AFTER the disaster of the Fair Ellen, Billy promised his mother to bar explosives from his play, a promise made readily, for “Betsey has been giving it to me good an’ plenty for leaving that door open,” he explained to her. Thus the Alaska trade which the boys intended the Fair Ellen to wrest from Seattle, thereby transferring some of her prosperity to California’s stricken seaport, remained with the northern metropolis; and they sought other outlet for their energies.
Billy organized a real estate syndicate, and sold lots to the Gang, “with or without liability to assessment, as the purchaser prefers.” A Board of Trade was organized to which all promised to defer, except Jimmy, who smiled in disdain. He leased the railroad and did a thriving carrying trade, timber for fencing and warehouses, dirt for filling, and so on; and was fast becoming “the millionaire of the crowd,” when the “Board” met and decided he should cut his tariff in half or leave the syndicate; and as Jimmy was heartily interested in the game, he accepted their decision and no longer smiled at the Board of Trade.
Max, whose father was a gardener, knew wizard’s tricks with seeds and soils; and as Farmer and Forester to the syndicate, gave his knowledge right and left with happy importance. He taught the girls how to plan and plant their flower beds, and started the boys on a career of vegetable-raising that made them feel rich before they began; talked trees to Harold and other farmer boys, and astonished his father by the questions he asked and the work he did.
“I haf learn for gifing avay already, but I feel more as rich dan if they haf gif to me. How ist dat?” Max asked himself, not knowing, this little German lad so lately come to America, that he had discovered one of the profoundest secrets of the universe.
To his mother and sister Billy seemed changed. He stuck closer to his books. His teacher told them the boy stood at the head of his class. “Jimmy Dorr may be a rival if he feels like work, which isn’t probable. Jean’s accident last year put her behind, otherwise the boys would have to work much harder if either excelled her.” Yet even these welcome words did not account for some things the mother quietly observed; Billy’s growing promptness, better attention, and memory for matters outside of play. He was more silent, too; and there was less hammering and whistling in the shop.
“Billy, I don’t like the look of your eyes; you’re reading too much at night,” his mother said one evening when he was helping with the dishes. “You must go to bed earlier.”
May Nell had learned to use the towel; and the two children usually “did” the dishes at night; but now she was away with Edith at the Opera House, and mother and son were alone in the kitchen.
Billy had been reeling off stanzas of his favorite “Lady of the Lake,”—“by the yard,” Mrs. Bennett said, acting it as he recited, somewhat retarding the work and endangering the dishes. Now he dropped his towel, caught up his mother and raced with her around the room. He was so strong that she was almost helpless in his grasp.
“You little bit of a woman! Do you think I’ll mind you? I’m Roderick Dhu of Benvenue, the bravest chief of all the crew! I’m Captain Kidd, the pirate bold, whose treasure, hid, lies yet in mould. I’m the strong man, the bad—”
A lot more nonsense he rattled off, squeezing and kissing her till she was breathless with laughter.