He smiled. My naive way of saddling myself upon him, along with a lot of possible responsibilities was doubtless amusing to a hard-headed financier like Bolton. I saw nothing out of the way in such an arrangement at the time. It struck me as a splendid idea, in fact. But he made allowance for my juvenile point of view. Shifting his cigar to the other corner of his mouth he surveyed me critically for a few seconds, crinkling his black brows thoughtfully.
“I’ll do it,” he finally assented. “The position ought to be a sinecure. Run in to-morrow morning at ten-thirty, and we’ll step around to the courthouse and have the thing legally executed. You’re staying at the old place, I suppose?”
“I’m going to,” I replied. “I haven’t been at the house; I came straight here from the train.”
“Well, run along, son,” he said good-naturedly. “I’d take you home to my family, only I don’t happen to possess one. I live at the club—the Arion—mostly.”
“Oh, by the way,” he called to me as I neared the door. “How are you off for funds?”
“To tell the truth,” I owned, rather shamefacedly, “I’m getting in pretty low water. I think I’ve some change at home, but I’m not sure. Dad never gave me a regular allowance; he’d just send me a check now and then, and let it go at that. I’m afraid I’m a pretty good spender.”
“You’ll have to reform, young man,” he warned, mock-seriously. “Here”—he dug a fifty dollar bill out of his pocket-book—“that’ll keep you going for a while. I’ll keep you in pocket money till this administrator allows you a monthly sum for maintenance. Don’t forget the time, now. Ten-thirty, sharp. Ta ta.” And he hustled me out of the office in the midst of my thanks. I was thankful, too, for I’d put it mildly when I told him that I was getting near the rocks. I was on them. I’d paid my last cent for a meal on the train that morning. And while I did feel tolerably sure of finding some loose silver in the pockets of my clothing at home, I knew it would not amount to more than four or five dollars. Oh, I was an improvident youth, all right. The necessity for being careful with money never struck me as being a matter of importance; I’d never had to do stunts in economy, that was the trouble.
From the bank I went straight home. We hadn’t kept a very pretentious establishment, even though Sumner pere had gone on increasing his pile all through the years since we’d moved to the city. A cook and a house-maid, a colored coachman and a gardener—the four of them had been with us for years, and old Adam was waiting by the steps for me when I came up the walk, his shiny black face beaming welcome. I had to go to the stable and look over the horses, and tell Adam that everything was fine, before the old duffer would rest.
In the house everything was as I’d left it. All that evening I moped around the big, low-ceiled living-room. There was little comfort in the place; it was too lonely. The hours dragged by on leaden feet. I couldn’t get over expecting to see mother come trailing quietly down the wide stairway, or dad walk in the front door packing a battered old grip and greeting me with his slow smile. I know it was silly, but the feeling drove me out of the house and down town, where there was a crush of humans, and the glitter of street lights and the noise of traffic. There I met a chum or two, and subsequent proceedings tore a jagged hole in Bolton’s fifty dollar bill before I landed home in the little hours. Even then I couldn’t sleep in that still, old house.
The long night came to an end, as nights have a habit of doing, and breakfast time brought with it the postman. The mail was mostly papers and other uninteresting junk, but one missive, postmarked Amarillo, Texas, and addressed to myself I opened eagerly. It was from the administrator, as I had surmised.