CHAPTER XXV.
MR. DENTON GIVES SOME ORDERS.
At this demonstration of firmness on Mr. Denton's part, Mr. Forbes still sat speechless with his head bowed sullenly. Mr. Day, on the contrary, nearly exploded with wrath, but at each angry suggestion he was met with the same firm refusal.
"Are we to be made laughing stocks for the whole business world to jeer at?" he asked as he paced the office furiously, "or to be bankrupted through methods that border strongly on insanity? For it is nothing else, Mr. Denton, but raving lunacy! No man in his sober senses would entertain such a plan for the space of a second! Why, your orders about those sweat-shops were simply ridiculous! Are we to pay more for our goods than they are really worth, and then make a charity organization of ourselves and give them to our customers?"
Mr. Denton smiled sadly. He was not at all surprised.
What amused him most was the demeanor of Mr. Forbes; he had expected vituperations from him at every point of his confession.
"You are free to rid yourself of all association with the firm," was Mr. Denton's only answer. "I will buy you out at your own figure, Mr. Day; or, as I said before, I will end the thing at once. I will apply at once to have a receiver appointed."
"But I don't wish to be bought out, and I don't wish to dissolve partnership. This store is making a fortune for us all. I would be a fool to throw over such a magnificent investment!"
"It profiteth nothing, and fearful the cost,
To gain the whole world if thy soul shall be lost!"
Mr. Denton quoted the words soberly, almost reverently. As he did so a vision of Faith Marvin rose suddenly before him.
"Pshaw! You have lost your senses, Denton!" cried Mr. Day. "Am I to be scared into idiocy by the words of some fanatic?"
"You have said nothing, Mr. Forbes," said Mr. Denton, turning from Mr. Day quietly.
"I have nothing to say," remarked Mr. Forbes, gruffly. "It is as Mr. Day says; you have lost your senses."
Mr. Denton sighed heavily. He was a little disappointed.
"You can talk the matter over by yourselves," he said, finally, "and remember, I stand ready to deal fairly by my partners. My loss, if I have one, need not be theirs; you have only to state a willingness to comply or settle."
He walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. A second later he had arrived at the door of his own office.
"Please, sir, may I see you a minute, sir?" asked a voice just behind him.
He turned and recognized Sam Watkins, the boy who had stolen the five hundred dollars.
"Come in, Sam," he said, kindly. The child looked at him in surprise. The moment the door closed behind him he burst out crying.
"Come, come, boy, don't cry! I won't scold you," said Mr. Denton, smiling.
He took Sam's hand in his own and patted it encouragingly.
"I couldn't help it, sir; indeed, I couldn't!" he blurted out. "Poor ma was so sick and needed money so dreadful!"
"So you took it for your mother," said Mr. Denton. "Now, tell me the truth, Sam; what did you do with the other three hundred dollars?"
Sam Watkins looked up into the gentleman's face. His eyes were red from weeping, but they did not waver.
"I lost it, sir," he said, simply. "It was in my coat pocket. You see, I divided the wad, sir, so it wouldn't look so bulky!"
"And did your mother scold you?" asked Mr. Denton, still smiling.
The boy's glance fell to the floor and he shifted his feet uneasily.
"No, sir, she didn't scold—that is, not exactly," he said, sniffing. "She just talked to me, sir, and then she cried something awful!"
Mr. Denton turned his head away for about a minute. There was something in the boy's story that affected him strangely. The poor woman had wept because her boy had stolen some money, yet rich men smiled complacently over what they called "good bargains," but which in reality were little more than thieving.
"How is your brother?" he asked, when he could trust himself to speak.
The boy's lips trembled and he began crying before he answered.
"He's pretty bad, sir; in the hospital," he whispered, brokenly. "They think he'll die! You see, his sweetheart, Miss Jennings, died the very day after I stole the money, and the two things, with his hard work, knocked poor Fred out completely."
"Was Miss Jennings his sweetheart?" asked Mr. Denton in astonishment. This was a phase of that horror that he had not even dreamed of.
"Oh, yes, they were sweethearts," said the boy, with a hysterical giggle. "They was awfully in love, but they couldn't afford to get married."
Mr. Denton rose from his desk and paced the office floor. The misery in the situation was even blacker than he had realized.
"See here, boy!" he said suddenly. "Give me your mother's address, and here's a ten-dollar bill for her. Now, go home and take care of her."
The boy's face flushed crimson as he refused the money.
"I wouldn't dare to take it," he muttered sheepishly. "She'd think I stole it."
"Then I'll send it by mail," said Mr. Denton quickly, "and I'll tell her at the same time that we don't mind about the three hundred. We can forgive a boy who only stole to help a sick mother."
"Oh, sir!" cried the boy. But he could get no farther. The next second he was shaking with a storm of sobs. The agony of his repentance had reached its limit. Before he left the building the letter had been posted to his mother through the pneumatic mailing tube that opened in Mr. Denton's office.
Mr. Denton's next duty was to see his buyers. He was still smarting with indignation over that "sweatshop" horror.
In less than an hour he had them all assembled in the receiving-room, which was piled from end to end with the products of underpaid labor.
His speech to them was short but decidedly to the point. They were to submit the names of the persons or firms whom they bought of, and receive his express commands concerning all further orders.
"I cannot have the souls of these poor creatures on my conscience any longer," he said at the conclusion of his statements. "So, if the public still want these goods, we will make them ourselves and pay those poor seamstresses what they are worth, besides letting them work in cleanly surroundings."
"But, Mr. Denton," spoke up one of the buyers who was a privileged character in the establishment, "that will entail endless work for the cashier's department, as well as work-rooms. As it is now, there is but one bill to pay where by your plan there would be a hundred or more, and, besides, we have no work-rooms to spare; we are already overcrowded."
"I know it," replied Mr. Denton, sadly, "and as I am well aware that reformation, like charity, should 'begin at home,' I must wait a little before putting my plan into action."
"My girls will never work with those people, I am sure," remarked the foreman of the work-rooms. "You have no idea what sticklers they are for caste. Why, as poor as they are, they turn up their noses at those beneath them!"
Mr. Denton smiled grimly at this information.
"They share that failing with the whole human family," he said, slowly. "Only a few are exempt from this feeling of scorn; they are the few who have learned to love their fellow-beings, however," he went on more cheerfully, "we who have set them this example of thoughtlessness and neglect must try to undo what we have done by patient precept and example."
His hearers stared at him, but they were too polite to reply. It was their opinion that the man had suddenly became deranged. They did not doubt for a moment that they would go on as usual.
After a few more arguments as to the impracticability of his suggestions, the men dispersed, casting meaning glances at each other.
Once beyond his hearing, they talked the startling situation over. Not one of them had ever heard of a similar occurrence.
Mr. Denton went back to his office to think a little. When he reached it he found Mr. Day pacing the floor as he waited for him.
"So your decision is final," he bellowed, as Mr. Denton entered. "You have fully decided to make a fool of yourself and wreck the firm, and all because you have not head enough to keep your religion out of business!"
Mr. Denton's face flushed, but he spoke as calmly as ever.
"If religion is needed anywhere, it is needed in business," he said quietly. "If I am a fool at all it is because I did not find it out sooner."
"Very well, then," roared Mr. Day. "I refuse to submit to such nonsense! Furthermore, as Mr. Forbes will not hear of dissolution, I shall expect you and him to buy me out at once! I will sell my right, title and interest for one hundred thousand dollars."
"But that is four times what you put in," said Mr. Denton, quickly, "and as you have already been paid a large interest on your investment, your price is exorbitant; are you too angry to see it?"
"I should have gotten that out of it before the expiration of the partnership. It is that figure or nothing," said Mr. Day, doggedly, "and, mind, I will fight against dissolution, tooth and nail, Mr. Denton. I would be as mad as you are if I did not do so!"
"Then I will pay you that amount at once, Mr. Day," said the gentleman. "I will give you a check on my personal bank account and acquire your interest as a private investment. Your price is too exorbitant to permit my purchasing it for the firm, but we will attend to the details when Mr. Forbes is present."