Mischievous Maid Faynie Part 16

"You placed bills in my hands a few moments since which necessitated conferring with Mr. Conway, the cas.h.i.+er, about meeting them."

"Well, hold on--don't pay out any bills to-day; I want to make use of that money--two great opportunities here. Say!" he added in the next breath, "do you know anything about sailing yachts and trotters?"

The question fairly staggered Mr. Wright, but he answered promptly:

"Nothing whatever, Mr. Armstrong. I have never taken any interest in them; it would be out of place for a man in my position to cultivate a taste for that which is so far beyond his means. I am glad to be able to say to you, sir, that my tastes are simple and my wants few. I have never been on board a yacht, nor have I ever ridden behind what you call a trotter."

"Then you've missed a deal of sport," declared Kendale. "But that isn't what I sent for you to discuss. What I meant to say is that there's a fellow from Newport gone all to smash. His fine yacht, the _Daisy Bell_, is to be sold at auction to-day, likewise the contents of his stables.

There are two of his animals that are flyers--the Lady Albia and Sterling. Why, the Lady has a record better than 2.05 1-2, open gaited, warranted sound, both of 'em, and no end of traps, tea carts, and buggies. I tell you what, Wright, I must have that yacht and that team.

You must go and bid them in for me--get 'em at any price, if you have to run it up to a hundred thousand, and you can even do a little better than that rather than see some other lucky fellow get 'em."

Mr. Wright was staring at him as though he quite believed his employer had gone suddenly out of his mind.

"Well," said the bogus Mr. Lester Armstrong, coolly, "you heard my command to you, didn't you?"

Without another word the general manager turned and with slow, unsteady steps quitted his new employer's presence.

"Heaven help me, that I should live to see this hour," he groaned; "a hundred thousand dollars--ten fortunes to a poor man like myself--frittered away on a yacht and a pair of horses! Mr. Marsh would pitch him out if he could but know and come back long enough to do it.

It spoils the best of 'em to have money thrown at them--to come into a fortune that they haven't worked for. A yacht and a pair of horses! What will people say to see me, a business man of supposed sense and judgment, bidding at a public auction mart for anything like this?

Heaven help me, I can see the finish of the time-honored dry goods house of Marsh & Co., in which I have taken such a world of pride. But I suppose I must do as he has ordered, no matter how galling it is to me."

Mr. Wright had no sooner reached the auction mart than a telegram was handed him. It was from his employer, and read as follows:

"There are also a pair of seal-brown pacers to be sold. Secure these in addition to the others. Price must not stand in the way."

David Wright crushed the telegram in his hands, and the first oath he had ever uttered in all his life was ground out between his teeth.

The yacht and two pairs of horses were spiritedly bid for by half a dozen gentlemen, who were apparently eager to secure them.

It was easy to see that the quiet, elderly business man, who always went higher than the others, was little used to such contests, but he secured them at last for one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, and there was more than one amused laugh in the auction room, knowing ones whispering that he had paid three times more than the owner had been asking for them.

CHAPTER XVIII.

MARGERY'S LOVE DREAM.

An hour after Mr. Wright had concluded his purchase for his employer he returned to the establishment, accompanied by one of the persons authorized to collect the money. When he presented the order at the cas.h.i.+er's window, Mr. Conway, the old cas.h.i.+er, drew back aghast as he looked at the man.

"Is--is it possible you have indorsed this?" he asked, turning to the manager.

Mr. Wright bowed, but his face betrayed deep agitation.

"I cannot pay it without consulting Mr. Armstrong," he exclaimed, in a troubled voice. "Wait a moment."

Could it be possible that Lester Armstrong had authorized the payment of an amount like that, knowing that the firm was a little crippled for cash just at that season of the year? Surely the man must be mad, he told himself; and that for which the money was to be paid fairly staggered him. He had to look a second time to satisfy himself that he had not made a horrible mistake when he read: "For one steam yacht and two pairs of horses, $125,000; terms cash."

He set his lips hard together, saying to himself that this was the beginning of the end.

At that same moment quite a thrilling scene was taking place in the private office, which would have unnerved the old cas.h.i.+er completely had he known of it. It so happened, in exploring the nooks of the office, Kendale had by chance touched another bell, the bell communicating with the suit department, which was in charge of Mr. Conway's pretty daughter, Miss Margery. When that bell tapped it meant that the young lady was to make all possible haste to the private office, to which she had been summoned, and this the young girl proceeded to do, not without some little trepidation, however. Fair Margery Conway had a secret romance in her life, a romance which no one in the wide world would ever have guessed.

For many a long day she had been secretly in love with Mr. Lester Armstrong, her father's a.s.sistant, of whom; she had heard him speak so much and praise so highly.

She admired him immensely. Many a time she made excuses to speak with her father a moment in their private office. No one in the wide world guessed that grave, handsome Lester Armstrong was the attraction that brought her there.

She had many a casual chat with him, and somehow the hope grew in her heart that he was not altogether indifferent to her.

Once, when she had started home in the pouring rain, he had gone out of his way to see her safely to her destination under the shelter of his umbrella.

He had only been courteous, but she had built up many a hope from this little incident alone.

She had not seen very much of Lester Armstrong since that never-to-be-forgotten day, but her father had told her that he usually asked each morning: "How is your daughter, Miss Margery?" and once her father had said:

"Of all the young men whom I have met, I have the greatest regard for Lester Armstrong. Such young men are the salt of the earth. There is a future before him. When he earns a dollar he puts by more than half of it against a rainy day. He is not extravagant. Few young men making his salary would dress so very plainly and make his clothes do him as long.

He has no bad habits; he neither smokes nor drinks, and that is something you can say of very few young men nowadays."

Margery looked up into her father's face with s.h.i.+ning eyes. She made no answer, but a vivid flush crept up into her cheeks, and the little hands that were busy with the teacups trembled a little. She knew quite well that in the depth of his heart her father was hoping that she and Lester Armstrong would take a fancy to each other, and that in time that fancy might ripen into love, and instead of being only acquaintances, she and the a.s.sistant cas.h.i.+er might be nearer and dearer to each other.

Not long after this Margery Conway received a letter, a poem, rather, typewritten. There was no name signed to it, but she felt sure that it came from some one in the establishment of Marsh & Co. More than one salesman looked at pretty Margery Conway with admiring eyes, but she never thought of any of these. The truth was, it was sent by one of the bookkeepers, but the girl jumped at once to the conclusion that it was from Lester Armstrong. She imagined that from the tender, sentimental words. She read the beautiful poem over and over again, until she knew every word by heart. The lines even floated dreamily through her brain in her sleep. She would awaken with them on her lips. Ah, surely, the poem was from Lester Armstrong, she fully believed. It read as follows:

"What have I done that one face holds me so, And follows me in fancy through the day?

Why do I seek your love? I only know That fate is resolute, and points the way To where you stand, bathed in amber light.

Since first you looked on me I've seen no night-- What have I done?

"What can be done? As yet no touch, no kiss; Only a gaze across your eyes' blue lake.

Better it were, sweetheart, to dream like this, Than afterward to shudder and awake.

Love is so very bitter, and his ways Tortured with thorns--with wild weeds overgrown.

Must I endure, unloved, these loveless days?-- What can be done?

"This I say, 'Marry where your heart goes first, Dear heart, and then you will be blessed.

Ah, how can others choose for you What is for your best?

If you're told to wed for gold, Dear girl, or for rank or show, Stand by love, and boldly say, "No, my heart cries no!"'"

Like most young girls, pretty Margery was sentimental. She slept with the folded paper beneath her pillow at night, and all day long it was carefully tucked away over her beating heart.

It was quite a week after receiving this ere she saw Lester Armstrong again; then her face turned burning red. Lester saw it, but how was he to dream that he was the cause of her emotion?

"Sweet Margery Conway is not strong," he thought, pityingly. "How frightened her father would be were he to see that sudden rush of blood to the head."

He wondered whether or not he should run to her and proffer his a.s.sistance. He had once seen a young woman who was thus affected fall to the floor in a fit, and it had been many a long day ere the unfortunate woman could return to her work again. He devoutly hoped this might not be the case with poor, pretty Margery.

She saw him start and look at her searchingly. She could not have stopped and exchanged a word with him if her life had depended upon it.

She hurried past him with desperate haste, praying that he might not hear the beating of her heart.

He noticed that she did not stop to speak, but he quite believed that it was because she was very busy. The next moment he had forgotten all about it, and about the girl, too, for that matter.