Well, what’s a diamond ring? Nothing but the dust of the earth; no better than Lehigh coal anyway. But James Van Duster didn’t think so. And the worst is to tell. He wasn’t quite so absent-minded as our Dick took him to be; he knew when the ring was drawn off his finger as well as either you or I would have known. And being a high-spirited young fellow, with a narrow mind, and envious of our Dick besides, what should he do that morning but send an officer after Dick. You could have heard Mr. Dean groan across the street. The officer was very polite, and listened respectfully to all the family had to say; but I’ve no means of knowing whether he believed it or not. All I can state with certainty is that old Mr. Van Duster interfered, and said if Dick could pay James the price of the ring, the matter should be hushed up, and he needn’t go to jail.
Seven hundred dollars! Why, old Mr. Dean just earned his salt by tending an oven at a bakery! There was nothing in the house of any value but Mrs. Dean’s piano, and that wouldn’t bring more than three hundred dollars. Of course it went, though—poor Nelly, how that took the life out of her!—and John made up the rest of the money in the shape of a loan. I did think John was hard-faced, wife or no wife. He might have given Dick the money for their mother’s sake. It was too bad for such a young fellow as Dick to be saddled with a debt.
After this he couldn’t afford his time to go to school; so he got a clerkship. He tried to hold up his head with the best of them till he began to see his mates turning the cold shoulder. The Van Dusters hadn’t kept their word. You see, the story had been whispered around that Dick stole a solitaire and sold it to a Jew who had run off with it, and that was why James Van Duster was obliged to stoop to wear a cluster diamond. This was more than Dick could bear. He ran away, and went to work on a farm in New Jersey. He kept writing home that his mother’s letters were his greatest comfort. She had perfect faith that the mystery would be cleared up some time, but I think hope deferred was the cause of her illness.
The old gentleman gave up at once, and everything fell upon Nell. She found some employment, embroidering and copying and the like of that, and had most of the housework to do besides. I never knew such a girl. All the amusement she seemed to have was going to the door, standing on the steps, and looking up and down the street.
(More shingles, boys, I’m about out of breath.)
Ah, well, we’ve been a suffering family; but we have our blessings after all; not the least of which is Nell. We have had some cosy times this winter, too, popping corn over the open fire; but it’s all past now. The family went to Thirty-fifth Street yesterday. I don’t know how I could have borne it, but I’m sustained by this reflection; I am dying; dying, too, for the good of the family.
Yes, when I fall the ring will be revealed! To whom? Aye, there’s the rub! Not to you noisy, rollicking boys, I hope and trust! I keep looking out for Nell. I heard her tell her mother day before yesterday “she should watch that kitchen chimney when it went.”
Bravo! There she stands! That’s Nell! That modest girl in the blue dress, with the bird on her hat. Bravo, Nell! I’m reeling, dear. I’ve got my death-blow, I’ve only been waiting for you!
Hammer away, ye iron-hearted men! Make an end of me now. I’m dying in a good cause, sirs, in a good cause, yes!