“Oh, ah! That’s the way the thing stands,” said Mr. Chisholm, and I thought he felt a little sheepish over the way he had acted in the surrogate’s office. “Then I was wrong and he was right. But then,” he added, a bright idea striking him, “he made me sign it as guardeen. I had no business to do that.”
“How old is the boy? Sixteen? Well, of course he had to have somebody, and he thought you would do. Where is the boy? I haven’t congratulated him yet.”
“Here he is, right here,” said Mr. Chisholm, seizing Bob by the arm and pushing him forward. “He is a pretty fellow to have a guardeen, is he not? He knows more about taking care of his money than I do.”
Bob blushed like a school-girl when he was pushed out into view, but he returned the pressure of Mr. Wallace’s hand, and promptly accepted the seat that was given to him. The president then went on to tell Bob that he had nearly seven hundred thousand dollars’ worth of bonds and stocks, and about forty thousand dollars in specie; did he want some of it?
“Yes, sir. I should like about ten thousand dollars.”
“All right. Mr. Chisholm, will you sign for that?”
“No, sir, I won’t,” said Mr. Chisholm, frightened at the amount. “You said you wouldn’t ask me how to spend your money.”
“Bob can’t get it without you sign it,” said Mr. Wallace. “I will make out the check and you’ll sign it, of course. You are not going to kick, the first thing!”
Mr. Chisholm looked around to see what the rest of us thought about it, but none of us had anything to say. Mr. Wallace wrote out the check, and then motioned to Mr. Chisholm to take his chair and sign it; and our leader obeyed without a word of protest. Mr. Wallace then went out of his private office, and in a few moments returned with his arms filled with bags containing bright new gold pieces.
“I’ll count them out for you if you want me to,” said he, “but then the whole sum is right here and the bags are sealed. What do you want of such an amount of money, any way? You can’t spend it out there on the ranch.”