the bank, it was natural that the

conversation should turn upon affairs of the bank in which he and Mr.

Graves had a common interest. Though no longer president, Mr. Courtney

was still anxious to control the affairs of the bank, and to make it of

as much service to himself as possible. He had recently become

interested in certain speculative securities, through a firm of Wall

Street brokers, and finding himself rather cramped for money, desired to

obtain a loan on them from the bank. To this end he had sought a

preliminary interview with Mr. Graves, previous to making a formal

application to the full board of directors.

 

"You are aware, Mr. Courtney," said the president, "that to grant your

request would be contrary to the general usage of the bank."

 

"I ought to know the usage of the bank, having served as president for

three years," said Mr. Courtney. "In my time such loans were made."

 

Mr. Graves was aware of this, but he was also aware that such loans had

been made on the former president's sole authority, and either to

himself or some one of his friends, and that it was on account of this

very circumstance that he had been removed from office.

 

"I know that such loans were made, but I am equally certain that such a

course would not meet the approval of the directors."

 

"But," insinuated Mr. Courtney, "if you openly favored it, and my vote

as director was given, we could probably influence enough other votes to

accomplish our object."

 

"I cannot say whether this would or would not follow," said Mr. Graves,

"but I am bound to say for myself that I cannot recommend, or vote for,

granting such a loan."

 

"Perhaps you think I am not responsible," said Mr. Courtney, irritated.

 

"I presume you are, but that ought not to be considered, when the

question is about violating our fixed usage."

 

"It seems to me, considering my official connection with the bank, that

a point might be strained in my favor."

 

"That is not my view, Mr. Courtney; although I am now president, I

should not care to ask any special favor of the bank. I prefer to be

treated like any other customer."

 

Mr. Courtney mentally voted Graves slow and behind the times. In his

views, one great advantage of holding a high financial position was to

favor himself and his own interests, without special regard to the

welfare of the corporation or stockholders.

 

"You wouldn't find many bank presidents agree with you, Mr. Graves,"

said Courtney impatiently.

 

"I am sorry to hear it," returned the president gravely. "It seems to me

that I owe a duty to the stockholders of the bank which ought to

override any personal considerations."