While we were fond of all the New York friends and especially so of Will Curtice and his wife, for George and Charlotte Todd we had a tender spot in our hearts that none of the others quite reached. George, in a way, reminded me of my former friend, Frank Slater; not that he resembled him in feature, but in his possession of a charm of manner that won everybody with whom he came in contact. Versatile, witty, and brilliant in his entertaining power, he was easily the most popular man in our circle. Entering the employment of New York's greatest life insurance company as an office boy, he is today one of its vice-presidents, and this proud position is the well-deserved reward of wonderful ability. His wife is one of those sweet, pretty, clever women that everybody loves.
Ned Banford had met with disaster. He was one of many who were unable to weather the panic. At the time of his failure he was indebted to me five thousand dollars. A day or two before the event he brought me a package of unset pearls which he valued at eight thousand dollars and requested me to hold them as security.
Mr. Viedler, who also was a creditor, was abroad. As soon as he learned of the failure he returned to New York and advanced a considerable sum of money to enable Ned to make a settlement with his merchandise creditors. This took considerable time, and meanwhile I required in my own business the use of all my resources. I told Ned if he could not arrange to repay me I would be forced to sell the pearls, and suggested taking them to Tiffany, where I was well known, and asking them to make an offer. To this he strongly objected, and much to my surprise, in view of all that I had done for him, exhibited a good deal of ill-feeling toward me for taking such a position. I remained firm, however, and fixed a date beyond which I would not wait. The day before the specified time Ned brought to my office Mr. Viedler's cheque to my order for five thousand dollars.
[Illustration: EIGHTY-SIXTH STREET AND WEST END AVENUE]
Throwing the cheque on my desk he said, with a smile, "Here's your money, old man; now I want you to do something for me. Just give me your note for five thousand dollars payable to Viedler." I said, "Why should I do that, Ned? I am not borrowing this money of Viedler. This is not to benefit me—it is to help you and save those pearls."
"Yes, I know," he replied, "but Viedler is a queer sort of chap. He has been putting up a lot of money for me. He wants this done this way and I want to humor him. It will help me and won't hurt you. Payment will never be demanded of you." I asked him if Mr. Viedler was fully informed on the matter and knew what my position was. He replied, "Yes, I have told him all about it." I then gave him the note. The sequel to this incident will come in a later chapter.
As a final result of our summer's deliberation we leased a house at Eighty-sixth Street and West End Avenue and by the first of October had become settled in our new home; the horses we took with us but the ponies were sold. The children had outgrown them. "Redstone" we closed for the winter. In the spring I offered it for rent and quickly found a good tenant in the agent of the Rhinelander estate. Our four daughters were entered at the school of the Misses Ely on Riverside Drive and made rapid and satisfactory progress in their studies.
As soon as we had become thoroughly accustomed to life in New York I think every member of the family was glad of the change. The children made many pleasant friends, enjoyed their school life, their Saturday matinees and drives in the park, and not one of them would have liked to return to Knollwood.
As for my wife and myself, our enjoyment of the life was beyond question. We had always been fond of the theatre and now we saw everything worth seeing. We had a delightful circle of friends whom we were meeting continually. Our home was handsome and spacious. Our appointments fitted it beautifully and every room in the house, from the billiard-room in the basement, up through the four stories was very attractive.
Every pleasant morning I drove the T-cart or tandem through the park to the Fifty-eighth Street Elevated station, and in the afternoon, with the brougham, after calls or shopping, my wife would meet me. When there was sufficient snow to permit it we would have out the large sleigh, and with four-in-hand or three abreast derive keen pleasure from our drive.