Wait and Hope: or, A Plucky Boy's Luck

Chapter XXXV

John Tremlett was a dark-complexioned young man, rather above the middle height. He was by no means handsome; but plain faces are often attractive, and this young man's was not. His eyes were bloodshot, and even Ben's inexperienced glance could detect the marks of dissipation. He was expensively dressed and looked like one who made a business of spending money.

"How are you, Brief?" he said carelessly, throwing himself into a chair.

"In better condition than you are, I judge from your looks, Mr.

Tremlett," responded the lawyer.

"I hope so. I feel awfully seedy," said Tremlett.

"Your own fault. You shouldn't keep such late hours."

"Oh, bother that, Brief! I must have a good time."

"You don't look as if you were enjoying your mode of life."

"Oh, I shall be all right when I get over my headache. Is this a client of yours?" glancing at Ben.

"He's a relation of yours, according to his own account," said Mr. Brief.

"Is he?" inquired Tremlett languidly. "Can't say I ever saw him before."

"Mr. Baldwin was my great-uncle," said Ben. "That is, he was an uncle of my aunt, Mrs. Jane Bradford."

"Indeed! Were you expecting a share of the property?" asked

Tremlett suspiciously.

"I thought Mr. Baldwin might remember his niece."

"He hasn't, though."

"So I find by the will."

"Sorry for you; but, of course, Mr. Baldwin had a right to dispose of his property as he saw fit."

"I don't deny his right."

"Then you are not intending to dispute the will," said Tremlett, relieved.

"I never dreamed of doing it. I came about a house which my aunt has been occupying rent-free."

"What is it, Brief? Do I know about it?"

"It's a small house in Milltown, Massachusetts, which belongs to your uncle's estate. I found that Mrs. Bradford has paid no rent for it during the last five years, and accordingly sent her an invitation to pay up arrears."

"Has she done it?"

"No, sir," said Ben. "Mr. Baldwin permitted her to occupy the house rent-free."

"That is your assertion," said the lawyer.

"It is true," returned Ben quickly.

"Show it to me in writing, and that will end all dispute."

"I hope yet to do it, but thus far we have been unable to find Uncle

Matthew's letter."

"That's all fair," said Tremlett. If the letter can't be found, the money must be paid.

"My aunt is utterly unable to pay it. She is poor."

"That is no excuse in law, my young friend," said Mr. Brief. "She must borrow the money then."

"Where?" asked Ben.

"That is not our lookout. As you are in business, perhaps you will advance the necessary sum."

"If I were able, and were satisfied of the justice of the claim, I would do so," answered Ben. "But I don't believe that Uncle Matthew intended that my aunt should be distressed by such a demand. Why should he have let the rent run on for five years if he expected her to pay it?"

"Can't say, I'm sure."

"How much is due?" asked Tremlett.

"Three hundred dollars," said Brief.

"Look here, young fellow," said Tremett, "Perhaps you and I can settle it. If you will pay me two hundred dollars cash down I will give you a receipt for the whole."

"Mr. Tremlett," said Mr. Brief stiffly, "you appear to forget that I am settling this estate. You have no authority to make such an offer."

"Wasn't the property left to me, I should like to know?" demanded

Tremlett, blustering.

"Yes."

"Then why am I not authorized to make the offer, tell me that?"

"According to Mr. Baldwin's will you can only receive the income for the first twelve months."

"That's deuced hard on a fellow," said Tremlett.

"On the other hand, I think it is a prudent precaution."

"The old man was a tight-fisted old curmudgeon. He only wanted to annoy me."

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders, and Ben broke out indignantly, "I wouldn't speak in that way of a man who had left me all his fortune."

"Mind your own business, boy," retorted John Tremlett sharply. "Do you think I am going to stand your impudence?"

"I think it is just as well you have waited till after Uncle Matthew's death before speaking of him in that way."

"Don't let up on the boy! Make him pay every cent of the debt,

Brief!" exclaimed John Tremlett angrily.

"Of course we shall follow up the matter, Mr. Tremlett."

"Have him arrested if he doesn't pay, Brief."

Ben smiled.

"You seem to forget, Mr. Tremlett, that I am not your debtor. The claim is against my aunt."

"Is that so, Brief?"

"The boy is right."

"I am sorry for it. I should like to hold him responsible."

"No doubt, Mr. Tremlett," said Ben; "but we can't always have our wishes granted."

"Leave the matter in my hands," said the lawyer. "I will do what is best."

"By the way, Brief," said John Tremlett, "I mustn't forget my errand.

I want some money."

"Some money? I gave you two hundred dollars last week."

"Well, it's gone, and I want some more."

"Mr. Tremlett," said the lawyer gravely, "are you aware how much money you have spent during the last four weeks?"

"No, I have kept no account."

"Well I have. You have drawn eight hundred dollars."

"It costs something to see life."

"Perhaps so! but I cannot permit you to exceed your income – during the first year, at least. Thus far you have spent twice as much as you were entitled to draw."

Ben listened attentively. He had no idea of the extent of his uncle's property. If it yielded four hundred dollars a month, as he inferred, it must amount to nearly, if not quite, a hundred thousand dollars. And this young man was not content with that. Our hero could not help wondering at his unreasonableness.

"I don't see how I can economize," muttered Tremlett.

"What was your income before Mr. Baldwin's death, Mr. Tremlett?" inquired Mr. Brief.

"I starved on eight hundred dollars a year."

"Then it seems to me you aught to live comfortably now on five thousand."

"My circumstances are changed."

"At this rate you'll run through the property in ten years."

"Oh, I'll pull up after awhile," said the heir carelessly. "So just give me a couple of hundreds, old fellow!"

"I will hand you a hundred," said Mr. Brief reluctantly. "Hereafter you must keep within your allowance."

"You're getting to be as miserly as the old man," said Tremlett.

"What's your name, boy?"

"My name is Benjamin Bradford."

"I suppose we are cousins, or something of that sort. Come out and take a drink."

"No, thank you. I never drink."

"You don't? What a prig you must be! Good-bye, Brief."

The heir left the office, and Mr. Brief turned to Ben.

"What do you think of your uncle's heir?" he inquired.

"I think he is going to ruin rapidly," answered Ben.

"You are right. The grub has become a butterfly, and the sober clerk has developed into a gay spendthrift. He was your uncle's clerk and distant relative. It would make the old man turn in his coffin if he knew how quickly his money is likely to melt away."

"Can't you check him?" asked Ben.

"For twelve months I can. After that I am powerless. I wish he were more like you."

"Thank you," said Ben, surprised at the compliment.

"My bark is worse that my bite," said the lawyer. "About this claim against your aunt I will do what I can for you, but try to find the letter you refer to. The sum is a small one."

"It is large to us."

"Just so; but my client would squander it in a week. Let me hear from you after you have returned and instituted a further search."

"Thank you, sir, I will write."

Ben left the office, judging Mr. Brief more favorably than at first.

With John Tremlett, he was disgusted.

Chapter XXXVI

"I suppose I have done all I can," said Ben to himself. "There will be no object in remaining in Montreal any longer."

He immediately purchased a ticket, and took the next train homeward. He arrived in Boston at mid-day.

He went at once to the store, and was cordially welcomed by the bookkeeper.

"I am glad to see you, Ben," said the young man. "My uncle is well pleased with the orders you have sent home."

"Then he is satisfied with me?"

"I leave him to tell you that. You can go at once into the countingroom."

Ben reported himself as directed.

"Welcome back, Ben," said the old gentleman. "Have you just arrived?"

"I reached the station twenty minuets ago, sir."

"And came directly to the store; I like that. How do you like drumming?"

"It requires patience, sir; but I like it. I hope you are satisfied with me."

"You have exceeded my anticipations. To be candid with you,

I doubted the expedience of sending so young a representative."

"I know that, sir, and it made me work harder."

"I should have no hesitation in sending you again. In fact, I shall probably send you next month to New York and Philadelphia."

"I should like that very much, sir," said Ben, his eyes sparkling.

"I shall try to satisfy you."

"I think you will," said his employer kindly. "I never doubted your fidelity. Now I feel assured of your capacity and tact. Have you any orders not yet reported?"

"Two or three small ones, sir."

"Give them to me."

This done, Mr. Porter dismissed Ben for the day. "You need not report for work till to-morrow morning."

Ben was glad to go to his boarding-house. On arriving there he received another cordial greeting, this time from Mr. Benton. The old gentleman seemed really delighted to see him, and eager to learn what he had accomplished. Ben began to speak of the orders he had received; but Mr. Benton interrupted him.

"I don't mean that," he said. "I want to hear about your own affairs. Did you see Mr. Brief the lawyer?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did you like him?"

"Not at all, at first, but better before we parted."

"How was that?" asked Mr. Benton, showing some curiosity.

At first he insisted strongly on the claim the estate has against my aunt; but after awhile he said he should not press the matter at present, and recommended us to look for Uncle Matthew's letter.

"You have searched for it, have you not?" asked Mr. Benton.

"Yes, sir; but so far without success. Still I haven't given up all hope of finding it. My motto is, 'Wait and Hope.'"

"I think it will all come out right," said the old man. "Did you see John Tremlett?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me about him," said the old man eagerly. "Ho does he look?"

"He looks like a fast young man," answered Ben. "I did not like him at all."

"Do you think he is spending money fast?"

"I know he is. How much money do you think he has drawn in a month?"

"Two hundred dollars?" suggested Mr. Benton.

"He had drawn eight hundred and spent it all, for he came into the office to ask for more."

"The young scoundrel!" exclaimed Marcus Benton, with an excitement which Ben could not understand. "Why he is making ducks and drakes of my old friend's fortune."

"Did you know Uncle Matthew?" asked Ben quickly.

"Yes," answered the old man. "I told you so, didn't I?"

"No, sir, you never told me that. Do you know John Tremlett?"

"Yes, I have seen him. He was a sober, steady young man apparently, who ingratiated himself with Mr. Baldwin, whom he deceived as to his real character."

"What relation was he to Uncle Matthew?"

"Very distant, but he seemed near, having been in his employ for several years. He collected rents and attended to other necessary matters."

"If he was ever sober and steady, he has changed a good deal."

"Did Mr. Brief give him the money he asked for?"

"Not all he wanted. He gave him one hundred dollars, and reminded him that he was only at liberty to pay over to him the income of the estate – that is, for the first twelve months."

"Quite right!" murmured Mr. Benton.

"He lectured him upon his extravagance and fast life, and warned him that he must check himself."

"He did right."

"What I dislike most about this John Tremlett was the way in which he spoke of Uncle Matthew," said Ben.

"How did he speak of him?" demanded Marcus Benton quickly.

"As a tight-fisted old curmudgeon."

"He did – the young viper!" exclaimed the old man indignantly.

"Spoke so of the man who left him his fortune!"

"Yes, sir. I couldn't help telling him I thought it not very becoming to speak in that way of his benefactor; and he told me to mind my own business."

"I wouldn't have believed John Tremlett would act so," said Mr.

Benton slowly; "I trusted him so, and always treated him kindly."

"You trusted him!" repeated Ben, astonished.

"My boy," said Mr. Benton, "the time has come for me to throw off the mask. I am not Marcus Benton, as you suppose. I am Matthew Baldwin."

"But I thought Mr. Baldwin was dead – committed suicide," exclaimed Ben, in wild amazement.

"The world thinks so; but the world is mistaken. I will tell you the whole story. I found myself getting old. In all probability I had but a few years to live. By industry and economy I had accumulated a fortune, which I must leave behind me. I was anxious that it should not be squandered. I selected John Tremlett as my heir. So far as I knew he was devoted to my interests, and he seemed steady in his habits. But it occurred to me to try him. Accordingly I sent a letter to my lawyer, Solomon Brief, who had my will in his possession, announcing my intention to commit suicide, and directing him to open the will and carry out the provisions. Then I left Montreal secretly, staying a short time in northern Vermont. Later I came on to Boston and managed to throw myself in your way. Not knowing me, you treated me with kindness and consideration. I became interested in you, and regretted that I had made no provision for you and your aunt. Through you I have learned how unwisely I disposed of my fortune. Thank Heaven it is not too late to remedy that.

"This seems like a romance, Mr. Benton – I mean, Uncle Matthew."

"Yes; call me uncle. I like to feel that I have somebody to live for."

"Come out to Milltown with me, Uncle Matthew. Aunt Jane will be delighted to see you," said Ben.

"I have work to do first," said the old man firmly. "I must go to

Montreal, and you must go with me."

"I am not sure that Jones & Porter will allow me."

"Then throw up your situation. You shall lose nothing by it."

"When do you wish to start?"

"To-night," said Mr. Baldwin resolutely.

"Then I must go to the store, at once, and give notice of my absence."

Ben lost no time in going to the store. He explained matters fully, and obtained a week's leave of absence. Then he bought tickets for his uncle and himself, and they set out on their long journey.

Chapter XXXVII

Mr. Brief was considerably surprised when Ben entered his office.

"I thought you had gone back to Boston," he said.

"I have been back to Boston, Mr. Brief, and returned to Montreal on business."

"Didn't you finish up your business here?"

"I thought so, sir; but I was mistaken."

"I am afraid you are not a very good manager. It looks to me like waste of time. What can I do for you?"

"A gentleman came with me, who thinks he would like to have you attend to a little business for him."

"Certainly," responded the lawyer bruskly. "I shall be happy to wait on him. Where is he staying?"

"At the Windsor."

"And you recommended me? I am much obliged to you. What is the gentleman's name?"

"Marcus Benton."

"Can't say I ever heard of him Is he from Boston?"

"He comes from Boston," answered Ben evasively.

In the hope of securing a profitable client, Mr. Brief lost no time in seeking the hotel.

"Remain here a moment," said Ben, as they entered the office, "and

I will let Mr. Benton know you are here."

"Certainly," said the lawyer complacently.

In five minutes Ben reappeared.

"Follow me, if you please, Mr. Brief," he said. "By the way, Mr.

Benton says he knows you."

"Mr. Benton knows me! It is strange I can't recall him," said Mr.

Brief, trying to recollect.

"I think you will remember when you see him."

"Possibly; but I have no recollection on any gentleman of that name."

Ben and his uncle – to give him a name not strictly warranted by facts – occupied two rooms adjoining.

Ben ushered the lawyer into his own room, saying, "Mr. Brief, you must prepare for a surprise."

When, however, the so-called Marcus Benton entered the room,

Mr. Brief sprang to his feet in great amazement.

"Can I believe my eyes?" he ejaculated.

"I think you can, Mr. Brief," said the old gentleman quietly,

"You are Matthew Baldwin."

"Precisely."

"And you are not dead?"

"Do I look as if I were?" asked Mr. Baldwin, smiling.

"What does it all mean?" asked Mr. Brief, bewildered.

"It means that I wished to try John Tremlett. I wished to ascertain whether he were worthy to inherit my fortune. What is your opinion?"

"My opinion," said the lawyer, "is that he would run through the property in five years. I am disgusted with him."

"How does he spend his money?" inquired Mr. Baldwin.

"In every kind of extravagance and every form of dissipation. At the rate he is going on, it is a question, in my mind, whether he or the property would last longer."

"I got that idea from my young friend here, who, by the way, knew of me only as Marcus Benton when he came first to see you."

"Of course you will resume possession of the property, Mr.

Baldwin?"

"Such is my intention."

"I can give it back into your hands entire, with the exception of nine hundred dollars drawn by Tremlett, and your funeral expenses."

"My funeral expense!" exclaimed Mr. Baldwin, in surprise.

"Yes; a body was found in the St. Lawrence, which was supposed to be yours. It was buried with proper ceremony."

The old man smiled, but there was a certain sadness in the smile.

"It is, perhaps, only anticipating things a little," he said. "The expenses shall be allowed."

"Of course you wish Mr. Tremlett to be informed without delay."

"Yes."

"He is to come to my office in an hour."

"Can you let me witness the interview?"

"Yes, sir. You can conceal yourself in the inner room, and I will see him in the outer office, with the door ajar."

An hour later John Tremlett swaggered into Mr. Brief's office.

"Brief," said he, "I must have some money."

"Have you used up the hundred dollars I gave you four days since?"

"Every cent."

"I am afraid you squandered it."

"That is my business, Brief."

"You remember the warning I gave you at that time?"

"Come, Brief, you can't expect to keep me in leading-strings. I am seeing life, and of course I must pay for it."

"A pretty round sum, too."

"Oh, well, I am making up for lost time. Old Baldwin kept me so close that I had to live like a hermit for years. He starved me on eight hundred dollars a year – the stingy old file!"

"Apparently you want to live at the rate of ten thousand dollars a year now, Mr. Tremlett."