A Lonely House. [Page 40].

LIVING TOO FAST;

OR,

The Confessions of a Bank Officer,

BY

WILLIAM T. ADAMS,

(Oliver Optic.)

Author of “In Doors and Out,” “The Way of the World,”
“Young America Abroad,” &c. &c.

ILLUSTRATED.

BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM,
1876.

COPYRIGHT,

By WILLIAM T. ADAMS,

1876.

Electrotyped by C. C. Morse & Son, Haverhill, Mass.

PREFACE.

The story contained in this volume records the experience of a bank officer, “living too fast,” in the downward career of crime. The writer is entirely willing now to believe that this career ought to have ended in the state prison; but his work is a story, and he has chosen—perhaps unhappily—to punish the defaulter in another way. Yet running through the narrative for the sake of the contrast, is the experience of a less showy, but more honest young man than the principal character, who represents the true life the young business man ought to lead. The author is not afraid that any of his young friends who may read this book will be tempted into an “irregularity” by the example of the delinquent bank officer, for it will be found that his career of crime is full of remorse and positive suffering.

Dorchester, July 1, 1876.

CONTENTS.

LIVING TOO FAST;

OR,

THE CONFESSIONS OF A BANK OFFICER.

CHAPTER I.

GETTING A SITUATION.

“I DON’T wish to stand in your way, Tom Flynn.”

“And I don’t wish to stand in your way, Paley Glasswood,” replied Tom, with a refreshing promptness, which was intended to assure me, and did assure me, that he was my friend, and that he was unwilling to take any unfair advantage of me.

Tom and myself were applicants for the situation of discount clerk in the Forty-ninth National Bank of Boston. We had submitted our applications separately, and each without the knowledge of the other. If we had taken counsel together before doing so, possibly some sentimental outbreak would have prevented one or the other from placing himself even in a seeming attitude of competition with the other. We had been schoolmates in Springhaven, had been cronies, and agreed as well as boys usually do. It is true he had given me a tremendous thrashing on one occasion, when I ventured to regard myself as physically his equal. Though I could not quite forgive him for the drubbing he gave me, I did not respect him any the less. While we were good friends, as the world goes, I was sometimes rather annoyed by the consciousness of being slightly his inferior.

Tom was always a little ahead of me in scholarship, and always contrived to come out just in advance of me in every thing in which we were brought into real or fancied rivalry with each other. Still he was never so far before me as to shut me out of the sphere in which he moved. But in spite of my repeated partial defeats, I regarded myself as fully his equal. Perhaps my vanity assured me that I was slightly his superior, for, like the rest of the world, I was human then, as I have unfortunately proved myself to be since. I was tolerably sure that in the great battle of life which all of us are compelled to fight, I should come out all right. When it came to the matter of business, I was confident that I should outstrip him.

Both of us had been graduated at the Springhaven High School, with the highest honors, though as usual Tom was a little higher than myself, for while he received the first diploma, the second was awarded to me. Tom was my friend, and always treated me with the utmost kindness and consideration, but I could not help feeling just a little stung by his superiority; by his continually coming out about half a length ahead of me. Springhaven is not so far from the metropolis of New England as to be regarded as a provincial town; and though engaging in business anywhere except in the great city was not the height of his or my ambition, Tom had gone into a store in his native place, and obtained his earliest knowledge of the ways of the world. But when he was twenty-one he obtained a situation in an office in the city in which he received a salary of six hundred dollars a year.

Again, at this interesting period of life which seems to be the beginning of all things to a young man, Tom was ahead of me, for I had gone to the city as a boy of sixteen, and when I was of age, my employers refused to give me over five hundred a year. Tom had been lucky—this was my view of the case. Tom had blundered into a good situation, and it was no merit of his own. I deserved something better than I had, and it was only the stupid and stingy policy of the firm which had “brought me up” that rendered my position inferior to that of my friend.

I had one advantage over my friendly rival, however, in my own estimation. My character was above suspicion, which could not be said of Tom, though in the city not a word affecting his reputation had ever been breathed, so far as I was aware. At the store in Springhaven where Tom had served two years as a clerk, several sums of money had been missed. There was no proof that Tom took them, but a few people in town knew that he was suspected of the theft, especially as he appeared to be living beyond his income. I do not believe my friend even knew that he was suspected of the theft, but inasmuch as he was the only person besides the two partners who had access to the safe where the money was kept, it seemed probable to Mr. Gorham, the senior member, that he was guilty.

It was a serious matter, and the two partners used every effort to discover the thief. They put decoys in the safe, such as marked bank bills, and resorted to various expedients, but it always happened that none of these traps were ever disturbed. Though various sums mysteriously disappeared, the decoys were never touched. Mr. Gorham declared that Tom was too smart for him, and Mr. Welch, the junior, never said much about the matter. At a convenient time, without stating any reason for the step, Tom was informed that his services were no longer required; that a change in the business rendered them unnecessary. The junior partner retired from the firm, and the senior carried on the store alone.

Mr. Gorham was a relative of my mother, and knowing of my intimacy with Tom, he regarded it as his duty to inform her of the suspicions which he entertained. My mother was shocked and appalled. Tom was the son of one of the best men in the town, and as there was no direct proof of the crime, it was not deemed expedient to say anything about it. Mr. Gorham did not say anything, except to my mother, and she, appreciating the kindness of her kinsman, faithfully promised to keep the momentous secret. Probably there were not a half dozen persons in Springhaven who knew that Tom left his place under suspicion, and those were the family and intimate friends of the storekeeper.

I will not say that the knowledge of this circumstance afforded me any satisfaction, but it helped me to feel that I was the superior of Tom; that in being honest I had a decided advantage over him. I could not disbelieve the story as it came from the lips of my mother, though it was possible there was some mistake. Within three years after the change in the firm of Gorham & Welch, the junior partner “went to destruction,” and in the light of this after revelation, it was possible that he had appropriated the money. Mr. Gorham hinted as much to my mother, and she, knowing that Tom and myself were still intimate, gave me the suggestion as a confirmation of what I had always said in his defence. I had found it quite impossible to dissolve my relations with Tom, strongly as my mother desired it. Without exactly believing that he was guilty of the whispered iniquity, I felt that he would be a sufferer on account of it.

The position in the bank for which we were both applicants, was considered a remarkably good one for a young man like Tom or me. I had considerable influence which I could bring to bear upon the directors, and so had my friend, but it seemed to be an even thing between him and me. In the light of past experience, I felt that Tom would get ahead of me again, and I was intensely anxious to succeed, in order that I might regain the ground I had continually lost.

I have called my book “Confessions.” I mean that they shall be such; and of course I do not set myself up as a model man. I did wrong, and that was the source of all my misery. I shall not, therefore, deem it necessary to apologize for each individual fault of which I was guilty. My readers can blame me as they will—and I deserve the severest censure. I have sent grief and dismay into the bosoms of my friends, and my story is a warning voice to all who are disposed to yield to the temptations which beset every man in his business relations.

I met Tom Flynn on the street, and I think he was sincerely desirous not to step into my path. I am confident he had a genuine regard for me, and that, if he could have been sure of securing the situation in the bank to me by withdrawing from the competition himself, he would have done so on the moment. But there were other applicants, and if he retired from the field at all, he was as likely to do it in favor of some stranger as of me.

“I should like the place, Tom, though I don’t wish to stand in your way,” I added; but in saying so, I am afraid I only indulged in a conventional form of speech, desiring only to appear to be as generous and self-sacrificing as he was.

“Of course it is my duty to do as well as I can for myself, but if I can get out of your way without losing the chance for one of us, I will do so.”

“Thank you, Tom. That’s handsome, and I would do as much for you; but as neither of us can foresee the issue, we will each do the best he can to get the place. That’s fair.”

“Certainly it is; and whichever is successful, there shall be no hard feelings on the part of the other.”

At that moment Tom raised his hat to a lady, and turning from me spoke to her. She was a beautiful creature, and though it would have been quite proper for me to terminate the interview, I was not inclined to do so, for the lady filled my eye, and I could not help looking at her.

“Be sure and come, Mr. Flynn,” said she.

“I shall certainly go if nothing unforeseen occurs,” replied he. “Miss Oliphant, allow me to make you acquainted with my particular friend, Mr. Paley Glasswood,” he added, turning to me.

I was very glad indeed to know her, for I could not remember that any lady had ever before made so captivating an impression upon me, even after a much longer acquaintance. She was not only very pretty, but she was elegantly dressed, and I concluded that she belonged to some “nobby” family. I was pleased with her, and said some of the prettiest things I could invent for the occasion. I hoped we should meet again.

“Mr. Flynn, you must bring your friend with you to-morrow evening,” she continued.

“Thank you, Miss Oliphant; I should be delighted to take him with me, and as he is here, he can speak for himself,” replied Tom.

“Just a quiet little party of half-a-dozen at our house, to-morrow evening. I hope you will come, Mr. Glasswood,” she added.

“I should be very happy to join you, and I will do so,” I answered.

She was very pretty, and she seemed to grow prettier every moment that I looked at her. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled so sweetly, that I am forced to acknowledge I experienced a new sensation in her presence. I repeated my promise to join the little party, and no entreaty was necessary to render me a willing follower. She bowed and passed on, mingling with the bright throng that gaily flitted up and down Washington Street. My eyes followed her till she was lost in the crowd, and I almost forgot that I was an applicant for the situation of discount clerk in the Forty-ninth National Bank.

“Well, Paley, they say the place will be filled at the meeting of the directors to-morrow forenoon,” said Tom, calling me away from the sea of moonshine in which I was at that moment floating, as my eyes followed the graceful form of Miss Oliphant.

“So I have been told, and we shall have but little time left to work. By the way, who is Miss Oliphant?”

“She is a very pretty girl,” laughed Tom.

“Tell me what I don’t know. What is she?”

“She is the daughter of a small merchant, who is in rather shaky circumstances, they say. He lives on Tremont Street, and has three marriageable daughters.

“If they are all as passable as the one I have just seen, their chances are good.”

“I don’t know about that,” added Tom, laughing. “Miss Lilian dresses magnificently, you perceive; and whoever marries one of those girls will find money a cash article. You shall see them all to-morrow.”

“I should say that a wife like this Miss Oliphant was cheap at any price.”

“I think so myself, if a fellow can afford such an expensive luxury. But, Paley, we must not waste our time,” added Tom, glancing at the Old South clock. “I must find a man who can do a good thing for me at the bank.”

“So must I.”

We parted, and as I walked down the street, I could not help recalling the vision of loveliness I had beheld in the person of Miss Lilian Oliphant. I was on my way to one of the insurance offices frequented by my uncle, Captain Halliard, a retired shipmaster, who dabbled in stocks, and was a director in the Japan Marine Insurance Company. He had influence, and I relied principally upon him to engineer my application at the bank. He was a man of the world in the broadest sense of the term. He believed in making money, and in getting ahead in business, and though he paid a reasonable respect to conventional forms, I am not quite certain that he believed in anything higher. In character and purposes, he was the very antipode of my mother, whose brother he was.

I found him reading a newspaper in the office. He dropped it when he saw me, and I thought he looked very anxious. He had undertaken to procure me the situation I was ambitious to obtain, and though I don’t think he cared much for me individually, he was persistent in carrying out any scheme upon which he had fixed his mind.

“Paley, your chance is small,” said he, candidly, after we had passed the time of day.

My heart sank within me.

“I am sorry to hear it,” I replied, gloomily.

“Tom Flynn has the inside track.”

As usual! It seemed to be laid down as the immutable law of circumstances that Tom should always come out just a little ahead of me. I was vexed. Tom had six hundred dollars a year, while I had but five hundred. It was cruel and unjust to me. His income was to be doubled, and mine to remain as it was.

“I was afraid Tom would get ahead of me,” I added. “But I would rather he should have the place than any other person, if I can’t get it.”

“Nonsense, Paley. Don’t talk bosh! I haven’t given up all hope yet, by any means. Tom is well enough, I dare say, but you must have this place, if possible.”

“I should like to have it,” I added, hopelessly.

“Paley, what was that story about Tom which was kept so still in Springhaven?” continued Captain Halliard in a low tone. “I heard your mother say something about it, when she was speaking about your being intimate with him. I have forgotten about it.”

“His employers in Springhaven thought that he took money from the safe.”

“Exactly so; that was the idea,” added my uncle, rubbing his hands involuntarily.

“But I don’t think there was any foundation for the suspicion,” I protested, rather faintly, too faintly to produce any decided effect.

“We are not called upon to try the case,” he replied, chuckling at his own cunning.

“But I don’t wish to have anything to say about that old affair.”

“Then you needn’t have anything to say about it, except to me. I have begun to manage this business, and I shall finish it.”

“I don’t want to injure Tom in the estimation of any one,” I added.

“Don’t be a spooney, Paley. You must look out for your own chances. You can have this place, if we can get Tom off the track.”

Although I was not the author of the brilliant idea foreshadowed in my uncle’s remarks, I permitted him to develop it. I told him all I knew about Tom’s affair with Gorham & Welch. If I stated that those who knew anything about the matter now generally believed that the junior partner was the thief, I stated it so mildly that my uncle took no notice of it. I confess that I virtually assented to his scheme; at least, I offered no decided opposition to it. I knew that Captain Halliard had only to whisper the fact that Tom had been suspected, and had lost his situation in consequence of this suspicion, to throw my chief competitor out of the field.

Practically, I assented to the scheme; if I did anything to prevent its being carried into execution, I only “fastened the door with a boiled carrot.” I wanted the place, not alone for its emoluments, but in order, in the race of life, to surpass my friend. I regard this weak yielding as my first crime—the crime against my friend, one of the basest and most loathsome in the calendar of offences. This was my real fall; and it was this, it has since seemed to me, which made me capable of all that followed.

I left my uncle in the office, and went back to the store in which I was employed. Between the bright vision of Miss Oliphant’s loveliness and the dark one of my own perfidy, I was nervous and uneasy all the rest of the day. What was the use of being over nice? If I did not look out for myself, no one would look out for me! I think I did not sleep an hour that night, and the next day I performed my duties mechanically. About one o’clock I was rather startled to see Tom Flynn enter the counting-room.

“Paley, my dear fellow, I congratulate you,” said he, grasping my hand.

“What’s the matter, Tom?” I asked.

“Why, haven’t you heard of it?”

“Heard of what?”

“You have been appointed discount clerk in the Forty-ninth National Bank. ’Pon my soul, I am glad to be the first to tell you of it,” added Tom, with enthusiasm, as he rung my hand.

Iniquity had prospered, but only for a time.

CHAPTER II.

MISS LILIAN OLIPHANT.

HOW could I look Tom Flynn in the face, after what I had done, or permitted to be done? He had been my competitor in the race for the situation in the bank, and probably would have obtained it if my uncle had not whispered the old slander in the ears of Mr. Bristlebach, the president. It is true this plan had originated with Captain Halliard, but I consented to it, to say the very least. I could have prevented him from carrying it into operation. I could have protested in the strongest of terms that there was no truth in the story, and that I would not take the place if it were procured for me by such a base sacrifice of honor and integrity.

I did not do so. If I protested at all, it was so faintly that my worldly-minded uncle only regarded it as a piece of “buncombe.” It is not for me to blame him, for I regard myself as equally guilty of the infamous deed—more guilty, for Tom was my friend. It is a satisfaction for me now to know that I blushed when my old schoolfellow entered the counting-room; and to remember that my conscience stung me like a hot iron when he informed me that the situation had been given to me. It was not the glorious triumph which I had anticipated, and I could hardly felicitate myself that I was to step immediately into the enjoyment of a salary of twelve hundred a year. I could not even enjoy the triumph of being, for once, actually ahead of my fortunate friend.

“I congratulate you, Paley, with all my soul,” said Tom, with enthusiasm. “I should have liked the place myself, but I am really better satisfied with the result, than I should have been if I had been successful.”

“You don’t mean that, Tom,” I suggested; and I felt that I was almost incapable of giving birth to a lofty emotion.

“‘Pon my word, I do, Paley. I was thinking this forenoon that, if the place fell to me, I should reproach myself for having stood in your way. I never should have felt just right about it. Now I am satisfied—more than satisfied; I am delighted with the result.”

“I thank you, Tom. I didn’t expect any such magnanimity from any person in this world;” but I comforted myself with the thought that, if the place had been assigned to him, he would have contrived to endure the disappointment which fell to my lot.

“If I had known that you were an applicant, with any chance of success, I would not have entered the field. But it is all right as it is; and I am as much pleased as you are,” added Tom.

“I don’t exactly see how I happened to get the place,” I replied, in order to tempt him to tell what he knew about the canvass, rather than because I was astonished at the result.

“I do,” answered Tom, laughing. Your uncle, Captain Halliard, has a great deal of influence with Mr. Bristlebach, the president. Rhodes—you know Rhodes?”

“I know of him; he’s book-keeper in the Forty-ninth National.”

“Yes; well, he says Captain Halliard had a long talk with Mr. Bristlebach this forenoon. I have no doubt he made a strong personal appeal for you, and that settled the case.”

I should very gladly have believed that I owed my good luck to the personal influence of my uncle, but I was confident that he had used that old slander to procure my appointment. Tom left me after I had promised to meet him at Mr. Oliphant’s in the evening. I was sad, and I felt mean. I was tempted to go to Mr. Bristlebach and undo what my uncle had done. I could even procure a letter from Mr. Gorham testifying to the integrity of Tom. Alas! I had not the courage to do justice to my friend. A salary of twelve hundred dollars was too glittering a prize to be thrown away; and after all it was possible that Tom had been guilty—possible, but not at all probable.

Before the store closed I received official notice of my appointment, and informed my employers of my intention to leave them. They did not say much, and I am not sure that they were very sorry to have me go. I went to my boarding-house, and dressed myself with the utmost care for the occasion in the evening. Miss Lilian Oliphant was a bright vision before my eyes. I wondered that she had been condescending enough to notice a person so insignificant as I was. I was thinking only of her, and as the happy moment drew near when I was to see her again, I even forgot my own infamy towards Tom.

Twelve hundred a year! It was an immense sum for a young fellow like me, and with such a foundation for an air-castle, I pictured to myself a pleasant home with Lilian as the presiding genius of the place, shedding unutterable bliss upon my existence. Twelve hundred dollars would hire a house, furnish it, and enables me to live like a lord. If Lilian did dress well, if she was rather extravagant, I could stand the pressure with the magnificent income which would be mine.

I was admitted to the parlor in which the family were seated. Tom and two other gentlemen were there, conversing with the young ladies, all of whom were dressed elegantly, and were evidently “got up” for the purpose of making an impression. Miss Lilian gave me a cordial welcome, and introduced me to the rest of the party. Mr. Oliphant had heard of my good fortune. He congratulated me, and did me the honor to say that I should soon be the cashier of the Forty-ninth National Bank. I was treated with distinguished consideration, and, without exactly knowing why, I felt myself to be the lion of the occasion. Discount clerk of the bank, I was a bigger man than any of the gentlemen present.

Miss Lilian was very gracious to me, but I bore my honors with tolerable meekness. I tried to avoid putting on any airs, and I think I produced a favorable impression. We played whist, and Lilian was my partner; I did not do myself justice, for I was so fascinated by her loveliness that I could not keep my thoughts about me, and Tom and Miss Bertha beat us badly. But Miss Lilian attributed our misfortune to ill-luck, and smiled as sweetly as ever. I may as well hasten to the catastrophe, and declare at once that I was deeply and irretrievably smitten, as I had intended to be from the first. She was very kind to me, and seemed to look with a favorable eye upon me; but I could not, of course, know whether she would accept me. I was fearful that she would require even a bigger man than the discount clerk of the Forty-ninth National Bank.

I left the house at eleven o’clock with the most intense regret. I knew not how soon I might see her again, but I ascertained where she went to church, and I went there the very next Sunday. It was cloudy, and she did not appear. I was sad and impatient. It seemed to me that I must see her again soon, or I should do some desperate deed. I tried to invent an excuse for calling at her father’s house on Sunday evening, but my ingenuity failed me. I dropped in upon Tom Flynn, and talked of nothing but Lilian Oliphant. I hoped he would take the hint, and propose to call upon her that evening, but he would not; in fact, he was going to a prayer-meeting, and only invited me to go there with him. It was not Lilian’s church, and I did not wish to go. It would be pleasanter to walk on the Common and think of her, if I could not see her.

I did not sleep half an hour that night. I was madly, desperately in love with Lilian, and I was afraid that some young fellow with only a thousand a year might snap her up while I was waiting to go through all the forms of society in decent and conventional order. I was not to take my desk in the bank till the first day of the new year, a week hence, and I induced my employers to let me off from the last four days’ service, for the reason that I was so infatuated with Miss Lilian I could not do anything. I walked by Mr. Oliphant’s house twenty times a day, but I had not the pluck to call. On Tuesday afternoon I sent her a beautiful bouquet labelled “In memory of a pleasant evening. P. G.” When I had done so, I happened to think that one of my companions during the pleasant evening alluded to was Paul Grahame. It was an awful blunder on my part, for how could she know whether Paul Grahame or Paley Glasswood was the sender of the flowers, which had cost me five dollars! If Paul, who was more intimate in the family than I, should happen to call during the week, Lilian, under the consciousness that such a pretty bouquet could come only from a sincere admirer, might speak a gentle word or bestow a loving smile upon him, which would forever darken my hopes.

The situation looked desperate, and I must call on Wednesday, or drown myself in the icy waters off Long Wharf on Thursday. Water below a reasonable temperature was particularly repugnant to me, and I did not relish the alternative. I wondered if she would be glad to see me. I tried to determine whether her gracious demeanor towards me during that important evening had been dictated by mere politeness, or by a genuine interest in me. I was vain enough to flatter myself that I had made an impression upon her gushing heart. In my native town I had been accounted a good-looking fellow, as revealed to me through sundry “compliments.” I thought I was not bad looking, and I consulted my mirror on this momentous question. The result was satisfactory, and I was quite willing to believe that Miss Lilian ought to be pardoned for feeling an interest in me.

On Wednesday afternoon I walked by her father’s house seven times, and probably I should have passed it seven times more, if on the eighth I had not seen Lilian at the window. The stars favored me. The dear divinity saw me; she smiled, she bowed to me, and I thought she blushed. Whether she did or not, I blushed, and the die was cast. The thrilling glance the fair being bestowed upon me inspired me with a resolution equal to the occasion. I rushed to the door, and before I had time to change my purpose, I rang the bell.

I was admitted. I asked for Miss Lilian Oliphant, and was shown into the parlor in which she was seated. My heart throbbed like the beatings of the ocean in a tempest, and my face felt as if a blast of fire had swept over it; but I survived. I was more than fascinated; I was infatuated with the fair being before me. I am free to say that no such vision of loveliness was ever realized before or since in my experience.

“This is a very unexpected pleasure, Mr. Glasswood,” said she, more self-possessed than I was.

“I beg your pardon for calling,” I stammered.

“I’m sure you needn’t do that, for I’m very glad to see you, sir,” she replied, kindly helping me out.

“I didn’t—really—I thought—it’s a beautiful day, Miss Oliphant.”

“Splendid day!” laughed she; but I saw that she was beginning to be embarrassed.

I ventured to hint that I had spent a very pleasant evening at her house on the preceding Friday; and she was kind enough to say she had enjoyed it very much, and hoped I would call again soon with my friend, Tom Flynn, and have another game of whist.

“I played so badly then that I shall hardly dare to try again,” I replied. I was—really, I was—”

“What?” she asked, when I broke down completely.

“I was going to say that I usually play better, but something disturbed me that evening so that I was not myself;” and I fixed my loving gaze upon the threadbare carpet at my feet.

“Why, what was the matter with you?” laughed the vision of loveliness before me.

“I don’t know, but I didn’t seem to have the command of my faculties.”

“Then you must come again and redeem your reputation, if you feel that you did not do yourself justice.”

“Thank you! When shall I come?” I asked eagerly.

“As soon as you please.”

“If it were as soon as I pleased, it would be this very evening,” I added with a boldness which absolutely confounded me.

“Do come this evening then. We can make up a set without any other help.”

Why didn’t she say something about that bouquet, and thus enable me to advance a step nearer to the conquest. She did not, and I was afraid the five dollar trifle had been placed to the credit of Paul Grahame. I went away, but I hastened to the florist’s and bought another bouquet—price seven dollars. On the card I wrote, “In memory of a pleasant call. P. G******d.” She could not make Grahame out of that.

Early in the evening I rang the bell, and was ushered into the parlor. On the piano was my bouquet, and near it stood Lilian, who, as I entered the room, was in the act of inhaling its fragrance. I think she blushed a little when she saw me.

“What a beautiful bouquet!” she exclaimed with rapture, after the preliminary formalities had been disposed of. “I am very grateful to you Mr. Glasswood, for this kind remembrancer.”

“O, not at all; it was the best I could find, but it is altogether unworthy.”

“Why, it is positively lovely! It is beautiful, delicious. My friends are very kind. It was only the other day that Mr. Grahame sent me one, but it was not so pretty as this one.”

“Did he, indeed?” I asked.

“How stupid I am! Why it was you Mr. Glasswood. I interpreted the initials as those of his name.”

Miss Lilian looked upon the floor, and her chest heaved with emotion that agitated me more than her. I fancied it was all right—and it was. I played whist, and the old gentleman and one of the other daughters beat us worse than before. I trumped my partner’s tricks, and put my ace upon her king. But I consoled myself with the reflection that she must be thinking of something else, or she would not so often have played the king before the ace was out. We played a double game, of which whist was the less important; but we played into each other’s hands, and won the game in which hearts were trumps, if we lost on all other suits.

I ought to have gone home at ten o’clock, but I staid till half-past eleven. I was cordially invited to come again, and I may say I went again, until my visits included every evening in the week, not excepting Saturday and Sunday, when all but “fiddlers and fools” stay at home. Before the snows melted we were engaged.

On the first day of the new year I took my place in the bank. It looked to me then like a bed of roses; I have since found it to be a bed of thorns; though I ought to add that I made it so myself. I knew the routine of bank business tolerably well, though I had much to learn. I tried to discharge my duties faithfully, and though Mr. Bristlebach, the president, was a hard man, I won even his approval. I need not dwell on this season of happiness, for as I look back upon it, I appreciate it; I could not then.

My services were so satisfactory that when our paying teller was promoted to a higher place in another institution, I was advanced to his situation with a salary of eighteen hundred dollars, and a promise of an additional two hundred if I proved to be competent to discharge the duties of the office. My uncle and others were my bondsmen. Never did a young man look forward to a brighter future than I did.

Every evening in the week I went to Mr. Oliphant’s and was treated as one of the family. During the year I had been paying assiduous court to my beautiful charmer. I spent all my salary, and more than all, for I was in debt at the end of this time. I wore good clothes, for I wished Lilian to be proud of me; I sent her bouquets, I took her to the theatre, the opera, the concerts, and to balls and parties, a single one of which in some instances, spoiled a twenty dollar bill. I took her out to ride, and paid for many costly suppers. But Lilian appeared to love me with all her soul, and I was satisfied.

I had found the end of my twelve hundred dollars so easily that I dared not think of getting married; but my promotion decided me. Lilian offered no unreasonable objections, neither did her parents, and the happy day was fixed. Tom Flynn, who had taken my place as discount clerk in the Forty-ninth National, was to stand up with me. Somewhat oddly, as it seemed to me, my good friend advised me not to marry, and we almost quarrelled over some plain talking which he did. The die was cast; I would not have retreated if I could.

CHAPTER III.

GOING TO HOUSEKEEPING.

I was married in the spring, and the bank gave me my vacation on the joyous occasion, so that I was enabled to make a bridal tour of ten days to the South. I went to Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, and while I distinctly recollect that I enjoyed myself exceedingly, and traveled like a prince, I can more vividly recall the rapidity with which my funds were expended. It had cost me all my salary to pay my board and to take Miss Lilian to the opera and the balls, but I could not afford to deprive Mrs. Glasswood of any luxury.

Before we started I was “hard up,” and I tried to contrive some clever expedient by which the bridal tour might be dispensed with. I suggested to Lilian that the journey was not absolutely necessary; that some very “nobby” people staid at home after they were married. Her chin dropped down as though a ten pound weight had been attached to it, and she looked so sad and gloomy that I could not think for a moment longer of depriving her of this triumphal march, for so I am afraid she regarded it. Of course I did not hint to her that I could not afford to spend two or three hundred dollars in travelling, for we were still lovingly cheating each other into the belief that she was a princess and I was a representative of Crœsus himself.

There was not a dollar to my credit at the bank, and I had not a dollar to my credit anywhere else. I was fretful one day, and unguardedly mentioned to Tom Flynn that I was short. The generous fellow promptly offered to lend me a hundred dollars. I am surprised now that I was able to accept it, but I did, and he put my “value received” into his wallet as choicely as though it had been as good as the gold itself. But a hundred dollars, though Tom seemed to think it would pay for every thing which it could possibly enter into the head of a groom to procure, was expended in trifles and before we were ready to start upon the bridal tour I was penniless again.

I wanted three hundred dollars, for it would not be safe to start on a ten-days’ trip attended by such a helpmate as Lilian with less than this sum in my pocket. First class hotels, private parlors, carriages, the opera in New York, would make large demands upon my purse. I was rather sorry that Tom Flynn had offered to lend me a hundred dollars, for if he had not done so I should have asked him to favor me with the loan I now needed. I could not ask him, after what he had done. My uncle, Captain Halliard was a rich man, though he was a calculating and a careful one. I had been a favorite of his in my earlier years, and I knew that he had a great deal of regard for the honor of the family. I had hardly seen him since he helped me into my situation, for he had been on a business mission to Europe.

Three hundred dollars was nothing to a man of his resources, and, with some sacrifice of pride on my part, I made up my mind to wait upon him with my request. He would understand the case, and readily see that a young man about to be married must incur a great many extraordinary expenses, and it would not be at all strange that he was temporarily “short.” I found the worthy old gentleman in the insurance office, up to his eyes in the news of the day. I talked with him for some time about indifferent topics, about my mother’s health and the affairs of Springhaven. Then I rose to depart, in the most natural manner in the world though I was rather grieved to see that he was not sorry to have me go; in fact, he returned to his newspaper with an eagerness which seemed to intimate that I had bored him. I took a few steps towards the door, and then, as though I had forgotten something, I hastily retraced my steps.

I call upon my Uncle. [Page 45].

“By the way, uncle—I’m sorry to trouble you, but—could you lend me three hundred dollars for a few weeks?”

“Three hundred dollars!” exclaimed the venerable seeker after the main chance, just as though I had attacked him in the tenderest part of his being.

“The fact is, uncle, getting married in these times is an expensive luxury, and I find myself a little short, though, of course, I shall be all right as soon as I get settled down.”

“It’s rather a bad sign for a young man to have to borrow money to get married with,” he added with a glance of severe dignity at me.

“Never mind it, uncle. I won’t trouble you, then, if it is not convenient,” I replied, in a thoroughly off-hand manner, as though the little favor I asked was of more consequence to him than to me. “I shall expect to see you at the house of Mr. Oliphant at the ceremony, and remember the levee is at eight o’clock. Don’t fail to be there, uncle.”

“Stop a minute! I suppose if you need three hundred dollars, I can let you have it,” he added.

“O, it is of no consequence. Don’t trouble yourself. Two or three of my friends wanted to lend it to me, but I did not exactly like to accept such a favor outside of the family. Aunt Rachel, I dare say, will be glad to accommodate me.”

“Write a note,” said he, rather crustily, as he went to one of the desks, and drew a check for the amount I required.

I could not help smiling, as I wrote the due bill, to think of the address with which I had managed my case. I am confident if I had whined and begged until the sun went down, he would have been hard enough to refuse me. Possibly he did not like to have me apply to Aunt Rachel. She was a maiden sister of my father who had about twenty thousand dollars and lived with my mother. Her inheritance had been the same as my father’s, but, having no expenses, she had kept certain lands in the middle of the town till they increased in value so that she was made independent. As I wished to be her heir, I had always treated her with the utmost consideration. Captain Halliard managed some stocks for her, and he was anxious to keep in her good graces.

I put the check in my pocket with the utmost nonchalance, and again begging my uncle not to fail to be present at the ceremony, I left him. It was all right with me for the present. When I started on my bridal tour I owed about six hundred dollars, which I calculated that I could easily pay off in six months with my increased salary. When we returned from Washington I had barely money enough left to pay the hackman for conveying us to the house of my wife’s father. If I had not been so cautious as to count up my money, and estimate the expenses of the return trip, I should have exhausted my exchequer before we reached home. When I found I had just enough left to pay these expenses, I told Lilian that I had received a letter which compelled me to return immediately, though we had intended to stay two days longer.

She pouted, but I told her I should lose my situation if I did not go back. She thought I might get another situation rather than break up the pleasant excursion so abruptly. I told her I could easily get another situation, but it was not exactly prudent to give up one until the other was obtained. It almost broke my heart to cross her in anything, and if I could have met a friend good-natured enough to lend me a hundred dollars I might have been spared the annoyance. I met no such friend, and we went on cheating each other as before. It was stupid in me to do so, but I had not the courage to tell her that I was not made of money, and I permitted her to believe that my pockets were still well lined.

We returned home, but on the way I was obliged to pretend that I was sick, in order to save the expense of supper aboard the steamer. We had dined at four o’clock, and though it was absurd to eat again at six, Lilian wanted to see who were at the tables; but my pretended illness saved me, and, what was more important, saved the two dollars for the hack hire in Boston.

“What shall we do when we get home?” asked Lilian, as we sat that evening in the cabin of the steamer.

“We shall live on love for years to come,” I replied, with enthusiasm.

“Of course we shall do that,” she added; but I thought she did not seem to be exactly pleased with the diet. “Shall we board or keep house?”

“Which do you prefer, my dear Lilian?” I asked, for though we had discussed this question before, she had not been able to make up her mind.

“If we can board at the Revere House, or at Mrs. Peecksmith’s in Beacon street, I would rather board.”

“It would not be possible to obtain such rooms as would suit us at the Revere House at this season of the year; and I heard a gentleman in Washington say that Mrs. Peecksmith had not a single apartment unoccupied.”

“How provoking!”

It was provoking, but I had to invent my excuses as I went along. I did not venture to suggest that my entire salary would not pay the expenses of boarding at either of the places she named. I was too weak and vain to tell her the truth. I deceived her. She had no knowledge of the world, no experience of the value of money, for her poor father had actually ruined himself in a vain attempt to keep up the style of living he had enjoyed in more prosperous days. Nearly all his profits went upon the backs of his daughters, each of whom had been taught to believe that a husband, when interpreted, was money. I did nothing to disturb the illusion.

“I think we must find a place to board for a few weeks, till we can get a house, and then we will go to housekeeping,” I suggested.

“We must go to housekeeping if we can’t get rooms at the Revere, or at Mrs. Peecksmith’s,” added Lilian. “But dear ma will take us to board for a time; and really I could not think of going anywhere else.”

We went to “dear ma’s,” and after I had paid the hackman, I had just twenty-five cents left in my pocket. “Dear ma” was willing to take us to board for a time, under the circumstances, though it would be a great inconvenience to her. She would not think of taking anybody else, though she had plenty of house room. I ventured to hint that, as a prudent man, I should like to know what the terms would be, though really it did not make the least difference to me, in point of fact. “Dear ma” did not like to speak of such things; she was going to take us simply as a matter of accommodation—“under the circumstances.”

“Of course, Mrs. Oliphant, I understand you, and I am very grateful for the sacrifice you propose to make; but it is always well to have things clearly set forth,” I replied, mildly.

“Certainly it is. I always believe in having things in black and white. I suppose it would cost you fifty dollars a week to board at Mrs. Peecksmith’s; but I should not think of charging you that,” she continued, with a benevolent smile.

“Gracious! I should hope not,” I mentally ejaculated, for at the Beacon Street house the boarders walked on Wilton carpets, looked out through windows decked with velvet draperies, slept upon rosewood bedsteads, and had seven courses at dinner, while Mr. Oliphant’s house was an old one, its furniture worn out and dilapidated, its carpets threadbare, and the fare—when they had no extra company—below the grade of a cheap boarding-house. If I had not loved Lilian with all my soul, I should have deemed it a charity to take her off her parents’ hands. As it was, she was cheap at any price.

“Whatever you say will be all right,” I replied. “I am getting a handsome salary now, and I am willing to pay a fair price.”

“I think thirty dollars a week would be no more than the cost to us. Of course I don’t expect you to pay anything near what it would cost at Mrs. Peecksmith’s.”

Whew! I could board at a house only one grade below Beacon Street for twenty. I expected she would say ten, or at the most fifteen dollars, but, poor “dear ma!” I suppose she needed the money to deck out the next daughter for the sacrifice. I could not object. It was all in the family; but I determined to find a house with all possible dispatch.

I went to the bank and took my place. I flatter myself that I was smart, for I won the approbation of even Mr. Bristlebach. I made no mistakes. I was not nervous. When I drew my month’s salary of one hundred and fifty dollars, all but about twenty dollars of it went into the purse of “dear ma,” for board which would have been high at ten dollars a week. Though Lilian complained of the accommodations, she said nothing about housekeeping. I made some inquiries, and found I could board better for half the price I was paying. I then said something about engaging rooms nearer to the bank. My dear wife protested. She could not leave “dear ma’s,” where she had all the comforts of a home, and was in her own family. I saw that she was a party to the swindle; that “dear ma” had instructed her what to do and what to say.

My home was no home at all, and I was determined to leave it before I had another month’s board to pay. To stay any longer would be ruin. My twenty dollars’ surplus would pay for only a few concerts and rides, and in less than a fortnight I was penniless again. My debts began to trouble me. One day Captain Halliard wanted to know if he had not lent me three hundred dollars for a few weeks. I assured him he had, and that I intended to pay him in a few days. Tom Flynn hinted that he was short, though he did not directly say he wanted his money. My tailor was becoming slightly unreasonable, and the keeper of a livery stable stupidly insisted upon being paid, and even had the audacity to refuse to trust me for any more teams.

It would not do for me to have these importunate creditors coming into the bank to see me. The president and the cashier would be alarmed if they discovered that the paying teller was in debt. But trying as these duns were, they were insignificant compared with the annoyances which I endured at “dear ma’s.” Lilian hinted, and then insisted, that I should refurnish our room at my own expense. I told her I would think of it, and went out to walk after dinner. I did think of it; and thought I would not do it. Strange as it may seem, “dear ma” was absolutely becoming disagreeable to me, and I wondered how such an angel as Lilian could have been born of such a designing woman as I found her mother to be.

I stumbled upon a friend who had been to look at a house. It was a splendid little place, but not quite large enough for him, and the rent was only six hundred dollars a year. I went with him to see it. It looked like a fairy palace to me, and was just the size I wanted. It was an English basement house, three stories high. I went to see the owner. Another man had just left it, and meant to take the house, but he must first consult his wife. If I stopped to consult mine, I should lose it, and I closed with him on the instant, regarding myself as the luckiest fellow in the world.

Lilian would be delighted with it; there could be no doubt of that. What a magnificent surprise it would be to her, if I could take her in, after it was all furnished! Stupid as the idea may seem to lady housekeepers, I was so enamored of my plan that I determined to put it into operation. I was satisfied we could live in this gem of a house for less than I paid for board, and live in much better style.

The idea of a surprise to Lilian was delightful to me, and I laid out the plan in detail; but the first thing was to provide the funds. Then my jaw dropped down. I owed over six hundred dollars to certain restless creditors; but I could save money by going to housekeeping, and my duty to them required that I should do so. I had not yet troubled Aunt Rachel, and taking Lilian with me, I went down to Springhaven to spend the Fourth of July, ostensibly to escape the noise and dust of the city, but really to lay siege to my venerable aunt’s purse strings.

The only thing that was likely to defeat me was the fact that Aunt Rachel did not like my wife, for Lilian, who regarded the worthy spinster as an “old fuss,” had not always been as prudent in her presence as I could have wished. But I caught my aunt alone at five o’clock in the morning, for the noise of fire-crackers had driven the old creature from her bed at an unwonted hour. I played my cards with all the skill of which I was master. She not only gave me the money, a thousand dollars, which she had “salted down” in the house for fear all the banks would break, but she promised to keep my secret. She declared that Lilian was too extravagant for a young man like me, and I explained that I wished to furnish the house without her knowledge, so as to save expense. She commended my good motive, and I returned to the city with a thousand dollars in my pocket, to furnish the English basement house.

CHAPTER IV.

THE ENGLISH BASEMENT HOUSE.

A THOUSAND dollars in cash was more than I had ever before possessed at one time. I felt like a rich man, for the shadow of the six hundred dollars which I owed did not offensively obtrude itself upon me. I could hardly conceal my exhilaration from Lilian, but I was so intent upon giving her a grand surprise that I kept the great secret, and preserved a forced calmness. I had made very careful estimates of the cost of living in my new palace—I thought they were very careful—and I was fully satisfied that I should save one-third of my present expenses.

My column of figures, after I had thought of every possible expense that could be incurred in the course of the week, footed up at a trifle over twenty dollars a week, but I was entirely convinced that I should bring the actual below the estimated expense. From the first of July my salary was to be two thousand a year, or about thirty-eight dollars and a half a week. I could therefore let my expenses go up to twenty-five dollars a week without upsetting the argument.

Then I allowed three hundred a year for clothing my wife and myself, and for incidental expenses. In our beautiful home we should not care to ride and go to concerts and theatres much, and both of us were well supplied with clothing. I deemed the sum appropriated as amply sufficient. At this rate I could pay off my debts in a year and a half, and be square with the world. Until this was done, I intended to hold myself to a most rigid economy. I must even contrive some way to let Lilian know that I could not spend money so freely as I had done, but I could promise her that, when my debts were paid, she should have every thing she wanted.

I was perfectly satisfied. My prudential calculations set me all right with myself and with the rest of mankind. The vision of the English basement house, all finished and furnished, with Lilian sitting in state in the little boudoir of a parlor, was my castle in the air for the present. I was very cheerful and light hearted, and went to my daily duties at the bank with an alacrity I had never before felt. I told Lilian I should not be at home to dinner that day. When she wanted to know why, I said something about bank commissioners, and was afraid I should be detained until a late hour. She kissed me as usual when I left her, and even “dear ma” looked so very amiable, that I was afraid she would kiss me too. But she did not, and my heart smote me as I thought of the treason I was meditating against her and the two unmarried daughters.

I ought to say here, in justice to myself, that these two sisters of my wife were a heavy burden upon me, independently of the thirty dollars a week I paid for my board; for if Lilian and I proposed to go to a concert, to the theatre or the opera, it was somehow contrived that one or both of them should join the party. My wife reasoned that a carriage would cost no more for four than for two, and the paltry expense of the tickets was all the additional outlay I incurred, while it was such a pleasure for the sisters to go. Then I could just as well purchase three pairs of white kids as one—Mrs. Oliphant would pay me for them. I must do her the justice to say that she always offered to do so, but, as it was “all in the family,” I was too magnificent to stoop to such trifles; and I know that she would have considered me mean if I had accepted the paltry dollars. I went to the bank with the thousand dollars in my pocket. I intended to devote the afternoon to selecting the furniture for my new house. My friend Buckleton was in the furniture business. He would not only keep my secret, but he would give me a bargain on his wares; and what was better, if I came a little short he would trust me. The thousand dollars’ worth of goods in my house was so much real property, the possession of which would add to my credit, and was available as security, if occasion required.

Shaytop’s Little Bill.

The bank closed, and after I had settled my cash, I decided to take a little lunch at Parker’s before I went to Buckleton’s store. I was going out of the bank when that confounded Shaytop, the stable man, presented himself before me like the ghost of a faded joy. He had the impudence to thrust his little bill, which amounted to only sixty odd dollars, in my sunny face. Humph! sixty dollars was nothing to me in my present frame of mind. I didn’t “cotton” to any such sum as that, and Mr. Bristlebach, the president of the bank, who was reputed to be worth a million, could not have looked more magnificent than I did, if he had tried.

“Mr. Glasswood, I am getting rather tired of calling on you about my bill,” Shaytop began, in the most uncompromising manner.

“Do I owe you anything, Mr. Shaytop?” I inquired, very loftily.

“Do you owe me anything!” exclaimed the fellow, opening his eyes wide enough to catch a vision of the prophetic future. “I reckon you do.”

“Is it possible? I declare, I had quite forgotten the circumstance.”

“Forgotten it! I’ll bet you didn’t! I think I have taken pains enough to keep you informed of it.”

“Don’t be rude, Mr. Shaytop. I don’t permit any man to dun me.”

“Don’t you? Well, by George, you have made an exception in my favor. Haven’t I been to see you once a week for the last three months?”

“I don’t remember,” I replied, vacantly.

“Look here, my gay bird, you can’t tom-fool me any longer. I’m going to have my money, or break something,” he added, with an energetic gesture.

“Certainly, my dear sir, if I owe you anything, I shall pay it with greater pleasure than you will receive it.”

“I’ll bet you won’t! I want to see Mr. Bristlebach. I don’t think he likes to have his clerks run up bills for teams, and not pay for them.”

“All right; you can see Mr. Bristlebach, if you wish. He is in the director’s room. Shall I introduce you to him?”

“I want to see him if you are not going to pay me.”

“Haven’t I told you that I should take great pleasure in paying you, if I owe you anything. It had slipped my mind that I owed you’ a bill, though now it comes to me that there is a small balance due you.”

“A small balance! You owe me sixty-two dollars!”

“Well, I call that a small balance. In the bank we deal in big figures. How long have I owed you sixty-two dollars, Mr. Shaytop?”

“About six months.”

“Exactly so! Have you added interest?”

“No. I shall be glad enough to get the bill, without saying anything about the interest.”

“If I forgot this little matter, it is not right that you should lose anything by my neglect. Add the interest to your bill, and I will pay it.”

“That’s what you said every time I asked you for the money—all but the interest.”

“I’m going up to Parker’s for a lunch now. If you will call there in half an hour, I will pay you the bill and the interest,” I continued, glancing at the clock in the bank.

“If you mean so, I’ll be there.”

“Don’t insult me, Mr. Shaytop.”

“I’ll be there, and if you are not there, I’ll take the next best step.”

He turned on his heel, and left me. It was painfully impressed upon my mind that I must pay that bill, and thus diminish the resources for furnishing the house. But I was something of a philosopher, and I argued that paying this demand would not increase the sum total of my indebtedness; it would only transfer it to the account of the furniture. This thought suggested a new train of ideas. My tailor was bothering me about a little bill I owed him; Uncle Halliard would be asking me again if I did not owe him three hundred dollars; and Tom Flynn would hint that he was short. Why could I not improve my credit by paying off all these debts, and “running my face” for the furniture? It was worthy of consideration as a piece of financial policy.

I went to Parker’s, and ordered “a little lunch” which cost me a dollar and a half. Before I had finished it, Shaytop made his appearance. I never saw a fellow look more doubtful than he did. He evidently believed that he had come on a fool’s errand. Since I could not well avoid paying the bill, I was to have the pleasure of dissolving this illusion in his mind.

“Sit down, Mr. Shaytop,” I began politely, pointing to the chair opposite my own at the table.

“I haven’t much time to spare,” he replied, glancing at the viands before me, perhaps with the ill-natured reflection that this was the way the money went which ought to be used in paying his bill.

“Won’t you have something to eat, Mr. Shaytop; or something to drink, if you please?”

“No, I thank you; I’ve been to dinner, and I never drink anything.”

“Happy to have you eat or drink with me,” I added, coolly.

“I’m in a hurry, Mr. Glasswood.”

“Are you? Well, I’m sorry for that. We don’t live out more than half of our lives on account of always being in a hurry. By the way it seems to me very strange I forgot that little bill of yours. One hundred and sixty-two dollars, I think you said it was?”

“Sixty-two dollars, I said,” he answered as if congratulating himself that it was not the sum I named.

He took the bill from his pocket, and laid it on the table before me.

“Good!” said I, glancing at the document. “I’m a hundred dollars in. I was thinking you said it was a hundred and sixty-two.”

I intimated to the waiter that he might bring me a Charlotte Russe, and he removed the dishes from the table.

“I don’t like to hurry you, Mr. Glasswood, but I ought to be at the stable.”

“O, you are in a hurry! I had quite forgotten that you said so. Well, I will not keep you waiting,” I replied drawing my porte-monnaie from my pocket.

His eyes glistened, and I think he had a hope by this time. I glanced at the bill again.

“You haven’t added the interest,” I continued.

“Never mind the interest.”

“But I am very willing to pay it.”

“Well, you add it. You can figure as fast again as I can.

“Sixty-three, eighty-six,” I replied. “Receipt the bill, Mr. Shaytop.”

He went over to the cashier’s desk and performed this pleasing operation. I think the act gave him an additional hope of receiving his money.

“Perhaps you had just as lief take my due bill for six months for this amount, now that we have added the interest?” I suggested.

“No, I’ll be hanged if I had!” retorted he, very sharply. “Have you brought me up here, and wasted an hour of my time, to give me your note, which isn’t worth the paper you will write it on?”

“You are impudent, Mr. Shaytop.”

“Perhaps I am, but—”

“Never mind; if you don’t want the note, you can have the money. It don’t make much difference to me, though it would be more convenient to pay the bill at another time than now. There isn’t the least need of making use of any strong language.”

“Pay me, and I won’t use any, then.”

I opened my porte-monnaie and took therefrom the roll of bills I had received from Aunt Rachel. A five hundred dollar bill was on the top, and the balance of the pile was in hundreds and fifties. I ran through the bills with professional dexterity, so that he could see the quality of them.

“I can’t make the change, Mr. Shaytop,” I replied, with cool indifference.

I glanced at him. I went up in that man’s estimation from zero to summer heat. He would have trusted me for a span every day in the week for six months. I took out a hundred dollar bill and tossed it over to him. As I suspected, he could not give me the change. He went to the counter and procured smaller bills for it, and gave me the sum coming to me. He had ceased to be in a hurry.

“If you want any more teams, Mr. Glasswood, I think I can fit you out as well as any other stable in the city,” said he, after he had put his wallet back into his pocket.

“I don’t,” I replied, curtly.

“Don’t you ride any now?”

“Yes, just as much as ever; but you see, Mr. Shaytop, I don’t like to be bothered with these small accounts, and to deal with men who think so much of little things,” I answered, magnificently. “You have threatened to speak to Mr. Bristlebach, which you are quite welcome to do; and you intimate that my note is not worth the paper on which it is written.

“I hope you will excuse me for what I said, but I was a little vexed” pleaded he. “I was mistaken in you. The fact of it is, I lost two or three bills—”

“You haven’t lost anything by me, and I don’t intend you shall,” I interposed.

I finished my “little lunch,” rose from the table, and having paid my bill, left the house. Shaytop followed me. He wanted my trade, now that he had seen the inside of my pocket-book. But I shook him off as soon as I desired to do so, and hastened to the store of Buckleton. Confidentially I stated my plan to him, and he was willing to be my bosom friend. In the course of the interview I opened my porte-monnaie, and contrived that he should see the figures on the bank bills it contained. It was surprising how those figures opened his heart.

When I suggested that I was making a large outlay, he volunteered to trust me to any extent I desired. He was kind enough to go with me to the carpet store, and assist me in the selection of the goods I wanted. I insisted upon paying two hundred dollars on account, which made the carpet people astonishingly good-natured to me; and I was taken aback when they offered to give me credit. Buckleton then went with me to the kitchen furnishing store, and his advice helped me very much as I wandered through the long lists of articles. I made the selection and paid the bill.

When we returned to the furniture store, I warmed toward him, and finally prevailed on him to accept two hundred dollars towards the bill I bought of him. He gave me a receipt. When we footed up the prices of the goods I had selected, I was rather startled to find they amounted to nearly eight hundred dollars.

“I can’t afford that!” I protested, “I must go over it again, and take some cheaper articles.”

“It don’t pay to buy cheap furniture, Glasswood,” replied my friend. “You have been very moderate in your selections.”

He overcame my scruples by declaring that I need not pay for the goods till it suited my own convenience. I left him and went back to the bank to count my funds. I had only four hundred and seventy dollars left. I could not pay off the six hundred of old debts now; so I left the matter open for further consideration.