Mortmain Part 21

Mr. Scott took out his notebook and made an entry.

"How about that power of attorney?"

"It seemed all right. I don't know. We never had anything just like it in the law school."

Ralston burst out laughing.

"How old are you, Jim?"

"Twenty-five."

"Well, just wait ten years, and if you ever see a legal paper that looks like anything but a page out of Doomsday call my attention to it, will you?"

"Well, it's got a seal, anyway."

"How about those antelope heads from Livingston that were being mounted?"

"Wilc.o.x telephoned they'd be s.h.i.+pped to-morrow."

By this time the soup had arrived, and both fell to with appet.i.tes born of a hard day's labor. The waiters were apparently serving "extras" with every course, and more than half the men at the tables were in uniform.

Flags hung everywhere, and at each plate a _papier-mache_ cannon held the customary bonbons. In the extreme eastern corner the Hungarians were playing "Dixie," "Old Kentucky Home," "Maryland," "Star-Spangled Banner," "Suwanee River," "A Hot Time," and other patriotic airs, one after the other, the conclusion of each being marked by loud applause from all sides.

"Isn't it great!" exclaimed Scott. "You know my governor thinks my going down with you is out of sight. He'd hate to have me enlist. Of course, I'd rather really, but in the long run I fancy there'll be more doin'

right in Was.h.i.+ngton."

"You'll be busy, all right," said Ralston. "Has Thompson packed all the trunks?"

"Sure; ages ago."

"And did you buy the tickets?"

Scott produced the tickets with obvious pride.

"Well, you're satisfactory so far. By the way, what are you going to do to-night?"

"Mrs. Patterson's theater party--'The Martial Maid.'"

"And you skipped the dinner?"

"To dine with my chief. Orders, you know. Duty before pleasure."

"Good boy!" said Ralston. "How did you fix it?"

"Why, I spoke to Ellen and she managed it for me. Of course, if it was for you anything would go with her. Isn't she a stunner?"

"You spoke to Ellen, did you? Well, you have a confidence born of your newly acquired elevation. I saw her at Miss Evarts's this afternoon. She didn't mention you, however."

"Do you know a fellow named Steadman?" continued Scott. "Good-looking chap, but a 'weak sister,' I think."

"Yes, I know him. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. He's around with her a good deal."

"Well?"

"Well, I hate to see a girl like that throw herself away, that's all,"

burst out the secretary with energy.

"Why, Steadman used to be a decent fellow enough," said Ralston, thinking rapidly. "Anything the matter with him that you know of?"

"He bats an awful lot."

"Something new?"

"Yes; within six months. Uncle died and left him a lot of loose change.

He's been blowing it in."

"How? Of course, it's on the quiet?"

"Oh, yes! He's at church every Sunday."

"Yesterday?"

"No. I meant metaphorically."

By eight o'clock dinner had been entirely served, and Scott had received all his instructions.

"Guess I'll step over to the Pattersons' now for a short cigar," he remarked, "and pick up the crowd. See you to-morrow at eight-thirty."

"Good night. Have a good time," called Ralston after him, as the youthful figure pa.s.sed out. He was very fond of Scott. He wondered if what the boy had said about Steadman was true. A fellow could go down a lot in six months, or in less. Steadman had always had a weakness.

Ralston had never liked him, though forced to be in his company on many occasions.

"I'll smoke at the room," he thought, and paid his bill. "I'm going off to Was.h.i.+ngton, William, so I'd better settle," he remarked to the old waiter.

From Delmonico's he crossed the avenue, walked north for two blocks, and turned into his rooms, which were situated in a small, new bachelor apartment house. He found everything in confusion and Thompson hard at work packing books.

He shed his frock coat for a smoking jacket, and took his seat at a low desk with a drop light, having brought his letters with him from the restaurant. First he rapidly answered his notes of congratulation, following a set form, then hastily read the power of attorney from his lawyers, and signed it, after which he O. K.'d a pile of bills, gave some instructions to Thompson about his library, wrote a long letter to his mother, who was spending the winter in Italy, then took up the letter from the "old lady in Exeter," and threw himself back into a chair before the fire.

It was eighteen years since he had seen her, the woman who had kept the boarding house in which he had lived at school--who had mended his clothes, lent him small sums of money, brought him his meals when sick, served him for a temporary mother, lied for him when necessary, and been rewarded with the real affection of her young lodger. This was the first letter she had ever written him. In the left-hand corner of the white, blue-lined paper was an embossed reproduction of the State House in Boston, and the shaking penmans.h.i.+p filled every inch of s.p.a.ce and ran back to the front page again.

EXETER, March 5, 19--.

DEAR RICHARD

You must forgive an old woman calling you Richard, who worked so hard for you when you was a boy. You must be quite a man by this time to be made Secretary of the Navy as I was told by Deacon Stillwater. I am proud of you, Richard, and so is everybody here, that one of my boys should rise so high, whom I never thought of except throwing apples at Mrs. Abbott's goat and playing baseball in the middle of the street. I was hoping to hear from you that you had married some lovely young lady in New York. Don't put it off too long. If you are not going to fight you would not even have to wait until after the war. I am glad you are not going to fight and yet will serve the country.

Think how long it is since I lost my dear husband at Antietam--nearly fifty years. I am an old woman, Richard, and shall not live long. I am going to leave you my chest of drawers with bra.s.s handles you used to like--you remember you used to keep chestnuts in the bottom. Be a good boy. If you can spare the time from your duties I shall be pleased to hear from you.

Your old friend,