“No.”
“Well, you can be thankful that he hasn’t been around buying more goods in your name.”
“Oh, I think I scared him pretty well when I met him in the woods. He’ll probably lay low for a while––at least until he thinks the field is clear again. But I’d give a good deal if I never saw or heard of him again,” and Dave heaved another sigh.
The next day the local paper came out with a big article on the front page speaking about the Basswood fortune. Mr. Basswood had returned to town, and had been interviewed by a reporter, and the sheet gave many of the particulars regarding the wonderful miniatures left by Mr. Enos. According to the paper they numbered sixty-eight all told, and were worth from a hundred dollars to five thousand dollars apiece. It was said that 89 they had been placed in a safe deposit vault, being packed in several plush-lined cases.
The paper went on to state that Mr. Basswood thought something of bringing them to Crumville, where they might be judged by a committee of experts in order to ascertain their real value. The real-estate dealer was spoken of as a man well-known in the community, and the article concluded by stating that all the good people of Crumville and vicinity would undoubtedly congratulate him on his good fortune.
“They certainly piled it on a little thick,” was Dave’s comment, after he and Roger had read the article. “Just the same, I agree with the paper––the Basswoods richly deserve the fortune that has come to them.” Dave had not forgotten those days, now long gone by, when he had been a boy just out of the poorhouse living with Caspar Potts, and how Ben Basswood had been his one young friend during those trying times.
As luck would have it, all the young visitors bound for the Wadsworth mansion reached Crumville on the same train. Of course, the others went down to the depot to meet them, and there was a grand jollification lasting several minutes.
“My, Belle, how you have grown!” declared Laura, after the numerous kisses and handshakes 90 had come to an end. “Isn’t she growing tall, Dave?”
“She certainly is,” returned the brother. And what they said was true––Belle Endicott was now tall and willowy, and exceedingly pretty to look at,––so much so in fact, that Phil Lawrence could hardly take his eyes from her.
“It was mighty good of your folks to invite me down,” said the shipowner’s son, when the whole crowd was making its way over to where the Wadsworth automobile and sleigh were standing. “I appreciate it, I assure you.”