“I know what Ernsthausen has really set his heart upon,” said Mr. Lorimer. “It has been a project of his for years, and he is saving money for it; but he is still some way from having sufficient to start it.”
“What is that?” asked Colonel Rutland with interest.
“Well, I don’t know whether you know how things are done in this country, but I will tell you something of it in brief. I may not be very accurate in detail, but the substance is true. If a man wants to undertake any big bit of work—build a hotel or pleasure resort, or even get himself a large farm, he scrapes together a certain sum, and then applies to the government for a loan sufficient to enable him to carry it out. He pays a modest rate of interest for this when the thing is started, and gradually pays off the debt as well if he is thrifty and careful; but the government has what we should call a mortgage, I suppose, on the place all the while; and if the man is a ne’er-do-well, or idle, or extravagant, and does not keep his pledges, government simply steps in and ousts him, and takes the place over bodily. I suppose he gets his own capital back; but I don’t know the details, as I say. I only know that that is the sort of thing that goes on, and explains the ease with which small men build and set going these monster hotels, which in England would ruin the first two or three proprietors very likely.”
“Sounds a simple and Arcadian method,” remarked Uncle Ronald; “but what has all this got to do with Ernsthausen?”
“Why, just this. He is very anxious to have a small hotel of his own for mountaineers; just in that spot we have so often spoken of as needing one so badly—where all those valleys converge, and so many ascents can be made. It has been an idea of his for a long while, and he has been saving up all he can. His wife would manage the kitchen department, and his son would help in many ways, and he would still do a certain amount of his old work for the gentlemen he knew, but gradually grow independent of it as his strength diminished. He has been thinking of the scheme for years, always afraid lest somebody should be beforehand with him; but he does not think he has yet quite sufficient to get the advance from government. He told me that in two or three years he hoped to make a start. But often some calamity in the winter to his home, or some failure in the crops, has obliged him to draw upon his savings. I thought, then, that it would be a happy notion to make over to him the balance he needs; but, with a man of free, independent character, it is not easy to tender help. He is proud, this Ernsthausen, with all his poverty.”
“And a good thing, too,” breathed Uncle Ronald softly. “That is a complaint I wish more poor people suffered from in these days!”
But Squib, who had been listening breathlessly all this time, now burst into excited speech.
“Oh, father, do let me give my pounds to Seppi! and let me tell him all about it I don’t think he knows; but I believe he would be glad, because they are always so sad when their father goes away. It would be beautiful if they all lived together always, and had a place of their own, and took in travellers, and were not so poor. I don’t think they mind being poor. I think they are wonderfully good; but it would be nice for them not to have to be afraid about their father any more, and to be with him all the year.”
“Well, we will think about it,” answered Colonel Rutland. “I shall make inquiries, and see what I think can be done. We must first make sure that the family is the same: and then we will see how we can go to work. I should like to help them very well, I confess; but we must not be in a hurry.”
Squib always was in a hurry; and he found all this very exciting. He wanted to talk it over with Seppi at once, but he resolved not to do so till things were more settled.