CHAPTER VI
ESTHER’S second term at the Conservatory ended in June and she came to Harniss for her long vacation. There was to be no traveling this summer. The visit to Paris concerning which she and her uncle had talked so often and which he still declared they should have some day was postponed.
“When we go over there,” Foster Townsend said, “I don’t want to be bothered with time. You are going to study your singing, you know, and you may have to stay a year—yes, or longer. If we went just now those lawyers of mine might be sending for me and I should have to come back and bring you with me. Couldn’t leave you alone over there among all those jabbering Frenchmen, could I? I guess not! Let me get this everlasting lawsuit off my hands and we’ll go in comfort. Confound the thing! I’m getting sick of it. I wish I had bought off Cook in the beginning. I could have done it then, I guess, and saved money.”
She laughed at him. “You know you wouldn’t have bought him off for worlds,” she declared.
“Eh? Well no, maybe I wouldn’t. The Supreme Court will step on his toes, if the case ever gets before it. Now it looks as if it might get there, but when the Lord only knows. Maybe in six months, maybe not for two years. They are in no hurry down in Washington; everybody on that Court is a hundred years old, more or less. What is a year or so to a gang like that? Well, possess your soul in patience, girlie. You and I will make Paris yet, if we don’t die of old age first.”
She was, by this time, fairly well acquainted with the basic details of the famous suit, although there was a great deal which she—and most others except the lawyers—did not understand. Elisha Cook and Foster Townsend had once been partners in the shipping and ship-outfitting business, with offices in Boston and in a Connecticut city. The firm was prosperous. Cook, she gathered, was conservative—a fussy old woman, her uncle had called him. He it was who conducted the Connecticut office; he was, at the time, a legal resident of that state.
Foster Townsend was his exact opposite in character and temperament. He was keen, sharp and inclined to plunge, when, in his opinion, the opportunities for plunging presented themselves. Again and again, so he told his niece, Cook refused to profit by these opportunities and the partners lost thousands which they might easily have gained. In consequence there were increasing disagreements. The “square-rigged” shipping business was falling off. The Civil War hit it a hard blow and, although it recovered in a measure from that blow, there were new obstacles in its path—steam and foreign competition—which, so Townsend believed, would kill it eventually. He advocated other ventures—real estate, for example. Fortunes were being made in Boston land, land in immediate proximity to the city. Townsend, on his own initiative, secured options on a large quantity of that land. Cook, the senior partner, flatly refused his consent to the firm’s taking up those options. The long series of slighter disagreements culminated in this important one. After more wrangling and dispute it was decided to dissolve the partnership, although the terms of dissolution were not actually agreed upon.
Then Cook was taken ill, an illness which lasted for months. During that illness Townsend went ahead, borrowed money, secured the land and held it. He obtained more capital and plunged still deeper. When Cook recovered sufficiently to attend in the least to business matters, the firm of Cook and Townsend ceased to exist. Elisha Cook took over the Connecticut branch, which was the “outfitting” end of the business and was allotted sufficient money and securities to give him a comfortable, if not large, independence. Foster Townsend was left with options, mortgages, debts—and the chance of a fortune.
He won the fortune. He became a rich man and, after a time, retired and came to Harniss to settle down as its leading citizen. Cook, who also had retired, returned to Denboro, Massachusetts, his native village, to spend the remainder of his life.
But before this the legal complications had begun. They were far too involved and technical for Esther’s complete comprehension. Cook claimed his share of the profits from the land deals. There were many questions to be decided. Whose money secured the first options? Was it Townsend alone or Cook and Townsend, who carried on the immensely profitable deals which followed the first one? The determination of the date of dissolution of partnership entered into the affair. Mr. Cook had done something which was called “obtaining service” upon his former partner in a Connecticut court. Townsend, in explaining to his niece, talked of a “bill of equity,” whatever that might be. Townsend contested this “service” and then, when his motion was denied, appealed to a higher court. This appeal also was denied. Then Cook sued, on the Connecticut judgment, in a Massachusetts court. After that Esther lost count. The Massachusetts court did something or other which favored her uncle. Then Mr. Cook went at it again and in a new way. There were appeals and denials and things called “writs of error.” For year after year, the historic Cook-Townsend suit crawled along, until at last it was to receive a final decision by the highest tribunal in the land, when that tribunal should give it place upon its crowded calendar. Its cost so far had been enormous. How Elisha Cook could afford to carry it on had always been a question. The inference was that his attorneys were gambling with him. If he won they would win. Foster Townsend could afford to pay his lawyers—yes. But he, nor few others, could afford to lose the huge sum claimed and fought for by his opponents.